Long Clots Poems
Long Clots Poems. Below are the most popular long Clots by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clots poems by poem length and keyword.
There is a monster inside me, with sharp teeth and claws,
Gnawing at the walls of my skull, scratching deeply down my mute throat,
It thrusts its hands deep between my ribs, searching for nonexistent words,
I sit before the blank page, a cold slab that mocks me,
A morgue drawer for all the things I cannot say.
I bleed ink, but it clots before it touches the paper,
The letters choke themselves before they see the light,
Every sentence struggles and dies in my hands,
A stillborn thought, an unfulfilled phrase's corpse.
I want to scream in metaphors, but they crawl up my throat like insects,
And I bite, crushing syllables, my teeth enveloped in the taste of unfinished poetry.
I stab the pen into the page. Nothing.
I tear at the margins. Nothing.
I try to carve words into my skin, but even my blood refuses to spell,
What do you do when words betray you, when they fold their arms and turn away?
When they become Judas in your mouth, kissing you only to leave you empty?
Somewhere, a poet is drowning in verses,
Somewhere, a writer is setting fire to their own pages,
And I am here, choking on the ashes of a story,
That will never be told, a mute echo in a deaf universe.
The same
Old fashion sweeps
Due blame
On thoughts we keep
She strays
With a sly poise
Odd ways
Of twisted voice
The clash
Of deceit here
Tricks dash
Of needless fear
She speaks
As if to sway
Odd streaks
Of clots that stay
Mad mind
Can usurp thoughts
In kind
As blisters dot
She screams
And calls out names
Curds cream
To cast odd blame
Trite makes
Emerge to fit
Strange takes
Of crazy bits
She hears
Forfeit cast loss
Right here
In fickle toss
Mad things
Come out to play
Sad flings
In anxious say
She thinks
To swing the bat
To link
Non-rancid fat
Sad tale
Of a lost soul
No sale
In broken whole
Leon Enriquez
25 April 2017
Singapore
the fiber optic cables are swollen with grief
blood clots the airwaves
faces beyond despair stare from half a world away
newsprint is smudged with the tears it’s reporting
the world’s absurdity
nature’s cruelty
man’s depravity
all in high-resolution overdoses of reality
there are too many claims on my sympathy
too much need for the morphine of apathy
to preserve my faith in humanity
I have to ration my pity
stop my ears
turn away from the carnage
lest my heart grow cold faster than the bodies
so I exchange the funereal for the farcical
take sabbaticals from the news
and seek refuge in the world of Pixar
Where's this years "Turkey_Pardon"?
Pardon me, where's the pardon on the Family?
Was the CCP funding too lucrative, Universities?
Any press briefing, explanations,
the WEF financial mechanisms
too carotid in artery.
I guess hunting season is still on,
"Runningman" repeats.
still a filler for
Commercial Broadcasting Disservice,
regularly scheduled reprogramming, propagandizing.
Meanwhile we are in Psalms 83 and Ezekial 38,
looming. .. 3 8 3 8 3 3..
I wonder what it means?
Too bad for that one potential lime-lighted Turkey.
Judgment is coming too Humanity.
Makes one seem crazy to report these days.
In perpetuity. One thing after another
and all against the People. For the leaders, a totally separate reality.
Why are they not arrested and questioned
by the People?
Is it because they polarized us against each other,
so that they are not the objects of scrutiny.
Maybe they will throw us a bone or a stick next,
to keep us occupied.
The question is, would it be laced with Fentanyl
or biologicals from an unsecured Chinese Lab here in America?
Or will it be one of those costly imports
maybe shipped from our Southern crosswalk.
Hey at least this year there is no ban on Church, gatherings,
as our leaders again gather mask free
with saline booster shots instead of what
is mandated for you and me.
Knowing that the vaccine was untested
(for Public transparency),
and Pfizer the only ones given immunity.
For aiding crimes against humanity, no apologies.
[Yeah, I can remember students dropping dead
on the sports field happening all the time
growing up (Saturday morning football death before
cartoons was a regular thing).
Who knew also that veins
are supposed to have long black graphene
induced clots, and young people to
die of heart attack and stroke at age 13.
Although, on a happier note,
2024 is a fresh year, for slavery.
It's Springtime eclipse a warning of disasters incoming,
vote casting,
ill Confederacy, Rhinoplasty, !CONSPIRACY!
reciting an x across the Country with 2017's.
Cancelling freedoms, Christians
and the World as we knew it to be.
Planet X mirrored,
icing, a crystal clear reveal i
n chaos waxing a seal of unmasking
our present real judgment, reality.
HOURGLASS SAND
She sits alone by the candlelight, pen in hand.
Wax drips from her fingertips, like hourglass sand.
wind whispers
in
dark clouds
Mascara runs, blotting sad memory thoughts.
Turns to rage, with burgeoning crimson clots.
lava erupts
running
down mountaintop
She remembers the depth of happiness as his wife,
like a mouthwatering stew, flavored with long life.
a ladle
mixes
savory gravy
Her lovely lithesome lines, like calligraphy, graces
the dawning of vellum day, whilst her heart races.
invitations
ring
silver bells
Her lashes, her brows, her lips move with her wrist.
Then anguish, transcends good thoughts, clenching her fist.
expressions
of a
worn face
She sits back quietly, taking a moment to recollect the early days
before his sudden illness, before the medical maze.
turquoise water
of
the Caribbean
When his hands rubbed her shoulders, as she wrote.
As they enjoyed adventure, in their romantic sailboat.
forever
and
ever ago
She sits alone, as shadows meander upon the wall,
attempting to tap the best of them, before death’s call.
8/4/2017
She Sits Alone Contest
Couplet Form
The wind blows across
empty cattle yards
and tailing mounds
from old copper mines,
across open spaces
that spread beyond
boundary fences
and the reach
of railway lines,
way out past
the rutted wakes left
by four wheel drives.
Only bones take root
out here and grow
into phantoms
who haunt the horizon,
finding voice in the moans
that wander the land
in search of lost
ancestral homes.
Something ancient
sleeps here
deep underground.
Coiled in a sacred womb
it waits for rebirth.
Beneath the quiet cathedrals
of vaulted nights
you can hear it breathe
through pore holes
rising up out
of the red earth.
Far away,
corralled inside coastal cities,
a nation grows deaf
on the din of its own noise.
Blinded by the dazzle
of unresting lights,
it floats the continent
dangling clots
of shallow roots.
An ominous childhood rhyme
Recited as an incantation
To veil truly hurt feelings
Sticks and stones
Indeed are much less painful
Than the unkind
Callous
Cruel
Words
A sting from a stranger
A rack from the beloved
Sticks and stones
Create wounds that bleed
And wounds that bruise
But blood clots
And bruises disappear
But words
Like daggers puncturing the heart
And battering the mind
Stay with us for
An uncertain duration
With delayed or absence of healing
Even a word not meant
Carries the same anguish
As a bullet unintended
And even if one survives
They are forever changed
Alas
Each word has much weight
The weight of heavy iron
'Tis follow to abandon
Thought and reason
In uttering the slightest phrase
For a thoughtless word
Lethally leaves the mouth
As does an inflamed missile
It can never return
And it is too late to avoid calamity.
I will weep my heart out,in the shade!
There won't be an end to Roe vs Wade!
Abortionists need dead infants's tissues
For a "vaccine" and our government does not tthink that, an issue?
Death, blood clots, you get, they do not care.
You, in a tomb, they get their greenbacks share!
Ah, that vaccine shot in your arm.
The dream that only you and nobody else, protected from harm?
Integrity is on grand holiday.
People so frightened, even will give their lives away.
Of side effects, we never hear.
We joyfully roll up our sleeves and go out later for an ice cold beer.
From sheer fear and phony medicine, people,shall never stop.
Easier, and no thinking to get a shot, is it not?
No due diligence, on your part?
Just hope andget the magical, infallible, arm dart!
Never told once…it destroys immune system and heart.
Thus we avoid anti_vaxxers, that most dangerous lot.
Freedom of choice! No not for you,
“My body, my choice” reserved for only the pro-death crew!
6~7~2021
All is pristine.
White lights twinkle,reflected on freshly fallen snow.
The black velvet backdrop of night
Enhances the perception of silvery glitter.
Each tiny flash excitedly gossips to their neighbor.
All is pristine.
There is no trace of mankind.
No hint of corruption or decay to distract from the beauty.
No footprints, no tire tracks,
No clots of snow pushed into dirty stacks
At every corner.
The scent of pine, of a snowflake, of a star filled winter sky.
Tears prick my eyes as the apple
Crisp wind blows across my numb face.
The tiny fuzz in each nostril freezes with every inhalation.
I lift my boot clad foot to take the first step
Into all of that vast ,clean,whiteness
And weep.
I weep for the innocence of childhood,
the freshly fallen snow of youth.
That first step Into puberty, that first taste of the forbidden fruit, into the knowledge of good and evil that inevitably leaves a nasty muddy footprint on my soul.
We do not get to begin again as winter does every turn of the earth.
No, for us winter is forever.
It remains.
We simply shuffle the dirty snow stacks
Into the dark corners of our minds.
This is why redemption is such a miracle!
And the scriptures say it best…
"Come now,and let us reason together,
Saith the Lord, though your sins be as scarlet,they shall be
White as snow.”
Isaiah 1:18
Pouring out my heart, it’s devoid of all blood
Perhaps more knotted, resembling of redwood
Splinters and shavings, fall away with each thud
Can’t escape this logjam, only wish I could
Pouring out my heart, but it’s failing to bleed
I’m losing my grip, roots won’t let me proceed
Failing right now, to try express what I need
Asking friends to listen, then pay them no heed
Pouring out my heart, packs sawdust in a sack
Peep inside the hessian, can only see black
Empty now, that’s ok, voids always grow back
How come I’m still here, has Jesus cut me slack
Pouring out my heart, clots heavily engrained
Tied to dilemmas, escaping leaves me drained
Worse part of all, my collapse is unexplained
For better or worse, gravity’s not sustained
Pouring out my heart, there’s nothing’s left to pump
Felled to the ground, with the slightest little bump
Prostrate and broken, a fragmented tree stump
I’m resting come join me, make a chair we’ll slump
Pouring out my heart, through a duty of care
The fruits of my labor, look across and glare
I gaze beyond them, thinking life’s over there
Vines grow round my neck, help lift me off the chair