Long Cortex Poems
Long Cortex Poems. Below are the most popular long Cortex by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cortex poems by poem length and keyword.
Can you feel the real deal hoodoo or juju hex
One sex tech conquest & manifest wrecks perplex
Flex your cerebral cortex protest against the new Rex
Hullabaloo of voodoo we must contest & vex
Vain inane randy Deejays handy on dandy sandy decks
A bane.. vloggers..joggers & bloggers texts & trend treks
Reign of hooray Henry’s forays with oversized unwise specs
Disdain from plain Jane “ex” glowering while devouring Tex Mex
Train..campaign for brawn not brain.. divulging bulging necks & pecs
The lot have got an absurd follow the word of the herd complex
Flecks of lies flutter & splutter in the utter nutter echo chamber gutter that is “X”
Never ending..mind bending curmudgeon bludgeon chorus of Tyrannosaurus Techs!
There is a monster in my bed and I let him in. I supplied the pillow to rest. His quiet wickedness I don't address. As he fondles my body while I lay still undressed. I don’t reciprocate his love or affection and he won’t allow me to stop it or reject it. That must be his thrill. Just begging for me to pet it. Like a dog. I like dogs. They don’t force me to love them. They just are. He has a darkness beneath the face, beyond the freckles and scars. He stays inside until he thinks you bought the bit that he is a chivalrous guy, but he has secrets to hide. As sweet and willing as he seems he is holding two sharp blades to your carotid artery. In plain sight but you choose not to see. You let the darkness in because a part of you believes you too are a dark fruit fallen from the forbidden tree. Another lying message you allowed your brain to receive. You are more than an object of affection, you are deserving. Sometimes we have to burn it all down to start anew. A cleansing of the medial prefrontal cortex erasing desires previously initiated for a few as I currently have a monster in my bed and I am the one who invited him in.
Losses not consolidated leave contributor raw
Arrears rip pages of rational compassionate law
Turblent thoughts toss turn to channel retaliation
Embittered brain rubs static into smooth radio station
Nocturnal curtain eternal drawn over forgiving stance
Tortured cortex tar drips coal smudge repugnance
Behind lids of eyes fingertips pressing upon
Lacking exposure conjures warped projection
Attonement can't be granted during darkness
Confessions sparkle once in white starkness
Killing accountability in murky private mind
Proliferating hatred sees old harm magnified
Asperity of sins committed stew in torpid trench
Years of historic plot twist regale harsh revenge
Bulged breeding dim ideas seethe evil scheme
Attack mapped by movie shock putrid scenes
Creeping balaclava covered crow bar at chest
Knavish initiation repaid with blood reaps debt
24th August 2021
Written for Contest : The Colour Black
Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke
A stolen life. A split-second decision.
Disorganised thoughts, jumbled—
Tangled around an anaesthetised cortex.
Clocks mockingly ticking,
Ticking down inevitability,
As a lone fly buzzes relentlessly around my head.
Swatting at it—it returns mere moments later,
Pestering, always just out of reach,
Festering like a wound reopening, oozing with persistence.
As the slant of the harvest moon traverses its way through splinters in the walls,
The crack of thunder and flash of lightning hail turbulent storms ahead.
Bending down, I roll up an inordinate rug.
Prying back marred floorboards,
Lifting out an ornately sculpted box—
Worn, weathered from the passing of time.
Removing the lid, I can still smell my mistakes.
I let bereavement overtake rationality,
Rubbing my fingers over intricately carved lines.
My former life takes shape before me.
Awake for days, I was—
Thought I could outsmart my lapse in judgement.
The clock struck two, and nothing was happening.
Breathing out, a calm washed over me,
Thinking all was safe—
At least, that’s what I tried to make myself believe.
But that silence was just the momentary tranquillity before the chaos,
As “the sharp snap of branches masked the bark of distant dogs,”
Coming to collect a soul who bargained for more time.
Banging at the door—it snaps in half.
Nowhere to hide. Teeth rip into flesh,
Sending my blood spilling.
As a bone pricks my finger, I boomerang back.
Violently, I smash the reminder,
Yet as furiously as I try to destroy it,
The omen rematerialises—
Spiritually tied together in this coiling, hellish realm,
Until not even an infinitesimal speck of dust exists,
Whilst all time and space melt into each other.
Words swirl
Words curl
Wrapping around my cerebral cortex
Doctor with precise surgical context
Ink spills sterile the page my patient
Every word a pulse my thoughts foundation
Mind turbine spinning I'm wired on syntax
Syllables sprint laps no time to relax
Ideas combust rush through the glass
Concepts clash crash flash overlap
I code in couplets debug emotion
Flow in motion logic ocean
Every notion an explosion in disguise
I'm the reason metaphors oxidize
Venom in the rhythm when I'm penning my division
Inner vision in collision with precision and revision
Riddle every little syllable until the middle brittle
Whittle down a paragraph a parable a pinnacle
Poetry ritual pivoting intervals minimal literal
Cynical clinical miracle lyrical chemical spherical
Chronicle particles articles spark into particles
Logical arsenal marvel in carnival poetic arsenal
Now I'm sprinting on a thought train off chain all brain
Mainframe flame rain cant contain my own name
Echo chamber danger ranger changing lanes
Strange exchanges rearrange poetic remains
Rhymes ricochet through a crowded skull
Frequencies full mind chemical pull
Language bends like a solar flare
I inhale the noise till the words get air
Now the fire cools the letters on drip
The monster sleeps in the ink I grip
Every line a mirror every word a scar
I built this creature from who we are
Thoughts swirl words curl silence next
Peace rewires my cerebral cortex
"50 Words for Poe: St John"
St John was his name
Sinjun for short
Temptation was his game
Ah Black Monk of my dreams
A hot car on a fast track
Shifting gears
I burn up the road, turn up the stick
Fast and furious got nothing on
Brother Sinjun’s Black Monk’s mojo bag-o-tricks
He sits in the passenger seat
101 goes to 190 around a devil-of-a-curve
200 hits his cerebral cortex, ignites his adrenaline cortisol hormonal nerves
Homeward bound suspension of disbelief non judgement served
Aston Martin Bond-like, covert, under covers with the Nurse
The thrill of it all, he’s in a state of Anti-Christ Ataraxia, convivial
St John was his name
Sinjun for short
Temptation was his game
On the Road driving home with Sister Pheromones Bellisima
he can’t wait to take her confessione Hyperpyrexia and
with big benedictions absolve and never cease to perplex Her
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/hKi7Wq5CUI4
Temptation/Heaven 17
“There's a lot of stress... but once you get in the car, all that goes out the window.” Dan Brown
https://youtu.be/7ip8ZVyF_ac
Fascination Street/The Cure
“The fact is I don't drive just to get from A to B. I enjoy feeling the car's reactions, becoming part of it.” Enzo Ferrari
https://youtu.be/ZcAEIUQmQgI
Watching Me Fall/The Cure
“A muscle is like a car. If you want it to run well early in the morning, you have to warm it up.” Florence Griffith Joyner
1. ataraxia
2. cortisol
3. hyperpyrexia
4. St John/Sinjun
Introspection
suspends in dark blue amnion
as rainwater blooms a reflection pool
an oasis of energy for contemplative embryo;
in stillness I grow.. my pulse a flowing stream of raindrops
my body the rhythm maker
my mind the artiste
in a cocoon a rhythmic womb —
a primal nest gestates my om
b r e a t h i n g i n
b r e a t h i n g o u t
saturation of breath
soaks and stretches my cortex canvas;
within the indigo sphere
I paint a mural
upon my sacred temple walls
a self-portrait
with a benevolent brush dipped in starlight –
I surrender staying and portraying within the lines
uncaged colors roam
beyond my human extremities and Earth’s edge
gouache-plashes of teal and fuchsia
fraternize with fibers of flesh and marrow
conceiving abstracts as airy as sparrow dreams
as I - a mindful explorer flies an inner cosmos
beyond the confines of the canvas white
outside the frames of physicality and reality
to throw open window panes to the unlimited
to banish pains of the limited — free
my meditative spirit making art with the universe
Susan Ashley
September 7, 2022
~ Fifth Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 18
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Brian Strand Premiere Choice
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Photo: The Seer; Laurie Bain Hamilton - owner of primalpainter
Most of my Lix spittle existence
found me figuratively
(primarily academically) adrift,
and malfunctioning blinker
analogous to a boat with
out an ankh (caws
away) aimlessly bobbing -
and drowning akin
to a besotted drinker
just out of rest to be
rescued by Mister Rinker
sea ming lee without
any hook, line and sinker
despite being gifted with
an above average thinker
from without, where two
myopic ocular
orbs did winker.
All thru academia
just barely passing grades
metaphorically
suffered from anemia,
and at my nadir,
thy prepubescent psyche
plummeted lovely bones
into grave state,
sans anorexia minus bulimia
mental health also linkedin
shot thru through with
healthy dose of dysthymia
cap (tinned em man hint mettle)
kept awake with insomnia
peppering cerebral
cortex with monomania
buzzfeed ding somnambulant
zombified condition
with a burning
desire toward pyromania
nsync with unmanageable
raging (red dee
and bull lush) testosterone
spawning satyromania
the above particularly
accentuated, and cresting
with accursed
triskaidekaphobia
most agonizing, when
orbitz around Earth
demarcated ten plus
on a Friday the thirteenth,
hence death be not proud
sought after utopia
pleading, longing, and hooping
if I Willoughby
able to sprinkle
cremated ashes across Xenia.
Far as my eyes can see, 'till lake touches sky,
Earth beats as one; Poplar, Jack Pine & Birch all
Sing with the White Throated Sparrow, our Planet's
Love songs.
Sloping (5'canopy) an ancient Deer trail along the
Baptism River (flowing into Lake Superior) I startle a
Buck during his midday Nap. Soundlessly lifting up,
He elegantly bounces away.
From above, a dark object swoops in, Brother
Raven is curious, (always a sentinel for Hawks
And Bald Eagles). I stand motionless, willing my
Neo-Cortex to flood my aura with peace; as I
Extend my arm and gently imitate the Raven's
Welcome call, a double-beat "Caw caw"...I am
Here Raven, I am me". My heart quickens as
He alights on my arm, talons gripping my
Forearm gently, but firmly. Cocking my head,
I look deeply into his obsidian eyes to his
Soul...he imitates me, tilting his head in unison,
letting my gaze enter. Images from high race
Thru my mind...the rushing river...undulating
Tree tops...in an instant, we have become
Brothers of the wild, as I softly shake my arm
To set him free.
"I am me, Brother Raven, I am me"
05/30/15
© All Rights Reserved
Most of my Lix spittle
+ four additional anniversaries
since exiting birth canal
as full term newborn
re: minimally viable existence
post doc severance umbilical cord,
nevertheless yours truly
found himself figuratively
linkedin and tethered to lifeline
particularly in formative years
(primarily academically) adrift,
and malfunctioning blinker
analogous to a boat
without an ankh (clawing
away to stay afloat)
aimlessly bobbing -
and drowning akin
to a besotted drinker
just out of rest to be
rescued by Mister Rinker
sea ming lee without
any hook, line and sinker
despite being gifted with
an above average thinker,
(who calls Lake Wobegon
his birth place)
from without, where two
brown myopic ocular
orbs shutterfly, twitter and winker.
All thru academia
just barely passing grades
nsync with avocations
such as: jigsaw puzzles,
photography, playing piano
weight lifting with free weights
and other endeavors metaphorically
suffered from anemia,
and at my nadir,
thy prepubescent psyche
plummeted lovely bones
into grave state,
courtesy anorexia minus bulimia
mental health also linkedin
shot thru through with
healthy dose of dysthymia
captioned tinker tailor soldier spy
kept awake with insomnia
peppering cerebral
cortex with monomania
buzzfeed ding somnambulant
zombified condition
with a burning
desire toward pyromania
nsync with unmanageable
raging (red dee
and bull lush) testosterone
spawning (when libido
ran rampantly amuck)
satyromania, the above particularly
accentuated, and cresting
with accursed triskaidekaphobia
most agonizing, when
orbitz around Earth
demarcated ten plus three
month date on a Friday the thirteenth,
hence death be not proud
sought after utopia
pleading, longing, and hooping
if I Willoughby
able to sprinkle
cremated ashes across Xenia
after Dayton death.