Long Emptily Poems
Long Emptily Poems. Below are the most popular long Emptily by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Emptily poems by poem length and keyword.
I slipped through the side gate
Into Paradise, the sun shone
And my Shadow Side slipped
on a golden cobblestone
'What are we doing here
My Shadow asked
I've spent our life planning
Our home in Hell'
'Why won't you cooperate
You know you hate me
Did you get religion
It won't work, you hate priests
'Because you kissed the
Golden Ass Goddess
Doesn't make you a saint
It makes you a sex pervert!'
'Shadow, get behind me
I said, or stay buried in
my psyche with my corpse!
Foul Thing, begone thee!'
'O that's cute,' said Shadow
Wrack me with cheap names
You dead slab of graveyard meat
But you can't make me sane.
'Maybe that Sacred Lollypop
Told you Now Is All, and
This Is IT, and Have A Ball,
But I'm calling it to a halt
'I have issues you see
And it's you, not me,
And though I hid in the dark cell of your soul
I wanted to flee, be free'
I took a razor and cut Shadow free
Sailing off like a balloon on the wind
Reaching for altitude in the pearl gray sea
Where he expanded and popped, emptily
Paradise is quiet now that I'm alone
My Shadow Side bag of Sins is gone
But I miss him on the golden cobblestones
I turn around fast to catch him
Just behind me, there! where?
Just back there, where I can't see
I turn and turn but he's not there
Just a razor scar left inside me
Standing silent,stark and black
Its eyeless sockets staring emptily
Over the London skyline
The fiery tomb of so many
Devastated,distraught and dead
Homes that became Hell
Flames roaring hungrily upwards
To devour figures silhouetted at windows
Their outlines sharply etched
In the minds of helpless onlookers
Their screams to re-echo in their tortured nightmares
While the billowing black smoke choked
Those who heeded the fatal advice
To stay indoors.
Tongues of flame licked greedily at the doors
Seeking whom they would devour
Sirens wailed as did escapees and onlookers
In grief and frustration
Battling against the searing heat
Selflessly entering this torch of a tower
To drag to safety those they could
Putting their own lives on the line
The firemen battled on
Until they could do no more
And now the shell is silent as the tomb
The inferno sated and finally suppressed
Anger now flares up to identify
Those who left the community
Defenceless
Against this avoidable tragedy
It was inevitable that the building's shortcomings
Would claim its quota of victims
To the shame of those who should
Have known better and were forewarned.
When she first energetically read about Energy
She realized she was also less emptily
aptically
entropically studying absence of NegativEnergy.
As she became a more PositivEnergy Mentor,
She noticed she was unbecoming
a NegativEnergy pathologist.
As she became known
as a community-rooted steward
facilitator
guide for locally-owned PositivEnergy resilience
She understood she was also divesting
from WinLose chaos
ZeroSum anarchy
climate pathology.
As she became internationally famous
as Queen of cooperatively-owned PositivEnergy Soul,
She became bilaterally conscious
of WinWin locally produced solar panels,
wind turbines,
surfing hydropowers
refueling Green EcoSchools
and villages,
landscaped roofs
and community gardens
inviting and producing
waterfalls of cooperatively-owned
resilient Green Grace.
Nos so much Red RightWing extractive
patriarchal DisGrace.
No two songs
are sung exactly alike.
For if they were
they would be one sung song.
No two stories
unfold precisely uniform.
For if they did
they would become one united uniformity.
Yet no two songs,
no two stories
remain entirely alien toward each other
or they would not be recognized
appreciated as narrative at all.
Possibly even compassioned together by anyone
as compromising songs, well and badly sung,
within stories, well and badly lived.
Passions sung and retold
by any witness,
sometimes deaf and blind
and best times more acute,
astute.
Songs are sung in mythic octaves
as stories unfold in fractal seasons
of noticing Winter's advent of potential,
through Spring's co-arising becoming,
Summer's mature diastasis,
healthier
as more resonant
in polyculturing ways and means.
Summer's pathology
grows fading dissonance
with monoculturing parasitic intent
in Autumn's harvest of discontent.
Earth restoring storied songs
bring LeftWing virgin birth to forests
for hunting and gathering EarthTribe nurturance,
ionizing
and lionizing
harmonizing
ergodic rhythmed
and seasonally rhymonizing,
thermodynamic
and radiant ecstaticizing
co-gravitizing
creolizing native First through Last
Shall Be First
interdependent stated nations
and tribal relations
and four seasoned octave
correlations,
double-bound elations.
On Her more RightWing side,
This commodified ball of rock and dirt
and fouled water
and polluted air
and Hell's anthropogentric punishing fires
to be aimed at
against
each other
is what's rightfully,
if somewhat too ballistically, left emptily
raped and pillaged,
drilled and fracked
industriously enslaved
depressing baring
suppressing breeding
and repressing beating
and, eventually,
butchering the filthy *****,
formerly known
through well-sung stories
as Sacred Mother Earth.
No two EarthTribe songs
are sung exactly alike.
For if they were
we would become
one too predictably sung song.
Mrs. Robin, busy as a bee
visits my home's skylight annually
She builds a nest there carefully
her private retreat, only I can see
She commandeers my yard militarily
hopping to and fro imperiously
Ever seeking bark or twig assiduously
to feather her penthouse more comfortably
A half-dozen blue eggs she lays surreptitiously
Settling down over them protectively
Sheltered from the elements so cunningly
She awaits their hatching expectantly...
One day, her chirpings' cease, inevitably
Mrs. Robins' dreams realized successfully
She's flown the coop, perforce happily
Her nest, forlorn ~ stares at me emptily
July 10, 2020
Bird Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance
unfortunately I rouse,
incapacitated, fettered,
fuzzily sensitising to
my bedchamber, I ruminate
and periodically deem adequate.
eyes hanging with encumbrances,
engendering the plagued gaze,
empty and dull of scintillation
that flickered out lang syne,
inadvertently blighting all
who love me enough to meet it
with sorrow and remorse.
bitter utterances resound—
sarcastic, playful, yet
it swipes at my skin, scarring,
each reverberation swells
the ache, once dull, now palpitating,
degrading my ability to exist.
repugnance laces my features,
sewn into the cavities and pits
inside I can’t otherwise fill;
dentition stained, a miasma
of decay, tainting energy
emptily pledged to sustenance.
my body a vinyl record
obscure, weakened, aimless,
and the community the stylus,
passing over me, yet somehow
boldly navigating my scratched shell,
incapable of realising
impairment is done to the core,
ignorant that the music,
even with perpetual
interrogations “are you okay?”
like a broken record,
erelong will stop playing.
diamond grazing integument
unravelling muscle, a dazzling show,
zenith of the symphony,
populace vocalising and jiving
over the sound of my wails,
misconstrued to entertainment
solely from my torment.
severed sinew gathers in
accruals of sanguine liquor.
unseamed as the music crackles,
fading to a somehow louder silence
upon the tragic epiphany
of my lacerated cadaver.
You broke my trust
Abandoned your promise
Cunning and with piercing precision
Maneuvered a missile under ruse of naivety
A veil of dysfunction draped over habits of deceit
Your claim to be a victim of abandonment
Fulfils its mission of chaos and hurt
With boundaries crossed
I was meant to walk
Emptily dancing to shadows
Like a puppet on your sordid strings
Surrender to whims of destruction and pity
The mirror of honesty shattered from acid attacks
Callousness cast its venom and naked attack
I like to walk barefoot so I reverse back
Leave your caustic cause
02 February 2020
He always endeavored to win alone
And over the years, his methods he honed.
He projected strength and never seemed evil,
But others (to him) were throw-away people.
Most were people he barely knew,
And some were souls whose use was through.
A few were kinfolk that he knew well.
But in the end, they also fell.
People resented his wiles and ways
That he achieved his selfish goals each day.
He lied, cheated, and encroached upon rights,
So that he could win his impossible fights.
Lives were destroyed and futures were lost,
Leaving many with deep emotional costs.
But now he’s alone after merciless toils,
With no one to love and share his spoils.
He is an ostracized soul who won alone,
Now emptily reaping what he has sown.