Long Experimental Poems
Long Experimental Poems. Below are the most popular long Experimental by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Experimental poems by poem length and keyword.
Only two sexes?
A ring on the door his replacement was there
a pleasant little man thoroughly mixed in the multi-colour brew
The person who brought him looked like a woman who
was in the middle of a transition to a third sex,
gave him an airline ticket to Iceland.
Why Iceland? he asked because the volcanic island is full
of people addressing each other, as miss and mister
you will like it there it also has naturally heated pools
and changing room for the two sexes, she said.
Iceland has a mall population where everybody reads
And too often, write when not going to the heated pools.
Five hundred thousand books a year are published there
and since everybody knows one another, it is problematic
to be critical, however, there is a small clique of intellectuals
who, to avoid upsetting anyone writes about movies
especially, French and German experimental films.
Iceland has a stunning, almost magical nature, alas, not
often seen by the Icelanders, who are busy writing books
spend much of the time writing books in well-heated rooms
thanks to the volcanic activities that produce hot water
in the radiators.
Hush, don’t disturb us with obscene dancing in the street
bongo drums are against the law.
Four characters make the fantastic team,
after cosmic rays exposure in the outer space
on an experimental probing mission,
each member acquires unique prodigious abilities.
Fantastic Reed, the leader, a virtuoso scientist
and a shape-shifter intellectual strategist,
his wife Sue, with empowered invisibility weaves
force-fields as formidable defense asset.
Her younger hot-headed brother, Johnny, the human torch,
turns into flame and a blaze in flight.
Reed’s best friend, Ben, the thing, a mutated rock-skinned
superhuman monstrous powerhouse with a tender heart.
The Fantastic Four's adventures involve
exploration of the different spatial aspects,
roaming with fortitude through dimensions,
in the uncharted regions of the universe,
from the Negative Zone to the stellar space,
facing and dealing with cosmic and evil threats,
as a family team, dynamic albeit dysfunctional,
amalgamated by interpersonal relationship and solidarity.
An iconic and long-term segment of Marvel comics,
its impact extending beyond comics into other storylines,
The Fantastic Four are more than superheroes,
they are the first family of the Marvel Universe.
This should be the happiest day for lovers,
when they are drawn to each other and their voices
fall to whispers with soft music playing...
in a room filled with roses and scented candles burning.
My gaze falls on you, o darling of my intense desires,
please, put on the sexiest nightgown and explore my fantasy;
and what I confide in you is a true definition of what I see...
I am romantic by nature, unraveling all my surprises.
This should be the happiest day for lovers,
for the ones who deserve to be remembered and loved;
and to suppress happiness and laughter and expect no flowers...
is an acceptable sign of unworthiness, of a regret foolishly sustained.
Refuge in my sensational embrace, sheltering your grace,
and this warmth can inflame you with unimaginable passion;
while a surge of sensuality will arise with irrepressible elation....
my anxious arms will seek yours as you abandon yourself to my kiss.
This should be the happiest days for lovers,
slowly dancing under dimmed lights, reading thoughts
before they are spoken...without falling to silence;
responding to caress that lead to intimate moments.
Be adventurous, experimental and irresistable;
give into those feelings that rule the flow of emotions,
have a notion of how you could be the most beautiful...
as Venus who madly attracted those young, handsome gods.
Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci
Life of Death
Walking in a sad fate, my shoes are not yours, the way is gone, dark place
You gave me these shoes, just walk, just walk in my shoes, fates are gone
Five, two, and three, our children were never born, the three. We two died
Past time, maybe only an illusion, but from this camphor following me the feeling
From the missed family, from the missed fate, from the missed family happiness
This situation was created by English psychology. Thank you my destroyed life.
I was an experimental subject in the United Kingdom. Without my consent and will.
Hmm, life of death, or knife of death, or life of kill. Killed by death, it is kind of by die
Sometimes I don’t understand the people, No, never. Why good the aggressivity?
Why good hurt, insult, torture, offend, humiliate others? Understandable things
Maybe sometimes better to live like dead, and nobody sees, lust live, live, live
Hmm, must teach people what is happiness and human life. How? How? How?
People like to send people to death. And there is no remorse. But why? Killers?
Yes, people like to kill people. All of them death-like. Making suffering. Them life
But why? Death like the life? Or life following the death of life? Let me die now.
And I will come back
With the answer
I'm not sure you can see this
But my life is an experiment
Where I try new things out every day
I wake up in the mornings
Most times without warning
Put my feet on the floor, then on my way
I talk with people I pass
Monitoring if they talk back
If I feel lead I'll even shake hands
With this I check my heart rate
Making sure to keep up the pace
Like a lab rat at sciences demand
I'll visit Delicatessens
Jotting down lessons
Of what I do and do not like
I do this for science
Where future generations might find it
Interesting that I always order pie
I've even fallen in love
Believe me science doesn't know enough
And I'm not sure they'll ever find that out with time
But I'll keep on experimenting
My life project I hope soon won't be ending
For the sake of science and all of mankind
rainy season
grief, white hydrangeas
hungry caterpillar
In part, The Haiku Society of America’s definition of a haiku reads, “Usually a haiku in English is written in three unrhymed lines of seventeen or fewer syllables.” Further, Japanese scholar Shigehisa Kuriyama states, “The 5-7-5 pattern by itself does not make a haiku.” (Gurga, p. 1). Contemporary English language haiku have departed radically from the 5-7-5 convention, including the Beat haiku of Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and Gary Snyder, the latter awarded the Masaoka Shiki International Haiku Grand Prize in 2004. The haiku of Robert Spiess are especially experimental.
I recommend two sources for further study of haiku: “Haiku: A Poet’s Guide,” by Lee Gurga, addresses haiku in it’s traditional form; “Haiku Poetics in Twentieth-Century Avant-Garde Poetry,” by Jeffery Johnson discusses haiku as realized by modernist poets.
Speaking personally, it is most important for me to enjoy writing a haiku, correct form or not, and for my haiku to be enjoyed by the reader.
The Wuhan experiment concealed,
A cunning craft, deliberate, devised.
A multitude, unwitting, marked as prey,
An agenda slowly unmasked.
The air grew thick with engineered fear,
Ideas forged to crown a viceroy of control.
“Mask up.” “Keep distance.” “Isolate.”
Thus began the reign of measured command.
Servants of the people turned to tyrants,
A chorus of unlearned voices in authority
Sudden experts in unseen sciences,
Breeding speculation without end.
Puppets stood as figureheads,
Echoing dictates to lesser thrones.
One continent acted, another imitated,
And others teetered on ideological cliffs.
Even distant lands bore the weight
A pressure felt like knees upon the neck.
Africa, cast as a waiting consumer,
Led by compliant and weakened hands.
Autonomy of body dismissed,
Leaders eager in their zeal
More devoted than doctrine itself.
A cure proclaimed for the unbroken,
Euphoria bottled, a patented promise.
Names were given like rites of passage:
Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Omicron
Each a chapter in a calculated tale.
Profit saw its moment and seized it,
Shielded by laws from consequence.
Masses, unknowing, became the trial,
While the poison crossed all borders freely.
No sanctions. No reckoning.
Even as the architects gathered in celebration.
Dissenting voices swept aside,
Silenced beneath the weight of narrative.
Casualties mounted in quiet numbers,
While institutions aligned in silent accord.
A fragile illusion of safety endured,
Signed off by those unversed yet compliant.
The gullible stood in endless lines,
Welcoming the swiftest remedy ever known
An experimental vial dressed as salvation,
A gift disguised in polished deceit.
History’s warnings cast aside,
Reason surrendered to fear.
Humanity, stripped of its questioning mind,
Chose the needle over uncertainty.
Division followed swiftly:
The vaccinated cleansed and accepted,
The unvaccinated branded and confined.
Then came Omicron
A turning tide, defying design,
Unraveling the script as demand declined.
Billions amassed in silent gain,
Lives reduced to collateral cost.
And in the end, a quiet refrain remained:
No apology. No justice.
No recourse.
You cannot sue.
Hiroshima n Nagasaki – Seventy Five Years Since 1945
Robert Oppenheimer manned
"The Manhattan Project",
a top secret World War II mission
which constituted "Little Boy" codename
for a uranium gun-type
atomic bomb dropped at 0815
exploding 580 metres above civilians
with 15 kiloton blast yield
reduced 400 year old city to dust
Colonel Paul Tibbets,
the pilot/ bombardier
of the Enola Gay,
(the Boeing B-29 Superfortress
unleashing nuclear warfare
seventy years years ago today)
gives cause for this baby boomer to revisit
mentally, the annihilation,
extermination, incineration
the first of two storied Japanese enclaves
realizes how trifling my current bout
with mania paranoia, pneumonia
(from northern exposure)
contrasted with sinister
thermonuclear reaction
malevolent evil tower ushering
thermonuclear age epitomizing
coup de nada so graceful
means maximum military mutilation
though unwell, this inflammation poised
to be cured unlike subsequent generations of victims
who survived atrocious, egregious, hellacious,
judicious slaughter can only poorly be described
by this mortal with curable bacterial/viral infection
aghast at such wanton killing, more-so
via weapons of mass destruction
more devastatingly grisly
than those "experimental" bombs
loosed upon the innocent population,
whereby 75,000 people killed or fatally injured
with 65% of casualties nine years of age and younger
whence offspring of survivors
evincing excess genetic anomalies
with fiery windy surface (think towering infernos)
temperatures topping 4,000°C
upon terrain hallowed by ghastly
horrible deathly dominance
amidst shadow of sinister mushroom cloud
wickedly, ominously, and eerily looming.
"Fragments and crumbs of life,
all the little pieces"
John Ruskin 1853
Having lived with our Mom in Sydney for six months
Federal Police returned us to live with our father
He had begun working as the art teacher
at a small Christian school in Tasmania
He and other staff members lived at the school.
I was 8, my sister 6. Geneva was experimental then.
Elementary students were taught together in one hall.
Desks divided from next, talk was completely disallowed.
An American curriculum called ACE was adhered to.
As the art teacher's daughter, naturally I washed all the brushes.
Three utterances compiled in class per day earned detention.
Despite it being 1991, rulers whapped knuckles on occasion.
Cherished butterfly catching buddy, best friend, Penny
Fed apples from ample pile to fence wire necked horses
Dawn saluting dairy sold milk for locals, chapel on site
Peers lived a wall away, an idyllic community lifestyle
Generally, three afternoons per week, my father took
My sister on playground, shopping outings.
I stayed home. Instructed not to go outside.
Staff's children grassy antics gazed at through glass.
I ate vitamin c tablets by the dozen, and scrapings of butter.
A staff member bought all our groceries from a limited list.
I sang for company. There was no radio or TV.
My Dad and sister returned at nightfall. Chewing on sweets.
Alone in the house, I imaged it was a cruising ocean vessel
I sailed down the dim driveway, swamped by giant pines
I took apples, a cow, a Bible, pencils for sketching horses
Sailing on jaunty sun hugged foliage, I was captain
'Geneva Has Evolved'
Constance La France
All The Little Pieces Contest
25th August 2020
Anne Bressington Lord Christopher Monkton Rashid Buttar dr Vernon Coleman dr Sherri Tenpenny Dr Peter McCullough Dr Ben Tapper, nurse Kate Semrani nurse Shelly Tasker Deborah Conrad Jane Mikovits Del Matthew Bigtree Christine Ronald Bernard
Northrup Simone Gold Robert F Kennedy jr Suzanne Humphries Andrew Wakefield
Kelly Brogan Joseph Mercola Lee Merritt Alex Berenson Ty Bollinger Alexandra Mention
Polly Tommey Barbara Los Fisher Rocco Gelato Dennis Rancourt Alex Jones Paul A Off it
Dr Steven Hotze Dr Luc Montagnier Dr Mariano Amici Dr Jane M Orient Dr Micheal Yeadon
Father James Altman Paul Craig Roberts archbishop Vigano Maria Claire Edwards ex un official also Dr Graham Lyons 'Aus senator Malcome Roberts' president Jaier Bolsenaro Brazil Professer Francis Boyle
Ricardo Bosi Luitenant colonel Australian sas retired. Dr Ronald Kostoff ( Dr Robert Malone Msrn experimental
Vaccine builder.) Dr Mercola