Long Cesspool Poems
Long Cesspool Poems. Below are the most popular long Cesspool by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cesspool poems by poem length and keyword.
The spirit of love was flowing in the air but all of a sudden it disappeared when the birds sitting on the fence spread filth on the cars parked in the garage. They say that it’s a symbol of luck for those that believe in miracle spewing out of the environment gut.
The wind is blowing and it is carrying a nasty stench within; the wind is blowing and the farm animals are murmuring. The donkeys are carrying a heavy load, they are climbing up the mountain with their backs laden with gold, the markets are not gold friendly and so they have to convert it to pound, shilling and pence in a hurry.
When the prices are right you, can get a gold ring for the price of a diamond and a ruby. Those boxes on the donkey’s back are worth twenty billion, the price of two houses, a shoe, a new frock and a cake with mixed icing on top.
A stench is moving around in the air and it is boiling with the spirit of fear, it not the stench you want smell when you are stuck in the lion’s den. You have got to formulate a better plan to get the cubs off the land; some people can be ambassadors, construction workers business entrepreneurs and dress makers.
Others can be carpenters, news reporters; naysayer and deal breakers can take on an assignment in different parts of the world and make their spirit bold. You can get them out of the lion’s den with money, ink, paper and a chartered air plane before the end of December.
The writer’s and the cinematography, news presenters, directors, producers, actors and the cameramen have much in common and can explore the universe and find new meaning with different verse.
The garbage is sitting on the street side and the flies are gathering around, circulating a deplorable stench throughput the town.
It is Wednesday for heaven's sake; the meeting is on so don’t be late. Get your notes together, for the members are already inside, the tiger is sitting at the front you have much in common so give a subtle smile to break the ice, the bear must be feared they will dilute the stench in the open air.
There is an awful stench in the air and it is coming from the cesspool.
Adam and Eve were kicked out of the garden, then they started eating meat
Away from plentiful fruits and vegetables, they started a fleshly retreat
Unwittingly sliding down Jacob''s ladder
Man falling from heaven down into dark matter
Away from the light of spirit
Closer to the root in this world and no longer intuit
Taking deep dives and swims in the infamous cesspool
Aimlessly moving through waste, playing a devil's fool
Now man is eating science projects like a sweet treat
So many manufactured food-like items that's Beyond Meat
Just wandering and meandering; meandering and wandering
A futile external search for sustenance, peace, and truth finds man perpetually scampering
Lost Paradise
Paradise Lost
How much time and energy will man exhaust?
Lost Paradise
Paradise Lost
How long will man pay this hefty cost?
Bright lights shining she came;
Amid cheers and proclaim;
"What a beauty!", they exclaimed;
Until the world played a little court game;
And no one here is to blame.
She went to play one midsummer’s day,
But her black skin made her a stray;
Runny nose, dusty hair, undone shoelace;
They cried, "You are different from the array so stay away".
She became her own castaway.
School, her teachers so cruel,
Thought she was from a cesspool,
With her torn clothes and parents from labour pool,
Deemed her unworthy of private school.
They shouted, "Take her out of the school, she is a fool".
Her report card, deep fiery gashes carrying calling card,
Her skin marred, her heart scarred,
With every heavy hand in her parent's backyard.
Broken toys, bad dreams, unshed tears, abandoned yard,
Her cradle became her graveyard.
She wanted to cry, no tears swell,
She wanted to shout, no words sound,
She wanted to live, no heart beat.
She fought,
She cried, she clawed,
She peeled herself a new one.
Her skin bled with every layer she peeled,
She was raw, with no one to heal.
She lost herself in the fumes of her past,
There was no lover, only losers in her cast,
Lipsticks, smoke, empty bottle and her broken heart.
As she was about to read her last page,
She understood, she was the one to set her stage,
She forgave and forgot the pains of her teenage,
She let go of her rage, didn't care about people's gage,
Broke out of society's cage and mended her broken rib cage.
Now she goes,
With scars of her past as armour, she goes,
Fighting for the cries of the people in shadows,
Beautiful words of love she will compose,
Dancing free in meadows of primrose.
As she knows,
She knows,
She knows,
There is no one she owes,
Her happiness just for their glowing prose.
Written @IIM Trichy Sanskriti 2019
Egyptian goddess
impetuous and pompous
Cleopatra’s conquests
at history’s bequests
wielded a propensity
for dramatic intensity
She snared the great Marc Antony
lured him into salacious surreality
of whirlwind amorous insanity
their thirst for world domination
stirred a most legendary seduction
concocted in the heat of passion
From a cesspool of politics leveraging
exponential cunning and beguiling
struggles in a dance of supremacy
conniving betrayals with godlike fury
their superpower alliance
met all-consuming defiance
Unequaled legendary games fanatical
proving most problematical
honor deceit and lies tragic
loyalties and turmoil climactic
In the end love a destructive factor
with more than one malefactor
hearts hopelessly infatuated
suddenly freed and elated
finally devoid of grief and strife
bound to reunite in afterlife
Read on air by invitation ~ March 20, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 2nd place 2021, 3rd place 2021, 3rd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2022, Front Page Pick 2021
As I sat at the table in the cafeteria I was eager to feast on the food staring at me. I was oblivious to anyone around. A hysterical laughter caught my attention and pulled me out of my cocooned world. I looked towards the direction from where the laughter came. There were three men seated deep into a cesspool of friendliness. It wasn’t that that was the highlight of that summer noon. It was the table adjacent to theirs. I was frozen for some minutes. The old lady and the young lad in the middle of a conversation threw me off balance. I could see my grandmother talking to me, telling me pastime stories and teaching me my fast-eroding culture. I could hear her calling out to me to come to her garden to aid her in transplanting her purple flowers. Tears streamed down my eyes.
Ride of the Scarecrow Clan
(To: Mittens)
She was born in the corn on a cold misty morn,
the most beautiful cat on the farm.
(I must keep her from coming to harm!)
The most beautiful kitty inspired this ditty
with whiskers that whisper her charm,
wild white whiskers that whisper her charm.
But the angels grew jealous, much too overzealous,
they schemed up a dastardly plan,
that they stole from a medicine man.
They would use and abuse all their magic, so tragic,
to conjure the Scarecrow Clan,
for their devilish dastardly plan.
The Clan owed them a favor for past misbehavior,
behavior so foul and so cruel,
they would ride when moon became full!
When the moon elevated they rose animated
to drown Mitten’s in the cesspool.
As they hunted they started to drool.
Hunting high, hunting low, riding ‘round to and fro,
the Clan frantically searched helter-skelter,
for young Mittens who found a safe shelter.
As they howled and they growled all the air became fouled,
but they couldn’t find Mittens’ safe shelter.
“When we find her, in acid we’ll melt her!”
Could these four scarecrows stoop to even new lows
as they hunt by light of the moon?
(Better hurry the dawn will come soon!)
Long they hunted and haunted but she was undaunted,
she laughed at the bumbling buffoons,
while she purred out some kitty cat tunes.
Curled with grace in a space near the warm fireplace,
for the Scarecrow Clan fears the fire.
(Just the thought of it makes them perspire.)
Low they lurched as they searched in the fields near the church,
growing desperate, dejected, and dire,
for the sunlight will make them expire.
Then dawn broke Night's dark cloak with a big puff of smoke
as the angels’ black magic was shattered,
and the Scarecrow Clan riders battered.
Under natural law the Clan turned back to straw,
and their straw o’er the cornfield was scattered.
She'll be safe now and that’s all that mattered.
13-March-2020 (Friday the 13th). First Place in "A Rattling Rhyme" poetry contest sponsored by Nina Parmenter
REFLECTIONS OF A WATERED ELDER
IN AND OF WE GREENS ??
Like the bright green grass,
We continue onward growth:
God, fertilizing.
Our youth, moist and fresh,
Are in dire need of being dried and
Cured to withstand today's trying times.
Void of Rights of Passage–barely rooted
And anchored in the sustaining energy
Of ourstory, our youth have become like
Unchartered ships in aimless serpentine waters,
Whorlwinding in a socio-psycho, bigoted cesspool:-
In Proverbs and Psalms
It has been collectively written:
“Train a [child] in the way
[They should go…[and] that the Lord
Is [the] light in [their] salvation;
[Whom] should [they] fear?”
The resurrection of the Village waits,
And the youth too; come, fellow elders,
Let us mirror and reflect ourstory’s journey
In a way our youths may envision their
Present-day destination: Least we fail
In ourstory’s present journeying:-
??: Extended family name
The world is a cesspool of complexities,
We are caught in a web of perplexities,
The deeper we search for explanations,
The more akin we are to contemplations.
Life is a bed of anxieties.
The closer we are to the light,
The more opposition we have to fight,
Life's tempest is not an illusion,
Though opulence fronts the conclusion,
We push through life's sea with every might.
No sage has seen the end of the book,
No matter how further they look,
We go into each day with unrelenting hope,
Taking watchful steps along each slope,
No one is perfectly skilled at throwing the hook.
February 24, 2023.
In God’s own world so humane once
Blood flows thick as incensed streams
Bullets rip through the buds of dream
The homeless drift as alien discards
Terror flares up in the fanatic hearths
Lives mutilated by despicable instincts
People plunge in cesspool of vice and sin
Dislodged empathy finds its way astray
Morality defaced by harsh intolerance
Kinship disintegrates in abhorrence.
In God’s own world so beautiful ever
The sun rises in multi-color grandeur
The ocean embraces the golden shores
The sky sparkles with moon and stars
The rains shower the music of clouds
The forest makes scenic emerald lattice
The river takes land’s essence to the sea.
The children born to inhabit the world
Still smile and play merrily in the field
God is not tired of the humankind yet
He will make the world humane again.
__________________
May 29, 2022
For A Brian Strand Premiere Contest
The politicians speak and act out in pure oxymoron.
By that I mean say one thing or promise one thing and do a next or the opposite. Some friends also do.
With warm cruelty and in a very nice and seemingly gentle sinister pretentious intentions.
Pure bare cold sweetly favoured and spicy nothings.....nothingnesses,
They promise you a great and propserous year.
But then they do absolutely nothing to improve your life in the slightest.
There is such a cold malignant mliciousness in the kindly promises.
The sweetest and most polished and sincerest sounding Bull you can ever imagine.
Trust them at your own damn risk, to your relaxed sleepy opium filled detriment.
Almost seems like all of them are the same.
No distinct difference.
As the Guyanese say maybe the only good one is dead.
Meaning that the good ones are gone.
And only good is said at theier Euloy after their bad deaths.
Their is endless Hypocrisy.
It's Like We Are Living An Oxymoron.
Don't get me wrong though, there have been and always will be a few really good and sincere ones Like my friend Dugu Gordon.
But most of them just live a disgusting honey money lie......they drown in a dirty legacy cesspool of rich bitter sweet mango jam irony and useless unnecessary excess wealth.