Long Escalates Poems
Long Escalates Poems. Below are the most popular long Escalates by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Escalates poems by poem length and keyword.
Who is responsible
domestic violence?
in the home...
responsible for rape?
while bullying in schools
escalates?
fact anti-social behavior
begins in the home!
millions of excuses used
drugs-sex-mental illness-debt
alcohol-infidelity-uncompromising
ass-hole
why not blame stress!
to name but a few...
thats' new, slap on a label
anti-social cripple
self centered compelled
subservient with a death wish
co-dependant on a mission
many incapable of raising
families successfully
matching crime to criminal
sooner rather than later
people who want children
most should be screened
the ones that have violent
tendency maybe steralise
these...
protect the unborn spirit
this cycle of perdition
simply 'cause some can
protection remains
the question...
until we fill up our prisons
or doctors fill out prescriptions
or do drugs - prostitution
or some souls
simply disappear
abuse of the sexes disaster
children
lives destined for remand
some cultures self destructive
buck the system for a laugh
self discipline escapes them
some victims choose suicide
alternative families to the rescue!
marriages deplete
truth uncovered
primary social group
breaking down
mere survival havoc wreaks!
social injustice
social acceptance
to live in a relationship
without independence?
when we break the cycle?
we immerge stronger-
children safer
home wreckers
so yesterday
some sexual couples
complete disasters
I deserve a happy life
a happy life I've got
living without violence
is where we all need to start
repeat not the acts of
your fore mothers forefathers
the violence does not work
mental physical verbal abuse
is a hostile mind at work
he's weak disqualified from life
primal evil reactivated strife
programmes of violence repeated
not strong enough in mind deleted
disrespected, feared, without
honor in most cases cannot repair
don't be a victim, of archaic hatred
suffer little children NOT!
this world though numb
Is nevertheless disgusted
authorities ears to the ground
we have heard your cries aloud
take it from one who knows
let all that s@%t go!
don't repeat their mistakes
look inside make new choices
you decide fill your life with
love...
...or misery will connect the dots
Suburban Spring
(4.15.10)
Springtime fills the air,
like laughing gas.
(Or maybe more like whiskey.)
The suburbs are drunk on the nectar of it's dawn.
Middle-class houses
are starting to dance.
(Or maybe they're just wobbling.)
They vomit whole families onto their lawn.
I watch them the same way dogs watch TV:
Confused and intrigued,
with a slight urge to pee.
The father cuts grass,
like a sleepwalker.
(Or maybe more like a zombie -
Ravenous for cheap beer, instead of brains.)
A six pack later,
he starts washing his car.
(Or watering his driveway.)
He's spreading on wax so he's set when it rains.
The mother kneels in dirt,
tending the garden.
(More like digging in a sandbox.)
Her spade is rusty. (Figuratively, at least.)
A sunset later,
she cooks family dinner.
(Or maybe orders some pizza.)
(If every mouth is fed, she can call it a feast.)
I watch them the same way dogs watch TV.
The son plays war games,
dying for fun.
(Or maybe more for practice.)
He whines about fruit drinks, as well as the heat.
A full pitcher later,
tweaking on sugar,
(Or maybe just corn starch.)
the war escalates, 'til its time to go eat.
The daughter makes a picnic,
inviting her toys.
(Or maybe not.)
(Her plastic spread can only spread so thin!)
After the tea time,
she's off picking flowers.
(Or maybe weeds.)
(As long as they're pretty, there's a vase that they'll fit in.)
They gather, as a family, at the table to say grace.
They hold each others' hands and say, "Amen."
(And proceed to stuff their face.)
The dog sits by the boy -
Loyal and true.
(Or maybe just hungry.)
He drools as he stares from the corners of his eyes.
After dinner,
he offers to help with the dishes.
(Or maybe he demands it.)
The boy sneaks him a bite. The dog is not surprised.
Bedtime comes soon after.
The kids are sent to brush their teeth.
(Or maybe just to run the sink.)
They put on their jammies, and to bed, they go.
After tucking them in,
the parents watch TV.
(Or maybe they just dream they do,
sleeping in its glow.)
The dog is changing channels,
looking for a better show.
Confused and intrigued,
he pees on the carpet below.
The winds hands rush through the only standing blades; already scared and weak from the
dazed brains that trampled them. And where do these wandered heads bop up and down too?
gliding through cutting wind that only pierce their skin, but the hallucinogen sounds they
make, crack their minds enough were if you were to peer in, you could view the innocence
that was once made long ago slowly growing more into fear. Why does youth yell bliss of
ignorance? Because all the little children playing gleefully on the hill, don't know under
is decomposing creatures that were once their neighbors dog, uncles cat, or teachers
lonely love bird...Yet laughter escalates with every soft felt earth, beneath those
unscathed chubby toes. But oh no, let there not be a sharp edge of unknown ready to
scalpel that young flesh; see how quickly how innocence bliss; ignorance, for not knowing
the causes of pain; turns into fear. Fear, fear, fear...to be blind could be very
comfortable or very scary. So scary that you turn to something that is not visible to your
family or yourself. Turns you, that the person that gleefully lays next to you on a towel
on a tile floor( because you didn't have enough for the bed quite yet), would rather stand
out and stare to figure more of nothing of the inner loath of self that has collapsed in
view around you. Powerful is ignorance. Ignorance is powerful. Like these heads with empty
minds that tread these hollowed darkened nights, they know that they could be surrounded
by black velvet knives, but ignorance keeps them marching. Not knowing that death could be
a strands reach, keeps them bliss....but also not knowing when will they ever return to
the drunken fathers that they left, the smoking mothers that they warned, the young lover
that they shared or the younger brother that they smacked...gives them fear. The wind will
be the only one to guide 'em, driving them slowly, caressing their hand with soft gusts,
whispering about the day might bring if they trust. And like a lady of the night
disappear; as she walks away in her seductive sway, leave them already paying her without
agreement on their behalf, but once again, they shall band. They shall ignore. And they
shall keep on walking.
HEAVEN'S NATURE WITNESS OUR DREAM
Outstretched maternal skies
bleeding slowly as the sun smiles,
running golden rays
fugue flux flowed by,
frozen bear-shaped clouds
extend their arms to hug the beams.
Charmingly, the light meets
the earth with a tender embrace...
Escaped warmth escalates,
it raise the speed of roses blush,
dew caressing snake-grass dried in flash,
gold-and-black striped wasps kiss---
the red apples chin and oh how sweet
even the nestled mistrels began to sing!
Skirt-lair of violets and lilacs puff
luring scents, it populates the atmosphere.
Finger-tantalized tendrils of hair
stroke repeatedly the whistling wind,
gently I clap my hands:
an accompaniment to thumps and stomps
of the two children laughing, dancing 'round and 'round.
Beside me, I hear his heart, beats! Beats! B-e-a-t...!
Beating like a little butterfly fluttering greet,
he planted a silky kiss atop my head.
Under the windows of gigantic trees,
the heavens witness the fruits,
we long dream.
When Cupids arrow land
finally hitting the right hearts:
"Imperfect but perfectly matched"...
Love mimics the tone of evergreens,
the sadness throbs tearing twang
it will be readily forgotten,
unmindful of the questions: how and why...
_______________________________________________________________
***FREE VERSE - other term "vers libre", a form that doesn't use or follow a specific consistent meter; a regular rhyme and a particular number of lines. It is based on normal pauses and natural rhythmical phrases as compared to the artificial constraints of normal poetry.
***I love this poetry form because it allows me to write artistically; pattern;incorporate;narrate and include a bit of everything about other poetry forms: rhymes, alliteration, personification, metaphor, prose, rhythm, sounds etc. I as well can limit two lines with its syllable count to achieve beat and intensity. I alone can limit my pen.
Lastly, it underlines POETRY FREEDOM and POETRY EXPRESSION not limited by rules.
***For the contest: Poetry Writing #1
Sponsor: Broken Wings***
__Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo__
1:16 pm, December 16, 2015
As rippling horizon
douses fiery orb,
you are at your
most alluring.
Ethereal,
diaphanous limbs
stretch out,
reach for me,
beckon to me.
Barely audible murmurs,
laced with
forbidden promises,
cross the distance
between us.
Whispers become
more insistent,
more urgent,
more pressing.
Begging, cajoling,
pleading, coercing,
demanding that I come to you,
that I give myself to you.
Eventually,
inevitably,
relentless appeasement
erodes my resolve.
Heedless of the warnings,
heedless of the risks,
I succumb completely,
totally and willingly,
without compunction,
without restraint.
Wrapped in your embrace,
rapt in your presence,
I submit to your whims.
So implacable,
indefatigable,
I'm utterly entranced.
You draw me down,
encourage me,
guide me,
bid me explore you.
Probing your inner sanctum,
I crave you,
love you,
know you.
Your scent,
your taste,
your sounds
fill my every sense.
I inhale you, imbibe you,
devour you, as you -
in turn - devour me.
Your very essence engulfs
every inch of my body.
Breath snatched from lungs
as passion escalates,
threatens to consume me,
promises to consume me.
I thrash atop you,
beneath you,
within you;
borne aloft
on waves of ecstasy.
And finally,
finally,
when I have
no more to give,
you cast me aside.
Giddy,
exhausted,
totally spent,
I roll over and watch,
helpless,
as you pull away.
Trembling
outstretched hands
cruelly snubbed.
Desperate pleas
callously spurned.
And then you're gone.
Our time together
was so brief,
so fleeting,
so transitory.
I'll never forget
our impassioned tryst,
but you won't even
remember my name.
Jealousy's venomous barb
pierces my chest
at the thought of
you with another.
I have no wish to share you,
yet I lay no claim to the
Daughter of Poseidon.
You belong to nobody...
...but...
...you do belong to everybody...
--------------------------------
(C) May 2017
Bit of a departure for me... before you think I've gone all "Fifty Shades of Grey", the whole poem is metaphorical.
UNWELCOME CORONAVIRUS
At a blow of the wind from nowhere no one knows
Into the realm of the unprepared spices that knows,
With supremacy in technology, medicine, research and economy
You have come to create a spot of vacuum in the economy
Dismantling social interactions and halting economic flight
Our strength accumulated as at now cannot fight
The strength of your tiny giant uproar
Defeating the Goliath and having no mercy on the poor
Defends of the boarders no longer hold
Permeating the protocol with ease, you are bold
The untouchable and unreachable embrace you unnoticed
And your crown still holds as ancient kings practiced
Changing the subject of the day and year with flaming fear
Predictions pinned to wishes and despair
Budgets are left on the shelves
You have taken over the world in your hives
The crowned virus launched its missile in 2019
Landed in 2020 with its name COVID-19
Silent were both the launch and landing
We were not aware of the huge landing
But the fumes emanating spread flammable fears
Pushing the adventurer into confinement in tears
Announcing its pandemic status escalates the panics
And now we isolate instead of mounting picnics
This is a war where man is not fighting man
As it were in I and II Wars which were man to man
Here men in unison is fighting an indispensable enemy
The whole world has now got to be one family
But our weapons are not formed yet to fight and gain independence
From mighty coronavirus colonizing the entire world dependence
Our hands and lips are tied, food factory switched to sanitizer production
Our quarantine refugee camps are already filled with little hope of numerical reduction
I pray, I pray! Oh Lord, I pray with much lust
That as moon and stars, Ebola and SARS appear and disappear
So shall horrific COVID-19 come to dim and demises without repair
Though at boiling point now spreading at jaguar speed rate
It shall never get humanity to evaporate
Where we shall all melt into thin air, which shall never be
Oh Lord God, I pray never shall it be.
We shall overcome!
AN OLD SHOVEL Poetry Contest Sponsored by: John lawless
Written: August 12, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Once an archaic shovel—worn and rusted,
Now reborn, its purpose adjusted.
Become the shovel, embrace its might,
Revel in its past—a tale to ignite
With calloused palms—strength untold,
The shovel bore deep, breaking through the mold.
Sweat dripped down—mingling with the earth,
As dreams of a fitter future gave birth.
Of arduous work and toil,
Of digging trenches and turning soil.
From dawn until dusk, it never wavered.
A faithful companion—never faltered.
Ponder its present—a relic of the past,
But it is still a tool—its purpose is vast.
Now resting against a weathered shed,
Its once sharp edge—now dull and dead.
The shovel, once a symbol of might,
Now waits patiently for its chance to ignite.
Bestowed by a child, curious and free,
The shovel becomes a treasure, a key.
To dig and explore, to uncover the unknown,
To create castles and kingdoms of their own.
The child marvels—at its worn-out charm,
As they dig deeper, their imagination warms.
They uncover hidden treasures, buried deep.
Imaginary worlds—where secrets—keep
The shovel, now a vessel for dreams,
Guiding the child through endless streams.
With each scoop of earth, a raw adventure awaits.
As the shovel unearths, the child's excitement escalates.
They discover fossils and ancient bones.
Unlocking mysteries—rewriting history's tone
The shovel journey continues, ever-evolving.
From laborers' hands to children's exploring.
It reminds us of the power within.
To shape the world, to uncover, and to begin.
Explore its meaning, the shovel essence,
A symbol of resilience and presence.
In its worn-out state, it still holds worth.
Teaching us lessons of resilience and rebirth.
From laborer—to child
The shovel journey—ever wild
So let us honor this humble tool,
A testament to the human spirit fuel.
At a blow of the wind from nowhere no one knows
Into the realm of the unprepared spices that knows
With supremacy in technology, research, medicine and economy
You have come, to create a spot vacuum in the economy
Dismantling social interactions and halting economic flight
Our strengths accumulated as at now cannot fight
The strength of your tiny giant uproar
Defeating the goliath and having no mercy for the poor
Defends of the boarders no longer hold
Permeating the protocol with ease; you’re bold
The untouchable embraces you unnoticed
And your crown still holds as ancient kings practiced
Changing the subject of the day with flaming fear
Predictions are pinned to wishes and despair
Budgets are left on the shelves
You have taken over the world in your hives
The crowned virus launched its missile in 2019
Landed in 2020 with its name COVID-19
Silent were both the launch and landing
We were not aware of this huge landing
But the fumes emanating spread flammable fears
Pushing the adventurers into confinement in tears
Announcing its pandemic status escalates the panics
And now we isolate instead of mounting picnics
This is a war where man is not fighting man
As in the I and II wars which were from man to man
Here men in unison is fighting an indispensable enemy
The whole world has now got to be one family
But our weapons are not formed to fight and gain independence
From mighty coronavirus colonizing the entire world dependence
Our hands and lips are tied, the food factory switched to sanitizer production
Our quarantine-refugee camps are already filled with little hope of reduction
I pray, I pray, oh I pray! With much lust,
That as the sun rises and sets, the day’s dawn and dust,
Just as stars and moon appear and disappear
So shall horrific COVID-19 come to dim and demises without repair
Though at a boiling point now spreading at jaguar speed rate
It shall NEVER get humanity to evaporate
Where we shall all melt into thin air which shall never be
Oh Lord, I pray, never shall it be!
I’m in the kitchen at Lisa’s. Her little sister Leeza enters, her pale, freckled face redder than usual. “Liza is the bossiest sister..,” Leeza says, slamming the cupboard door after grabbing a box of Fruity-Pebbles-cereal like she’s choking the life out of it.
Lisa enters from the hall, her jaw set with tension, she waves her “La Mer” makeup bag, wildly, letting its very existence, there in the kitchen, function as angry exposition. “YOU,” she practically screams and then shaking with outrage, she begins more calmly. “You can’t use someone else's makeup and ESPECIALLY not their brushes!!” She had begun under control but with each word her message grew emotionally.
“I didn’t hurt anything!” Leeza answered venomously back, giving as good as she got.
I lean with my butt against the waist high kitchen island, slowly letting myself slide down to where I’m not visible, into a sitting position on the floor, as the fight quickly escalates.
Have you ever been a guest somewhere, when there’s a sibling fight or other parents start yelling at a friend? All you can do is try and become invisible - or pretend to text on your phone like you can’t hear the turmoil.
I catch a motion out of the corner of my eye, it’s their mom, Barbara, motioning me, with a side-bob of her head, into the living room. I quietly, crouchingly exit the kitchen - the fight reaching full, nuclear bloom.
I join her on a white sectional, breathing a sigh of relief. We’re far enough away from the action to feel uninvolved. I like Barbara a lot. She's warm, open and always seems to be suppressing a smile when watching her girls. She’s a lawyer. “You’re officially part of the family,” she says, as she takes a sip of coffee, “they don’t fight in front of company.” I grin.
Somewhere just below the tumult, I hear a dad’s deep, male voice, ”Excuse me?” he says, and the fight is instantly over. There is a moment of deafening quiet. “It’s nothing,” both girls say, a second later, in perfect, synchronized, bored-sounding unison.
The Hustler
sun up ~ to sun .... down
racking ~ stacking ~ busting ...balls
cues to leaving .... fast
The Homeless
seven ~ eleven
willing to work ... for some .. food
tips .... appreicated
The Streak
rampage in the street
running ~ butt ~ naked ... again
got ~ caught ~ by ~ the .... fuzz
S.S. I.
going ~ down ~ the ... drain
dwendling ~ future .... savings
what will our kids .... have
Money
wart of all evil
here a buck and there a buck
out pocket it goes
Heat Of The Night
under swollen moon
two lovers conjoin in kiss
hooting escalates
Free Bird
raptured or captured
theres alot to squak about
when comes to freedom
Tanked Up
over lips through gums
look out stomach here it comes
fifth of gin and rum
Gas Wars
big pot of chili
causing quite the explosion
between puckered legs
Hell's Fury
theres a storm coming
and it's right under your feet
better start running
Poet Destroyer
menacing poet
with only lovely reviews
shine on harvest moon
Long Winded
blah ~ blah ~ blah ~ blah .... blah
garble ~ garble ~ garble ..... gosh
will - this - ever .... end
The Dead Zone
six feet or over
pushing up only daises
rest in peace Daddy