Long Convulse Poems
Long Convulse Poems. Below are the most popular long Convulse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Convulse poems by poem length and keyword.
Memories of goodness from collaborating nakedness
are more than strong appetizing captivity from hot omelets and lasagna
serving as the foundation of a strong intimacy
planted in a greenhouse of mythical pleasures
growing in the natural mood of the angels,
joy of a breast fed toddler and
the blossom of a newly wedded bride
making each episode of our erotic escapades
fit in perfectly like fried bricks placed by an experienced mason
to always anticipate holy crimes, godly naughtiness and tempting tenderness.
Having a voice formed from taking Nature’s tea
your happy reactions feel like wrapping thighs over my soft abdomen
and playfulness like your tender pelvis greasing my trunk.
your anxious tongue convulse at the slightest touch of any body part
like the dancing tail of a fast swimming fish
padding my inside to softness to provide sensual oxygen
giving constant preservative to our gritty and never decaying romance.
Such love always create classic dreams
with slow melodic settings showcasing proactive kisses
from nuclear minds so spontaneous and rhythmic,
liberal skins ready for intense foreplays
making even our under wears carry so much envy
because of such a walled passion
impenetrable by any radar and unsinkable by any disaster.
Our essence of clothing is to take them off
the significance of our schooling is to garnish up such affection
the creation of this heat is a powerful reality
standing between men and angels
summing up a traditional fairy attached by
a never ending chain of irresistible desires
this exactly defines the two of us.
this bond is just conservative to our unique and inferno experience
and so therefore, the ultimate hope is, we should never stop!
Written: June 30th, 2026 for a contest sponsored by Seth Pina
Underneath a veil of midnight choke,
A peaceful recluse is drifting loose.
Hungry roots in ghostly boots,
As blood-red clay morphs to gray
The winter cries from weeping skies,
Heavy prayers distilled tears.
A gleam in moonlight, a dream in sight,
The stars have bled where breath is dead.
Its sinewed trunk is deeply sunk,
Through ruined soil where shadows coil.
Raw winds can snap a broken jaw,
As trees run deep to hide a sleep.
Most sorrow a faded ghost now,
Reach out and touch a dead shore.
Underneath this clay of black decay,
Lost bones will scream and sigh.
A dying pulse makes night convulse,
Where fading sparks collapse to dark.
A requiem blows low with icy glow,
As blood seeping scars mock the stars.
Confess your sins where spoil begins,
For wood can hold the bitter cold.
Its trapped voice leaves no choice,
When winter’s wind proclaims it sinned.
Maybe
It is so hard to live when nobody cares
No one to listen to what I say
No one to talk to when I hurt
Why doesn’t anyone care?
There is only one thing that will ease my mind
Take my pain away
I looked at the pills for a long time
Counting them over and over again
Colors of red, yellow, blue and white
Such a pretty rainbow
I wonder if it will hurt
Will my body convulse as the pills dissolve?
Will I just fall asleep and not awaken in the morning’s light?
Will I look and just see blackness?
Will I be invited into a bright white light?
Will there just be nothing surrounding my soul
Should I leave a note before I fade?
Would anyone read it?
Would anyone care if I lived or died?
The pills make my head swim
Darkness, light and swirling colors
My soul struggles to remain with me
Clawing at my body as it leaves
People will talk about me
How great they thought my life was
People will know that this was a choice I made
If they would have asked before
If they would have talked about me before
I would never have taken the pills
Maybe I would have survived
Maybe they would have said my name without saying suicide
Maybe…
your lips touch mine
hot breath, warm tongue
soft and playful,
a smile and force as you take them like you own them
passion from your mouth igniting my fire - your hands slide up
my shoulders, my neck, behind my head,
your lips press harder,
tongue becoming my own as you explore my mouth ,
pausing to look, to watch me
as shy smile, a nod, and you take me again
fingers sliding down my spine,
you know and understand the space,
the pressure needed
finger tips, a firm drag as I arch back, wet from the sensation
gripping you, nails firmly pressed into your shoulders
your tongue digs deeper into my mouth
firm embrace to enjoy you
as the need is to back away,
you hold tight, close, and touch me again, again
deep breaths, struggling with control
you slide your lips down to my neck
a firm suck and I'm wet again
hips and pelvis convulse I press against you hard and firm
pull you closer
your strong embrace maintained
our bodies like one, primal, lusting
my mouth explores your shoulder, biting and kissing your neck, as you lean in for more
hot breath on your ear,
I graze my tongue over your ear,
breathing, tasting your lobe,
my tongue across you neck, collar and down,
kissing your chest, I pause to watch you
the eye contact,
the yearning,
the need hungry,
smiling
Wanton desire
I wish for a simple death, yet I cannot help but consider the battlefield or hospital. Whenever I gaze deeply into your eyes, it may only mean that I will die once more.
Despite our combined efforts, as we labored together as one long ago, my illness has caused me to become weaker. Some may see me as less than what I once was, and this is a natural effect of aging.
We reminisce about how things have changed, including the grey bandages and gentle squeezes. As you watch me, now pale and yellow, I convulse and jerk uncontrollably. However, you hold me still until I am at rest, and although grateful, I do not wish to die in this manner.
If the roles were reversed, would you allow me to suffer? Each time you bring me back from the edge, I face my fate alone, and I can see the surprise in your eyes.
I feel the warmth of the sun briefly before my life slips away, and you hold on tightly until the end. It is only when the bright light dawns on you that you realize what I have become.
In the mystical land
Where Orchids dream...
The secrets of the soul lay bare.
Take hold of my hand
And I'll lead you to the stream
To see your souls secrets reflected there.
The water sighs
"I am the asylum of your ache"
The mists whisper to soothe your pain.
The secrets never lie
Hence they hide for ones own sake
As part of ones growth they must remain.
As you stare in to that stream
In the land where Orchids dream
You feel alive in your secret desires.
In the asylum of your ache
You recall every mistake
Wishing such memories would expire.
You feel trapped in your pulse
Restricted and contained
With a longing to break free.
Your efforts convulse
And you feel detained
In a lonesome melancholy.
We are verses in the Ash
When our chips we cash,
But the end is not in sight.
The choices we make now
Are the pathway to how
Our secret souls can bring delight.
The clouds were moving swiftly
across the darkened sky
The howling wind raced through the trees
the leaves were flying by
His heart was beating like a drum
that pounded in his chest
Trying to release the demon
long ago at rest
His body started to convulse
it shook without control
In one more minute he would lose
the last part of his soul
Transformed into a savage
with no logic and no reason
A cursed abomination
he is doomed through every season
Now the man is gone
and in his place there stands a beast
The darkest part inside of him
once hidden, now released
The creature howled out at the moon
a tear was in his eye
Because inside the monster
lives a man who still can cry
Wind lowers it's head-stream, earthbound,
battle helmet of direction-secured.
True Hermes holding a riddled scroll, temperature, tempered, phalanx wall to litmus count the cull.
Non-relative incomings from the garment of space,
to run obscene into the street.
Wrinkles of Gaia indecent without cream,
hydration,
epiderm reactions, boils,
face cracking on bout of gout.
The royal trees and their loyal vegetations
withholding tithe to Man
in lieu of fertilized mopery, panor-mime
of "silent treatment".
The lakes, unbathed turn foul,
a salty audacity of intrusion
to fuel resentment sediment far looking,
gaunt, empty.
The rivers change their inclination,
declination, surrection in-bleeding out,
out bleeding in direction.
The sea roars in complaint, hatches her obscene Leviathans release from underneath that she invitro-bastards, out-rages, helter swellter sea-beast abominations re-unleashed.
The delusion carries tune to the forest kin
no longer in Mid Spring courtship
with Robin Hood, Albion.
No longer in hibernation and calm location.
They must embark the realms of Men,
to their disturbing-investigation.
Extremeties convulse in palsy,
tongues stricken blind
and eyes encompassed in the review
of the interplanetary cult of the spiritual procession, incoming of the 4th, 3D kind.
Pangs of the final epoch of Time.
And I embrace the realm of modern poetry,
Wild and free, its spirit flowing through me.
In a world of ever-changing forms and styles,
I navigate currents with versatile wiles.
No longer bound by rigid rhymes and beats,
I explore uncharted realms, a daring feat.
Free-flowing, experimental, unconventional art,
Breaking boundaries, igniting a vibrant spark.
I paint with words upon a canvas of thoughts,
Fragmented expressions, in abstract knots.
Rhythm pulses and beats echoing my soul,
Syncopated verses and harmonies unfold.
Inspiration thrives amidst the urban sprawl,
Concrete jungles where dreams rise and fall.
A symphony of voices, the city's vibrant pulse,
A cacophony of chaos, where meanings convulse.
Delving into the depths of human strife,
Unveiling truths that challenge our life.
The complexities of existence, raw and real,
Revealing scars, wounds that will never heal.
Amidst the noise and dissonance of days,
I seek solace in silence, tranquil arrays.
Carving moments of stillness, serene and profound,
Whispers of truth in simplicity abound.
For in this modern era, poetry evolves,
Adapting, reinventing as the world revolves.
I, as a poet, embrace the winds of change,
Innovate, create, never be estranged.
So let the old meet the new in fusion complete,
Wandering realms, my words poised to greet.
In the vast expanse of poetic expression,
I find my voice, my essence... My confession.
end part three
end
****
Yo, welcome to the vibe, where Brooklyn’s streets and soulful beats collide. A sanctuary for the mind, a chill retreat, where mellow rhythms and memories meet.
In honor of those legends, Phife Dawg, Scientifik, and Tony D, gone but never forgotten, their voices echo through the beats, in every rhyme, in every spot. Real hip hop, raw and true, no artificial, just the essence in what they do, A tribute to the roots, the hustle, the grind, the spirit of the streets, forever entwined.
So, kick back, let the vinyl crackle and flow, feel the nostalgia, let the good vibes grow. This is more than music, it’s a story, a legacy, a sound so pure. In the heart of Brooklyn, hip hop’s soul endures.
This mixtape's a time capsule, a golden thread, from gritty streets where legends bled, Dusty beats and rhymes so raw, A culture that broke every law.
Boom bap drums, a heartbeat’s pulse, Soulful samples, stories convulse, MCs spitting truths that cut deep, reviving memories we forever keep.
It's more than music—it's a movement, a voice, A legacy made by choice, A journey through struggles, triumphs, and pride, where hip hop's soul will always reside.
Press play, let the past ignite, feel the spirit in the night, this rare find, a treasure true, A gift for me, a gift for you.
Welcome to the era that still inspires, A flame that never tires. Hit like, share, let the world see. This is hip hop's legacy.