Long Compression Poems
Long Compression Poems. Below are the most popular long Compression by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Compression poems by poem length and keyword.
I turned the clock of time to look deeper into the divine; I turned the clock of time to see what is mine. The wheels keep spinning and the machine keeps rolling and I behold an oracle rising up from the sea and it is entering the galaxy guided by a strange satellite with millions of light years cursing by its side. I wasn’t sure what to make of it but it left me completely static.
It drifts and drifts circling around the outer layer of the sky bidding the old moon goodbye and somersaulting in thin air. Time has taken it to a new dimension when it suddenly collides with the heavens, the devil was waiting on the banks but the angels formed a long line and direct it into space.
It traveled a thousand miles in space breaking through the middle ground shooting out fire behind its tail and rising to a dimension that confuse the heart and soul of man. It explores the universe, gathering data in its throat with pinhole camera attached to it, it continues to drift in time until you see what lies in the shadows.
The temperature keeps growing with the time, and the mission keeps focusing on the divine; the dimension widens the suspicious broadens, and time and space compression expand beyond the distance .I can feel the electromagnetic wave pulling me and the distant relationship solidifying me and the feeling of hope is walking all over me.
The mission continues in the sky and I will hold on to gravity umtil I die, the gravitation fields are strong so I have to find a different place to land .
Mars is waiting for me but that mission cannot carry me. I need something bigger and broader that can withstand the nature of time and move further inland with the divine.
The planets are boiling and sooner or later a miracle will be exposed. The Earth will raise, Mars, Pluto and Venus will take you to the next level. Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune will meet you at noon and you will have dinner in the garden with earth apposite the lake, you will invite a thousand soldiers to dine and you will play the flute to bring back memory of your youth; time has just taken you on journey to understand the heat and prepare the fleet.
all i ask for is quality time
i end up with thoughts of compression
everything green has been overtaken by red
we could have met in the middle
half way would have been better than full tears
now you choose me the present what practical magic you have learned
you pick a disappearing act of infinite proportions....little did i know....
maybe i should have just conversed with you on that very first night
perhaps i should have gone all the way
what if my "virgin's kiss" has led to a plethora of orgasmic vibes
i wonder if you would still be here
nah, you would have still chosen him over me
banging my head at all points of certain definitions,
all i wanted was a little quality time
it is not bobbing for apples in a raging river,
it is a simple request despite the distance so unfortunately unfulfilled
There is no escape from strange morning whims,
when irritation causes numbness in my limbs.
Dawn has become an unwelcome nemesis,
rage for sunrise an uncontrollable genesis,
disturbing the peace of my silent reverie,
tormenting all that is felt as sensory.
I despise the chirping of hungry birds,
so intrusive as they sing in their herds.
Echoing like chisels chipping at my head,
feeling chained to the corners of my bed.
I seek no pardon for my profanity,
these moods are ***ing with my sanity.
I search for signs of positivity,
but daylight always triggers my sensitivity.
Mind slices my thoughts through dissections,
as I hold my head craving for soundless reflections.
Sluggish eyes with black bags and static lips,
cringe at the mirror as reality grips,
washing away a contradictive smile,
without harmony my life is too much of a trial.
Thinking f*** my life through censored cries,
I don't even have the strength to roll my eyes.
Is there a diagnosis for this prognosis?
Or will I forever be in this state of hypnosis?
I’m neither depressed nor suppressed,
in this cramped compression of distress.
I’m anxious attempting to figure it all out,
stumbling across worn voices begging to shout.
Those explosive beats from poisonous roots,
soften my crumbling knees like rotten fruits.
All I can think is,
“oh please, cut that crap”
battling my demons, before I finally snap.
As my mind bleeds like a demented creep,
I no longer require the desire to speak.
As talk is cheap,
can’t you see all I need is sleep.
To forever restrict my emotions before I weep.
Tired of being a puppet with twisted strings,
I hope these pills can tame my mood swings.
walking around dead as the rest
encountered trauma throughout
learning true lessons of self love
every incident was a compression
to revive my heart for true healing
more peace more breathe more light
it became easier knowing love for
myself was an epitome of life itself
understanding forgiveness was key
dancing around alive like a few
encompassing peace wholeheartedly
accepting myself flaws and scars
laughing at old journal inserts now
admiring the strength I embody
crystal clear vision about my life
looking and feeling more confident
using my voice to speak my truth
working on new projects coming soon
Life trickled through an hourglass of hurt
Oozing not soothing a nectar of stagnation
He turned the pivot upside and downward
But the aperture never shifted its focus
Narrow and confined he felt trapped inside
Squeezed from outside and within the pain
A kaleidoscope of constricted reflections
Or a rushing mirage on a twisted horizon
He had to shed the load on his shoulders
Trim the drippings of foul shaped remains
Crash the distorted mirror into mere shards
Cut loose from expectations’s compression
Over endless time he began to understand
Surrender requested a change of perspective
And thus he suspended both ends of the timer
From the wild tree of life grappling for meaning
He seized the right angle and remained still
For a succession of a few tranquil moments
Mesmerized he cradled himself from below
Closed his sad eyes and floated above himself
The world flowed on its own without pressure
Began to gather momentum as quietude shaped
A constant reminder that outlooks may change
When seizing the core rather than flawed outlines
When he attempted to measure his progress with
Formulae equations and axioms the centre reverted
To the unwanted chronograph of crushing oppression
And reminded him that letting go meant not to hold on
14th May 2020
It is slowly juxtaposition,
an oldies reith for an acoustic-ness-
and we make a mock,
drain the corner stores mox....
Engravings in luck and harmonious-
they take a tail for a toc,
malevolence out of the box,
on the streets-
in levy and over the acropolis,
like crumbly even and corny thermopolis-
how the havens in heaven must shine inside...
How many travels say they coincide?
Even in a sailing away against all storm's periphery,
dynamite at the dreamy renditions are trickery-
a pleasure of the presence is no outer measure of some other type of compression!
Here’s a fire engine, my husband said.
Sure, I used to want one, and in red.
But I am now older, and wiser too.
I don’t want that anymore, you foo!
But honey, you always wanted one.
Sure, when I was eight, that dream is done.
He is always trying to please, this man of mine.
In a way, that is sweet, his attitude fine.
But my wishes have changed, my toys are new.
Expensive now, dealing with arthritis too.
I am enjoying compression socks,
Not marbles, trucks or a doll that talks.
I have outgrown fancy clothes, and jewelry now.
Where is my acid reflux pill? I take a little bow.
I gave away my Christmas stuff, too much work.
I don’t want a fire engine, I say with a jerk.
I want warm food, electricity and pumpkin pie.
I want to have my relatives visit once before I die.
My toys are simple, I buy what I need, but do not waste.
I like paints, glitter, canvases, and decoupage paste.
A fire engine? Sure, maybe I wanted one once upon a time.
But I have all the toys I need now, darling husband, of mine.
You are wonderful, honey. Thank you for thinking of me.
Please don't put a fire engine under this tiny tree!
In the City of Pines, vendors are everywhere. High and low prices are everywhere. The once cool region of overflowing love somehow narrowed its space for the younger generation because of commercialization.
Commercialization, on one hand, helps. On the other hand, synchronization is tantamount to compression, which can be a sign of evaporation.
Nevertheless, many people visit the City of Pines, a wonderful site in the East. Foreigners from everywhere troop to the place to witness and feel the beauty of the living pine trees around the city of Baguio -- "bag-iw" in Ibaloi, indigenous language of the region.
I had my chance of visiting the City of Pines, the home of the famous Rice Terraces. I trekked the rough roads and cliffs of the mountains. So cozy and so relieving. The scent of innocence above the mountains and serenity in waters below the mountains. An ethereal scenery with the breeze of resonating heritage.
The City of Pines is rich in culture and tradition. No one would ever wonder that an indigenous tribe can still exist up to the present time.
The musical instruments being played by the people, the indigenous materials sewn and worn by the people are the pride of the said city.
Many beautiful things and memories can be said about the City of Pines. Like the pines of my birth, very close to my heart.
The why of this out worldly angels falling from heaven disorder.
Reaching out to those other worlds
never seen but by they and those whom call too the prophets.
Schizoaffective is this you the person?
A sign of the spiritual separation,
symptoms - seemingly like hallucination or hallucinations.
With it, it is the condition for experiencing the compression of life
pushed outwards, your world is not, hers,
is the sign of the feeling like no obstacle can stand in the way.
Unlike the maniac or decompressed, depression.
Specialists can not, do not but can then agree.
Facts being never having that schizoaffective disorder
when the alcohol and or drugs prohibit the treatment thereof.
You we should handle when not handled a clearness as
calm as dawns new fresh morning if but allowed this disorder and.
As for my part and willing as I am.
Judges thus for the spiritual separation
and pink elephant symptoms and other things of a sign of a certain.
Feeling you never looked at I lived and I look at schizoaffective disorder as another sickness from itself for sale sign
and fast disposal, but her condition is regarded when simply.
Perhaps not yet processing it all
and work are not maintained as when like the whether,
or the schizoaffective disordered people whom it is passing to the school of the dead lead lonely comes one life your lifetime.
Have you no trouble, Or, perhaps to the husband of them.
Whether the family when it can depend, or not is certain death in respect to thereof.
On the house of the group of psychiatry deeply heavily.
Depending upon your method of disposal.
Where have the people of good expectations then
gone.
Monday, November 15, 2010
I only be looking down now, looking inside myself now,
not head set in defeat but reflection, not the thoughts but the actual events that happened, wild flower child, yea right boom boy im a power plant, a quater-back serving audibles, wide-receivers run em in slants, run deep, swapping the rythym up, call it skill or pronounce them fiery darts of the devil, replay read a lot of fake words, deploy nothing but truths that carry troops, dead-zone drop-off swing wide scrape the danger, winged right there then, repairs upmost respected like I have a strong command of the english langauge, a strong sense of honor, PoW's plenty of wise men, plenty that u couldnt challenge on the battlefield, u better be ready to die when you walk in their battallion, Feel the valance the stealth, feel nothing feel what you feel wether its false politics American Goverment, I dont condemn my country, American people be the damn blindest, conditionally unseasoned , refutedly would he die in that war man? Well im a black speck in his eyes dying where ever it dont make a ****, you think a soldier gives a damn about being remembered, nah its about fighting your hardest, living longer, having your friends back, perfecting that last love letter, asking God for guidance, as waiting for it, Command given stretch the ammunition, permissions only to use your intuition, now i put a disatant on that idea's be balanced if you spot it u got it, six strikes 3 terrible battle plans, instructions be on a good heart. we life size- we realize it. we competition cams with a lope pulling deeper compression, true intentions blow up in your mind like mushroom clouds, like the repurcussion was a blast to the laws broken in an accident, cheap shells cheap never be Blaine c cheap s sweetlies b bashing breaking *****es, bullstrong. balls with the brillance, beautiful blows, brainstorming, bulls of bashan beaware the wheel of furtune turns quick ask me I slip out simple vibes I be on top soon. blanks broken hollypoints I keep one jax in the chamber, Bang baby I still hit hard with the power, bang *****es blaine me, can u blame me? Straight and narrow , not like in a false form, warfront back on a warhorse, back on the foremost thoughts of a man with a decision to make..
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