Long Chaotic Poems
Long Chaotic Poems. Below are the most popular long Chaotic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chaotic poems by poem length and keyword.
Take a journey with me
hear the beat of poetry as we stroll,
read my words and listen to my heavy steps.
Inside each poet a clock has ticked off a thousand miles !
Verses fall like flower petals raining down,
each day a new poem pours from poet's hearts and souls.
Now, I have been following a new poet . . .
inside her soul dwells the true beating drum of poetry!
Carpe diem, verse, rhyme, etheree, lanterne forms she conquers.
Many of us also struggle to learn these forms but we persist,
you, me, and threvini share the words in our heart.
Silence rages in this chaotic world but we have poetry !
Open your eyes and see this new poet and embrace her,
realize the gift we have been given to write for peace, bliss and faith,
each poet new or old is special !
everything is made up with fake
since the things you see all are fakes
it’s pitiful, but i myself even seem to be a fake one
if i, wandering around in a maze, is not i
then my mother who gave birth to and raised me,
also is a fake.
it can’t be possible.
it’s illogical.
this chaotic world totally confuses me
mother is the only hope we have in this “all fake” world,
the only truth that we have on this earth.
it’s unthinkable considering mother’s fake,
it’s an insult to mother the most precious name of all
there must be a good reason i must have
to come to this ridiculous thought—mother also is a fake,
because of the smile of ones who make money
exploiting others’ agony and sufferings shining in the sunlight
those fake ones, all boozed up under the moonlight,
castrate a pig skillfully manipulating a knife
that gleams in the stale air under pale moonlight
and the fake ones live solely for their own merit
stroll their way wearing a sash with a beautiful phrase
‘love thy neighbor’
since no one can exist without others
or there are no others without me, the fake ones
may be telling the truth;
the fake ones, what’s so important about saving face?
why don’t you live as you are…
oh, what a ridiculous world we live in
I am like an avalanche slithering in shivering angst,
free-falling into an abyss of an aching era,
where luminous lakes reflect pixelated regrets,
for time throws my canvas into splitting helplessness,
and mind plays tricks in aimless frequency,
framing toneless tenors within paralyzed psyche,
pushing and pulling ivory strings of my ebony heart.
Now I’m dwelling in the chaotic caves of a calculative carnivore,
unable to grasp the lunar light that envelopes forsaken fields,
while crooning caged memories, like a pensive nightingale,
pondering, would the moon ever untangle these starless thoughts?
Or was it written on the wailing walls of melancholic museums~
that I was meant to drown in dizzying darkness?
I’ll rest my pen in a glass casket of equations~
cloaking this crippled conscience from seeing beyond vague visions,
detached from kohl eyes, eager to steal my voice,
as I keep sinking in black and white polarity,
pausing curative prose in screeching silence.
Written: December 26, 2023, For Robert James Liguori Contest
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Poem Inspired by Joe Bonamassa song: Cradle Rock
If I were a crib, would you allow me to rock?
In the soothing embrace of a lullaby talk.
Do you vow to watch out for me with care?
If I sway erratically through the air,
If I were an anchor, I'd secure your ship.
Sustaining you and not allowing you to dip.
Even when it storms, I'll hold you tight.
An unshakeable anchor built for the night.
If I turned an atom, I'd glide through the trees.
Could you view me? Could you hear my pleas?
Would you be struck by the facets of life's chart?
Could I potentially be inconspicuous amid my art?
If my mobile phone fails yet, I am outside.
Will you allow your dogs to lead me and guide?
Would you save me with a howl and a growl?
Do you zealously guard my desire and soul?
Should I be a baby? Could you let me fall?
Or will your hands wrap me and assist my crawl?
Would you tenderly supervise my first step?
And protect me from the chaotic misstep.
If I'm a felon, will you aim for my caught?
Or will you be able to set me free, fraught?
With caring eyes, could you sense my pain?
Allow me to gain relief by cutting this chain.
If I were a tiger, would you have me in a cage?
Or will you let me roam, wild and uncaged?
Will you accept my chaos and my savage desire?
Then will I ignite with ravenous zeal and fire?
Don't let the euphoria be the sole escape.
There's plenty else in life to relish and shape.
Discover your purpose and your drive.
And turn your ambitions and hobbies alive.
Yet if you are surrounded by fumes and haze,
You'll skip all the vibrant hues life displays.
Explore the world as if it were a white slate.
So much you may miss as you're at a fete.
Will you allow me to view if I am a night light?
Let your soul shine, and darkness will be bright.
Offering guidance while casting a soft glow.
An inspiration, no matter where you show.
Time kisses each upon a cheek with timeless teeth of smile.
Even hungry mice as we, who walk in other’s shoes a mile.
Along the empires’ ridge we stroll with nighttime sky, engaged.
Impoverished, as our brethren watch, with hearts aflame, enraged.
Stories we disguise in different form, atoms shifting in chaotic dance.
Clothing manifested from our storm, a destiny some see as only chance.
Slim silhouettes of matchsticks burning, one or in a pack.
Knots untying, unifying all the envy that we lack.
Broken, born, or lost as halves; to be or not to be,
Whatever cost to make each other into whole, you see;
Solutions searching randomly, ingredients like dust
Upon a chalkboard scribbled fierce, as snow-white rust
Or written clear, on pages here,
And then erased.
May, June, July, new Presidents and Prime
Ministers elected world-wide,
Politicians, crossing the floor, patronizing
The other side,
Finally striving for what we all hope,
Peace and unity,
But the yellow canary haired man has for
Years acted with impunity.
Could a Utopia exist in these
Chaotic times.
Kamala is hot on his heels for in two months
All will be said and done,
Will democracy hear the bells chime,
As the poll numbers rise which would
Be first prize,
As Humpty Dumpty loses his
Landslide win,
And Democracy walks away with
A grin,
As the aged wann-a-be President’s
Predictions wear thin.
OR
Will this man actually come to pass,
Destiny is in the making,
Winner takes and will have a worldwide
Platform for the taking,
The East it seems have with him
Become somewhat chummy,
Quite a risk don’t you think, but all will
Soon be revealed honey.
Aquarius, a good friend of mine,
leading the people around me since the beginning of time.
Hilarious the way he is kind,
now he's showing to me what I always wanted to see.
The chaotic side of life,
which makes you feel free like a raven flying high.
I see the people drown,
women, children, men, all looking like clowns,
ridiculous and stupid the way they are.
Confetti, which once was their home,
taking their breath, closing their throat.
Disgusting this world, which made me spit blood.
Through beautiful words, the well-known sky falls apart,
seeing it burn to the ground and rise again in a hot, hard-burning flame.
This is the nirvana I wanted to feel,
the heartbreaking truth my psyche needed to hear.
This, my friend, is the harmonic sound of change,
destroying all we had and ever made.
But what is that?
Through all the ashes and flames,
there's a little mad man who's ready to rule the world.
He climbs up on the mountain of dirt,
completely destroyed and badly hurt.
He will build what once was destroyed,
and that's how he'll find peace
in this round wheeled, repeating world.
The hustle of the
Khyber pass
Dusty
Dirty
Traffic chaotic
Pori’s border
Like the ground
Soaking up my foot prints
We move beyond
The bus is silent
In this barren landscape
I look upon the discarded
Shells of war
Interesting
I identify shells
From many wars
Like a walk
Along a beach
After a storm
An high tide
But the storm
Still thundering
The vision scape
Has pockets of green
So many gums
I could be back
In Oz
A brief stop
Jalalabad
The men Decant
I stay
Watching
Looking
Out the dusty window
Engrossed in what I see
The woman and children
All start talking and laughing
At once
The sudden noise
Makes me Jump
I look around
But all I see are ghosts
But free
The influence
Of men
The men return
So does the silence
We move on
We pass a check point
Then stop
Beside a green river
I sit on the bank
Smoke some hash
With old Coco
He looks just like
The old cameleers
From the pioneers
We can’t converse
But I feel
A gentle heart
War tired eyes
Mountains loom
Around us
We are about to make
The push up
To Kabul
We join a convoy
Of trucks
So many trucks
All going up
And up
And up
Never been on such
A huge mountain
And such a narrow
Road
I look down on the
Shells of trucks
That didn’t make it
Up or down
Horns blare
Dust stings my eyes
But I want to see
If I am
About to die
We plateau
And loose the convoy
Cruse toward Kabul
We stop at the
Biggest refugee camp
The atmosphere is
Stressful
Angry
Suffocating
Claustrophobic
Like a humid
Wet season day
I can’t wait to leave
Continue we do
The end is here
The infamous
Soccer stadium
Blocks an blocks
Of rubble
The end
Of the road
To Kabul
I want to belong to a hollow space,
Where no one can catch my tiny lace.
I want to live on my own,
The space is nothing but a trace.
I have found my own kingdom,
The disheartened enemies have learned some wisdom.
I have found my own gallery,
Where hollowness is never misery.
I want to live every day as if it’s my last,
The world is the beginning and, perhaps, also the end.
I want to live in my own space,
Where I can be myself, leaving behind every judgmental face.
I want to leave behind my memories,
Since memories stir unnecessary dilemmas.
I cannot undo what has been done,
I cannot worry about what is out of my hands.
Allow me to live in my hollow paradise,
Free from the tension of commentators.
Allow me to get back on track,
Even if it’s a chaotic maze.
In the distance, hues of soft-pink paint the sky
Overtaking the darkness
Space awakens and the sun opens it’s eyes
Tones are gentle at first,
But the vibrant orange rays could not be contained
Soaring above the mountains
Snow capped peaks appear as small pebbles
Clouds resemble billowing cotton
Varying masses of water cover the landscape beneath
I continue to acknowledge natures’s beauty
High above
Far away
From the chaotic world below