Long Clotting Poems
Long Clotting Poems. Below are the most popular long Clotting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clotting poems by poem length and keyword.
THUG LIFE
cold heart and mind,
drugs are lunch and supper,
prostitutes are friend and wives,
smoking is the daily work,
wanna be Hitler is the dream,
clotting blood is the appearance of the, body.
Never touched by a loving body since birth,
hunting and struggling is the game,
SOS is the code of life,
sinner inside and out,
happiness is not a disease,
under world is the final residence,
Unknown in the society,
no friends needed for advises,
loneliness is the habit,
police and jail are real friends,
revenge is the thirsty,
Happiness was a wish and desire,
sweet life was a dream and want,
friends and relatives was a basic need,
entrepreneur was a future contract,
but life changed into the thug one.
???WE'RE EACH OTHER'S HEARTBEATS
It is dark
You are In my heart
The solace far We're together light
So loved soul sweet, we're each other's heartbeats
~ Elohim
Creator Awaken us at dawn
God Man Woman,
all Celestial energy So loved so sweet
We're the same heartbeats ~
I see you as me and you and I
The Father other children are one ~
You are in my heart
I am in your heart
There's no parting
Nothing but blessed clotting
Within His anointing
So loved soul sweet
We're each other's heart beats ~
In the Father In the Son
I so love you as I love
Together we Are LOVE
We are Elohim ones
8/2/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Cast aside, he plummets to the desolate earth.
Hymns of his treacherous heart consume his ears.
Tears aren’t shed, pleads aren’t wailed
He’s left atop the desecrated hollow ground.
Azrael, the Angel of Death, come
snuff out his remaining life.
Azrael, take up your bloodied scythe,
carve off his wings,
and leave clotting crescent scars on his back.
He needs his wings no more.
Kiss a crimson smile upon his neck,
he’ll not sing anymore.
Left broken, flies descend upon him.
The flies sing a song of lies.
Devouring the words, he wished he had heard
at the time of his descent.
Chewing away at who he was
Ushering in who he will become.
Neither an angel,
Nor a man.
But something else.
The flies swarm the pit.
His body lies at the center of the crater.
A crimson smile graces his neck.
Murky eyes yearn heavenward.
Maggots nested within his flesh,
eating away at his unbeating heart.
Crawling through his veins
Multiplying, devouring, transforming
The quaking rot of his new body
Bleeds veiny wings
that beat against the blackened earth.
His baptism is a vile mass of
maggots, blood, songs, and flies.
His new body
Ugly, but defined.
Flies dance upon his unblinking eyes,
He can’t cry. His tears have since dried.
The fall desiccated his eyes, stealing his cries.
Ears echoing with fading hymns,
He is dead but persists in consciousness.
Maggots worm out from his red smile,
forcing him to gurgle,
“I am the Lord of Flies”
The flies buzz in victory,
Using their teeth
the maggots squirm out of his orifices
hatching from his flesh.
They raise their bodies heavenwards,
In praise of their new lord.
Finally my blood began to coagulate,
and stopped to seep out of the slashed heart,
lacerated in the tempest of turmoil
by the sharp shards of your refutation.
In the memory meadow I found a crack split open
in the longing ledge of my hypnotized heart,
where the sole sapling of love bloomed in brilliance,
freed from the compelled confinement of isolation.
In your embrace my senses gracefully turned
into rhapsodic rhythm of heart enchanted within,
set the course of the lingering love so long latent
to sail in the sensuous stream of my yearning.
In the tormenting torrent of zooming zephyr,
as you drifted away unconcerned past me,
and blew a devastating storm of apathy,
my fragmented fervent feeling became rapture ruins.
Your flouting indifferent footsteps trampled
my emotive flower as you departed uncaring,
its crumbled petals made a wreath
for the bleeding bits of my broken heart.
In the flow of time I saw the essence of my soul,
its healing measures created the concerto of clotting,
as liquid lines turned into coalesced connection,
the splendorous suture made my heart whole again.
"NA" poetry contest
Sponsor: Ink Empress
3rd Place.
Jamais Vu ~ "The feeling of being unfamiliar with something that is familiar. The opposite of deja vu."
These days, life is shroud in a fog so vivid
I’m forgetting what it was like before
I’m feeling saner in a truth so twisted
Nights sure have a way of exposing deplore
(And it took a while to realize but-)
I was jealous of all the lies I told,
the lessons I sought were self-assured
clotting my throat were vehement wisterias
as I let fear smile a perpetual hysteria
My tears tasted metallic
the tracks on my cheeks told tales of crimson
thoughts bitter, bitter, static
just blood in my veins and sickly sweet venom
Back then, you didn’t matter
that’s what I tell myself every plight
this world is an illusion yet to shatter
it is why you are prone to this pending bite
But words are the one time machine I get to have
the epitome of cruel hope each one of us vies
Yet we set ablaze dreams of ash
You and I, my young magpie
Alas you changed and I am changing
I know the reason we have changed is not time
for you were charged the crime of weeping
and I am mourning an ending mime
One last lie
I want to remember the person I was
One last goodbye
just another farewell my heart lost
I let my wounds breathe;
All wounds inflicted
By life's serrated blade.
Notwithstanding
Degrees of pain;
Whether dull or sharp,
I let my wounds breathe.
I don't smother them
With bandages.
How about you?
They are my crying eyes,
So I set them free to bleed
To be licked dry
By the wind's healing tongue.
You see, just like tears
Stop flowing,
Lacerated wounds
Stop bleeding
To start the healing
After clotting over.
Date written: 03/21/2023
A fair pile of graded kindling and fresh limbs.
Wooden spring, deep brooding in each fiber, the damp air won't help.
White fire, a searing brain, a taxing task, omni-repetitive, still
remains at one hand.
Weakling losing life to the vain ones' trash-talk.
Destroy nothing is what they did, flickering out in the same degrees they claim to cling in.
A generation of defeat, the last one's shadow losing to mind
creases, a folded reality to claim them by late afternoon.
Choose—no time for two. Soon you needn't think the weaker... the seeker.
Go now, or this all can be taken faster than you can react.
Try it—know you think accomplishment compliments the brave.
The hills will pass, and a valley collapsed and caved; all redacts the same.
Take lessons that I had taught you.
Are what you are just to be the same? Shame.
Your life in life, death, and in debt howled at the thought when that parasite finally sung in the cerebral mind walkway.
The Gong is struck when you start to continue on without commands.
It will drive, dive, and when invited inside, sink.
First signs showed themselves from a sunken pool deep and became entrenched, irremovable inside incredible things.
In irreversible time, you fall behind the lines of your very own eyes, sidelined, sliding horizon behind the glassed iris.
Looking out at a child to continue and thrive would be a slightly happier cry.
The Swan, at the moment, swaps a wasps' for the beetle's task.
Tasked with a peculiar torture devised, violent arches stretch in the middle remained in vicious spasms for the remaining nights.
Up until the dreadful last palpitations in an infernal happening expunging the heart from clotting, culminating in a violent expulsion.
When freedom becomes a hopeless dream
When the search for clear skies gets us lost at sea
Do we fight our last bit of sanity
Or box it away with lock and key
What becomes of person buried in sand
Choking on the risk of calling for a helpful hand
A voice going extinct, drowned out by the lack of help
Devastated by those who see, but willingly go blind
To those of a different kind
Many questions forged by a history so stagnant
The answer of change not yet answered
Humans were made to evolve
Yet biology couldn't even help the mindset of some
For centuries years long
Many have kept their racist ideologies afloat
What will it take for a world to listen
For it to see a new world vision
Where ignorance becomes a villain
Where the colour of ones skin doesn't make them a victim
Hope drains the oppressed
Leaving us bleeding negativity
Or maybe it's just acceptance of a realistic reality
It's hard to believe in the light
When you're born into darkness
For a world claiming to be 'progressive'
It sure does hate blackness
Deny, deny, deny
But evidence doesn't lie
The proof they seek
Resides in our blood
The clotting is the proof of generational trauma
A glint in the black, like stars
Pearly, polished, pointy peaks of a fiend
Fangs of self-deprecation, puncturing every effort
Coursing the flow of doubt, discouragement and defeat
I may not see your face, beast, but your teeth betray you in darkness
Dripping with the blood of my best effort and intention
Inexperience and ignorance, clotting ...
I am but a babe in the woods of poetic expression
Searching like Hansel, for crumbs of excuse and artistic insight
Oh, I see your vestiges, hear the gnawing of your dismal disregard
And your umbra shades every scribble ... every keystroke
But I know you well ... I know who placed you there
Yet, with a sword forged in kind encouragement and friendships, rare
I will stand on the battlements, and fight to the end
And should you gain the last word, it shall be inscribed ... in my blood.
~ 8th Place ~ in the "Plucking the Poisonous Parrot" Poetry Contest, Maureen McGreavy, Judge & Sponsor.
I'd much rather just go shopping and play.
But, alas,hordes of humanity enmasked?
I wish not to see!
Nor my own masked countenance
In a mirror be.
Fear runs thick as dark sludge, just everywhere.
Vaccination stations, injectors, rule, who cares?
Methinks, clotting blood?
Not for this crotchety fool.
The Lord will take me one brisk sunny day.
His servant shall not into her crimson blood allow to run,
Poisonous liquid promises that protect no one!
Heinous lies, a vaccination nation?
Not by this poet, nor do I sleep in foolish, fearful, death
anticipation.
Each must decide for himself, make a choice!
Let us respect each individual's voice!
3/21/2021
~2~
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