Long Expunge Poems
Long Expunge Poems. Below are the most popular long Expunge by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Expunge poems by poem length and keyword.
oft times ('specially
these latter un-sainted days and nights)
death doth haunt me zeitgeist
which thoughts of my demise
crowds out purposeful thinking
in the twitching mind kempf
paradigm of this atheist
hence, he betook himself
to this MacBook Pro,
while swiss side dull ideations
for professional intercession, could not wait
asper affecting s cathartic,
emetic, harmonic tete a tete
and providing a meaningful surrogate
to expunge morbid mental state
accessed Open Office
and let fingers (of left hand) do talking heads
to an imaginary therapist
across this qwerty keyboard
allowing, enabling, and
at the quickest typing rate
striving to cap cha dismal, gloomy,
and ill lust tree us deplorable mood aye e quate
with pitching into a bottomless abyss where pate
fed ceaseless diet of NON GMO –
a last repast the grim reaper did orchestrate
gluten free, an extra heavy dose
of monosodium gluti Nate
which ingredient doth BuzzFeed thine appetite
for total mortal exter minate
'thou no need fermi to rush,
where angels fear to tread, cuz but better late
than never, the apothegm, credo, ethos...Kate
(the caterer maintains an open exit from life,
and cares only that each soul doth feel elan,
joi de vivre, and psalm times
a leaper chants, ecstatically finally
gustatory humming dont jubilate
for your final homecoming, or else
the mailer daemon lived
a devilish life will instigate
a de coup age d'etat, but such extreme
measure for measure heed doth hate
yet exceptions always made for a date
particularly when henchmen to die for
golden opportunity
to snatch a generic guy a create
an underground soiree will cease,
when ashes master
of hell raising circumstances twill use as bait
let underground missionary be my advocate.
Form:
Why fear a future not foreseeable?
Would this question that doubts abrade,
remain unanswered without curiosity?
I'd be left with a regret as insurmountable
as guilt itself: what gains would I have made,
if I had held back and ignored this possibility?
A long time ago, happiness was abundant not letting shadows loom,
and time seemed an eternity held into my grasp before tragedy befell;
I had no doubtful thoughts or gloomy prophecies foretelling doom...
or pondered about a catastrophe and be afraid of it: all was well.
They should have seen me running through fields
of poppies and dandelions overlooked by chestnut
trees and with excited eyes and tanned cheeks...
I searched for a stream to quench my thirst!
There, atop the Paternio Mountain, cliffs plunge
into the picturesque valley below...any soul
would be amazed and not expunge
this sight from the awesomeness of the boulders!
There, nobody thinks of mundane things while taking a stroll,
but admire that wild rose lulled to sleep by blades of grass!
Would anybody pick it and let its loveliness
vanish from the meadow's vastness?
Whom this beautiful rose will be tempting:
that lover driving back home who thinks of his darling?
Why fear a future which hasn't come yet?
Does the suffering of others make me reflect
on middle life? Can I forget my share of sorrows?
Do I realize that my errors were paramount?
Ah, time is too swift in its conquest of days!
I mourn my defeats and not take into account
the delight of my little triumphs
that are imprinted on my thumbs!
Written on 5/19/ 2018
Theme: Over the hill and far away
Entered in Broken Wings contest,
“ Let Your Pen Drip “
Lord, help me to understand
why faith must always be blind.
And it was by your command;
that Jesus died for Mankind.
Let me feel that I am loved
despite my doubts; set them free.
And expunge my heart of sin;
if there's any hope for me.
Cut loose the chains that shackle
egos to the pride of Man.
And alter reality;
as the faithful say, You can.
Be my friend on this planet;
I want to get to know You.
It's hard for me to accept
what the Bible says is true.
Enter my heart as a flame,
and fuel that fire with love.
Let me experience faith;
so my soul can rise above.
I Do Not Know The Secret...,
Asper Art Of Writing Acclaimed Poem...
Not purposeful intent,
when tasking self (Das Scribe)
a nondescript member of
*****sapiens village people tribe
metaphorical spear in hand ready
to unbridal strong arm as vibe
resoundingly resonates, sans
(crackles, snaps, and pops)
optimal instant to expunge bribe
bing fountainhead of creativity
oft times screed or futile diatribe
no matter smug satisfaction appeased
as mental delectation on par with eclair
for taste buds, a reward dare,
I acknowledge mine appealing talent
(undoubtedly a slightly biased opinion)
with fast break for game of Solitaire,
or sink concentration matte tear
real awaiting with bated breath
comments, feedback, input...usually fair
to middling acceptable,
though frequent occasions blare
ring liberal dollop of adulation,
warms hearty cockles of this hermit
comfortably numb in his lair
which decency, humility, modesty...
of mine to avoid trumpeting pomposity
as if yours truly snooty billionaire
keeps in check (ma mate)
cognitive firmae tubby beware
boot up pawn occasion, the errant knight
within me finds ego expanding square
lee out beyond outer limits
of the twilight zone, where
entire cerebral cranium
shatters temple mount scare
ring eureka temporarily
finding me unaware,
viz blinding, deafening, and
obliterating brainstorm spate bare
lee delivering tummy any appreciable,
pronounceable, noticeable... impact
relishing this devil may care
state of being if only...threadbare
tenuous consciousness endured
sustaining oblivious blissfulness
absentmindedness forever delivering cheer
full countenance of mine finding me
unafraid of Virginia Woolf, a bugbear,
and/or he who dons most powerful paw
he can render complex edifice
of democracy to disappear
thus...after shaking wordy playwear
an early plug to vote November 2020
due to here
about nine months and one year.
Adumbrated aeration regarding...
crafting reasonable poetic rhyme
nothing to sneeze... at chew
asthma lingua franca –
acts as supercalifragilisticexpialidocious glue
inspiring me to skip to my loo,
and ye to play altruist gist
imagining how and why I still rue
cashing mucho moolah legal tender
courtesy bitcoin cryptocurrency,
which absolute zero funds recouped,
nevertheless dumbfoundedness ironically
found steely mettle to get smart
courtesy posting gofundme page
(titled implacable ill fate
battered treasured wealth)
on my part already got told to you
dear readers visiting my literary endeavor
written within vernacular English
spoken amidst human zoo.
Okay, the gist of anemic
checking and savings accounts averred
asked from one
FaceBook English literary
Jim Hensen creation and
Sesame Street resident Big Bird,
I could plainly enumerate
Sachin (means 'pure' in Sanskrit
and another name for Hindu God, Shiva.
The most famous Sachin
ranks as recently retired
Indian cricketer, Sachin Tendulkar).
Impossible mission to expunge poison
regarding stupidity and never be cured
of spellbinding nightmares,
and not accused
of acting demurred
the esse cent chill
dime a dozen premise ensured
prime merrily to discover
visa wells Fargo
sieve err (ala Eratosthenes) forward
solution, whereby means
to save money
against being gored
no...no...no...not to be stingy,
nor selfishly hoard
meager unearned social security
monthly allotment, aye ignored
to mention as key piece
of information a dub bill
lit tete ting bout with anxiety,
obsessive compulsive, not cavil
air lee shaken off and schizoid
personality disorder like evil
mailer daemons, which
undermined ability to full fill
quality existence, and even
prescribed about,
a half dozen plus three
medications help ill
psyche, though nonetheless mill
yens of precious moments pill
furred with profuse sweating still
interferes supplementing,
stoking, and socking
away reserve till,
last creased furrow sought out
here in Schwenksville
Pennsylvania most likely, where
one last gulp of oxygen will
finally deliver cremated ashes
into eternal void
where psychological state
free from being destroyed
and forever exempt trying
to be write lee employed.
I gave them all my riches,
I gave them all my fame,
I gave them all the things I loved
That caused me woe and shame.
Now I sit here penniless,
With no one else to blame,
Attempting to achieve some happiness,
In a cult that numbed my name.
I am now a swollen vessel,
Turgid with cult beliefs,
A homeless penniless vassal,
Who depends on his cult to eat.
Others wonder why I’ve done
The things that changed my life.
But I knew my ego must be shunned
Because it only brought me strife.
The cult accepted me, a troubled youth,
Who was Hell-bent on destruction.
But they also knew I challenged truths,
And society’s specious deceptions.
At the banks of my mental Rubicon,
I elected to take the plunge,
Knowing my cast die tumbled on
A past I could not expunge.
Others made the plunge with me.
They too, took the risk.
They too, wanted to be free
Of society’s smothering fist.
Now we are all on hostile ground,
In a society that we have shaken.
But, to our cult, we are now bound,
And we realize the risks that we’ve taken.
We no longer drift like icebergs,
In some cold conscious conformity.
Portions of our egos have been purged,
Which masked our id’s enormity.
You’ll hear an earth shattering crunch,
hesitation that is broken instantly.
Lick the eight ball and throw a punch.
Devouring a scared reflection for lunch,
got out and be who you’re meant to be.
You’ll hear an earth shattering crunch.
Shadows of doubt you must expunge.
Champions aren’t developed delicately,
lick the eight ball and throw a punch.
Letting go of the frailty of a runch,
hands will gather aggression idly.
You’ll hear an earth shattering crunch.
It begins with little more than a hunch,
don’t be too cautious or move hastily.
Lick the eight ball and throw a punch.
There is nothing seen as too much
to the brave who dream aggressively.
You’ll hear an earth shattering crunch,
lick the eight ball and throw a punch.
By what labyrinthine repetitions,
by what agile, precise divisions,
by what accretions, do we compile
a life's arcane hieroglyphs,
its subtle, unmathematic mysteries?
What cold calculus shall we yet invent
to construct the introspective model?
What distribution curve, what standard deviation,
shall predict the time remaining 'tll we exist
entirely in a universe of our own creation?
Shall we make of stars mere red-shifted
spectral lines on photographic plates?
Will heartache be reduced to sine waves,
mapped by styli on graduated rolls
revolving in precise concurrence
with computed average biologic rates?
Shall we expunge the record from the file,
shall we precipitate a system crash?
What key will be called escape and which restore?
What impulse may span the neural gap,
what synapsis presage what deity?
And will there be a world left to explore?
Will we stop to soliloquize?
What obeisance shall we require?
Piety is no mark of barren earth and rocks,
nor of sterile wind and raging fire.
Marsh shilling (walled herd)
Whitman man inside
expedited without fanfare
takes yours truly to
hot air wind Copeland
an effort to expunge grievous
llama ants that chide
this NON GMO, nonconformist,
gluten free... brand
heralding supreme storied
ancestry courtesy 23andme guide
me with enlightenment, whereby
family (dollar) tree did expand,
visual perception these myopic
(color blind) brown eyes espied
thank you very mooch beloved
eldest sister Amelie plus band
of relatives, whose voluntary efforts
made significant stride
rightfully abetted digital technology,
vis a vis FIOS or other broadband
telecommunications company
allowing, enabling, and
providing me to bestride,
hitherto yawning gaps formerly
blank slated information
mystifying this pokey cowhand
before he doth give up his ghost,
when succumbing to grim reaper
patiently scythe ying at bedside
(mine) no matter gravely ill,
but ecstatic to learn extensive
eye opening insight spanned
generations back from present time,
once again lion's share opened
shuttered Pandora's box and defied
successful neatly mapped
genealogy regarding direct
(day late dollar short) penniless
descent, nonetheless grand
thieving ish kabibble
boob pa linkedin
with figurative trailer load
of rolling hard rocks seconds
to spare before I died,
thankfully this pissed off
loo nut hick kick bajillion
got earful of anecdotes
analogous to gourmand
checking off sought after eateries,
(especially Indian restaurant in
Newtown, Pennsylvania) on
bucket list before downslide
into infinite abyss i.e.
farce hide scanned
din knave eon aged Swede schlemiel
constituting non "FAKE" mockery,
trumpeting parody travesty,
many golden opportunities I denied
self, now toothless
drooling, groveling, sniveling...,
woof fully poorly manned
existence, thus...in gloom,
I forever reside!
Laughter echoes through the moment
In silhouettes of lacelike hauntings
Whispers of an illusory aura breathing
Shadowy hues of crimson and gold
Bursting through veins that will flow
Into rivers of joy from knowing hope
Resonates through the heart of one
Who listens to kindness with a promise
For melodious wonder shining into the
Spirit with a flood of vibrant intimacy
Brilliant wishes that tremble within
Revealing desires that always will
Be filled with insights and ideas
Inspirations that fulfill the yearnings
For passionate, surreal designs which
Wind through melancholy and fear
Reaching out with feeling that heals
Beats out a refrain filled with joyful
Verses to erase all thought of pain
From the soul of one who knows
Phantastic rhythms and rhymes
Washing across the naked mind
Who dreams in flamboyant light
Meant to sigh words of admiration
Celebrating the life of fanciful charm
Welcoming grace to fill up hearts
Exhilaration to pour over words
Spoken from those who know love
Will expunge all doubt and worry
Leaving the essence filled with
Assurance that we all have a purpose
It Feels Surreal Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
December 11, 2020