Long Cryogenic Poems
Long Cryogenic Poems. Below are the most popular long Cryogenic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cryogenic poems by poem length and keyword.
Twenty fifth of December, three thousand and four
and already I'm down in the dumps
we're round at the neighbour's via tubes that save labour
propelled by some hydraulic pumps.
We've exchanged all our presents and got them unwrapped
once again I've got self-cleaning socks
the wife's Kevlar panties, though they are quite scanty
are going straight back in the box.
I'm constantly goaded to eat nuts they've downloaded
they'll try any tactic to feed ya
but the problem, I quibble is that some have been nibbled
as they're passed around on social media.
We're looking for doorways or just any more ways
to find a quick route to get out
and escape if we're able, being chased round the table
by genetically modified sprouts.
They've offered a glass of Martian Pinot noir
and they tell me it's alcohol free
so there goes my boozing and afternoon snoozing
and waking up just after tea.
Grandma kids are teasing, cryogenic freezing
means she won't wake up until noon
to find grapes in her hair and a plum, God knows where
and they've blocked up her nose with some spoons.
Don't know why they have bothered with plates that can hover
it seems so bone idle to me
they could have just handed the pudding that's landed
on the light fitting just above me.
The custard's abundant but the jug is redundant
administered now by syringe
and so is the Brandy which, though is quite handy
prevents us from having a binge.
When later we get back from fresh air and jet packs
remembering when we could walk
I'll look back fondly then to those Christmases when
we just used a knife and a fork.
November 16th 2015
For Contest 'A futuristic Christmas', sponsor Mystic Rose
The eyes appeared icy and confusing
the warm ocean lies beyond sight
words with wings arising out of waves
they soar into my heart slowly
under a lot of dead hope, they find one alive
and teach it how to fly.
A poet is serenaded by a seductive muse
join me on a waltz to an illicit verse
my lyrics express my passion
awakened me without trying
gives me hedonistic poetry
swing again as I am your muse.
All my words
individualize uncastrated psyche
this search revealed several doors
yet, nothing happens
simple gateways to other realms
overwhelmed and afraid
the head was in a cryogenic jar
where is my brain?
has the robot traveled asunder?
I am spellbound by words
that deep, black tone
tumbles with shards of fading light
nighttime adventure
the bow holds it together
curse of insatiability
the silks are shredded
to fulfill their cravings.
Written: October 29, 2022
Deep November,
a shallow time, nonetheless.
The snow is high packed with a cryogenic
amnesia.
Not yet dawn,
a sunken bed
muffles rising thoughts.
An eyelash of cognizance
flits across
thawing synapses.
Then the elastic nature
of sleep and wakefulness
snap alive!
November is howling still,
like a stray dog it scratches at my window -
wanting in.
For a while intelligence is a thorn in my paw.
Outside of the brain, November
is the same,
the darkness is still deep,
and friable as charred bone,
yet by now I am a candle flaring,
a flicker and gleam
within a neuronal time-machine,
and mind-surfing
on an ever-cresting awareness.
Time To Shower...When Pervasive Odor Of Ureic Acid
Doth strongly waft, sting,
and nauseate about me
olfactory nose flying zone
bombarding cilia of
nasal passageway analogous
to displeasure wrought by
crashing, deafening, exploding,
ear splitting xylophone,
also synonymous isolated like
barenaked lady within
remote location of Lake Woebegone,
voluntarily forced to bathe
in brutally cold
mountain waters oxbow lake
vaguely resembling out
size topographical wishbone
rescue unlikely since
bajillion miles from radio tower,
thus state of the art
electronically sophisticated videophone
good as worthless resignation,
sans fate linkedin tubby
mother nature's cryogenic specimen
more'n murmuring undertone,
where huge Arctic glacier overshadows
infinitesimally microscopic human,
one speck kin zee ditched
*****sapien subsumed
under superfluous tombstone
as frozen fountain head,
where Atlas shrugged,
nonetheless incongruous yen
to purge mine offensive odor,
where civilization footprint
sole lee mine alone in wilderness
thus farcical reason (without rhyme),
atypical, farcical, and poetical title,
yours truly didst stirrup and spur
inexplicable search for soapstone,
yet prospect to don measly frame
without gay apparel
(beastie boy bit figurative bullet,
and buttressed body in buff)
immediately augmented primal scream
to trumpet heebeegeebees
(teeth chattering yodeling
rendition re: stayin alive)
from this Rhinestone
survivalist cowboy wannabe,
began feeling comfortably numb,
and immediately prone
to become human popsicle,
especially when sub zero temperature
immediately froze water splashed skin
(like glassy sheet of ice)
glancing viz albedo effect
as blindingly white
snow capped mountains outshone
albino crags, offering
absolute zero, yes none
reassurance with insulated moonstone
sleeping bag useful
as yolked with lodestone
around neck - slow death by
freezing this knucklebone,
who sought cleanliness,
(and panacea to immortality)
joining exclusive polar bear club
(Ursus Maritimus very selective,
and only chose me) even
at expense of more'n
just frozen jawbone
plus Jack frost bitten cockles turned
deep purple as inkstone
used to write re: scrawl epitaph
on icicle glommed headstone.
If I told you, Donald, my love was true
Would you dance for me, glad to be my boo?
Or give a mean retort
Making a piggish snort
No Valentine's kisses from me to you
Melania is getting done with Trump
All he cares about is his nasty rump
The Epstein files don't lie
Knows he's guilty as pie
When his term ends, he'll be sent to the dump
If he tells me, I never wear a smile
It's because I think he's a pedophile
Ungodly as a papist
And a guilty rapist
Who knows what else is in the Epstein file
King Donald Trump thought Greenland he’d steal
Used threatening blunder in his spiel
This Valentines Day
Thought he’d have his way
Greenland said, “Up yours, Donald. No deal!”
Don Trumpty is totally impotent
He can't get it up for any event
It remains very slack
Can’t perform in the sack
On Viagra his bucks have all been spent!
Donald J. Trump held a Valentine's Ball
The world's dregs... he has invited them all
There was Kim Jong and Putin
Khamani and Rasputin
His ego boosted, he felt ten foot tall
No roses to give from the rose garden
He paved it with a black heart that's hardened
Installed gauche golden bling
and destroyed the East Wing
Criminals and crooks, he's given pardon
Melania said that they’d never part
And told him she loved him with all her heart
She held his waist tight
Squeezed with all her might
Poor Donald gasped and let out a fart
The President is standing in the buff
Posing nude and trying to strut his stuff
I guess he supposes
Wife wants sex not roses
But sadly, his old todger is too duff
Donald forgot it was Valentine's Day
Was too busy with targeting his prey
By grabby their tushy
His bare hands, so pushy
All the red roses sold out anyway
The FLOTUS put Donald in his place
In the bedroom he can’t touch first base
Cos he bedded Stormy D
Then Epstein files, oh dear me
The POTUS has got egg on his face
I'd be his Valentine if he'd hold still
Long enough for me to give him a pill
that would put him to sleep
And freeze the nasty creep
Putting him in a cryogenic chill
Cupid's arrows missed their mark, A collaboration of thoughts by
Jan Allison, Tania Kitchin, Tom Cunningham and Lin Lane
Saskatchewan’s Breath !!!
Comes on days that are long, steely and very cold.
It comes on winds that are strong, steady and bold.
Majestic little ladies try standing erect, against Saskatchewan’s breath
in their fragile, Autumn colours of golds, browns, yellows and reds.
He rings those bells - telling of winters cold hand of death –.
With great and greater force, Saskatchewan’s breath blows their heads,
bends their limbs without the passion and grace of a strippers dance.
Saskatchewan’s, cold, cruel breath – like a mad man rapist –
tears at, and strips them of their colourful gowns with little chance
to hide their nakedness for a moment longer – no fig leaf in his tempest
left for them - to greet winters white blanket – with or to enhance
the bleakness that old man winter brings – laying all else to rest
in frozen slumber – cryogenic freeze – in ice age arms of Morpheus,
until spring bounces back – rejuvenates life into rebirth –
bringing renewal, bringing hope for one and all of us
and smiles upon us weary old souls waiting for a green earth
to come to life under our tired old feet – lift our spirits to the skies
bringing joy, pleasures and wonder to our tired old eyes
as we look forward to seeing our – world – babies grow
into the wanders that are soon gone, as we surly know
- deep within – how this universe ( our little world ) turns.
Deep within our souls, there are places that yearns
to see a light through the darkest night – a spirit burns
with passion, with delight, yet knows and has concerns
about what lies in the darkness, behind passions eminent glow.
Sight, knowledge and wisdom, to many, come wings so slow
and in such small pieces, – in fragmented minute flakes –
tiny specks of light from the subconscious for consciousness sake.
So, until the end, nothing but questions – memories we will take
into that elusive light, where knowledge and wisdom it will make
us come to see, see the essence, true life in this universe
as the life of this rhyme comes to an end in verse.
B. J. “A” 2
October 6th 2005
Trying to imagine
And then have to contextualize
If it was to be in fact possible
Being able to or possess the ability
To cryogenically freeze
And so preserve myself
After my actual death
I was medically pronounced dead
Then what exactly ?
What happens then ?
1 day in however many years
Doesn't really matter in the future
I am defrosted and woken up
Into what kind of world and existence
And who is awaiting me
My family , friends
And where do I return to my house , home
What exactly , who , where am I
And to me it is exactly at this very point
Reality fully dawns on me and I realize
The consequence of my action
And I probably wish I was dead
Rather than be alive
As this is not my life
I had and did live
And this unfortunately
Is anything but
Where have all my years gone?
there I was a mere young twenty-.one
now in a moment it seems 50 years gone
here grey haired bones ache nothing won
I've no memory of these lost years
they are frozen stiff completely still
I had many desires set to accomplish
but content I shall be, whatever it will
My memory is still alive up till the freeze
there I was my stammer still holding me down
now so far it seems to have gone far away
maybe the ice squashed it without a sound
Frustrations abound about my future
I seem to like poetry for I never did before
where did I get it, not even at school
did the freeze open up some closed door
I now feel a divine presence
never known before, God is here
freeze me anytime for this is nice
hey, my deafness is gone as sounds I hear
Life takes many turns and twists
even ice pins you to its wall
I look back now on life as it was
50 years amiss, You can't win them all
(This is an imaginary story that I was frozen solid in cryogenic
labs at age 21, in 1975.
Now, fifty years later, I have been defrosted and the experiment was a success, except for a few tweaks.)
The queue was long, fifty or so,
Spacesuits donned, ready to go.
With wife and son, of ten years old
We await our journey to unfold.
Earths orbit was good, the moon even better,
But Mars signifies the true jet setter.
The craft in the hanger, white and obscene
Larger than any craft I’d ever seen.
The gel like seats programmed to mould,
To any shape or form you wish to unfold.
And a gravity equaliser on board to boot
Working in harmony with your gravity suit.
The craft will propel via the repellent field,
protected of course by the ships heat shield.
No sound detected, no smell of the fumes
Until the atomic fusion produces a subsonic boom.
It’s 30 days and the orbit is reached
Through cryogenic state, our rest is not breached.
The planet below is a sight so immense
As the shuttles descent keeps us all in suspense.
There it is, a majestic city in lights,
Incoming shuttles, so many flights.
Visors lowered, to protect from the sun
Cold to the touch, before the gloves are put on.
A city of forests and huge water falls,
A man made miracle with customary malls.
The ultimate holiday to tick off the list.
Human exploration not to be missed.
I sense tomorrow is the future- Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Sheri Fresonke Harper
Date - 8th October 2019
In stygian depths,
a specter swims,
descendant of Great Cthulhu
and Leviathan.
For eight hundred years in
caverns deep, beneath
stygian black waters,
his cryogenic sleep’s,
disturbed by
fracked-cracks
in Gaia’s core.
now he rests in peace,
no more.
No ordinary Cthulhu
now is this,
no ordinary
demonic fish,
this diabolic fiend
is twisted from
spilled chemicals,
toxic rot,
unseen.
Venomous waste has
shaped his brain
and nuclear essence
his heart contains.
Where once Great Cthulhu
was frightening to see,
this descendant,
poison-minded, be.
Terror of sailor’s nightmares swims,
in salty waters, poisoned by men
who cared for only money, you see,
Descendant Cthulhu heartless be.
When putrid breath
and jagged teeth
caress the ships
that sail the seas,
the foulest stench
of stomach acids,
will digest men like,
melted plastic.
Oh men of tomorrow,
do take heed,
sew no more nuclear
or toxic seeds.
This last boat
to sail these seas,
our dead souls
now and forever plead!