Long Derangement Poems
Long Derangement Poems. Below are the most popular long Derangement by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Derangement poems by poem length and keyword.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Entitlement Derangement Syndrome
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After a failed attempt at a long lasting relationship. I decided to find someone who I understood. When it comes to objections and goals, people often lack sincerity when discussing such. People laugh at your goals and often tell your goals and hopes to other people. Often to people who can afford to do the things you wish to do." It's like finding a secret compartment full of treasure. Gossiping and devaluing a relationship can lead to helping other make better decisions.When people use other people's goals to straighten out their own lives, they are often engaging in a mix of social learning, goal mirroring, or, in more negative cases, manipulation and codependency. People do this for a few key reasons, and the dynamic can either be healthy or highly toxic depending on the intent.---Goal mirroring generally refers to understanding or mimicking the intended objective or end result of an action, rather than perfectly copying the physical movements themselves---------------------"His name was stumbled into memerance due to her mentioning it."--
-------------------------------------While asserting personal boundaries and expecting basic community respect is healthy, an inflated sense of being "owed" often stems from emotional immaturity, a lack of self-awareness, or cultural conditioning-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------"I owe her nothing as she is seen now as vile!" Written by: Epicurus Citium--------------------
You are the dusk that masquerades as first light.
In the stillness of descending twilight,
your spellbinder's expectorant
opens the passageways of the feeble,
weevles like a gloworm
in dark fertile soil.
Whispers of memories that never were,
in a soft lament,
in a lofty raimant.
I am lost in the shadows of yesterday's song,
longing for a love that once belonged.
In risky fantasy,
I play your suspect invitation,
as a night thief with an accordion,
iron lung.
Too powerfully drawn am I,
unable to resist your decisions-
Wringing me dry.
Shift of weightlessness density,
snap-twang, propensity-thick and numb.
If I had just one last guess,
I am the cotton and you are the laudanum.
Why am I the salivary gland and the gum.
The wavering field of rye that a beast
tramples on.
Invisible chains they bind my words,
like a palsy stricken tongue,
grasping my chords with ghastly cords,
poetic enslavement,
thoughtfully borne divided by
my pasts sum.
Rosehips- tea soaked gingerly-
your spell lingers on SOS morose telepathy
morse code, telegraphed, telegaphed
to see your confident smile mockingly know,
peering into the eyes before expected wind-up
and mesmerizing blow.
Your fluiro-essences spores inliquidity,
wetness of morganite,
juices leeched,
leaving me in my parasitic derangement,
unable and unwilling to fight-
familiar arrangement.
Your jaded facet to sparkle
as a trophy against the light.
That which you neon flash to be.
From, for, to, too spun,
I am a sugar crop to make into candy
that you drool upon the lips,
as I drink you in
electroponic abomination splice of caine
and Hawaiian Punched Drunkenness.
Hey Kool aid, break through my walls
and offer your solution.
Stain my lips.
A fermented wavelength I will become,
dialing your frequency,
of restless dream,
silence of my soul's dark night,
moonlight beamer ride of twists and turns.
Some people never learn,
me being that one,
you being my classroom distraction
passing notes of gossiped ink of juicy gossamer,
till you are commanded to "release
this dumb- one, who knows not of lessons,
of touching what burns".
Fetishes,senses and derangement calls,
Sedatives crushed into the hold,
A trance of tragedy, regaining conciousness,
Abreast on fantasy, stranded on hope.
Derailing conclusions often up shut,
Just another goddess, worshipped in not a castle nor hut,
A deranged perspective, too joyful to be true,
For she ,closer to happiness ,has faced twice the rue.
her eyes red, her clothes torn,Sensations on her lips bloom,
Ashes on her neck,ashes on her chest,
Squirming in delight as the wounds undress
Vigour and joy turn to gloom,Her face scarred, her mind numb,
Behold she is a child still sucking on her thumb.
Modern Concentration Stamps For Query
Heights of subtly decide the best points for invention
Delights of brevity decide the next poetic composition
Insights of entropy reside and then collide in patient comprehension
Conspicuous engagements of the outspoken looking for transparent attention
Ridiculous derangement of the broken ones that should have been all about prevention
Ambiguous retainment of the disguise which illuminates the apprehension
Promiscuous enragement that results in confined detention
I’m bereft aloof alone unkempt and broken at the knees
Contempt for those who have it all and still are hard to please
Cement the groves of the dead to mourn as the wind flows thru the trees
Circumvent the throes of dread that form as I long to be set free
Abdication of the crown for a superficial reason
Fabrication that’s renowned that quantifies as spiritual treason
Aberration of profound modern lies that define the season
Condemnation of the resounding cries that refine the notion of partisan
Holocausts and starvation not resigned to history anymore
Concentration camps a modern feature as we watch them knock upon deaths door
Instigation of disenfranchised people that have no place but to remain poor
Obfuscation of the unbelievable that demand we stand for more
The End Elizabeth Moroz Copyright
Windy days wreath icy blast into bones;
Sun rays and fahrenheit cannot outlast.
Fingertips and toes exposed to cyclones.
Beneath my hood, cold eyes and cheeks hold fast.
Sun rays and fahrenheit cannot outlast
Jack Frost; his bitter touch entertainment.
Beneath my hood, cold eyes and cheeks hold fast.
Shivers, what’s left of Autumn derangement.
Jack Frost, his bitter touch entertainment.
Blustery shadows wound up tight, let go.
Shivers, what’s left of Autumn derangement.
Awaits a pile of leaves ready for snow.
Blustery shadows wound up tight, let go.
Fingertips and toes exposed to cyclones.
Awaits a pile of leaves ready for snow.
Windy days wreath ice blast into bones.
A story having origins in Greek Mythology
dealt with a mortal woman having curiosity.
To avenge Prometheus for his wrongful theft of fire,
the gods sent a strange box for Pandora to acquire.
The box displayed instructions not to open it at all;
but she ignored the words, and it led to mankind’s downfall!
Burgeoning nuclear arsenals of many nations
present a myriad of possible situations.
If used impetuously by belligerent factions,
terrible scenarios would result from their actions.
Wantonly deployed without the use of circumspection,
employment of weapons out of mutual aggression,
it would propel us into serious retrogression.
The chain reaction begins with just one detonation.
Consequences would result in global devastation.
A serious setback for modern civilization!
Chaos will permeate our worldwide living arrangement;
everything we know in insurmountable derangement.
By suppressing nearly every amenity for all,
our society would appear being ephemeral.
Seeing the aftermath would be overwhelming for me;
ubiquitous destruction following a World War Three.
I would be thinking to myself while viewing the huge loss:
Did our Great Lord and Savior die for nothing on the cross?
Be careful not to open another “Pandora’s Box“.
Because the weapons of World War four will be sticks and rocks.
It’s sad just how low, American leftists will go,
Mentally ill by the thought: TRUMP WINS—two in a row.
Pelosi—their Jesus, decrees moral high ground,
Enter Schumer, Nadler, and Schiff—three idiot clowns.
And yet, not one strategy has rid them of him,
Charlatans and liars—appropriate pseudonyms.
Hating on this president, three long years now and counting…
Trump Derangement Syndrome—a social disorder,
Hampers millions still clinging to their losing New Yorker.
Impeaching popular presidents, with opinions—not facts,
Should scare you to the polls—to vote Donald right back!
December 20, 2019
Your Best New Poem Poetry Contest
In between the smooth black stones
and the long verdant grasses
I play
as I dance ever so lightly amongst
the wooded green
and
as I glaze upwards to the endless sky
trees wave at me
with a kind of spectral awareness
that puts my soul at peace
knowing my aloneness has nothing to do
with loneliness
All around I see large creatures leaving
slimy trails in their wake
eating their way through the wiry jungle
and over there
quickly they move together
as they lift their food source to take back home
to their queen in her quest for constant reproduction
I find the world outside of myself a dizzying derangement
filled with moments happening at the speed of light
flashes
that threaten overwhelm me with
the feeling that life
is sucking me dry
Some call me the elfin one
my wings a gossimer fabric to display the riot of colour
I use to camolflage me when I quake
and am quietly unsure....
Some also call me the elusive one
and the tales are renoun
as they weave themselves between the heather and the ivy
I call myself a Pixie
as my laughter can be heard from hill to dale
and as the lovely night falls so deep
you can see the
blinking
of the phosphorous dust that surrounds my flight.
Unthinkable
Unimaginable
Nightmarish
Devastating
Heart-rending
Knee-trembling
Insanity
Derangement
Untethered
Unhinged
A madman
almost pulled
the Nuclear trigger
in Ukraine
'cos things weren't going his way
Horror of horrors...
Kennedy faced down Khrushchev
Reagan toppled the wall
But JFK and Ronnie are long gone
We must stop Putin
Led by YOU, Joe Biden
We must stop Russia
Led by YOU, Kamala Harris
You are the leaders we've got ~
Get up off of the sidelines
and enter the fray
Take some pride in the USA
and its armed forces
ready to spring into action
at your command
Activate the best military
in the world to STOP
Russia and Putin, to
REMOVE Evil Incarnate, to
SILENCE this Monster
and his cursed countrymen
FOREVER ~
before it's too late
—Seeking Still—
The stars have lost the tremor of their fire,
the aspens, wind-wed, scarcely stir a leaf;
the sea keeps blue, yet azure's old attire
seems banish'd from the deep, past all belief.
The butterflies still skim the lucent air,
yet some lost eidolon of flight is gone;
the hummingbirds, once liquid choirs, blare
like brazen bells beneath a witless dawn.
I touch the rain—it glimmers, yet is dry;
the lilies breathe a wan, funereal sweet;
and honey, once the sun's own gold, turns awry,
lies rotting 'neath the noontide's brazen heat.
What if the world hath not grown strange at all—
but I became the stranger at thy fall?
I muse if mine own wits have wander'd wide,
or some eldritch derangement veils my sight;
for thou hast vanish'd, leaving naught beside
but all the world bereft of inward light.
The moon still climbs above the chimneys' smoke,
and weary men bar fast their doors at night;
yet every common thing seems somehow broke,
as though each thing had outliv'd its ancient right.
Perhaps thy presence was the secret art
by which the visible became benign;
and now the world still beats, yet lacks the heart
that taught its mute immensities to shine.
And shouldst thou never turn thy face to mine,
I'll call this ruined universe—divine.