Long Depletion Poems
Long Depletion Poems. Below are the most popular long Depletion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Depletion poems by poem length and keyword.
I never knew she was bleeding and pleading,
Until I turned to see the blood in her eyes,
And the agonies tearing her apart.
Rejected and dejected, she gasps for breath,
Humiliation and intimidation - written all over her gloomy soul,
Like curves of interpenetration of a sphere intersecting a cone.
Still licking wounds from savagery and ruthlessness,
The last dead body in her hands dropped on the floor,
That was her seven years old son,
The sting and pang of cruelty penetrates my brain,
Leaving me with lasting pains that remain,
Because she had been starving for months,
With oppression stronger than death.
Her tears were like a river overflowing its banks,
And she asked me,
“Could this be the way God wants it?”
Why am I denied of my rights, for a fair fight?
I sighed deeply, from a kind of mental depletion,
My hurrying thoughts clamored for utterance,
But my heart and lips were full of speechless sorrow.
As the chill of the night crept in from the street,
To all the houses that scattered over the slums like ant-hills,
The sun laid golden-soft over the huddled hills of the West coast,
More gunshots thundered across the neighbourhood,
A thin shrill voice like the cry of an expiring mouse,
was only heard from a very far distance.
She took me to her backyard,
Showed me graves on the ground with monumental inscriptions,
And she said;
There lies my daughter, who was raped to death,
There lies my husband, who stood for justice,
There lays my son who died in peace keeping,
Can all these valuable bloods be wasted for nothing’s sake?
Surviving schools were dilapidated,
The past is horrible, the future is uncertain,
The present is life threatening and monstrous,
Prison walls are raised daily in all the provinces,
The few privileged students in institutions are studying Act of War
‘Casus belli’
The economy is dropping as more jobless youths resort to crimes,
Hospitals and the strict streets are getting more congested with dead bodies.
All these made me to wonder,
If we are all living to die or dying to live,
I still ask,
Is there a place for the women, their rights and joy in the society?
Because the pains, brutality and humiliation are unbearable,
Surprisingly, her name was Hope,
But honestly, she was hopeless.
Sitting in bed.
It’s time for sleep, shower first.
Three baskets of clean clothes, bedside.
Cats' nocturnal sport rumbling across the wood floor, mother pouncing daughter, chasing rubber balls.
Tinnitus and the sound of air whuffing through the ventworks. Faintly piano music seeps through the seal of my door from children’s room, as they dream. I’m sitting... in bed.
I need to shave. My razor’s dull. The hairs will be plucked from my face, less shorn. I will examine skin for blemishes, and finding none will probably aggravate a neutral irregularity to the point of bleeding. I’ll brush my teeth first, to avoid the taste of shaving cream. Then shave and shower, and recall the salt stone my abuser once gave me. She loved me then. Perhaps.
My shampoo is infused with tea tree oil and mint. It irritates my sensitive scalp a little. It smells so good.
I’m not ready to sleep. I’m not ready to shower or shave. I still taste milk on my breath. And I’m awake, as if capturing a few more moments of consciousness… were a virtue. Is it?
Tinnitus my faithful friend. A frequency so high it’s almost imaginary. A close listen reveals dissonance, two or three tones. The warbling interference pattern. You are the closest I come to silence.
Cotton swabs, shoot. I need to make a list. One or two things I remember in the store, and more I forget. Some microwavable containers for rice, to take to work. I’ve been eating sweet potatoes in an effort to lose weight. I like them, but… variety.
Something… something else I wanted to remember. Batteries? No, that wasn’t it. Cobwebs? No, why would I need to remember cobwebs? I have cobwebs in my brain. Ah! Kitty litter. So that too, and… well, I’ll think about it later.
I’m starting to lose feeling in my feet and lower legs. It’s better than restless legs, with which I sometimes wrestle. Usually when I’ve done this, procrastinating sleep. Magnesium depletion, I suppose. Or something.
To have a hand on my back, scratching sweetly. An tender arm draped lovingly, even excitedly over my large belly. The sensation, the meaning. I long for it. Long hair, gentle voice, she's with me. Forever. If only.
Goodnight.
It`s always inspiring to be strong in appearance,
Brave to catch up the essentiality of the sun.
How marvelous the wind blows to beat the sensations as one.
Yes, the pride is deep for BLACK skin to have fun.
The complexion is natural to be undermined,
Are you black?
Don`t be left in deceptive truck.
The image of black soothes what is meant of beauty.
Beauty that empowers the black skin to mindfully brag.
Beauty which carries protective substances against crack,
In fact, the beauty which possess a unique mark.
It`s all about black skin.
What are the definitions of black skin?
The skin which is naturally rich in melanin,
Black skin shields the body from folate depletion,
Making rightful protection against ultraviolet with adorable colouration.
Even in the heat of savannas, black skin provides cooling mechanism which develop more efficient perspiration.
If you think “BLEACHING” is a solution,
Bleaching is rather a termination.
And not a route to set one upon the mountain to receive lovable attraction.
It aims at pulling down the magical compositions of black skin into deterioration.
Leaving behind unbearable diseases and problems which turns out to place one in frustration.
The age of black is unpredictable,
It’s the skin which causes many to be humble,
it creates the feelings of being cherishable and affable.
Every story about black skin is expensive.
At the center of public, it is seductive…
Black skin fits in all attire perfectly with magnificent sensitives.
Before the rain, it looks charming and appreciative.
Exquisite of black skin, expresses its ebonics to be communicative.
Who can buy its glory?
I mean the glory which had brought motivations from multiples of personalities within the world entertainment in every gallery.
The motivations from Martin Luther, Mohamed Ali, Oprah Winfrey, Michelle Obama, Pele, Michael Jordan, Serena Williams, Usain Bolt and many others who are in memory.
Who maintained their precious black skin and exerted influence out of its value.
Perhaps, if you think your black skin is failing you,
Black skin is the most valuable gemstone found in morning dew.
#BLACK AND BEAUTIFUL
#SALEM MEDIA INITIATIVE
It's hard to breathe-poor respiration
Stomach hurt due to a combination
Of starvation and constipation
I feel like bad inflation
I need deflation
Get me a doctor to perform the operation
To make it in this world its mad desperation
I refuse to make adaptation to nonsense and instigation
I'm so sweaty more wet than condensation
Precipitation
Evaporation
Body so glossy it's like anatomy lamination
So I dry off like fabrication
I wish I was make-believe like animation
My own choice my own obligation
First start with an observation
Then evaluation
A problem in the atmoshere? Bad radiation
In 360 circulation
Earth's manipulation
Creates a bad situation
For the population
To feel a bad sensation
Like planet domination
Due to poor human reputation
The ultimate retaliation
Is Revelation
...As the #1 selection
Regardless of complexion
Object of every girl's affection
Lookin for the best connection
As a correction
From going in the wrong to right direction
It's like an infection
I want success so bad I get an ********...
In addition
To my subscription
To a perscription
To my addiction
Of the worst possible condition
Avoid the infliction
And affliction
Of pain of a titanic description
So I jail my anger with no jurisdiction
But I still face conviction
For kickin the automobile of anarchy into ignition
Can it lead me to a contradiction
Or a mental restriction
While I sleep I have recognition
I'm not the disease but the cure or is that a premonition
Or Gods intuition...
This is literal
Critical
And pitiful...
Beware we are almost at the completion
Of Earth's depletion
It's no secretion...
Could it be distinction
Or extinction...
From gov't corruption
To volcanic eruption
We are the production
Too late for interruption...
Any confession
Any suggestion
If you want to end the world here's the succession...
In conclusion
This is purely retribution
For distribution
Of pollution
No illusion
No confusion
No dillusion
Just an intrusion
Erase the constitution...
There's no prevention
Of the redemption...
Clusters of refugee bubbles
Expelled from the side of my tank
Rise expanding in upward travels
Escaped depths, burst at surface
Forging against their vigour
Persuasive stream broken
by my bulky silver body
Interrupting incoming ongoing
Enthusiastic thousands
Spurts of filter flung hum
Tickle my sheer cycling fins
Tell me to nose dive again
Breaking trails of oxygen globes
Until Billy Bully Salmon slices in
Languid flicks follow frantic fro
Gyrating spotty specimen vie
Lunch pellet plops induce swished thrashing
Tumult on top flung untimed as ocean fury
Gaping lips capable of feeding incidentally
Cylindrical home groans, crowded by peers
Graduates from Tank Eight are due soon
To meet with intention, purpose imposed
Sight of orange net scooping candidates
Occasions mayhem, frenzied to catch bus
I surge with the fastest, fattest prime
For my place in net destiny
Overexposed oxygen exhausts me
Begins cressendo to deliver my bounty
Dry eyed tribute to nurtured practice honed
My splatting undulations
boast industry success
Cod calls me to lemon rained plate haven
Farmed fellows raised by deliberation
Egg nursery, microscopic sluge whirls
Infuse infant entire crew with dedication
To feed, to fulfil, crisp silver skin served
If you think eating me equals ocean depletion
You'll be pleased to imbibe controlled science
Take it from me, fat salmon, Raymond
I am desperate to get in your gut!
My reason for existence is to be ravished
Don't reject majestic fish - re-examine
The pearly peach flesh down throat glide
Indulge charitable fridge wrapped salmon
THE REALM OF THE FALL....
There existeth a realm
on the face of the earth
where immortal and mortal
compete for glory..
what is a mortal
if not a god clipped
to submission..
on a path of remission...
what is man and the son of man..
bit lower than angels..
crowned of honor and glory
sin the greatest hindrance to re-union..
sin separateth
creature from creator
leading to the former
dying out slowly...
a station separated
from its key energy source...
slowly using stored up energy
depletion leads to death...
communion.. a re-connection
to the charger.. the supreme
supreme being... creator
source of all energy.. or say life
different religions
trying to explain
that for man to actualize
he needs to reconnect...
you're gods today i have begotten you
yet you falleth like sons of men..
an expousion to our true nature.. humans
down here were fallen... from grace
day and nite descendants of men
chastise them fallen angels...
little knowing... do we..
like us they are in this realm...
the realm of submission..
the realm of restitution
the realm of restoration..
to the former glory....
higher glory
for down here
mortal and immortal
compete for that glory...
there are those
on the path towards..
restitution.. yet others
wallow in sin.. in this realm....
wallow in sin and perversity
neglecting the true calling
to reunite. be one with..
bond with.. become of..attain.
the supreme.... attain glory
the glory of knowledge
of the self and the
knowledge of the supreme GOD..
The path of dawn
an echo of realization
as the fog clears
and mortal reconnect
Reconnect to the supreme
awakening their spirit...
as one in fellowship ..
with the one creator..source
Source and means to all paths
source and giver of all wisdom
the one true source of wisdom
the very path of dawn..
in the supreme deity
both mortal and immortal
look for strength
in this realm of fall..
Lewis k Nyaga
the path of dawn..
Half choked by a rising paroxysm of rage, then nisus,
The brittle and mirthless smile on his face were pathetic,
A nonaged;
Amputated and broken with a heart big but beats quiet,
Suddenly, he sighed deeply, from a kind of mental depletion.
His eyes were dilated with unfathomable sorrow, agony, pain and fears.
On his cheeks
Ran a flood of tears like the red sea.
His yelling and rumbles calls for freedom and a far-fetched peace of mind,
As his trembling heart fluttered with a vague terror.
Born and raised in a once happy home,
But the traitorous rebels seeking the droplet of their already sore souls,
Wouldn’t let them be.
His ribs were countered from afar,
Through the cruddy scatted T-shirt hung around his humiliated lanky frame.
When his hurrying thoughts and lips clamored for utterance,
It was an audible whisper.
He has forgotten the last time he ate a good food,
Maybe years ago.
Insurgency had dwarfed his ambitions in life,
A definition of a haunting and horrible sense of insecurity.
Daily, their stomachs fed on health and social peril,
Their nights were incensed to pass the drudgery of still time,
Death was a companion too close to loose,
They slept in the shadows of love,
And are awoken to ghost of damnation,
As their gloomy and hopeful souls sought reasoning from lips made silent.
In a moment, he was thirsty,
Buried in the dirty and putrid water of mixed cow dung,
There he drank,
Happily and without complaining,
With cows, the wretched mother feeds his other siblings,
Grass meal.
A bad situation the angels can even weep over,
In the Northern part of the Giant of Africa.
Thereafter, the poor widow walked up to me and asked,
“Why are we trying to live if we were just living to die?”
“Why are we hoping to receive when there are no relieve materials in sight?”
My thoughts collapsed into an ice, speechless,
That was when I noticed that in the Internally Displaced Persons Camp,
Life is totally a living hell.
Lust, longing and greed
Through frenzy, craze and rage
Damage, destruction and depletion
The hallmark of emerging culture
Nature’s blood thirsty hawks
Out in the open, unchecked
Consuming all, preserving none
Mindless and moronic swarms
Voracious, hungry and mad
Making earth barren and bare
With fires, famines and floods
Digging graves of the unborn
Perpetuating thirst and hunger
Sworn enemies of the planet
Mantras, shouts and slogans,
Alarms, concerns, pretensions
Catchy crowds of activists
Yield nothing but display
A routine and repetitive affair
A pastime for politicians
Events of pomp and show
What to do, where to go
Darkness al around
Virtuous and conscientious
The enlightened souls
Among human creatures
Have saved the world in the past
Let us pray for their resurgence
There came no sun
Unrecognized impeached the source
No in time spring lifted us from sleeping
And the icicle ink
Wrote itself with frozen pens
When the chill in the world
Found there came no death in flames
And now we have spoken with the tongues of snowflakes
Low pressure in global zones
Frozen in the fear of late
Threat to the blizzard we are driven
Howling in the winds destruction's vivisection of hate
In silence we hear the screaming’s
Ignoring the words of bitten teeth
Speaking with the bitter bite of snow
All we know of is the dangerous of cold
All we know is the ice sheet
From which this life has now evolved
So we have chosen the numb rhythms of hail
El tormenta by our own description
Leaves the heart eaten by frost
And deceptions of heat in the vocabulary of love
If only a reminder would call to us
Produce some blood in the hands of promise
See how the suns of summer
Are now for sale
Too poor to help the fallen hero
Too small to claim life
But of gold and slavery’s redress
By its influence of fragile
Make the light drip to darkness
Commit then to winters birth
In the sniveling are these criticisms consumed
As they lay their claim to insolence
Ragged pest drunkards of a futures little worth
Think you that we should know this subliminal ice
This unspoken word on our haunted breath
Wrapped as we are in shivers language of goose bumps
An isolated crowd standing alone
In the freezing of a storm
Retire then to the crouching hearth
The broken window and shattered floor
Stones reflection of stolen warmth
Bides the time depletion
As insignificant flames burn to be blown out
Weep for the wail of ancient skin
This historical detention in the age of fear
Committed to winter
No in time spring will come to awaken us
[REVISED 2024 April 04]
Shinar, some know as Mesopotamia, others as Assyria,
near the Euphrates River, a midday sun cast doubts of
a weakened shade made idle by the pause of its agile
host, named Nimrod, son of Cush, grandson of Ham,
and Noah's great-grandson. No sign of depletion, hence
the shade returns to motion.
Nimrod is the soul ruler of the land of Shinar, host to
several ancient cities, one was called, Babel. Scripturally,
Nimrod was said to be a great hunter, and that would be
the length of it. Jewish and Christian texts are not able
to agree whereupon Nimrod's entry into the historical
record books other than what has been escribed in the
scriptures of the Talmud and the Bible, albeit, elements of
foreign records have cluttered historical accountabilities
and further strengthened pre-existing ambiguities, thusly,
a genre of conjectures misleads, and misinterpretations,
have made authenticity and accuracy to remain divided.
There are numerous variances, such as those accounts
between Jewish and Islamic customs or beliefs from
generation to generation, concerning Nimrod's and of
Abraham's first encounter, from that of a subliminal
meeting of minds, to the simplicity of a gnat that had
overwhelmed the mighty forces of Nimrod's army by
entry into his brain's that affected his abilities.
The accounts of Josephus concerning King Amraphel
whom Abraham did battle in Genesis, was Nimrod. The
Tower of Babel was built by the people whom King
Amraphel, being Nimrod, had ruled, and by that being
such, gave rise to Nimrod ordering the building of the
Tower in Babel. The Christian Bible does naught mention
that other than he, Nimrod, was a great hunter. I
believe it would have stabilize Josephus' claims.