Long Distorting Poems
Long Distorting Poems. Below are the most popular long Distorting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Distorting poems by poem length and keyword.
Twisted into deep hurt
unseen forces the ghost
within a second hand emotion
swallowing shadows
hellbent out of shape
Shoulders heavy
inside its grief
Condemned to repeat itself
time and time again
polluting in the darkened depths
until it rewrites
every wrong it has done
We are always bound
in its dark source
leaving unimaginable images
held like a genie in a bottle
it appears when at your lowest self esteem
The elements of beauty wither
until a corpse remains
twisting your mind
pain distorting figures
The ugly truth
of severe hurt
Like a demon
the shadow crawls
cold within reality
barely recognizable
unidentified as a human body
my tunnel vision drawn
Without a heart
roaming among shadows
twilight of nightmares
a ghost
from the past returns
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
To distort or corrupt: It can mean
negatively altering something
from its normal or proper state
like prejudice warping a person's judgment..
Playing with his words, making him understand her lingo
she then try to get him to understand how
things were and who her allegiance was with.
He had ;had several project that were failed due to certain
reasons.Finding people to take him serious wasn't easy.
They often act like they know what you are doing and understand what you are trying to
accomplish.
But in reality they are all spies and grifters.
Undermining you and taking advantage of you.
They will use you in there stories to explain there disposition.
While advance forward they will make sure you are
sent backwards toward
a point you never knew you were ever in. When people create your story using there timelines
you are often lied about to fit into a defined wording.
'The Black Hole Appeared" does the observer share the responsibility of the
Blackholes existence and is he liable do to his knowledge of
it being there? Should he quit his observance to say that stopping it is futile? Is the ration there to quit what he is doing to make those who know him think he has learned some lesson by making pretend it isn't there?
.Captain Wiggen Duex DeBout of the Charter Ship (spacecraft)U>S>S> Evock
Charter Class.
they began using coins that were never minted before to allow passage through the Blackhole.
"It saves us 22 weeks of travel how dare they not let us in!" "Where do we find thius currency?"
"Auto-Warp-Warp (defined!)Distorting,twisting and turning, manipulation of the fabric of space! Abandoned this thought this notion!"
Dear Belarus
We need a truce
From the deceptive abuse
Balloons in flight
We all see the commerce sight
Bringing packs of smoke
Sounding like a crooked joke
When they drop
Stop
Think what they will do to our future crop
Using those former theatrical cool props
Known to charm
Reality doing harm
Luring youth to a picture filled with power
Cowboys and planted flowers
Puffing away
Later who will pay
Believing the marketed, product to sell
Distorting human blood cells
Paving a pathway through hell
Still weary
Our other theory
Raisin
About this floating invasion
Where territory gets its mark
Sending a message in the dark
We can shoot them down
If they do not turn around
And go home
All alone
Pondering everything
Especially who has the talent to sing
Beyond mere folklore
Scriptures and sermons
Magnetism that love inpours
Vibrant throb of blissful elation
As individuated God essence
Christ consciousness spark
Innate bubbling innocence
Ignites love in all hearts
Narrow mind bisects
Distorting Gods message
Divine aligned stance erect
No fears or desires to assuage
I Am that that is the causation
Of each flicker and tremor
Expansion by cessation
In breath of prayer
Love unconditional
Arms open in embrace
I Am proof of Gods miracle
Pure of heart see Me face to face
Open secret hidden in plain sight
I Am the thread binding duality
Known in compassion delight
Breath renewal in continuity
Aglow in the cave of heart
I Am the voice of conscience
Purring within as rapture starts
Gently imbibed by inner sentience
Message thus simple: love alone real
God within is closer than our skin
Feeling of completeness ideal
Form vivifying bliss ignition
23-April-2021
Tell Me, Who Do You Say That I Am Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Come, my friend,
Do not cry
For
Tears blur your vision of life,
Distorting thus reality
Come, my friend,
Wipe your tears and see how clearer
The world appears:
The shapes, sharper,
The colors, brighter,
The flowers, softer,
The sounds more melodious
The scents more aromatic.
Come, my friend,
Smile and you will enjoy more
Nature’s beauty:
The majestic mountains
The green valleys
The impenetrable forests
The mighty rivers
The endless seas.
Come, my friend,
Laugh and tell me, aren’t:
Your pains subsided?
Your fears minimized?
Your hopes augmented?
Your doubts reduced?
Your dreams intensified?
Come, my friend,
Together we are going to face life, by:
Crying, smiling, laughing, fighting, loving,
Living, and dying.
Come, my friend,
You are not alone anymore for I am next to you
And next to you I will stay,
No matter what may come
For
I wish to help you
So out of this adventure, that life we call, you
Victorious to emerge!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
12 November 2015
POTD
...dead mice thus far do gnaw, splintered mirrors
neck and rubber yet with scant regret.
Ropes both for hanging and climbing, good grief,
bad love, honey-do-dew in a salty brew.
In my closet, pockets unpacking pockets,
string bags under closed eyes,
eulogies for the living etched on wet lips and
kitchen towels. Owls as mute as hollow urns
turn to cry their mournful why’s.
One horror story lives forever much chewed over
by skeletal moths and stray cats.
The edge of IF, the pots of peeled moonlight
guttering in a midsummer dunk, these glad me not,
yet are kept like the pickled smiles of saucy women.
In my book of lies there are truths still worth distorting,
times killed by a compulsive retelling,
fields plowed over too long
where the dead are uncovered only to dance again
on the graves of long reclining martyrs.
The drunken gallimaufry of games left unfinished,
works slackened and sent unfixed back to the
depths from which they came. The unclaimed, reclaimed
and the unnamable named.
Yet here I am, the one person, this golden spark
in a potash smutter, still blinking my way,
a mite of light twinkling its merry pip and squeak,
while majestic wings hover
to grab up my rash stash of self, and I say:
yes let them yes come, and god help those wings.
I see a perfect reflection in
the mirror of the pool.
Not a breath of wind to disturb
its clarity.
I gaze awhile until a single
raindrop sends ripples of
disruption to destroy
the perfection -
distorting the image;
rupturing my expression;
deforming the shape of
my torso.
Another raindrop falls
and even more so
until the image is a blur,
swirling, whipped up
by the whistling wind.
I stand by the pool
as the storm builds;
thunder stealthily approaching
from behind the distant hills.
Magnificent in its crescendo.
Lightning flashing,
booming, crashing.
Then the silence
as the storm passes.
Wind dropped, no more rain,
and a perfect reflection in the pool again.
I heard laughter
As if from the far end of a tunnel
The sound warbled
Distorting the sound
Making it sinister
Like the cawing of a crow
Snow forming on my brow
Infiltrating my skin
Filling up my very veins
Echoing down my arms
Reverberating down my spine
Filling me up completely
And the irony hit me
The laughter I heard
Came from my own lips
With tears running down my cheeks
As if to escape the pain
And a heart so broken
It can longer cope
So broken tears aren't enough
It's the twisted laughter
A deranged sound in sorrow
Such a desperate sound
In a desolate tunnel
Where the walls are crumbling
A burst of a bevy of colors
Suddenly dying
Everything fades to black
And what I heard
I heard laughter
It arrives not as a slow dawn, but a fracture—
A sudden, violent tearing of the gray,
Where neurotransmitters leap in manufactured rapture,
And logic bends to the blinding light of day.
It is a temporary kingdom built on air,
A frantic, soaring, breathless, desperate high,
Ignoring the foundation of despair,
To watch the mundane world dwindle and die.
The heart becomes a drum with an accelerated beat,
Distorting time until the seconds, stretch and bend,
A breathless rush, a sweet and sharp deceit,
That promises a joy without an end.
It is the apex where the self dissolves,
A chemical, ethereal, phantom grace,
Where gravity loses its hold, and ego solves,
Into a momentary, breathless, liminal space.
But at its peak, the architecture starts to lean,
For all ascension mandates a return,
The higher the flight, the deeper the machine
Must crash when the bright, burning engines turn.
Euphoria is a loan, a borrowed debt,
A fleeting, dazzling, brilliant, stolen breath,
That leaves the trembling, wakeful mind to fret,
In the quiet, cold, inevitable aftermath of death.
And Thats All
David J Walker
(12/16/2024)
The young girl disguised
in mascara aged rage
report a frayed journey
kidnapped in time.
How am I to remember you
without a calendar of event
without a program of pictures
without a caption of laments
and itemized legers of expenditures
and renumerations ?
I know your name
And that’s all
I know your sins
because
I am one of them
And that’s all
The statute of
Lamentations
illuminations and
Limitations
Has long since passed
And that’s all
The young boy speaks from
The distorting mirror
funhouse mirror
carnival mirror
Into broken mirrors
Of broken glass
From times far past
And that’s all
He was holding
Your young hand
In innocence
And that’s all