Long Degenerated Poems
Long Degenerated Poems. Below are the most popular long Degenerated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Degenerated poems by poem length and keyword.
Does your world hang low?
Does your humour ebb and flow?
Do you feel like you’re a flop
And you’re drowning down below?
Are your moods like running water
Won’t stay stable when they oughta?
Does your world – hang – low?
Is your life a drag?
Do you feel like a rag?
Does it seem as though you’re flound’ring
Through impenetrable slag?
Is the whole thing never right?
Not worth keeping up the fight?
Is your life – a – drag?
Do you hide your face?
Do you feel a disgrace?
Are you constantly avoiding
Being with the human race?
Has your life degenerated?
And your world disintegrated?
Do you hide – your – face?
Are you fighting back?
Are you taking up the slack?
Will you give in and surrender
Or go back on the attack?
Tell the world it hasn’t mastered
THIS unconquerable bastard!
NOW you’re fight – ing – back!
"Breaking the Lonely Rewind"
Hysteria ensues a small death
on a funeral pyre pushed
into a sealed and soiled
heart shaped box sunk
to swallow stone tears
reversing reflections
in the coldest mirrors
Tsunami waves flood
all that was green
On the breaking shores
there the Lonely Rewind
is floating amidst The Shallows
resurfaced, cracked open and laid bare
her black treasures
boiling over inky interior
spilt darkly the soul
now sharp and split in two
a gift from the damned
walking out into the blistery wind
where sourness all around
whispers a soft war
of unclaimed, unwanted
forgotten voices,
The Lost and Lonely,
way past the end of their world,
where heartbreak is spurned
resurrect into burning birds
from the cold veined inferno,
The Silent Ocean of Reprieve
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
"When I Was Older"/Billie Eilish
https://youtu.be/HSCREQjxPHE
Lyrics:
https://genius.com/Billie-eilish-when-i-was-older-lyrics
"In order to rise from its own ashes, a phoenix first must burn." Butler
"She told me she’d be a phoenix.” The image of the mythical creature rising from the ashes glitters in my mind. “They don’t really exist.” “She said that depends on whether or not there’s someone who can see them." Picoult
"One does not need to be against womens suffrage," the London Times editorialized in 1908, "to see that some of the more violent partisans of that cause are suffering from hysteria. We use the word not with any scientific precision, but because it is the name most commonly given to a kind of enthusiasm that has degenerated into habitual nervous excitement."' Gilman
"Lady Lazarus", Plath
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49000/lady-lazarus
My father told me of a city so grand
With a ladies statue torch in her hand
The torch of freedom in the world he lived
With the drop of a bomb all life was sieved
Images en grained in his ageing mind
For he never imagined this kind of mankind
At the time of the drop I was one years old
Down in a bunker as above it unfolds
All I remember in the years we stayed there
Were the fortunate people distraught in despair
Many years have passed from the bunker we left
Generations in dust civilisation reft
Buildings stripped by Nuclear Acid
Putrid river flowing rancid
Mutated beings in struggled motion
Flesh dripping from sores in their degenerated ocean
We now live in the mountains in cavernous caves
Away from the cities where millions stayed
Survivors we are our world in pity
Millions gone, where once stood a city
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war4.php
Within timeless scales of Earth,
a humane life is no more
yet no less
than one short ZeroSum Zone,
sometimes cooperative with Earth's climate changes
and sometimes competitive
against Earth's pace
of healthy climate therapeutic race.
Each of us is a sojourner
on this green-blue sanctuary planet,
a sometimes grateful
and too often ungrateful guest
by birthright of nondual dark DNA invitation,
patriarchal and matriarchal,
with only a short-term Left wins when Right wins time
to co-invest toward healthiest interdependent wealth.
What greater folly could there be
than to spend this short time longing,
unhappily thronging,
in Win/Lose conflicts
against other green sanctuary guests?
Far healthier, surely,
to invest and empower this short life
pursuing inspired health,
enriched by a green ecotherapeutic sense
of interdependent
organic
holonic HolySpirit/Nature transubstantiating warm-wombed connections,
nutritional communion with other medicating meditating sojourners
especially green young-born seeds
breathing in and out
Win/Win active and responsive hope.
So far,
of the revolutionary 2020 revisionary centuries,
just under a full-score have degenerated,
the major integrative portion is yet to systemically unfold
among us,
with and without becoming regenerative us.
Green sanctuary compassion
is my actively co-arising hope.
This is our emergent century of climate peace,
a century of bicameral health discernment--
a wealthy skill-set sharing century
when a more caring
scientific LeftBrain
and reconnecting RightBrain co-relational investment
and compassionate
non-violent communicating
communion of human nature-spirits
will re-emerge.
This is my non-sectarian reweaving
tribal prayer
for Earth's wellness
As our own shared security,
non-violent prosperity
non-partisan compassion
non-patriarchal love
non-RightWing dominant
choosing lifetime of great healthy transitional sojourner light
Even a growing warm-wombed infant
can interdependently actively hope to harmonically hear,
smell and taste,
feel and 2020 see
health raging between Earth's global co-passioned eyes.
Four leaves --> one dies
as before
Chains like a noose
My dear, a cartoon --
Cheerios and cool-aid
My knees bleeding /
mom I fell \ my mood
changed again / here again
_darkness again!
Save Kids and food
Watch wallet ...
accounts like numbers
falling waters drowning
kids -- but you don't know
what it means but you don't
want to know what it means
"We're drowning/singing\
and you love us any who"/
We could ask for more --
hesitation like a whore
thinks what is darkness --
less or more?
We don't ask and don't ever
ask more | riding bicycles
we're just youth in a degenerated
society.
And Nice so nice to breath
Oh so nice to be just us.
:: 11-27-2017 ::
The winds of change blow harsh
in crushing time’s unidirectional course,
waft from an unseen end to another unknown.
The momentum they gather from the ordained power
increases ever with the turn of time’s wheel.
The direction they receive from the message of events
can’t be altered in the pages of history.
Civilizations blew away in the destined gales,
the Indus valley society desiccated in the desert.
Empires collapsed in time’s wasteland in gusty squall,
the Aztec kingdom dissipated despite its strength.
Mankind sheds the unwanted old grime,
like the dry leaves of autumn the winds sweep
and bury under the thick dust of the ageing time.
Indomitable spirit rises from the debris of the wrecked,
new societies with changed belief and value emanate,
that survive as long as they can strongly defy
the forces of fated change until they wane to disappear.
The strike of destined wrath the time arrows apply,
transform fast and invisibly the insipid core
of the promising society of integrity and unity
into a degenerated deceptive one that’s steeped
in intolerance and hostility to be lost in oblivion.
The shape and space of minds’ frames alter
with the changing pictures they hold
of the time and the people that are constant movers,
displayed in the kaleidoscopic everlasting show,
the winds of change visibly perform as they blow
across the cauldron of history,
piling up the ruins of the societies lost.
He would never forget the raindrops knocking on his coffin,
painfully screaming in a postpartum (from life) depression,
nor would he forget the stiffness of his entire body
banging on the wood as the carriage was hurried
along the cracked pavement on the streets
of the Holy Land to the cheapest and closest "Ash House".
He had never imagined what the future would bring to him,
now, when the latest experience in physical death
had been caused by simply the absolute lack of love.
He didn't react too much to the beatings and mutilations of the hysterical fat maniacs,
self-proclaimed highnesses in control of a whole degenerated generation.
He still remembered though the permanent hunger of the soul
and the love he had never experienced.
Adnan was not a fighter anymore.
It was time to move on and die for a while...
But then...
for Gareth's Contest: "Leave Me Hanging"
www.scripca.com
Fallowed mind on barren ground toils
Winter's cold streams radiant beams foil
No incubating current cuts through the dense soil
Muses' bright glint the dark, thick clouds roil
Blipping sparks can't light my sensory console
A dormant seed sprouts on a rocky knoll
Promising strands on frozen surface stroll
Chilling winds over shallow-rooted thoughts troll
Vapid ideas from stagnant un-imaginative threads loll
Without depth, the promising figments spoil
In due course, Spring's thawing tides do roll
On horizon's mount, azure panels scroll
The brighter patches degenerated conduits parole
Fecund spores with soaring visions cajole
Wispy tufts of dander blow into cranial hole
Into thawing seams, germinating inspiration bowls
Enervating muse, implanted seeds into interstices dole
Granules of wisdom brim from gilded boll
Leaving pod, enthralling, pearly grains silt the soul
The congealed fabric spins around each, sensory pole
Ginned fibers into imagination's colorful tapestry burrow
Anarchy
“Anarchy.” Wondered, Master Satan.
Yes anarchy. Because of the moral.
“The moral. What moral?” What??
The only true and original. From God.
“From God.” Do you think that's right?”
Yes. That is right. The Right. Only one.
“Only one? From the One. Only One?”
But degenerated science blocks his.
“His eternal work and life. The creation.”
Yes. I mean it. Medicine is the anarchy.
“Anarchy. Stateless society. Medicine?”
I mean, block the mental poison. All of.
“Good idea.” Civil desiboidence. Hmm.”
Yes. People say no. No mental crime.
“Anymore. Basically paid by governments.”
The mental crime. Yes. Man-made crime.
They are legalized mental criminals. All.
“Psychology. Psychologists. You don’t like.”
Destroyed my life. My life goals. My desires.
“But the state is re-creating them. Again.”
This is the key. Your sentence. Opposite.
“What opposite? Do you mean state-God?”
Yes, and re-creating is deleting all of them.
“Oh, I understand. The order of God is life.”
Yes. Sure. The perfect order. Without rulers.
“Without psychologists, you mean it first.”
Yes. They are soldiers of this world. Paid.
“You mean the mental control. And power.”
Yes. The perfect world is perfect tranquility.
And there is no state, state power. Never.
“Then?” What is there? Humanity, no kings?”
A society without a state. Without human rulers.
The perfect anarchy. Pure life. The Paradise.
Yes. Life there is independent of human laws.
“Yes. But you aren’t talking about human rights.”
Yes. There is no crime. No need for human rights.
“What is there? What? You can’t live without rights.”
Human rights protect you in the human world. “Yes.”
There is no need to be afraid anymore. — The world of God.
Yes. Anarchists seeking a stateless world, a life.
It exists. Always. This is the Paradise. There is no state there.
“So, the anarchy is looking for God,
But the anarchists can not find Paradise.”
Yes, this is my opinion,
My dear Master Satan.
“Hmm.”
Yes.
The society without a state
The stateless society
Is the Paradise of God
Loveful
Peaceful
Greatful
Principle
Of Anarchy
Diminishing virtues stripped away
From the flesh
By the fierce brined rods that freely
Course thy hot crimson blood;
Dry cracked lips attempting to
Fashion broken words of compliance
That so must needs to be spoken...
But...Ohhh, Meretrix...
My foolish and innocent child -
If you but only could!
Consider, Meretrix,..humility!
To which pleasure one thus
Submitted
Guiltily discovers:-
The joy in the act or posture of
Lowering oneself in relation to
Others.
For in your anguished dis-repair
You will find strength to endure and
Embrace:-
The acceptance of all your defects
And ultimate seduction
In the power of your:-
"Submission to Divine Grace"!
I will adorn you in the yellow Toga
Of the Vestal virgins,
They whom wise Augusta did abhor;
Burden upon you with an Imperial
Tax
Imposed by perverted Caligula:
Whither all Matronly protestations he
Didst dismissively ignore;
My Tribune forcefully exact -
When employing you in the
Degenerated role
Of my most reluctant Whore!
Clasp jeweled anklets abouts your
Shapely bones,
Decorate upon you like fired and
Painted porcelain figurines;
Whilst all the while, as your lost mind
Bemoans,
Choking between involuntary gurgles
And low-pained, stifled screams,
The gagged mouth bites down
Amidst salivating sounds
Borrowed from the hurtling
Nightmares
Of your darkest dreams!
For I will lift you higher than the
Tallest mountain peak...
So you may gaze with awe over all
The innumerable Kingdoms and their
Proud tyrant Kings;
Of the many differing species of all
Mankind type things...
And of the immeasurable riches
They so endlessly seek.
Lower you to the solitudes of the
Grassed floors
That sweep across the sunken
Valleys deep;
Where, besides enchanted streams,
Violated Nymphs quietly weep
For Abels broken schemes;
Now, tragically, all taken apart;
And for the wicked callousness
Of fallen man...
Whose desperate greeds ripped out
His live brothers still beating heart -
Then tore at the living throat of
The one true Gods Holy Lamb!
TO BE CONTINUED...