Long Drywall Poems
Long Drywall Poems. Below are the most popular long Drywall by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drywall poems by poem length and keyword.
The roller left a wet
Textured topography
On the drywall
A fresh
Continent
Of liquid chalk
Under a steady
Unblinking gaze
The gloss begins to warp
The fumes carry
A quiet hum, a frequency
That unlatches the deadbolt of the mind
My eyes
Track
A single, rebellious drip
A slow-motion comet
Cutting through
A matte sky
In the five seconds
It takes
To drop an inch
I have built
A city
In my head
Lived a lifetime
Inside a song
I forgot the title of
And wondered
If the sky
Feels this heavy right before it rains
The perimeter is curing now
Turning dull
At the edges
By the time
This surface
Loses its shine
I will have traveled
Lightyears
And forgotten my way back
Walking Out on the Devil
Of course this is what I asked for.
Exactly what I wanted.
Some would say,
Even what I deserve.
I knew it would be hard.
Maybe not this hard.
I had expectations of emotional loss.
But I didn't think I would lose everything.
Walking away from you was akin
To walking out on the Devil.
I walked out of Hell
With my soul intact.
I left everything behind.
The hot heat of fights,
That warmed the house
From room to room.
Pillows that were once
Used to muffle cries or
Punches to my face
Lay unused now on the bed.
The pictures still hang on the walls.
They cover the holes
That angry fists hit
Through broken drywall.
Scars in a house,
That didn't heal.
Bruises on my body,
Nobody ever saw.
Today it is cold.
Bitter as the snow falls.
Unlike your hot temper,
And demon screaming.
I'm hungry and tired.
But telling myself
That this is still better
Than life with you.
I look inside the window,
Simply passing by.
You sit with her,
Your next victim.
I want to open the door.
Scream and cry at her,
To please run away.
But she is already lost.
Your hand is atop hers.
Your devil eyes are locked
On your target.
She laughs, innocent for now.
It is enough that
Your Hell let me go.
I made it out alive,
That I walked out on the Devil.
I'm convinced that she
Is doomed to her own fate,
Caught under your spell.
So I continue walking into the night.
I knew it would be hard.
Feeling cold and alone.
Leaving everything familiar,
And seeing the Devil with fresh prey.
The painting went very well
it looks much better
it was a very hot day
will vote by
Microsoft trials dictation from:
and submitted it to two journals
and micro soft
don’t expect a response from mike
were shocked but had fun writing it
will keep track of market conditions
for a second from over tonight
we’ll work on my problem
for the interview
and take a walk to trader joe’s
two are home to worry:
Aaron will start working on
OK at the base of king too
fast and the bees
nonsense continue nonsense
Iraqis problem number one
priority right now but
Things to do
123
OK now I get your attention
I wanna go too sole
and Endgo
some and then being term
and then USA
and then Washington, DC
and then Baltimore
and then I wanna
will be with the idea being done
on the stand
will be OK enough tomorrow
I need to go to the house and 88 AM 988
just 8:00 AM.
The I am having a meeting with an array
annually and aHer
a OK on we’re going to talk
to a jester of two
come up with solutions
we need to two fans
and players
repaid the painting repairs
we are paying the bill
from both the house we’ve passed,
my treatment
we had the somewhat tainted drywall fixed
we have a new tenant
rules being new tenant
is a very good
10
I think
are we were making
very much you need to do better
to stop of studies
now me as Sarah
Mr. Allen not an island
is an error
that have a need
for an offense of offering Maisie’s
backing separate
from the public
often salad
End of the night
of the committee
of the ways
to hire the answer you
get a better
Take my mind
I offer it to You
If it goes blind
It comes anew
Hold my mind tight
Never let it go
Take it off fright
All I forego
With the time on my mind
I gave my mind one job
To lean on You for all to bind
That in higher grounds, You lob
Mind paints my weaknesses
It is You Who paints purposes
Heart paints my strengths
Yet You alone determines it lengths
You are my architect of life
That designs the fire in my eyes
To burn down the cold strife
And I only watch as each dies
My childhood, its layout was of a touch
A plan I had then, so articulate it was
My adulthood, it has plans in clutch
Cleverness, no doubt should be the cause
My brain sew and show the way sometimes
My mind preserves the truth most times
My hands paint lies- hurtful image on drywall
But my heart embedded calluses from every fall
Mind creating images to heal my heart
Without words, I caress the sky like a mime
See how different parts God designed by His art
More to say is each different role(s) so awesome
My hands are the only friend I see
Between my heart and mind that holds
Together their diff. cum similar., it foresee
Lies, truths, fairness and cruelty, it unfolds
It paints the world coz You hold it
Don't let go, grip pretty firm, or else am lost
If You try to loose off Thy hands, yes
I ...... in the wind that will soon exhaust
My hands ride in the wind, Your fingerprint
Because Your blessings cream my mind's traces
Perfectly to aid the clause match in blueprint
Masterpieces waving goodbye to say hello to places
My mind's age is in every turning page
My heart's care dares every running rage
I treasure the feelings of mind smiling
To sanction the emotions of heart piling
I extend my mind without flipping the trees, bye
I heal my heart moments when lost casting clock
The interlock of them two will be of tie
Unless I skip the will from within to knock
Yet in my mind and heart, their connection isn't enough
To say how great it is of the Lord's goodness
For many are ones both have forgotten in fluff
More in bit of bit continues to make up their brightness
Hallelujah!
The heavy iron anchors dissolve,
giving up their iron shapes to the black fluidity below.
There is no coast left stubborn enough to anchor this tide.
The currents don’t just pull—they misplace the mind entirely.
We traded the absolute for a handful of the gray shade,
building a gallery of cheap mirrors
where everyone manufactures their own version of the light.
Look up: the sky is relative now,
and the soul’s quiet armor simply unlaces itself under that stare.
We are crowded, yet completely atomized.
Fifty people in a room, each sealed in a drywall box of their own design,
calling the silence peace
while the old, shared altars gather dust in the corner.
The origin story is beginning to rot.
We are intentionally scraping the marrow out of our history,
weeding the damp soil so fiercely
that we kill the very seed that brought us out of the ground.
The big myth split. It shattered into a thousand shallow creeks,
leaving nothing but the raw, tribal friction at our core.
Look at the cathedrals of institutional trust—
they aren’t falling; they are turning quietly to gray powder.
The middle is gone. The edges are frayed like old rope.
Something abstract and unreadable is climbing the numbers in the sky
while the heavy, physical foundations go dark.
An invisible mesh is being woven between the thought and the meat of the hand,
keeping our eyes amused with small lights
while the ground beneath the floorboards shifts an inch to the left.
The macro-rhythm finishes its circle.
It is a simple bending toward the dirt.
Just a tired civilization, sitting in the dark,
breathing on the cold coal,
forgetting the geometry of the spark.
THREATS FROM MAFIA HITMAN FROM DETROIT FAKING HIS DEATH TO IMPERSONATE MY FATHER THE SON OF A MASONIC TEMPLE MEMBER 33 AND 3RD CHICAGO CHAPTER DUR TO PETERS GARGANO TIES TO MILWAUKEE DRUG OPERATION HE HIRED HITMAN TO MURDER ME TODAY I AM BLESSED I AM SAFE FROM THE GARGANO CRIME FAMILY OF WISCONSIN KKK MEMBERS KNIGHTS OF COLUMBUS TREASURY OF THE KNIGHTS OF COLUMBUS FALSIFYING HELL IN EARTH PETER IGNITED A CAR BOMB BLOWING UP MY BRAINS HE THEN GATHERS STRIPPERS TO IMPERSONATE ME ALONG WITH MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND ARSON MURDERER OF VICTIM 9 THE HOMELESS MAN ON SHERIDAN RD TORCHED CAB COMPANY EMCO CHEMICALS IMAGING CAMPHOR PETROLEUM BASICALLY VICKS ALLOWED A SLOW BURN KILLING THE SLEEPING HOMELESS MAN THE FBI WARNED ME OF THE GARGANO KLANSMENS TORCHING ELDERLY PERSONS ALIVE CORRUPTION LANDS SWEEPING THE ASHES UNDER FBI INFORMANT FILES ARLINGTON HEIGHTS CHICAGO SO NO I WILL NEVER EVER FEAR .Y ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND HELP PETER GARGANO TO EXTORT MY TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY CLAIM INTO SHELL CONSTRUCTION CARPENTERS HOME BUILDERS SCUM FRAUD COMPANIES IN WISCONSIN DRYWALL TILE PAYING CASH LAUNDERING PETERS DRUG OPERATION INTO CONTRACTORS PAYING ALL THE EMPLOYEES IN CASH IN DRUGS FINALLY FALSIFYING FALSE FRAUDULENT TOTALLY TAX EVASION PETER GARGANO ALSO FAKING HIS DEATH TO EMBEZZLE A TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY CLAIM ON MY BEHALF STOP SENDING ME TERRORIST THREATS MASONIC TEMPLE POST OFFICE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE 33 AND A 3RD NO FEAR OF KNIGHTS OF COLUMBUS KKK GARGANO CRIME FAMILY BURNING INNOCENT BEINGS ALIVE
In my many years before the mast
I’d seen rocks and shoals conspire
To ground me down to powder
Till I was just dust in the wind,
And I’d never even been to Kansas.
I was useless as a one-armed paper hanger,
Skilled in the geometer’s art,
But no closer to infinity
Than the day I’d started out.
Just a journeyman aesthete
Dressing drywall plaster
With those tapestried patterns
Favored by the rich and famous.
But, being a lifelong learner,
I learned to breathe.
I learned to eat.
I learned to say, “No.”
I became a student of the universe,
Composer of the mini-verse,
Somewhere to the left of Earth.
Mainlining the vagus nerve
On the highway leading home.
And there’s no place like home.
I must be doin’ somethin’ right.
WALLPAPER
---------------------
Paper Thin
Cut down to any size,
Crumble, crop me wrong
Pull the insulation from my heart.
Never will I be "A Paper Doll!"
Thank you for calling me a "Friend!"
Thank you for wasting my "time!"
Enjoy the WALLPAPER display
---------------------
Layers and layers of lifeless brick
KEEPS EVERYTHING OUT!
Emotional poster boards of doubt
Envious fiberglass green never seen
Yuletide Carols warped around my energy
Merry and full of acrylic sh!t-
Hand full of putty maintains the makeup on my face
Arts and crafts display my inner fancy grace
Heavy installed Sheetrock so easily replaced
Tough paint chips away silently through the night
Rigid boards transform into fragile crystal light
The greatest illusion blinding reality
Smooth Tiger Skin, texture of orange simple peel
Beautiful mud swirl, L'Oreal.
Gypsum soft enough you want to touch
Dark walls of a thousand words
A plasterboard of discordant grey notes
Blots and clots of ink, enslave my skin
Colorless drywall, resilient to your charms
Printed designs of cleverly decorated lipstick
Morbid shadows underneath the ceiling veil
A double coat of Pacific Waterproof Blue-
Printing bags from -- YESTERDAY!
Plastered wounds of cement dry and roughens along the edge
A human-made barrier, not even God comes in.
by;PD
Rolex
If it’s a creation,
then science and spirit should explain each other.
Not argue. Not compete.
They should echo.
Like a wave entering water—
and the water nods.
I was born into a field,
not a house.
The floor, the couch, the corners—
they didn’t creak.
They hummed.
The rooms didn’t scare me.
The electrons did.
The lies—
It came through pattern.
Through footsteps stored in drywall.
Through the breath someone forgot to exhale
Twenty years ago
My body is made of quartz that learned how to flinch.
It keeps time like a Casio—
$10 of stillness more honest than a Rolex.
Because truth doesn’t tick, nor dress up.
It vibrates.
Who said nostalgia is memory?
I know better.
Nostalgia is presence with a shadow
Eden remembered, but not currently lived in.
A waveform that still fits me
like the glow-in-the-dark stars
I stuck to my ceiling
before I knew how the sticker glowed.
Love enters and leaves no residue.
It echoes clean.
It’s a return.
A collapse in the name of peace.
A God crystal humming 32,768 times per second,
while we scroll past ourselves
looking for the next thing to react to
It starts small~
a sigh sharp enough to slice drywall,
a muttered well I never,
then a dramatic shuffle of papers
that did absolutely nothing wrong.
Then the arms cross.
The eyebrows rise.
The soul leaves the body
for a brief smoke break.
Suddenly this fully grown human~
tax-paying, grocery-shopping,
responsible-for-a-mortgage human~
is having a full-tilt hissy fit
because the Wi-Fi blinked
or someone said calm down.
There’s foot tapping.
There’s theatrical breathing.
There’s a moment where they stare
into the middle distance
like a pioneer widow
who just broke the last jar of peaches.
And you stand there thinking,
Lord help us,
the toddler has escaped
and taken over the adult body.
But eventually~
after the sighs,
the flutters,
the tragic monologue
about how no one understands
the gravity of the situation~
they return to themselves,
smooth their shirt,
clear their throat,
and say with great dignity,
“I’m fine now.”