Long Coax Poems
Long Coax Poems. Below are the most popular long Coax by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coax poems by poem length and keyword.
Embarkation upon meditation...
Believe me you upon manifestation
regarding Das godaddy bing linkedin
with avast cosmic consciousness
self induced light hypnotic trance
I become enthralled
unless wife disrupts intent concentration
calling out "Matt...Matt...Matt"
bajillion times Googleplex
(slight hyperbole for literary effect),
subsequently courtesy
disembodied voices
deliver poetic inspiration
without forcefully summoned,
rather gently coax (zeal lust lee)
amidst Smokey and Bandits spiritus mundi
plethora of discordant
indistinct jabbering murmurs
requiring exacting golong strategy
kickstarting coalescence regarding
faintest hint analogously harboring
shipping news a boat
reeling in catch of the day
thus, fingers snakishly
slither skitter, sidle
at greased lightning pace
across Macbook Pro laptop keyboard
feverishly unleashing
unexpected brainstorming tsunami
recalling steely apothegm
strike while the iron iz hot,
thus such epiphany occurred
moments ago - in case
ye heard "Eureka" shouted
loud, free and clear
without moment to lose
yours truly brooked
stream of consciousness
ignoring flash flood warnings
slapped down one after another
figurative pontoon bridge
all the while skirting
eddies, whirlpools, fierce whitecaps
fortunately hauling unexpected
magnificent linkedin kindled
sense and sensibility
yours truly rendered speechless
(most time non verbal when writing),
additionally hodgepodge mashup
offers no rhyme nor reason,
yet burst of pooled
imponderable gushing silent spring
(courtesy ghost of Rachel Carson)
currently did flickr
demanding immediate typing
though poetic license expired
please don't tell commission,
nor chief word den
these unpredictable eruptions
(most likely indistinguishable
turkey in the straw gobbledygook
to the untrained eye),
rather good n plenti
camouflaged indecipherable creativity
(nope, not even practiced experts
keen on esoteric etymological arts)
stymied to understand)
mine swiftly styled harry tailored
gibberish oh baying avant
(to assign long sentence
upon Matthew Scott),
which "FAKE" premature ejaculation
incorporating poppycock mishmash
screened for your viewing discomfort
unbelievably came to this homeless tramp,
while he plodded across no man's land
with hud door hubble mojo risin.
There are TWO PARTS to this. The first one is here- https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/the_pen_lives_on_part_1_876104 . Please read both. Thanks!
It’s fun to stop breathing.
I hope it’ll happen.
If I could only gather enough courage
to slash my wrists and dreams
in a bloody mess,
nobody would miss me or my writing
for too long. Never mind.
They’d find me, and keep me rooted to soil,
to the impostor that is love
and the world that spits in my face.
There’s only one way to die.
One way that would justify death,
not exhaust-breathing, nor jumping, nor cutting.
I wonder if I could just get a gun
and play Russian roulette with myself,
spinning the barrel over and over again,
shooting, shooting, shooting, never sure
when Death will come and take me away.
The rumors say he’s a hard, cold man
But I believe him soft and kind.
Love is a bastard.
As is friendship.
All either of them do is coax you into something,
learn all of your secrets,
and then dunk you into the mud, kick you around,
and leave you, their wicked faces smiling.
Which is why I never trusted them.
I never knew why every foolish person,
sails and oars cast overboard,
went such long distances for them.
Some books I’ve never read and never will.
Long, boring, winding stories,
all based on the same Shakespearean play.
I never understood why everything
cascaded down as it did. Romantics,
I now know, and money.
Money, the green thief of society!
How every man adores and dotes on thee!
How every man creates their shrine on the world
Built and destroyed by thee!
Leaving lets you avoid emotion.
I lie in bed alone and dream
of jumping on the first train to Russia
– because nobody wants to be in Russia nowadays –,
of waiting for the world to crash down behind me
as I plaster a two-fingered L to my forehead
and stick my tongue out at everything dying,
including myself, sooner or later.
I live only for one thing.
I live only to write.
The lessons I’ve learned in life:
She married him for his money.
Everything’s perfectly fine with me.
Masks cover feelings.
Not all was meant to be.
My parents think they love.
It’s fun to stop breathing.
There’s only one way to die.
Love is a bastard.
Some books I’ve never read and never will.
Leaving lets you avoid emotion.
I live only to write.
The pen lives on.
(2-14-17)
If I start all over again,
This time, will you fall in love with me?
If I play your favorite songs,
Will you find yourself lost in me?
If I call you for an evening tea,
Will you come with a bouquet of roses, carefree?
If I buy red bangles just to see you smile,
Will you wear them with pride, even just for a while?
If I wish to share my thoughts with you,
Will you stay a little longer and listen too?
If I start all over again,
This time, will you fall in love with me?
If I start a new,
Will you make me your habit too?
Your voice, I adore,
Will you sing me your favorite songs once more?
I want to watch the setting sun someday,
Will you walk beside me for a few steps that way?
I get lost in my tangled thoughts,
Will you untangle them when my mind knots?
If I start all over again,
This time, will you fall in love with me?
If I start anew,
Will you stay this time, not bid adieu?
I'm not used to having someone always near,
Will you change my habits and calm my fear?
If in anger, I tell you to leave,
Will you hold on, even when it’s hard to believe?
If I sulk over little things,
Will you be the one to end my sufferings?
If I break down and start to cry,
Will you hold on to the fears that make me shy?
I often pause while speaking my heart,
Will you listen to the silence that tears me apart?
If I start all over again,
Will you love me like a story with no end?
I want to sulk sometimes, will you come and coax me back?
When I run away from myself, will you find my track?
I’m trying to fix what’s broken within,
Will you wait for me till I find peace again?
If I can’t hold myself anymore,
Will you stand by me and fight this war?
Let’s just say we start from the beginning,
Will you complete our unfinished story and make it worth winning?
The scars on my heart, that ache and burn,
Will you heal them with your love in return?
If I come closer to you,
Will you erase the distance and make us two?
If I gather courage to place my shattered heart before you,
Will you love me once again and mend it anew?
I wonder, this time when we meet,
Will it be a new beginning, not just a fleeting beat?
But every time I hope for more,
You always end it with a soft "goodbye" at the door.
But still,
If I start all over again,
Will you love me this time...
For real?
(for: them who are ever there!)
these branches and roots
that cord to the grave ancients
should be free from man’s swords!
both oracle and priest held for days …
I
Your voice speaks in the silence of the night
To the deep still shady earth
That once held a great zest for our childhood
Here in the once thick wooded land
Where progenitors strewed their rustic huts
Yes! where, sang tho’ unseen those sonorous kin-spirits.
2
Ah! Happy and keen folks were the ancients, then;
But their sons? what a sad lot, now! even
Demented hearts aching from those drinks of dizzy times
Raw anguish, sorrow, painful hemlocks of death-lines,
The slow songs that tune softly to the mirthful graves
That still hold the ancestors like prisoners in the wild caves.
3
O! for your unravished wave of primal welcome,
That bade the sonorous weaver come
To make loud greeting of blue azure with song-fleet
O! for such uudecoded song that for the sagging flesh bear ointment
Secret balm from the rhyming unsteady palm leaves of the winds
That flute clearly to ancestors those eternal silent songs.
4
Known are those festal spirits of your night
From whom many lives readily spring forth:
Mused thru’ the voices of strong mortal compeers –
Priests, priestesses, praise-singers, warriors, dancers!
That with gusto, flounder across the space of time;
O, for those festal moments of flush! o, for the celestial clime!
5
You are the unseen bridge of the world,
Like Nturukpa, that elder amongst our ferry trees;
Your bark exhumes the bright colours of the past;
And carried thru’ the festal wings of your night
We desire to be mused to the ethereal clime;
Of uncurbed equanimity and euphoria of the divine.
6
I now know the anguish of these festal spirits
Who take refuge on the water-void banks
Of the topmost branches and leaves;
I now know the noise of their feasts in sacrifices:
Doleful sacrifices in the gods’ swollen foot!
Then adieu! adieu! from the cloyed humans in advent!
7
O farewell! with all your festal spirits,
Who coaxed to the night of sacrifices, priests,
Priestesses, dancers, praise-singers, warriors of the land;
Adieu! with these cold celebrations and coax-throated songs heard,
Thru’ the voice and echoes of rain’s thunder,
In the day of the panther and his noble twin, the hunter.
Is it the truth that blinds us
If They say God is Love then how can Love blind us
How can lies remind us> minus trust
It takes years to build it and only seconds to destroy it
And as I let ideas fall out into thoughts, that are like drops of rubbing alcohol across the countertop
There is a smell of a hospital that reminds me of newborn life and then death flashes and i lose my sight
Its untrue that the definition of the first person that hesitates here, really converts over and spills positive enrgy into the rest of his life
Cause its like you stall and the lightening strikes
The tree falls down and your a second behind it
The dark barks that it hates the light
The light shines and its basically the truth that blinds you
The brillance of the the giantest star draws you like a bug to the lighjt
you get suck in because its your time to die
You cant change it, its evrymans destiny,\
thats why you must be in the postion that god places you
Work on earth to be done and men are lazy, they dont even want to be a family provider
i seen this i didnt understand it was truly overwhelming
Its like i knew the veiw you see is a little different
you say hes just goin through hard times are you any better
I was like damn i help the man by leading him to water
And he was like id rather sleep than feed my daughter
Thats why mommy goes to work and on the face of the earth men are dying
Little boys are born to suffer this woe of society
Woman are supernatural acts of kindness
But you bring out the dormant side and the one who gave life becomes a destroyer
No matter woman or man God is my employer
I work for virtually nothing but to see a hurt soul rejoice and i smile in satisfaction
Im like the truth never blinded me it set me free from the darkest whitest lies
That are actually darker the this side of what you think is compatible
couples marry and then they hate each before the first chapter of the story
and unfaithfulness derives out of the unsatisfaction of dissatisifaction
Then the children suffer from the lack of harmony in a family inviroment
NoW truth come take the blinds off the mouth that sugarcoaTS THE DECEIVING TONGUES
OF THOSE WHO DONT LIKE YOU
THERE LIKE ITS OKAY TO SIN BUT DONT LET THEIR LIPS COAX NOR ENTICE
The zenith is exactly crossing the horizon
The lies blind and basically the Truth is silent
Friday morning, 3am, I'm awake because sleep eludes me. Mr. Sandman has gone out drinking with my friend Beryl, no doubt, and subsequently neglected his charge in sending me off to slumber. It's cold. The crispness of the witching-hour air clings to my naked chest, draping itself over me like a ghostly sheet of un-life. Outside my window the silence of deep-night has spread into every corner and crevice, the dark broken but barely by the pale light of the moon. She floats silently overhead, smiling and keeping watch over us from the comfort of her star-studded heaven. Is this the time to be reflecting on the events which have transpired these past few days? In the silence of this hour my mind is filled with a confusing array of questions, accusations, assumptions, realizations and regrets. When I close my eyes I find no comfort from the pain which has become my companion, sitting on my shoulder or trailing in my shadow; always present and never far away. There was a time when I could find peace within the dark rooms of my mind. Now I find only echoes. Echoes of his heart-wrenching sobs, his crystalline tears and the sound of my own heart being torn into innumerable tiny pieces. The light from the laptop screen is hurting my eyes, piercing through the veil and pulling my soul out into the world and into words. What has become of us? Where did we go so terribly off track? How could I be so completely blind to how distant and withdrawn I had become, and the pain it was causing him? I fight back the tears for they want to revel in my sadness once again. Its 3am and silence abound. In a couple of hours the sun will rise and the world will come alive. Life does go on I suppose, but not in the way I would like it to right now. It's as though I am caught in the slipstream of some cosmic monster that's pulling me in a direction I do not want to go, but that I am powerless to resist. My tired eyes are heavy and my heart is beating slow. Sleep has not come for many a night, and it is starting to show. I'll turn off the light just now and try once again to coax my mind into slumber and my thoughts into rest, but I know that when I close my eyes and wander the hallways of my mind-house he will be there around every corner and behind every door. He will be everywhere except where he should be...which is next to me.
Coax the child and win his trust,
while his father hides out of sight.
Come here, in the alley
behind the garage,
on the corner of the block.
Did you grab him ?
Did he plead and beg and cry,
continuously asking why ?
OR, did you take the humane approach ?
Fast - quick without warning,
feeling no pain as you let him die ?
A raised gun held close and tight.
DON'T MISS !
BANG...bang bang...Bang.
Stupid Kid,
I lured you to your DEATH,
and sent a message Loud and clear,
REAL LOUD for your dad to hear.
Would daddy know the reason why ?
Would he feel fear or a surge of strength ?
Break the silence, Speak out - SHOUT !
The grievous crime was yours not mine.
Be a hero in my eyes.
Be a man.
PLEASE...be my DAD !
Daddy look at me.
You'd be proud of your little man.
I looked that person in his face.
His eyes were fixed on me,
until I blinked.
The gun went BANG !
My body hit the ground.
A foot nudged me in my side.
No response.
HE'S DEAD...
They walked away.
Elusive pursuit endeavoring to craft a great poem
I (analogous to a rolling stone)
confess, no deliberate intent, yet often wonder
what spurs me to nudge, goad, coax, et cetera
semblance of reasonable poetic rhyme
despite modesty regarding
ably linkedin words for others to ponder
more often than not experiencing nonresponder,
nevertheless share mine writing
with folks cyberspace out yonder
or aliens occupying
beyond the pale of outer limits
amidst the twilight zone,
where dark shadows
looming near the edge of night
hint of spooky forebodings.
Without lofty literary ambitions,
more so stream
of consciousness abandonment,
yours truly rests content
to cobble, gamble, noodle... courtesy
swifty tailored stylishly harried element
mild mannered modest gent
bumbling along boulevard of
broken (po' whet) dreams intent
far less superman than Clark Kent
exercising mental cogs and wheels meant
merely to liberate momentary overconfident
zealous spontaneous inspiration,
albeit ordinarily quiescent
ex post facto concluding
equals time most salient
direct object lesson learned
lame, insipid, feeble resultant
effort generates undercurrent
aghast how rapid
(think lightspeed) went.
Yours truly his own worst critic ad aware
how avast mein kampf replete with bare
inducent to tap into latent fledgling clear
propensity to express creatively, I declare
bonafide potential to join pantheon excelsior
reserved for established authors within their
respective canon, genre, league...,
nonetheless an obvious flair
seemed evident perhaps coalesced
when in utero biological gear
yielded wiggly, ugly, scrawny,
quirky Harris heir
(sole son and second of three offspring)
an older and younger sister,
which introverted brother bullies
did constantly jeer
token scapegoat suffered
one after another kingly leer
pushing psychological state near
precipice off into dock side of moon,
who sought
(wharf far art grim reaper) to pier
without naked qualm evincing
one very bony rear
without sympathy for the devil
merely spells severely
pockmarked psyche therefore
impossible mission to set tattered self esteem
tacked toward in opposite direct where
dark shadow of doubt doth not veer
me into apathetic, horrific, pathetic...
suicidal mental state of yesteryear.
There is so much about our universe I don’t know
So much I don’t know if I’m even capable of knowing
One could even debate that the amount of knowledge I lack
Is infinite
Feeling something weighing
On my consciousness
I read about stars
How they begin
And how they end
Did you know that the bigger the star, the shorter it’s life?
Somehow that made sense to me
When a large star forms
It burns big and bright
It uses its resources more quickly
And runs out just as fast
Then it explodes
Pieces of it are flung into the surrounding space
If a star is big enough
When it dies
It creates a black hole
Apparently
When a black hole is swallowing the things around it
Not even light can avoid falling in
Apparently
A black hole is far heavier
Than the star that created it
Even though this cycle takes place so, so incredibly far away from me
It feels so close and so familiar
And what it really reminds me of
Is the stars I’ve known
Who shined so bright
So bright that they didnt shine for long
I’ve known many stars in my life
Beautiful to know
Heartbreaking to lose
Always a privilege to witness
Seeing just how far their light reaches
Shining their rays on everyone
And everything
That crosses their path
And when they go
The ripples of tragedy can be felt far and wide
Shrapnel striking anyone close by
After the shockwave
The space they once occupied
Becomes a chasm
Sucking in the light of those around them
The gravity of this chasm
Forces you to the ground
And tries to coax you into falling in voluntarily
But there is beauty in these phenomena
For when black holes reach the end of their life
They too, explode
And the matter of everything they consumed
Is scattered
Creating an environment for a new star to form
The matter that composes these stars is recycled into infinity
And their makeup is never truly lost
We witness their light time and time again
The love we pour into them
Is eventually poured back into us
One day, my time here will come to an end
My life force will have been used
And I will have to leave those I love
Just as those I have loved had left before
But knowing that they will never be without me
That I am here amongst the ether
Shining down on them at all times
This fact comforts me
With fifty-nine tears, I stare at the phone, wanting to
understand. I had your voice in my hand. Intense pain now
washes through our decade’s bones. I must be able to rinse it,
cleanse it and restart with a stable heart. Always layers of hurt
from you. Now there is another, my lost Brother.
We may never meet again, not as siblings or as friends, yet you
chose to bring our last call to a painful end! Distance and age
whisper chilly to me of a certain possibility, this call could be the
last call of all. I wonder, do you feel that, too? Does this sad truth
also shadow you?
In life’s darkness, two stars shine on; one is our Dad, the other,
our Mom. Dad could not take your constant rift of frightening dread
or bear your street life, so he mentally buried you in his head. Mom
could not handle her first born living so forlorn, her maternal heart
and head were torn. She could not sever the bond, so her enabling
continued on. Neither parent was right or wrong. Unbearable pain
made them desperate to survive your heartbreaking song.
I never knew what to do, but I sought and fought to do it right.
I would help, I would insist, but true help, you would resist. Each
approach to coax you towards a healthy life ended with me tripping
through your dark light. I’ve abandoned my hopeful persistence
by accepting that I’ll never have brother-relief, not in this existence.
For years my insides have churned as I daily pray for some informative
word about your wellbeing. I've even called morgues in your state
to learn if you were still among the living but no news ever shaped.
I’ve had a lifetime of watching you fill your own spaces by selfishly
passing thru daylight. Rather than climbing up to achieve a healthy
need, you've always sat aground and caused yourself to bleed.
Whether you’re in jail or living drugged on the streets, loving you has
never known relief. I gave you my all, walked all your dark halls.
Can’t we now have peace?
Please bro, on some near tomorrow, borrow another phone. Call me
and let us be the best of us, let us share love to enhance what is
left of us. Look to your heart and grant what I want, one more, last
call that love may be shown when next your voice is in my phone.