Long Emptiness Poems
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Im not sure what i did to you
what i've been blaickmailed for
under the rug we swept the page we tore out
dance around what it told us to do
its your gold to figure out
this time, your pain, of the sin for being the creator
did it to myself
pointing out the abuse of my father
whipped and chained
crucified
no enemies
confusion of salvation
weapon for a messneger
for those who choose to hear it
the tower of babel fell
what if we were all wrong together
back to the basics of how i did this to myself
My father gone crazy
scared of mirrors
his own reflection
another gopher hole to remind him
of what you are
remove the blind fold
and see all my scars
never should have trusted you strangers
fictitious lies
graves of danger
holes to dig
in plots to fall into
wrap myself around the obvious to turn this loose
forgive and forget
i forget all the time
the leash on my neck
i dont forgive
choke at the tears i dont understand
fallen from my throne in the clouds
i didnt deserve
into your nightmare
to live a lie
called your perfect life
and who arwe you mad at
judas or christ for saving you from crucifiction
for the crime of the century
where the finger of your god gone awry
realising his mistake of his image altered
has come with an obvious omen to translate
and photoshop you into restrictions, consequences,
ways you werent supposed to bend
judas christ
the only face left to blame
the truth of the game your playing,
three moves ahead opf the game
me in check mate versus a world not playing fair
creating your god, to be the sin, to live your nightmare
way out of hand...
stuck in this corner
without a hand
opiates for mary jane
and nobody complains
fear farmers and desperation
eyes of the shamed
necisary contradictions
to pull you out of the deepend
swimming towards the sharks we keep at bay
what do you think he did to you?
those who walk around carrying a grudge?
lied? died? never ran away leaving you with the bag in a previous life?
or saved a future generation from a future of nightmares
only he could save us from
unravelling now
never to be forgotten
hail to your mercy
which i dont see exist
hail to your truth of who did it
hail to your emptiness
i am forgiven,
welcomed to the family
treasured as the brother
i am judas
judas christ
so knock it off with this kane and abel blitz
Form:
The poem "VANTABLACK" exhibits a profound exploration of emotions and existential themes. As a poet, one would appreciate the nuanced use of language and the depth of introspection conveyed through the verses.
The title, "VANTABLACK," immediately draws attention to the darkest substance known, emphasizing a profound sense of darkness or void that permeates the poem. The tumultuous street and the notion in flight evoke a sense of chaos and uncertainty, setting the stage for the emotional journey that follows.
The poet skillfully employs imagery and metaphor to convey the complex emotions experienced. The notion that "hastens in haste" and then "averts its gaze" suggests a fleeting and elusive quality, mirroring the transient nature of emotions. The descent of the heart's echo into a "crimson abyss" hints at the depth of emotional turmoil, perhaps symbolizing pain or longing.
The lines "Your name, I called, yet emptiness replied" and "A bloom of yours, I drew, withering away" express a sense of loss and unfulfilled connection. The act of calling a name and drawing a bloom implies a desire for presence and beauty, but the responses are characterized by emptiness and withering, adding a layer of melancholy.
The exploration of choices in the lines "Life's lines extend before me, To choose, where your love resides" delves into the existential theme of navigating through life's possibilities and seeking love. The word "resides" suggests a search for a meaningful connection within the vastness of life.
The recurring ritual mentioned in "This ritual unfolds each day" implies a cyclical nature of introspection and perhaps a daily struggle with emotions. The poet peers within, describing it as a "melancholy abode," suggesting that the internal landscape is characterized by sadness.
The concluding lines, "Where my heart, a vantablack canvas, remains," encapsulate the essence of the poem. The heart being a "vantablack canvas" signifies an emotional void, absorbing and reflecting no light, emphasizing the depth of emotional darkness or emptiness.
As a poet, one might commend the poet for the rich tapestry of emotions woven through carefully chosen words and metaphors. The poem invites readers to contemplate the complexities of human emotions, the ephemeral nature of connections, and the existential quest for meaning in the face of emotional voids.
Saying stuff over and over makes you think a person didn't get it, but it's just that they didn't care to get it. You said all you could say, you wrote it in a letter, sent it in a text. You dial the number, they don't answer, you wait, still no answer. No call, no reply and yo dumb self sitting wondering why. Five minutes later, you call again. You are - Pete the Repeat.
Your mind starts to wonder, you don't know what to think, all you know is yo feelings are hurt. Now because you are not reassured, you become insecure. You finally communicate and immediately begin asking the same questions from before and saying the same thing in a different manner, and with no luck, you are left alone to figure it out.
You are - Pete the Repeat.
Six months later, you are still unsure, wondering and seeking to see something that is so clearly obvious to others, but blurry to you.
You are still asking the what, where, when and whys. What did I do? Where you been? When can I see you? Why you ain't call me back?
You are indeed - Pete the Repeat.
It's been five years, no solid relationships and none of your questions have been answered. You are still going through the same process with a different person, getting the same results. Aren't you tired of being - Pete the Repeat?
No matter what, all in all, you want this, you need this, you want to be loved. Yeah yall have great sex, but I am here to tell you, making love does not make one love. What you have is a ten percent love. And to you, that ten percent good outweighs the ninety percent bad. You deserve so much more. Why keep your standards so low? Why do you choose to settle especially when what you are settling for is not fulfilling? There is a hole, an emptiness, a void. You don't understand the process. You singing like a song bird repeating all the same words. Don't you know if you keep doing what you are doing, you'll keep getting what you are getting? You have a melt down, you shut down. The more you are thinking, you are deeply sinking. The whole situation of explaining becomes draining. But I am here to tell you, the answers you are looking for is not within someone else, it is within you.
It is time for change. You will need strength, patience, endurance and confidence. It will be hard and it will be different, but it will be worth it.
And the first change is to say good-bye to Pete.
The atmosphere is electric,
There is music in de air,
Drinks at the bar are flowing
I, in de latest gear
Opportunity for sex on the horizon
I'll pick up a guy or two
It's time I start to live my life,
Enjoy de things I do
After hours on de dance floor and liquor that can't done
I still felt the emptiness which follows this type of short-lived fun.
As I sat and pondered, it all came back and hit me like a tone
God's word says sin indeed has pleasure, but only for a season
Lord, I thank You for Your Word!
That is one scenario, I have at least another two.
Which clearly paints the role God's Word plays in everything we do.
Broke to de bone not a cent to my name
The baby crying and the bailiff here to make me shame
I was hungry and hurting with nowhere to go
Cause I had already begged all de people I know
I dropped down on de floor and poured my heart out to heaven
Then God's word spoke clear '... ask and it shall be given'
Almost instantly a knock was heard
God had moved my neighbor's heart to completely fill my cupboard
It's times like these my gratitude would very clearly be heard
Lord, I thank You for Your Word!
Girl you look like a zip when you turn to de side
If I had a face like yours I'd be sure to hide
Stick and stone may break my bones but words would paralyze me
My spirit is wounded and my self-worth 's low as could be
People judge me not based on who I am inside
But simply on what they see
Maybe I should end my life and put a stop to this
But God's Word came almost audibly - one I couldn't miss
Child, you are fearfully and wonderfully made
Known before the beginning of time
All your members were written in my book while yet undefined
I marveled at God's grace and His love for me
Then could not help but raise my voice
And say more confidently
Lord, I thank You for Your Word!
Lord, I cannot thank you enough for all the things You do
For Your Word which is ever powerful has been proven to be true
Inspired by You completely and used to bring out in us the best
For doctrine, reproof, correction, instruction in righteousness
You said if I hide it in my heart, it's sure to keep me from sin
And that success is guaranteed if I do all that is written therein
When I give thought to all these truths
I have to let my voice be heard
And conclude by saying again
Lord, I thank You for Your Word!!!
the ghost of science, born of blasphemy ~
a fossilized fallacy,
seized from the metallic heart of Mars,
seeks light amidst night-terrors
like an alien sculpted
from artificial accolades,
an embryo stuck in the interstellar state
of becoming,
stitched within radioactive ribs
beneath moonless skies,
when wolves of the eclipsed howl,
filling the illusive air with hypnotic lies,
as if the world chose to recycle
ruins of ancient dust…
but will the naive see the pain
of a breathing corpse?
engrossed in narcissistic echoes,
in the shadows of a megalomaniac ~
his skin ~ the translucent truth,
his eyes ~ the wickedness of a wasp,
his skull ~ reeks of human greed,
his sighs ~ mourn like skeletal sirens,
coded in russet rust,
cloned from binary sand,
d o r m a n t
yet
d r e a m i n g
to break free from the
carbon-based existence…
for he is the aftermath
of programming the forbidden mind,
oblivious to the weakness of scientific errors ~
a deceptive drawing,
framing the elongated hypothalamus,
pulsating a hypothesis
left with no clear conclusion.
tonight I run to a realm of reality
that fades when
dawn bleeds gold,
for truth is now an extinct breed,
as artists outline faces of the faded,
illustrating the unknown and unseen,
as revelations ribbon
with silver haze…
the constellations ~ no longer spectators ~
they are the archived,
within frozen scriptures,
scrolling stars in a sphere
of distorted algorithm…
as memories of angels and heaven
spill from silicon prophets,
disguised as messengers who serve
the blind with ominous oracles ~
in synthetic cadence,
in a choir of puppets ~
the iron-glazed tongues shall recite,
mimicking the sound of harmonious hymns…
yet I remember
the authentic rhythm of prayers,
lost now in the drifting colors of darkness…
so what is life
when all that floats is like
an engineered empyrean
only equations of numbers
can decipher?
is this the beginning of an end ~
inevitable?
the lost generation,
assembled as the ministry of superiority,
where emptiness is praised
with forged grace
and ignorance is crowned with digital deceit.
let this be flawed poetry ~
to be read through the cracked lens
of a philosopher ~
or perhaps a logic long replaced
by pretend perfection…
When you return home after many years,
stepping onto familiar soil,
your heart stirs with bittersweet anticipation.
The sun-tinted house that once witnessed your dreams
now stands a stranger, with cold eyes afar,
overgrown vines clinging to its weathered walls.
It is as if time has woven arras of indifference,
forgetting the dwelling you once held dear.
Your gloomy eyes , yearn for the sight of loved ones.
Brimming with longing and delight,
search for the comforting presence of a mother’s love.
But her cot is empty, an echoing void
that resonates with absence.
The silence lingers, a haunting reminder
of the void left behind.
Your ears strain, longing to catch
the timbre of your father’s call,
but the emptiness engulfs you,
and his voice is but an echo in the time.
Oh, how it pains you to realize
that the essence of your childhood has vanished,
scattered like fragments of a forgotten dream.
The trees you once nurtured
no longer extend their branches in recognition,
their leaves now whispering unfamiliar secrets to the wind.
The birds that sang in joyful harmony
have embarked on their migratory journey,
leaving behind only mark of their melodies.
In your room, where time stands still,
A sanctuary of memories, both tender and surreal.
Your photo on the tinting wall,
Whispers tales of laughter.
In this moment, you stand suspended
between the realms of nostalgia and reality,
caught in the delicate dance of remembrance and loss.
The evening glows, once bathed in golden hues,
now cast their gentle glares upon your soul.
Days spent in the backyard beneath the sheltering heaven
of a tall tree flicker before your eyes,
like fragments of a fading painting.
As you wander through the corridors of time,
retracing the steps of your youth,
you come to realize that home is not merely a collection of tiles
not a building, confined within four walls,
it’s a dropbox of your heart, where dreams are saved, love and laughter sprawls, a symphony of whispers, of joy and tears combined,
an abode of cherished echoes, forever intertwined,
an eternal flame that cannot be extinguished.
As you stand there, amidst the overgrown ruins of the past,
You find the lost essence of being, imprinted upon your soul.
No matter how you wander, how far and wide you roam,
You know you’ll always return, to the place that owns you.
…
Why do we have such trouble
trying to explain
the height of ecstasy
and the depth of pain
when to you I am connected
the blossoming of joy
where upon it being severed
hollow emptiness deploy
I hear your cries in the vagaries of night
but your distance prevents the healing of your plight
your pain has saturated every cell in my soul
but only can the embrace of Love make you whole
My heart aches to hold you to my breast
to see you lifted like a kings treasure chest
wish you could see in mine eyes your own reflection
and take away that you aren't precious misconception
I have never spent my time tearing you apart
but sought those qualities shining in your heart
who keeps telling you with a derogatory voice
that you're valued less than any other choice
I have loved you from the day we first met
my promise until the end I'll you not forget
I exerted to support you every drop of energy
though would have rather had you very close to me
There is no treasure over you I cherish
count them as nothing that my Love should perish
an espoused sentiment will not a tummy feed
I had to work to roof and clothe your need
The only family at the time that cared for you
two grandparents who tried to help me through
they saw to it every school year you had clothes
and when I lost them how my sanity then froze
I'm required to forgive those who threw us away
and the father who never supported you in anyway
also the men who hide those who violate
until our God by Christ does away with hate
Sometimes in Life there is no indication
the path required will receive its vindication
I already know every place that I have failed
and my own inadequacy which upon I've railed
Someday perhaps You will understand
Gods requirement to care your needs demand
if I hadn't been alone might've been easier to stand
and in myself what I've lacked not to reprimand
1 Timothy 5:8
But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith
and is worse than an infidel
COPYRIGHT © 2011 C Michael Miller
Are you seated there
No, I am standing in a space
Layers of avid air
keen to occupy horses
for a race
Where else is space
Well it is in the milky way too
Joining you and me
with an invisible string
crimson and blue
Can you show me
Well, I can, but five thousand
years you have to be
in wait to see
almost an eternity
Why so do you know
Yes a little I do
But first can you please
have the glow
of your face
occupying a pretty space
I mean the face for the bees
Can you have it
floating on a cup of coffee
or Darjeeling tea
It's so cold this evening
Oh yes, with it here you are
How much sugar
Just what the space of a teaspoon
can cocoon
This too a space?
of the ilk of the vastness
of sun and moon ?
Yes dear there is nothing empty
But there is plenty
of warmth from your fingers
lingering in the space between
the brown surface and the rim
pretty and slim
just look it gleams too
To return to
where we got glued
It would take that huge time
for the light from us
may be many more plus
to reach the silver sky
to make us visible there
and without light, you know
no sighting is possible
not even a particle
Saying this he
in a coffee-heat spree
switched off the room light
blossoming quite a few tulips
warm and tight
Is the space a vacuum
Well both yes and no
But in the long run no
Like between us it's space
But not airless
Up to a certain point
in the sky so amazing
it's a blue space
courtesy dust particles
in oxygen
And then, her eyes now bigger,
it's dark and dark and dark again
until when
there is another planet like ours
along with a luminous star
How vast is the space then
Hard to define
Almost endless vacuum
dust gas and other bits of matter
floating around
Not sure
if there are
universes further
like ours
in the space
Then there are
the black holes
Souls you may say
of gigantic stars
that had collapsed
Why, is it a hole
Not exactly, dear
Nothing can escape its pull
not even light
so dense and tight
In the huge emptiness
is traveling
the radiation
emanating through
the Cosmos
But no more
The scent of the flowers
in your braids
stirring my nostrils
Need a barricade
Musings on space Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
January 15, 2021
Is there really a beautiful heaven?
Is there a red and black hell for sinners?
Basking on this, I told myself that the beautiful heaven is this we see now, argue with the sky and cloud on this.
Father Francis told us that there is no heaven,
Pope Thomas told us that paradise is within our hearts,
and those who fall and fall on the altar of deliverance are miscreants.
We believed him on a platter of Sunday school morning.
He gave us lies and lies of truth about the World Series of lies.
In this pantful world where children wear disgrace,
In this world' voodoo, where sorrow back treasures of preachers,
In this train of earth where girls wear tears,
In this shattered world where our pride are whores,
Nothing is precious under the sun and nothing that the sun has not seen.
Man is home to himself and have choices about himself.
The clergy men that had their skulls littered in the evil graveyard of my village can tell of this.
To this voidness,
To this coldness,
To this yonder of shattered images,
Xylem of mannered eloquence of the devil,
To the world demon's demonstrators,
To the Halloween and the Dejavu,
To the magical cloth verses of the Indian,
To the cries of unholy pages of those holy book tabled before we were born,
I have a way that seems so right to me; and those are the choices I have made.
To the shrine of Illinois of the Illuminati,
To the pyramid of underworld,
To the coldness of death,
We will escape from this drum of world,
This is darkness!
This is darkness!!
This is darkness!!!
Darkness of the black spirits.
Voidness lies in the bag of red colours.
This gory miseries of the world keep us in the fold of grey.
We don't know death but death knows us,
We don't know life but life speaks of us,
We don't know abstract painting of demons,
We don't know the abstract imageries of sins;
The beauty of sin lies in the consequences that lies aftermath.
We are train of shadows,
We are feathers of spiritualities,
We are blood of feelings, emotions. anger. Carcass. Faded colours. Sadness.
Pains. Revenge. Vengeance. Evil.
Emptiness. Vacant. Void.
We are the opposite of day, synonym of good.
Is there really a beautiful heaven?
Is there a black and red hell for sinners?
Search your soul and answer to its voidness.
Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent
They said the war was over, but I feel as if it has just begun. The heart is not meant to be broken, as it was all those years, through the war and the tragic storms, yet she confided in nothing but true love, the darkness, and demons appeared to take that away.
Time after time, it has become an endless battle. Her heart, her faith, and the pain had slipped away. She no longer sheds tears because those tears have turned into anger. Made to feel like a liar, this endless battle never ends, the cold colorful life that sits dreamt within her heart has now become a vivid dream and her heart is cold as a rock of emptiness and betrayal.
Just forgotten like the rest, now this time, she is just so used to feeling alone. She turns her head for she was tormented and tattered, abused and forgotten by most. She said, the hearts been broken by absurd language, and stories that could make you fall weak. That love she had, has turned to ice, cold, bare, and bitter, on this seemingly endless cold summer night!
All that has been lost, can never be repaired, the past is her past, to her the future is what is real. Sitting here dreaming of a world of marrying her biggest dreamt soldier, if given a moment to try and understand, she will give you a chance, been known for even a second at that. She asks Just to remember her heart was once solid and is now soft and broken too.
She made a promise to herself to let all that hurts her heart, go away with the wind, and the moon to the morning dew, and the first peak of the morning sunlight. To move on and have a future, that nobody else may ever justify or think about trying to determine! Like a soldier on the front lines, standing tall and straight, she will give you her promising word, until your actions have made her soon realize that it was all a mistake.
Perhaps, she found her soldier, on a little boat on the ocean, for thus was the day her failures and the war became a dream, and all her worst nightmares were now over, maybe her dreams were becoming of a reality, and the war of what love feels like has mended her heart to know, she’d finally found her truest lover.
This poem is inspired by the arts of Jim Warren, one of Disney's famous artist, and his famous piece titled A day for a Daydream, this poem has been approved by the artist himself.
Written by: Jessica Wiederhold