Long Environments Poems
Long Environments Poems. Below are the most popular long Environments by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Environments poems by poem length and keyword.
The human being
(also referred throughout history
as 'long pig' and 'hairless goat'
in the case of younger specimens)
Observing the anatomy and skeleton,
one can see that the human animal
after death young tender meat.
The large central pelvis and broad shoulder blades
also interfere with achieving perfect cuts.
There are advantages to this however,
especially due to the fact that the specimen girl
will weigh between 100-200 pounds,
easily manipulated by one man with proper leverage.
Controlled environments like institutions or jails before.
Health and diet to outward appearances maintained.
Humans are not very kind to the dead here it is why you are.
You are an unknown to me
thus subject to an enormous range of diseases,
infections, chemical imbalances,
and poisonous bad habits, all typically decreasing with age.
I personally prefer calm firm caucasian females
in their early teens.
These are 'ripe'.
But the saw varies from cut to cut,
and again there it is a very large herd to choose from.
The M.E.)
Medical Examiner will need a fairly large room and sufficient space
in which to work (an interior location is suggested)
and a large table for a butcher's block.
A central overhead support will need to be chosen
or installed ahead of time to hang the young body from.
Large tubs or barrels for blood
and waste trimmings should be convenient,
and a water source close by.
Most of the work can be done with a few simple tools.
Sharp, clean short and long bladed knives,
a cleaver or hatchet, and a hacksaw and ribspreaders.
Body Preparation requires plenty of water.
This helps flush the system,
purging stored toxins and bodily wastes,
as well as making bleeding and cleaning easier.
This one I will call Jane doe 007
was found at a bar stunned into insensitivity.
Sharp unexpected blows to the head put her at rest
quite is best, tranquilizers being recommended
If this is not possible without exciting the body
and causing a longer struggle (which then pumps
a greater volume of blood
and secretions such as adrenaline throughout the body
A single bullet through the middle of the forehead
exiting the back of the skull here did nice.
For what ever reason her companion is here right beside her.
Is is called murder suicide I think it is two suicides.
Whom ever goes last gets the cellophane wrap.
Where once verdant rolling highlands...
Spanned into infinite vista
far as these myopic eyes can see
now yellowing Whitmanesque
leaves of grass encompass field of vision.
Nary a dark dreadnaught cloud in sight,
nor unbeknownst if/when threatening storm
looms on horizon slaking parched land
delivering precipitation quenching thirsty terra firma.
I too experience vicarious dehydration
during bonafide dry spell
constituting theoretical string
hoop fully curtails weather beaten
flora and fauna
conceding blindingly bright
cloudless summer days
across disc (sky)
to amply liquidate shriveling assets.
Unbeknownst when spate of rainlessness,
(i.e. I pray for moderate soaking precipitation)
thwarting immediate indications
meteorologically signalling onset
regarding definition of drought.
Nothing more humbling
than cacophonous thunderstorm
nsync with jagged bolts of lightning
accompanying drenching downpour
analogous to downed wall of water
cascading from upper atmosphere
intermittently pelting landscape
albeit immediately, magically, quixotically...
transforming parched land (Highland Manor)
into profuse lusciousness
harkening Edenic denouement.
Impossible mission (this simple bumpkin)
(one local Schwenksville yokel)
(Civil War union soldier incarnate)
to forecast today/tonight
eventide of June twenty fifth
two thousand and twenty,
when Zeus will doctor
animals and plants courtesy
of requisite life source
also known as H2O,
comprising above mentioned
two hydrogen atoms
and one oxygen atom.
Ironic, how approximately
three quarters (seventy five sense)
engulfs planet Earth,
yet many environments
suffer inadequate deluges,
more so now with climate change
(global warming) increasing temperature
across oblate spheroid
compromising habitable places,
yet methinks coronavirus (COVID-19)
gave mother nature
much needed reprieve
cleansing heavily polluted urban areas
courtesy partial lockdown and restraint,
whereby *****sapiens
deterred, jackknifed, prohibited...
spewing noxious forth fossil fuel byproducts
encouraging, mustering,
plying, telecommuting, zooming
avast array of activities
augmented by virtual reality
technology supplanting mass transit,
thus diminishing deadly toxins
absorbed by all creatures
great and small.
I recall similar signs and notices
of ironic appeal:
"We have a zero-tolerance policy against bullying"
ripped and torn,
and is that a dried yellow yolk stain?
"This is a NO GUNS neighborhood"
surrounded by a lot
vacant except for weeds
mulched in broken shards of glass.
ZERO CRIME AREA notices
as prolific as NO HUNTING signs
in SureWood Forest.
Me thinks
we protest
too much
to not raise questions
about the wisdom of declaring victory
and moving on,
rather than struggling through win/lose
toward win/win resilient climates of peace.
Perhaps the guns
and their bully keepers
can't read,
or don't choose to notice the toothless notice,
or don't have enough time
in their conflicted day
on their lose/lose way
to making liars
of our best win/win published intentions
Made by frustrated raw spot prey
on some other day
in some other room
they would not
could not
should not feel free to enter
listen
then speak transparently
of their/our own vulnerably exhausted sweet spots
Now worn into deeply entrenched
isolated anger
hate
fear
envy
mistrust
distrust
defensive fight and/or flee choices
Provoked by win/lose competitive environments
cultures
climates
experiences
not bully and gun and crime
and co-related raw spot free.
Universal compassion
is a worthy goal.
But declaring goals already achieved
does not help induce real world cooperative progress,
especially for those not in the room
to help write our negative injunctions.
Perhaps we would healthier
and more effectively begin
with our positive universal aspirations:
We invite Zero Intolerance
Learning to listen with active compassion.
This is a ProPeace place
Cooperatively held active safe space
for growing our ego/eco-managed win/win grace.
We multiculturally and inclusively love co-passion searches
rather than dispassioned hunts
and nihilistic degenerative desertions.
Healthy people
seldom step out in anger
while co-inviting ourselves to step into compassion
with coming peacefully home messages
rather than angry commands to go back
to alien lose/lose lands from which none of us
could ever hope to survive,
much less win/win thrive.
Signs against patriarchal colonizing offenses
do not give compassionate notice
we are for matriarchal creolizing offerings.
No ... there would be no happy end to this story ...
No shining horizon or shimmering visions of tomorrow,
No joyous rhapsody of angels to greet us at the end of THIS tunnel.
The Big Apple was behind us now, fallen to the horrors of the epidemic ...
A gestation period of merely thirty seconds,
Which meant half the globe - half of humanity -
Could be firmly in its grip within 48 hours ...
Just two days! (And that was an optimistic estimate).
I worked for the CDC, but was on vacation with my family ...
My wife, two daughters, one son,
In Manhattan to see "Hamilton" on Broadway.
We were headed back to The Plaza when it happened -
When the first infected folks started to turn.
Whatever it was, it increased metabolism in the host,
As though giving people super powers,
Making them faster, stronger, more erratic, more deadly ...
One bite to the skin, and within half a minute, the person would change ...
Transform, into these ... monsters, crazy eyes and gnashing teeth,
With only one drive and purpose - to bite flesh and spread contagion,
(And the possibilities of mutations were nearly fathomless).
Nature always protects itself ... always finds a way,
And diseases and microorganisms are PART of nature.
Like good bacteria, viruses seek out highly beneficial environments,
And this one had selected the most deadly and formidable of hosts - humans.
On the other end of this long tunnel under the Hudson, was New Jersey ...
We were headed south to Atlanta and CDC headquarters,
But that was an eternity from where we were,
With untold dangers and obstacles ahead,
And in the midst of this horrifying and virulent plague.
The tunnel was empty, thankfully, and dark,
But with a tension-filled quietus that seemed ready to explode.
Our one blessing? It was very early Sunday morning,
And there was little traffic on the highway.
Still, there would be surprises coming, we knew not what ...
Surprises and trials, at the end of this long underpass AND beyond.
We could see the light of the entrance as it drew closer,
We could envision the stress and danger, and feel the cold breath ...
Of doom approaching.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "Tunnel Vision" Poetry Contest, Kai Michael Neumann, Sponsor.
Quick bold drums start out loud
Pounding out the terms of war
Race through the frantic jungle thick
Rhythms of pursuit take to the beat
Let the chase begin with heart in mouth
Track down the sun burnt frantic man
Stripped naked by his captives
They pushed him into foliage of the doomed
Now running through entanglements
Strangled in the vines for ancient crimes
Hate has no boundaries when not of the clan
Primal blood can not be satiated
Carbon men shoot long arrows, cannon fire from the camp
Small dark people with evil minds advance
Send the prey into unkind environments
To grounds and undergrowth with shouts
Demise looms on horizons mist for him
Already tortured from the womb
On pounding feet he bleeds while pressing through
In strange surroundings with open wounds
Shots ring out after the enemy make the naked prey
Lay eyes on him in day light with pure hate
Follow every footfall falling on the ground
The ugly trees take a couple of hits
Splinters fly out, shatter living wood, as their demise is sure
Old riffles and loaded guns come with the hunters
Limited only by so many bullets screaming through the trees
To kill their prey, to bring the head back intact
Numbers don't lie. Momentum is on their side
Why the man has gone missing is a mystery
A cause for strain with sweat and grimace
Small men with evil minds intent become confused
Bugs gather around the fugitive
Make configurations for a meal
Moving keeps him from them and their appetite
He runs in heat with fear and heavy lungs
Filled with humidity he breaths no peace
Keeping quiet requires concentration
The wind must cease to speak for silence
Hiding is a science
Snakes want more than the mosquito
No time to turn about or study wings or feet-less creatures
Insects survive by flying from disaster
He follows them into the swamp
Lives under water for awhile
A long hollow reed for breathing
Comfortable for a time with larva breeding
Tickling his frail and fragile body
There is nothing wrong with wanting to survive
Life, like bullets, fly by
As if a child should understand an adult’s muddle,
putrid oil slick puddle,
the dreadful pain we foist on wide-eyed offspring.
Robotic elders crush with rigid slabs of Portland censure whatever spark remains in those tiny rosebud cheeks before their prime.
Those innocents should never have to wrap their nascent minds around the wanton desecration of intertidal lakeland wetness gradients,
the callous douse of velvet purple algerita berries,
blighted by the stark timbre cloud forms
that recklessly pour bile on every genus.
The rug rats at our feet may never know the joys of sap-addicted sugar gliding nocturnal possums, whose acrobatic tree to tree mirror ball exploits mock Isaac Newton,
or the kinkajou of tail grip fame who flaunt their tan glow wooly fur coat in broad daylight,
or the dawn to dusk fennec fox, that doughty eagle owl and jackal dodger whose kissing cousin dens pockmark terracotta forests. But not alone in wider worlds are children being deprived.
A heartless milieu also asks our clutch and clan to dwell in
alloy girder mousetraps, those pale decor rat infested tumble downs gouged out by scrimp and scrape rust bucket caterpillars.
Beyond belief we tolerate the nick and hoist elevator,
that pressure cooker transit flight abduction of the harried wage slave parent,
those cotton garment dress code senseless
dragonfly stand-ins that hover in mid air.
There’s every chance we’ll leave our nursling’s ire to future bands of mutant stem cell rockers who are duty bound to sculpture rimshots meshed in suckling chimes,
when validating rawhide rattle chainsaw fret board anthems
at crowd mosher mud fests,
where rivers of apocalyptic visions burst the bank.
If only grown ups listened to that inner vocal quiver that we
may not yet have cast into plastic resin folly for the generations weaned in toxic smoke rooms,
we’d pollinate a luscious fairground acorn dotted garden with childhood zest its one and only buzzword.
A sweet treat gift with natural flavour pending,
eternal life for baby planet daisy chains of tender petal linkage,
who‘d finally experience pure clutter free environments,
an eco world that values new born thirst for natural realms
Cobblestones of pantry and a wide toothed grin. Visitors from afar pay no heed and paramount is the settling and uprooting of cultures old. Might as well be blood in that feather quill who prints octagonal lines on a parchment. The otters are arriving on their many boats. Their hats adjusted. Times of affluential fashion and norms carried in a wide brimmed basket hat. Always with a bow. The many eyes and ears of tree lined shores listen to the arrival. And as the booming stick pounds on the floor of this jungle the rush of brown skin dashes to the floor. Garden not a wilderness. Dangerous it is to attempt to train a beast. Attempt not to understand a culture. And harvest only what us necessary upon landing. Beginnings are not a temple they are akin to a whisk. Whir whirring and causing carnage, chaos and death. The cavern then utilised for storage. Those that had dwelt side by side now shuddered in the new comers presence. Myths are a faith and a comfort when the camps of the intruders are land lepers. Lesions. Talua the wise woman of dragmo speaks. Ordering all precious items be hidden in the sacred cavern. Enshrouded by canopy. Therefore unreachable. There it would be guarded by the blues. There it would come to no immediate harm. Yet, if one day the total environments were threatened with loss then the blues shall rise and with their many gifts call upon the sky carriages to assist the lands. Thus ensuring no single specie would be eradicated. So now to look upon the dawn. Imagining life as a fish or a prawn. Diving to depths but with no passports. Clapping and dancing with the bullfrog parade on bulletins. Tickets are not trains but trampolines to flies. Under a mountain pass moves a mammoth. Giggling bears in vaulted chapels. Undergrowth has reclaimed this place. And planets due are akin to pouring cream on strawberries on a very hot day. Weaving wavering weaponry weapons weeping wept webs weekly waking winking walking waves. *** potency. *** pickled ice cubes. Xx a pickle ice skating *** myriads of time paths in a juice. *** balmy bacons *** I think not a morning I wish fir a harmonic interlude of a dancing flower at midnight in a noodle broth. *** brethren. Brotherhoods. Breathe. *** zoological. X
Form:
Written: December 30, 2024 for Contest Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Fearful individuals may find claustrophobic environments enticing. He battled his formidable opponent Cacoethes for the final two furlongs and won. By Poet
__________________________________
Time vanishes softly, as inky fog at dawn!
In an instant, life is twisted sans pretense.
Finally, the long-awaited time has drawn!
Obsessed by an unrivaled urgency sense.
If every tree in every forest could be a man!
And every single stalk of greenery is a pen.
If all the leaves on each vine and tree dewy!
Shifting to a fragment of pablum is hooey.
Who seeks an ember if you have a fireplace?
Drained cheeks ignited the sparks that drew.
wolves and cubs engage in an iron wall mace.
My roosts kept a modest sneak-in under view.
With gentle hands, she cradles me tight.
A fleeting form of a fading sketch in twilight.
Each vertebra is a tower, a dainty delight.
She sketches my shapes in the depth of night.
This time of vulnerability, to lend and stake.
Were morrow...a halcyon after-saga of tonight.
Warm, awe-inviting rule kisses summer sake.
A dreary, aureate opulence accentuates the plight.
With each eerie shudder, my world feels right.
Muscles tensed, then yielded to my fight.
Unraveling the katabatic abyss from sight.
In softness and poise, our hearts bear flight.
Fanciful as a fabulous facade in golden sapphire.
Amid a seraphic secret, sealing a silken time.
Sparkle smiles in the forlorn orchid oasis fire.
Oiling, wooing Romeo-Juliet as equinox intime.
Her chapped lips suss, a whisper so slight.
Fingers flutter as flowers, a fragile delight.
A cherubic child in her arms, a joy, in her glow.
Amid ambrosial amorists, we waltz in the snow.
Dusk rises, pushing light back to reveal moonlight.
Boundless ash waned, but a watchful gaze remain.
My gasp, a blaze is out, and I'm going for the night.
Divine light dispels worries, allowing verve to sustain.
Balcony beckons, and brisk breezes bite.
I caress the soft breeze as our souls ignite.
Yet, a scent softly settles, as shadows shiver.
Underneath unkempt nails, darkness sliver.
One does not stamp out radicalism
any more than one outspends capitalism
or fights successfully against militarism
or overpowers totalitarianism.
We might fade out radicalism,
co-invest capital in cooperative objectives for health,
discern together removing threats of mutually assured violence
and democratize polycultural empowerment
by inviting therapy through all natural-spiritual nondual valuables,
dynamics and animations
within Earth's ecosystemic
universally open spacetime network.
How does it help to invite healing
by calling profound mental unbalance
cowardice?
Why choose the epithet "coward"
to describe terrorizing violent behavior
intent
thoughts against those who intend no active harm
to radicalized perpetrators?
Perhaps this is cowardly behavior
but this is not the first
or most significant
word coming to my mind.
This speaks of fear and anger
and chronically invested misanthropic hatreds,
fueled by competing over-heated environments,
internal and external.
To speak cowardice
to paranoia and ego-distorted sickness
only adds fuel to flames
we would more therapeutically abate
by inviting cultures of deep learning integrity
profoundly sacred ecology
multiculturally and polypathically seen and known
and felt,
inviting mutual embrace of fears
and angers
and lingering learned distrusts.
Chronic stamping on each other,
over each other,
causes further radicalism.
Chronic over-investing in WinLose strategies
caused ravages of capitalism,
dimming richer denser potential
within cooperative ownership and investment
of both capital and equity,
deductive minds and inductive hearts.
Chronic climates of advanced industrial militarism
cause further defaults toward competing
by violent fighting and threat.
Chronic ecopolitical overpowering
of those who feel angry and scared,
left out and behind,
fearful and terrified by violence,
their own and others'
stamping and stomping,
invites further totalitarian plutocracies,
rather than profoundly radical
healthy cooperatives
of growing nutritional democracy
of and for and by and through fair integrity,
cooperative trusting liberty
outshining rights of static freedom.
Xiou Xue
‘Little Snow’ her story. ( my son's family 'home helper)
Ma wars, with earth to conjure a meal, Made in a kitchen which all pests have vacated.
Weariness blinkered, Pa contends, In a haze for contentment, in tobacco & drink.
A vision become probable, neon signs wink to her, Negative gains still seem to offer fulfilment of dreams.
Desolate in the dark room, prospects evaporate. Scenes of homely environments bridge bitter memories.
Jesus answers, She phones, They touch, Tobacco fades, Hopes rise, Christ lives.
Beijing Hutongs.
(Old alleys & narrow streets.)
Grey dust over all the piles of food waste, Snow Bikes & barrows. No flies no smell!
Wind chills’ no deterrent to sellers or window gazers. The tourist shivers alienated by culture.
Shoes happily shinned, smiles warm. The barterers laugh. Do half-hidden homes reflect the same?