Long Contortions Poems
Long Contortions Poems. Below are the most popular long Contortions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Contortions poems by poem length and keyword.
‘We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are’
Anaïs Nin
‘Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage’
That is how Anaïs happened to follow her delicate vision
Erotic with a fountain pen dressed in translucent lingerie
Spurs in hand when she saddled a rampaging stallion
The thought police claimed she was vulgar and pornographic
Most likely a repressed projection of limp savoury dreams
‘The secret of joy is the mastery of pain’
Sado-maso contortions I hear you say in venemous disdain
But have you never experienced jubilant relief from your hurt
Would we know the exquisite pleasure if not for some sorrow
Could Jung mount near death experiences without shadows
Did not Freud wish to jump on the couch with phallus in hand
‘The only abnormality is the incapability to love’
And yet when squeaky clean do-gooders leaf through the pages
Revisit the boudoir in which she paired with Henry Valentine Miller
Lecherous minds claim wet spots on essays and honest exposure
To be involuntary ejections of literature tainted by projectile evil
A sheet remains an altar of sexual gratification in satisfied minds
‘Only the united beat of sex and heart together can create ecstasy’
Pulling and pushing in light of public consumption denudes emperor’s clothing
Liberates senses and meaning and is yet decried as lewd indecent obscenity
But the eye of the eclectic beholder foreplays sensual post-coital glow
Cohabitation in all shapes and forms may not hit your inexperienced spot
You are what you want to become however you reach rhythm and rhyme
(all quotes in quotation marks by Anaïs Nin)
31st January 2020
I’m just having a good laugh while I still can dude before life takes its heavy grip
Until the community of clowns in disguise tie my tongue to their altar of reason
You think of a genius in the making but I just blew bubbles from my backside
Need some counter balance as not to think I’m off parity before the next photo
For the record I’m a bit sick of all those Rolling Stones songs on your play list
I can get satisfaction and you will be dancing to my tune as long as I tell you
Not yet silenced I am and you can’t always get what you want but will receive
What you need and moss could grow fat on that stone if you tried hard enough
I am your American dream or just pie in the sky for pi is a resolute number
And while I look like a young Einstein I favour the arts and a poet I’ll be
‘Baby’s got blue eyes holding back the pain’ reflecting the glow on your face
Give me face paint and Munch’s scream will look like Monet’s water colours
And those cute little ears I hear you marvel such fine complete composition
Soon they will find an audition of rebellion ignoring trite shallow advice
Craft verses and rhythm deliver fine words you never dreamt of hearing
The comedy will be shattering with a bit of existential philosophy in the mix
You can project dadada’s and incy-wincy spiders as long as the cows mew
I drink from a fountain of pleasure and spill ink on your canvas of conditioning
Think that I am overanalysing but that is what you do when I smirk and giggle
Canned laughter comes in Campbell’s soup cans and better Warhol than wars
Innocent facial composure lies in the eye of beholders and dreams are for real
Let me play for that is the best I can do when drama and tragedy loom so soon
I’ll have my dreadlocks in plaits and you must not be scared of Sylvia’s mother
Van Gogh had one ear but a writer needs only one incisive tongue to critique
My stream will be subconscious when I write about the meaning of imagination
When naïve contortions depict a world with smiles laughter and freedom
I will not change much from when the photographer took this digital image
Blue eyes stuck out tongue two ears one voice whatever you make of it now
25th April 2019
Written for contest: Baby Face What's You Thinkin
Sponsored by James Edward Lee Sr
Photo 2
Sexy Love
Some say that love is when our rivers join on cotton sheets in mounting passion
when you and I share days and nights with Venus’ delta freely flowing
advance our bodies candlelit caress desires fit and fitting in all the latest fashion
when mingling waters splash the rocks and roll on tidal beaches growing
position musky gushes’ swelling delights’ passages in carefree physical obsession
when springs let loose in coasting caves change blushes into glowing
and we fulfil crescendo’s rhythmic interludes but do mistake loving for possession
Hard truths await when rivers dry turn flaccid stagnant trickle’s scorch our beds
when climate change in our hearts and mating souls abandoned lie exposed
our union built on quick sand crumbling walls fancy contortions immaturely spread
when flaking righteousness only amounts to shallow promises disposed
reveals the hidden secret of why rainy storm clouds erode the lover’s mindless head
when then and how and where the thirsty moonless plights are loathed
that reckoning deserves some thought when all else has been done and said
Sometimes our rivers flow below the earthy needs and wants flown in the wind
when fire’s pleasures kindled spirits need to join beyond sexual application
and thus all sensual heartfelt feelings have to be twined and twinned
when kindness compassion consideration might super-cede awesome copulation
the biggest phallus shapely **** augmented egos and shapely waistlines trimmed
when thinking conversations holding each firmly outweighs the grandest fornication
and then the river riders circle to sheet and intercourse in true love never dimmed
09th October 2016
Neoma the marionette dangled on trite puppeteer’s strings
Endlessly performing on minimum wage she deserved better
Why does this circus enslave me for such trivial performance
Beware of what you wish for her ventriloquist commanded
Enigma will be your nemesis and the show must proceed
Go with the flow wriggle don’t bite the hand that feeds you
In your place now for my belly speaks volumes of truth
Never in a long line of dolls had there been a need to speak
Naïve and mute was the fare at the fairground of pleasure
Impervious approval and ancestry demanded golden silence
Novel contortions and knee jerks must stay aphonic and dumb
Gutted however Neoma listened to a nascent innocent voice
Severed ties of discomfort and captured extrovert speech
29th January 2021
Controlled by obsessions no longer can we trust.
Cradled by your own indulgences for the cancer eating rust.
The waste of time, sifting is the sand.
Ever eluding conscience plight,
Don't be your own dealer with rigored hand.
Epitome just as black as night.
A blasphmous horrid smite.
Those whom believe the lie are those he leaves behind,
The fact that keeps on slipping, contortions twist, bend and bind.
The never-ending shifting wind,
The ever-changing shapeless water.
The repulsive reflection grinned,
Scrying straight into the slaughter.
Thoughts twist then drifted,
Reality is you've been grifted.
Epitaph will be all that's left of you,
The fortune dwindles and you've never taking hold,
Simple are Adam`s atoms of a fu*ktard sold.
Should of not contorted.
Should have just aborted.
Instead of playing the last card.
The multiple ignorances of a fu*ktard.
Is this just thoughtlessness or another rail laid on the track.
Or can it be pure uselessness in a restless mind at nigh in black.
And now that it said aloud and it's made so clear,
You're lost in the complacent crowd.
When you should have just drank some beer.
as pain within swells
to a heightened level
origin belied expectation
of null love reciprocation
such contortions tainted
delusions self anointed
do not stay with us long
as we sing the love song
reverberations of our soul
keeping us joyful & whole
birthing a throb continuous
manifesting bliss fortuitous
as a current ever present
within our heart resident
as soundless bliss ignition
ecstasy defying delineation
being our native element
divine entwined alignment
thus getting to stabilisation
rapid bliss hum restoration
stuporous thoughts rested
with ego delusion arrested
the flame of joy ever alive
to the beat to which we jive
acceptance ceasing to size
recognition where we realise
that each turbid movement
depends upon attachment
to nurture its life illusionary
viewed in stillness sedentary
from the centreless fulcrum
of our awareness sensorium
the play of life thus enacted
finding we have not reacted
unfed by us the source bursts
whilst we as a mist yet thirst
for love
24-September-2020
Goblins prance and dance beneath skylights;
Their contortions create shadows as they swirl.
Ghouls are disgusted by their cavorting and
go along their way;
searching for victims to terrify;
a game they relish.
Ghosts will have their say in the darkest night and
haunt children’s dreams.
Nightmares are where they meet to party.
On All Souls Eve, only the spirits of ancestors and
angels will stop these dream invaders;
monsters will run back into closets for safety;
keep the light on tonight;
souls are not the only celebrants.
In the clear light of morning,
candy swaps ensure comfort until next year.
9-21-18
Fiction - October 2018 Writing Challenge - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings
Ever had a really bad itch
And you scratch and scratch away
Till the spot that you've been scratching
Looks much like paper mache
Sometimes you can't even find the spot
You search around but it's fruitless
Seems the damn thing keeps moving
Dance a jig but you still remain clueless
I'm sure it happens to every one of us
From Nature's bag of devious tricks
People go through a bunch of contortions
Even throw down whiskey for a fix
Here's what I would suggest, my friends
Tumble in bed with a gorgeous filly
Damn itch will seem much less important
And you'll get some relieve temporarily
There's one thing that's for certain, though
It'll return just as soon as you're done
You'll still have this annoying problem
But let's face it, you sure had some fun!
©Jack Ellison 2012
I refuse to be invisible, so, if I pass you on the street,
I am going to say “Hello” to you, even if you simply stare down at our feet;
To people who pass me in the hallway, I am going to say, “Good day”,
No matter how many contortions you do to look the other way.
Even though I may not know you; strangers we may be,
I refuse to wear the wardrobe of invisibility.
If you wish to remain invisible, I must apologize,
Because if you are to pass me, your presence I will recognize.
I refuse to be invisible and to ensure that I am seen,
I am going to pierce your veil of shyness – I hope that’s not too mean.
I cannot pass another person, without acknowledging they exist,
As proof I am not invisible, it is a practice in which I will persist.
I do not mean to scare you or invade your privacy,
It’s just my way to say, “I see you” and hope that you see me.
Importance of the Alternative Perspective
Contortions of my sentient being
Distortions of my inclinations to dream
Proportions of truth deciphering what it all means
Abortions of opinion as things are not always as they seem
Embellishments of truth displayed on the evening news
An inelegance that’s uncouth waiting for uncivilised cues
An epiphany of untold magnitude seen in awestruck colours of light and hues
A litany of criminal activity revealed by a complex set of clues
The vibrant laughter of children free from care or thought or sorrow
The vagrant daughter of an aristocrat whose forced to beg and borrow
The fragrant spice of delicate refine that contemplated living for tomorrow
The content found on television devoid of depth and so very hollow
Renewed graces of a man given a second chance at living
Perused statements of an intellect whose ideas are always giving
Confused looks from a stern command who remains perpetually unforgiving
The innocent intentions of a naive soul who stakes his fate on wishing
An ordained priest of benevolence preaching love to his fellow man
The contained feast of eloquence as a poet reaches linguistic highs
The engrained yeast of vigilance pacing back and forward as she cries
While the deranged beast of malevolence plots an innocent souls demise
Should we contain the urge to purge our souls from all this hate ?
Or simply refrain to complain at all lest we get locked out of Heavens gate?
Can we pertain noble incline in the workings of the human mind?
Or is the most essential attribute to remain above all else to be kind?