Long Detonate Poems
Long Detonate Poems. Below are the most popular long Detonate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Detonate poems by poem length and keyword.
Could I, should I, and may I?
You are my poetry. I am in love with his present, that my future longs for.
My poetry is you, pale love.
Your giddy eyes mesmerize me, your plump lips catch my attention, and your charm and sweetness entice me to approach you, but your disposition begs me to stay with you. Your hugs and smiles make me happy. My heart feels like a nuclear bomb might detonate when I touch you.
Could I, should I, or may I?
Even though it is nighttime, light displays remain motionless against the rain.
However, as we play around, Your lips begin to flow within mine, and mine begin to flow within yours.
But the rain continues to fall
However, you've forced me to see love as painful even though it's also fascinating. You've made me crush my love like an elephant tramples an ant, you've normalized pain while making love seem strange to me. Even though it shocks me when I see it, and you've forced me to question my identity even whilst forcing me to discover it.
What is intended for you is the will to act.
What is wished for you is a passion for care.
What I wanted for you was to understand my love.
All top hats and class,
like the gentleman who knows
how to throw you against a wall;
Words so cordial
but hand him a guitar
and everything comes unhinged;
Leaving you hallucinating
on that beautiful scream;
He’s never less than firewater;
Pure fire water;
Stealing the sound echoing in your head,
Grabbing you
like he’s kissing your hand;
Right before fracturing your jaw again;
All suave with a perfect touch
like the gentleman who knows too much,
and how to dance;
No need for any kind of buzz
He’s already firewater;
Pure firewater;
Baby, just hand him that guitar;
He’ll take you where you want to go
He’s the matchstick, detonate delicately;
He’s never less than firewater,
Pure firewater.
Never give your secrets,
Never tell your dreams,
‘Cos if do you'll detonate,
Your construction teams.
Your personal dreams, that is,
Those close to your heart,
Which don't depend on others,
Which keep your inside art.
And even your ambitions for your friends,
Your acquaintances, colleagues or business;
They will most definitely altogether fail,
If you reveal a personal methodology trail.
William Blake saw theology as the ink of man,
Inferred linguistics should so be bedraggled dutifully,
When he painted the angel queen as the guardian,
Of dreams, not as a being to adhere to respectfully.
#Blue_ticked
Feel like I have been locked out from heavens gates, the screaming so internally bloating, my veins turns green, could I be internally bleeding?
I said; I'm fine not immune to pain, please come closer, look clearly, the ruins you have created, my emotions in bruises, maybe I'm susceptible to pain, blame me not for being human
Remove the red tapes, allow me to be, to say and to show. Stop expecting, I'm me not they, don't blue tick me, confront me, force me to break, my body has reached its brim of pretending, of manning up, of being strong, please don't just blue tick,
It's my grave you digging, I'm not ready to die, as of yet, not like the rest, I'm not the rest but me,
Open your heart, listen up, come a little closer, look my direction, I'm here not going anywhere, not going to be silenced, hear the ticking emotional bomb beeping inside me, I'm about to detonate any minute,
please stop blue ticking, just stop forcing to add me to statistics, I'm me not they, I'm I not the rest
Just stop blue ticking me
#Poetic_Ink
Highways stretch into the aftermath.
Lunar ascends...
Grins sinisterly
A cry rises with the currents
Carried on shadowed wings
into vacant, violent, violet skies.
Night runs from golden rays
Like streaks from shooting stars
Falling. Air raid!
Thermals detonate resonates obliterates
Splash stone, sands, lands crimson,
a thousand years.
Flesh transparent as a specters.
Of ancient rites, incendiary nights
As winds cut like a raven cry. Lock vectors.
Razored spines.
Holocaustic...rights.
Host.
A falcon soars. Blind!
Soars on thermals
Forgotten spirits scatter, shatter
flutter into the icy hurricanes void.
Back into the Blackend Earth
ashen embers, with scarlet hearts
Spin, spiral on windswept promenades...
A Highway stretching into twilight.
And to the future, I dream, damnation!
I pray may never ever come, thoughts cascades…
I dance with the ghost of ancient man.
I dwell in the forgotten, forbidden, forsaken lands
As the tyrannical dawn comes...
I could feel it building before she even spoke. The pressure in the air, the deep regret. I recognize the look, the shift. It’s strange how familiar it feels. How easily my heart plummets to the floor. How loud the silence grows before everything shatters.
I spend most of my days translating, reading her tone like the weather. I rearrange my thoughts before they reach her, as if one wrong word might detonate the world.
What am I supposed to say when she asks if it’s normal, if the anger is justified? Admit that I flinch sometimes? Admit that I hear my father, incalculable and groundless? No, she’s not asking for the truth; she’s asking to be soothed for what she’s done.
Then comes the warmth, the soft embrace, the breakfast in bed. So I forgive her again, watching her form a trashy mosaic from what’s left of me, my pieces pressed together with cheap glue that never really holds.
It’s not all bad. There are still mornings that feel safe. I stay for those small reprieves, the moments she’s gentle enough to make me question my own memory. I stay to hear her whisper reste avec moi, but I’m not sure I understand the language anymore.
A quiet voice asks if I should go. Give up justifying the cage she’s put me in. Give up waiting for the love she’s saving for someone else. But I’ll stay, if just for the strange comfort of familiarity.
He allows himself to hover
over his own racing weight.
He recalls the ease
of running effortlessly…dopamine highs.
His toes are earth-pushing landmines,
his elastic ankles are circa 1980’s,
they detonate, they are the thrusters
for rocketing tendons.
His body is as light as his deepest breath,
an endless short-fused burst of energy
sustaining effortless flight.
Then, one night
restless legs push him across
a damp mattress
he is chasing his dog
across a fast-flowing river,
the dog, a running partner
that used to run beside him.
Halfway over fast-moving water
he weakens; begins to flail
as he falls into another eddy of time.
Quizzically, the dog looks back
and sits down to wait
for 30 years,
but he never does catch up.
First rays of spring sun
Expose dark hidden corners
Their unwanted dusty cobwebs
Opening wide the windows
Their curtains billow and dance
It’s a time for awakenings and stirrings
Of the internal genre
Inspiring spring cleaning
Of a spiritual nature
Remembering laughter of children
As they chase butterflies
Remembering the meaning of the word play
As stress gives way to smiles
Remembering why life is worth living
O how spring air does detonate rejuvenation
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on April 23, 2018 for contest SPRING sponsored by CRAIG CORNISH - HONORABLE MENTION
You've remained a particularly fantastic mother to me.
Adequately training, I wouldn't have gotten gloomy
As follows, I'm keeping in touch with you today.
I humbly beg that God would lavishly meed you all the way.
Throughout the long term, I've seen delight and sorrow.
You were the main one to watch him grow.
Also, presently I'm a man you've raised.
Be that as it may, more often than not, you liaised.
My mother led me to His Way, and I am proud.
Without your help, I'd be lost in the crowd.
But you lead me to this point in my life.
Can seek boldness after strife.
The capacity to withstand any close-to-home attack.
That my enemies toss at me, and I may lack.
Thus it is with you, 'the world's best mother.'
I'll never forget you when you detonate your bawler.
Mother Mother, I'm intrigued about your wonder.
Either a woman or a divinely sent savior.
Her emotions run in her as deep as a river.
A smooth and calm lady is my mother.
Written: September 16, 2021
''M'' Contest, New Poems Only - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
All has abandon you…
Destroy your Christ
your God
your idols
Hypocrisy
They will all fall apart!
Your Lords and your Artificial Christ!
Lay bear it’s mechanical heart
Rebuild it with gears wire electric fire
curve your craving for secret desires.
Destroy your christ in tin crowns!
These false images conspire
Tear it all apart
of hate and faults lights
Burn down the flawed façade!
Electron guns blaze twisted ideology
Corrupting theology & burning twins spheres, bright!
Spires reach to Heaven’s Gate
Where abandoned thrones wait
Watch the blood smeared thorns
Dry to rust
Nothing known
We all walk alone
All in the silence of heaven torn
Create your new Christ of love truth,
holy inferno
watch it resonate, detonate across the realm!
Watch towers tumble crumble turning burning falling apart destroy your Christ in his razor wire crown!
Case aside your deities
Lords of jaded tv stars,
broken multi-social media, warlords!
Abandon your Political anti-Christs,
strip-malls and desolate parking lots,
Worshippers of coffee halls, depart
Unplug from the web of dark hearts
The recognize false idols,
topple them down
Watch them collide, eradicate, intricate
spiral down
Destroy your Christ
your plastic God all your false idols!
Wonder how your dogma has abandoned you
Pray to your hollow Christ,
to your false god
Your Judas!
Bring down the hypocrisy
Destroy your Christ
your Broken God
your false idolized idols
They will all fall
All has abandon you…
Hypocrisy!