Long Devils Poems
Long Devils Poems. Below are the most popular long Devils by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Devils poems by poem length and keyword.
In the time that is lost to the morning
In the darkness awaiting the dawn
As sleep still abandons the sleeper
And the curtains of light lie un-drawn
As I lie with me fears and my horrors
My hopes and my dreams overwhelmed
Consumed by the thirst of tomorrow
Devoured by the past, that I've penned
My mind is my ultimate prison
Too dark for the light to prevail
Decisive, in my indecision
Entombed by the walls of my jail
An Angel sits high, in the Heavens
Too far for the warmth of her hand
But closer at reach are my Devils
My still beating heart in their hands
Inverted, my Crucifix broken
Tear-stained my bonds and my shame
Sweet Jesus, I need but a token
A path through the heat and the flame
Oh! Show me the way Lord, I'm dying
Too long in the Darkness, I've waded
My faith is eternal, undying
Your truth alone, keeps me elated
I need but a glimpse of tomorrow
A promise of daylight and hope
A means to an end of my sorrow
A Saviour to loosen these ropes
Etheric gauze brushes the skin
and I know I am not alone.
Spirits abound, tunneling through
the quantum veil, to visit me
on stormy nights.
Scent of perfume,
wafting into nostrils,
I breathe deeply, remembering...
the scent of you.
Soul’s do live on though,
visiting from time-to-time.
The angel feels different from the devils;
the human spirit is all too familiar.
Angels permeate the room with love’s energy;
like the womb-waters, it embraces my soul.
Devils energy is a cold and foul
of stench, like that of sewage and dead things.
It is always curious, always
swirling, watching, listening,
as if to analyze the fear within me.
I’m glad that I can force it away
with just the name of God or Christ;
devils fear those names, in the worst way
and a terrified devil, is always a plus.
Energy is energy, Kundalini builds
into a euphoria, when the right spirits
are nearby; amorphous light is bliss.
At 3:00 am the sun comes out like black molasses
Becomes the devils hour ever after on the meadow grass
It hangs with evil demons chronic in the cold waters clogged
Falls on the wet surroundings through slow moving fog
Slips between the swamp and remnants of the land
Down to the tar like syrup, thick layered oils on evenings remains
Deep are the crevasses of real lost dark
Not really solid as the hour turns
The night sun is dead off in the distance
Nothing comes to life out there removed from God
Gray mist rolls off steep cliffs near by the bog
Rocks sleep and keep their distance
As the lake there opens up its secrets
Through winter frost comes calm
Ice cracks a sinister smile as it goes silent
Leaving jagged lines that etch the surface
Turned solid, no longer moving with the wind
Dead of night begins and never ends at 3:00 am
Hell is empty because all the devils are here on earth,
and he's happy because we never asked enough,
never saw enough, never heard enough.
Couldn't decide if he or his people were worse,
and it worked for him in the end it ing worked.
Was it the night the eagles fell to the dirt?
Nations falling apart, leave no stone unturned.
With the hundred thousand files the citizens searched,
with black long lines he rose from the dead,
others saying the things he left unsaid-
like the hundred thousand apologies,
and hundred thousand wasn't me[s]
with millions of tear filled eyes,
and billions of brainwashed minds.
While we never seek justice,
and one day this story dies,
until your children don't return from school,
until you realize your father is cruel.
Your voice will gain a voice,
Your steps will make a path,
make better political choice
and their crimes will burn to ash.
But they never will and long live the horror,
faced by the mute children in the corner,
their eyes blood red from the sadistic torture.
However focusing on what truly matters
while their tears fall and catch on fire ,
No Wait, we are all in this together ,
fighting battles for each other forever,
except you were never there in the mansion,
committing the evil sin of having hope and passion.
Oh God help us if you still have faith,
reverse and remove the root of our mistakes,
like giving us the idea of happiness and morality,
take it away the world or the tragedy.
For i don't want it if some get all,
and i don't wanna see my people fall,
and i don't want it at the cost of war,
and i don't want to see pictures of children on the floor,
and i don't know what else to ignore,
and i don't know who to trust anymore,
but when these demons reach the hell's door,
God will slam it and lock it down before,
escaping into a new world away from them,
probably because he has children better than humans to protect.
No tears
from eyes of
clouds
on heart of sand
heated to passion
angered
without compassion
stirred by tempest
of past
to loneliness
of endless sand
embarking
solitude boat
without sail
on waves of heart
to reach harbor
and return
without anchoring
native port
left
in springtime
of love
flowering with dreams
and youthful songs
sparkling tears
of abandoned
love
desert night
of migrant heart
cold
without clouds
unveiling splendor
of million stars
beauty
of full moon
undistracted
by reflections
eyes looking up
to piercing rays
from God's Light
unearthing
oil of faith
igniting
lamp of love
to embrace thorns
of diversity
with roses
in golden solitude
of silence
quiet enough
to discern
voice of devils
or angels pray
and choosing
the better
Alone He stands, forsaken, on the edge of desperation
Apocalyptic tales of hate filled desecration
The unholy one devoid of any love nor hellish glory
Lies revealed within the telling of his story
Cast from Heavens favour, fractured from the light
Home at last to labour, in the vacancy of night
No choice but to be Bad for Good no chance of Gods Redemption
Racked by indignation at His screaming souls exemption
Mans destiny lies written in a wake of tortured souls
Ancient gnarled fingers hold His bloodstained begging bowl
Bathed in hellish beauty of a future yet unborn
Hell hath no more fury than a fallen angels scorn
His horsemen blaze a fiery trail across the barren sky
From Hades gates they ride not caring who or even why
Brands of fire, hooves of Steel, their blood it drips as sweat
The only quest before them, to cash in the Devils debt
The ace of spades is drawn from the Devils book of prayer
The gambler knows his race is run and death is drawing near
No silver in his pockets for the boatmans sordid toll
The last debt yet to pay..... his very soul
A necessary evil for a Devil to be shod
For without the fires of Hell, how can mankind know of God
As Judas in Gethsemane condemned to take the fall
Was Lucifers faith written out in blood upon the wall
Diabolical demons are snarling
inside my brain
wishing I would give up
wanting me quiet and enormously dead
I almost give in to their rage and their hate
because this feels gloomy, and I am clearly outnumbered
but a glimmer of a glimpse of hope says
don’t give up the fight, you can make this all right!
My empathy is all over the place,
feeling their angry breath on my cheek
it is not a good place. I feel devils which
comes from way down beneath
Are these soul-stealing entities from this lifetime?
Or from one of my past incarnations?
What will they do if I stay?
Can they kill me, or will the sunlight whisk them away?
I know it is up to me, my mind-control self.
Am I hopeless or helpless?
I must choose carefully
Shutdown Day 21
The White House
Demolishing what was supremely notable
A wrecking of a Ship Of State unseemly quotable
East wing amidst the devils wings
A First Lady has in it blingy things
Like Blackbeard’s filthy lucre
The sea's treasure troves hook her
Taken the cargo of what it once stood for
Torn apart brick by brick a democracy we implore
Left is nothing but its shell
Fill it with devils’ gold and chime your bell
The Ballroom
Is it he and his faithful spouse
recreating a King’s Palace madhouse
How she yearns for a ballroom
A yearning for a youthful—not for a content trophy groomed
His words we could hardly construe
Music to his ears nonetheless he’ll delude
that the funding be all His,
certainly not the people’s that is
You can’t pull the wool over His subjects' eyes,
sprinkling a few pennies about—not our millions He lies
Ring The Alarm
Authoritarianism is here! Enforcing obedience
to authority at the expense of freedom with fear
Because He shreds the Constitution
Should He be granted some royal absolution?
Or let Him be the mad King George the Third
and declare Him unfit but fated to rule the herd
Bulldozing our regret
For His Marie Antoinette
Already losing their heads
Over (meaningless) shreds
Loyal is His henchman Ingrassia,
who evokes his Nazi streak of nausea
Wishing MLK Jr’s holiday to the circle of hell
As a Vice President shrugs his shoulders and sighs oh well
Whistleblowers you best beware,
This nominee bidder does not care
The People’s House
Tis isn't the modernization which rankles me,
it’s non-participation or permissions by the free
He molests ‘Our House’ —His temporary abode
Let our defiance find strength and our resolve unfold
Why?
Why not!
Their point of view
Each Friday they drank
vengeance
every bottle drowned
another ache
Knights
shedding the end of a week
elegant shine
lost in devil may care
Needs
numbed in a 3-day marathon
Drink, drink,
drink until dread's dead...
Why not?
Coz they can't unsee
a view
ailments never quit
piling
rays gamma
radiation
ever shooting -
more cancer
reactions
'n side effects that conquer
In and out
they pass,
dysenteric E.coli
offsetting the once ominous
virus
polio
raked out but replaced
by a Covid war...
(12/25/2020: '96 Fun Country DMS; memories of Hoodless..)
II - Sharon and Adeline
So who gets the blame, for the perfidy of their young lives,
having shared of caustic adults and their lust-groping girth?
A petite, astute blonde with candid need of sexualized aura
Never concealed, she’d writhe a come-hither to grown men
Never liking the boys who were closer to her pretty preteen
Only seeking pernicious pleasures of a pedophile aficionado
Not contrite, she’d dance the pole, just as mom had shown…
As she envied voluptuous Adeline, perfunctory in beauty's miasma
Nothing contrived in her distrust of oglers whose gaze could harken
Devils from her past, piercing them with angry blues so condemned…
As her mom disabled, leaned on a man who made Addie his manna
Dined on precocious curves she’d wish had never been bequeathed
Exploding in tantrums she fought unable to suppress all the seethe…
Little girls lost in the littler woman’s world, of the big man’s brothel
It was a ruse that it had closed, for females still suffer these incubi
Nice asses openly paraded non-stop; lower wages that still demean
Elderly men joking with objectified daughters, still considered, wise…
(2/22/2021: DMS; memories of SCH)
Life In A Motel
Many years and years ago, I lived in a worker's motel
In Budapest, for years. Before 2005. Hmm, it was a castle
The castle of the single men, guys. Typically, men's world life
A driver, builders, metal workers, woodworkers, and an electrician. And me.
A bank and shop worker,
the drunk waiter
This house was the castle of the night-living decadent guys
Daytime, everybody worked preciously, like an engineer
Oh, time, I think, and I am sure, I am the only one who is still alive
At night, we lived like devils, and so many pubs were open there
Where are you, my brothers? My brothers?? I hope you're kind
Your honest friendship in my life. Best people, best guys! Living your life!
Living! Living!! In my life! You were friends and fathers. I love you. All of you.
And our queen is gone. I loved her. She was the boss. I never forget
She was my mother. After 2008, she always waited for me to come back.
She gave me a home when I came back from London, to enjoy my little holiday
Loved manager, lady of the house, I never, and never forget you
Pure mind, pure mentality, pure life, real puritan style
She said she can’t accept ladies in the motel, only men. No, problem. She meant it
Time
I will visit this house
Again
I hope works
This motel