Long Centrifugal Poems
Long Centrifugal Poems. Below are the most popular long Centrifugal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Centrifugal poems by poem length and keyword.
‘tis Sunday! Time for a revival.
It’s a celebration. Several days of praise
and charismatic speakers.
It is time for the bells
to be heard.
If we still walked the dusty streets
would excitement be at its peak?
Are the cars a yawn
that pull into the parking lot?
Will televisions be turned on,
instead of making a beeline
to be part of the angelic choir?
Who will dare to be unmasked?
Who are the holdouts?
Shout! Shout for joy
as we can still celebrate
and employ our lungs
to exaltation,
to raise the roof,
to blow the socks off,
to honor the King of kings,
the Lord of lords,
Father, Son and Spirit -
three in one
with the centrifugal gathering
that one day,
with trumpet force,
will find ourselves
amidst the angel armies
and all saved humanity.
‘tis Sunday!
Celebrate the upcoming days -
come one, come all
and give praise;
praise the Lord!
2/5/2023
A golden coin flipped into the sky
One side is absolute truth
the other side is stamped with lies
Hope it lands right/wrong side up
so you can partially realize
the truth doesn’t always set you free
Sometimes deception leads to wise
Neither side exists
without the other
Truth and lies are Siamese brothers
Born of necessities
yet neither of them has a mother
Look up look down
all things can offend and bother
Absolute truth or filthy clean lies
there are so many things that they Father
We are temporary our purpose is significant fodder
so through our inequities we wander
Spin the coin
the image you will see
is the blending of who we think we might be
Witness our insanity
by looking back at lying throughout history
Yet there is truth hidden
flickering within the spin
start over finish
once more begin
Words alone can’t set us free
Centrifugal force thinking
trapped inside each possibility
Rooted in our impure paternity
Watch how friends become the enemy
Perspectives changing depending on adversity
Truthfully can anyone know
who they are meant to be
Rise up or see life on bended knee
What is it that words hope inspire
A coin can only be destroyed by fire
Live life find what you desire
We’re all tethered together
by a hidden wire
Truth or a lie
lower and higher
Kind or cruel
or self loathing despiser
We’re born of muck and mire
Aspire to be a flyer
or maybe just a consumed buyer
Still all energy will eventually expire
do it all before you tire
Tell the absolute truth
or if you choose be a liar!
06/25/2018
Submitted to Brenda Chiri's Abandon Poetry Contest.
I Am The Dead Poet
Strains of Bach’s Brandenburg,
And billows of brown smoke
Rise up together like crazed conniving snakes
Here in the toxic suburban shadows
Where once again, no one will care.
My voice, my words, my ideas,
Like a comatose rain
Evaporate into nothing.
I am the dead poet.
As dead as yesterday.
As dead as tomorrow.
As dead as Eden.
Have you seen the hitchhiker with thumb out?
Have you seen the grasping blind man,
Pleading with the diminishing light?
Have you seen the dead poet
Probing the universe with his pen?
I am the dead poet.
The only living person in a dead world.
Time is the ultimate Master.
Time is the ultimate Slave.
Everything moves in perfect elliptical circles.
Do you feel the incessant circling
And turning and gyrating of the universe?
Centrifugal forces and my swirling hot blood.
They know what’s happening.
I am the dead poet,
And I can feel it.
Here in the toxic suburban shadows.
Where once again, no one will care.
Nashville and Andromeda
by Michael R. Burch
I have come to sit and think in the darkness once again.
It is three a.m.; outside, the world sleeps . . .
How nakedly now and unadorned
the surrounding hills
expose themselves
to the lithographies of the detached moonlight—
breasts daubed by the lanterns
of the ornamental barns,
firs ruffled like silks
casually discarded . . .
They lounge now—
indolent, languid, spread-eagled—
their wantonness a thing to admire,
like a lover’s ease idly tracing flesh . . .
They do not know haste,
lust, virtue, or any of the sanctimonious ecstasies of men,
yet they please
if only in the solemn meditations of their loveliness
by the erect pen . . .
Perhaps there upon the surrounding hills,
another forsakes sleep
for the hour of introspection,
gabled in loneliness,
swathed in the pale light of Andromeda . . .
Seeing.
Yes, seeing,
but always ultimately unknowing
anything of the affairs of men.
Published by The Aurorean and The Centrifugal Eye
Keywords/Tags: Nashville, Andromeda, universe, cosmos, meditation, introspection, loneliness, alienation, pen, writing, night, dark, darkness, sleep, moonlight, love, lover, affair, affairs, haste, lust, virtue, ecstasy, knowing, unknowing, aware, unaware, oblivious
SUN DAY
A
Sun Day
Beautiful
A Pick Me Up
I Sip On My Cup
Suddenly Clouds Appear
Rain Splashes Like Spit On Glass
HailThundersAndHitsTheEarthHard
I Cower
At This Sudden Display
My Thoughts Dampened By Catastrophe
my coffee cup tReMbLeS upon table
brown and creamy waves
lap over the edge
asuddenchill
IMNOTALONE!
a flurry of silver
angels wings like birds
Am I In The Center
ofthestorm
centrifugal force
shoves me to the side
like an amusement park ride
i come crashing down
my hand pushes
against my cup
sPiLLinG
the remainder of its contents
onto a pure white page
I laugh
my imagination sure took a spin
i gaze out the glass
at the gathering clouds
the alarm goes off
did i oversleep
the wind picks up speed
w
i
l
l
t
h
i
s
NIGHTMARE NEVER END
my pen feverish
red ink
sleep
i
n
e
e
d
s
l
ee
p
8/23/2017
The big bang theory is overwritten,
then the dream weaver gave us illusion to be smitten.
Rational thoughts in metaphysics science concludes,
mathematical proof with its astonishing effect interludes.
Thesis of melting mozzarella galaxies become a degree,
omnivarcities playing relativities monopoly.
The nerd’s comic book philosophies have endless pages,
societies applause and rewards with scientific titled wages.
When nucleus and electrons play imaginary ping pong,
it takes a wizard to know what is wrong.
Then the law of Pythagoras states that half eggs do not roll,
as gravity and centrifugal objectives have its toll.
All inferior struggle combined have its expressions,
taken brother Grimm’s stories to new invention as obsession.
Non existent ego’s are in desperate need to proof,
that black holes are the center of the macaroni far above.
While the Andromeda bubble just popped by an idea,
new planets are on its way take away all fear.
Enthusiasm and exiting possibilities to face,
relatives like tiny earth in cosmic space.
Gods grace and sensitive great humor parody,
in the eternal divine comedy.
Vimanas in flight;
centrifugal delight.
Ezekiel’s wheels; doing reels;
Ophanum high, up in the skies;
we see them and still deny.
Logical mind, it is so blind;
perhaps even, a bit unkind.
Denial is a realm of fools,
who live by very limiting rules.
They let this defect,
crush all hope and possibilities;
true progress, they neglect.
The faithful are blessed,
to have passed their tests.
They pray with great belief;
they will not be deceived.
Their souls have eyes,
that stay on the prize.
What some label, “simple truth”;
all that is and isn’t on a list;
they think it doesn’t even exist.
They’ll be surprised; I surmise;
when their souls slowly rise,
up to the sky and soar miraculous highs.
They’ll take it all back;
citing their knack;
for the vision that they lacked.
The open mind, these souls will find,
does not leave its soul behind;
stagnating in a void;
instead promotes progress;
it’s ignored, nonetheless.
Miracles are all around;
in mortal realms, they do abound;
just open your mind and see...
believe.
The laws of attraction, rules or abstraction?
For keeping life in check and at bay.
Is love and the divine merely centrifugal force sublime
and God a form of magnetism, attraction that sways?
If we look deep out our own focus and sweep
our ability to grasp and construct
Within our own cells the laws of the universe tells atoms and electrons orbiting away
When it comes right down to it, all things are constructed through it and all energy, light and why not love are born this way ?
For if its the transfer of might, that creates light why can't God in the universe be "love".
So love is attraction, and centrifugal force in abstraction keeping things moving together through space
And an exchange of ideas is merely mutating your molecules as I steal or bring your electrons to excite
And neutrons and protons the defining chemical phonemes the very base of our simplification of all...
For we are all little worlds of whirling galaxies through space and time waiting
and evolving to share energy and become one for a while
changing the very elements of your being
And we move through space, never remaining in place to go on throughout history evolving human kind
the mystery of life and love, laws of attraction - Artimus (C) 2006 Started in 2006 completed in June 2023 Susan Manley
Enough of the winds
Swirling with urgency
I demand that it ceases at once
Succumb to whims
Bow to demands
I wish nothingness to commence
I lap up the gilded chaos
Flowing into my brain
Close the eyes
Embrace the surprise
Allow this minstrel chorus
To play follow the leader
Into and against the sky
That forbids us to leave
We must find that spot
Tickle, touch and tangoe
Where we engage with
Or even teach
The Pharoah’s Dance
With its keyboard trance
All the erstwhile meanings
Floating in and out
Senses defer to
Broad, centrifugal gatherings
The notes mean nothing
The spaces in between even less
I can only hear volume
I can only feel heat
I sit here grooving out of control
Yet within these banal confines
Of this communal sigh
Easing into track 2
Bitches Brew
With the luscious obnoxiousness
Shooting into veins
Ripe and ready for so much more
Pierce me oh brass lord
Bring your lovers and henchmen alike
Both like me
For different reasons
And I like
Well
Let’s just say
An auditory orgy isn’t complete
Without its foes, friends, freaks and euphoniums
Injecting deep
Deeeeep
To where the marrow lives
And the sparrow flies
Bang
Bang
Says the snare
Remember me
I can count the f--- out of you
Tap you into time
Ratchet the good and plenty
Until you have it all
Then leave without any
And back
And forth
Again we go
Where I stop
Only he and the dandelions know
Which is fine
Because it’s time to stop thinking
And let the Brew do its thing.
(12/26/17)
Vedic legends in centrifugal swirl,
whirling, twirling across this world,
in and out through many planes;
counter-active, gravitational things.
Vimanas high in nebulous skies,
legendary, ego-driven butterflies;
worlds are conquered, worlds undone,
according to ancient, mystic tongues.
Upanishads and Samar, Mahabharata, Ramayana;
even in the Samaranganasutradhara;
words have power, words have strength
and they will ride upon wavelengths.
Cast your dreams upon the skies,
upon Vimanas you may ride.
when the spirit embarks upon a quest,
it rides with incorporeal zest.