Long Fanatically Poems
Long Fanatically Poems. Below are the most popular long Fanatically by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fanatically poems by poem length and keyword.
Willingly, I ran
That was the first sign my life was falling apart
Strange bike that brought me back in one piece, damn you
That hope of abduction never came to fruition
I am complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
Climbing those eight flights of stairs
Only to prolong my denial
Too choked to speak
Life has always been easy
I realize you are a hologram
Motion picture of a mother
You are complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
Sent to bed at five o'clock
The same time it's been since yesterday
I fake asleep
When you walk in with my father
Coughing lies and webs of drunken incongruencies
I am complacent in the wake of my life's finale
We eat, and I sit by the water
Black tide splashing up to my toes
For a moment, I dream of drowning,
Fanatically gasping for air
I'm pulled away by the arrival of pasta
I do not eat, but rather stare as you finish
One, Two, Three, Four
Glasses of wine
I threaten to walk until I'm pacified
Moron, you call me
As we arrive, safely
Climbing those eight flights of stairs
Only to prolong my denial
My eyes are closed
I fake asleep
Sober at midnight
I said something that had scared you, though you don't quite remember
Please talk to you
I liked hearing you beg
Ignoring you in my bed,
I fake asleep
I wake up alone
Breakfast waiting for me
I do not eat.
Yesterday did not happen
I'm seventy feet under
Quite easy it would be to die here, I think
I wish I had.
I was complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
Resurfacing, I refuse my favorite fruit
I do not eat, but rather stare at the water
For a moment, I dream of drowning,
Fanatically gasping for air
I’m complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
We drive in silence
Still crunchy from the salt
I fake asleep
I never woke up
Hypnotized by your lies and
The gaslit fire that kept me warm in my slumber
I dreamt of drowning,
Fanatically gasping for air
Until I fell still, complacent in the wake of my life’s finale
HORRIFIC HIGHWAY
Driving at the speed allowed
On Highway N17, traffic ploughing,
Zig zagging, racing, and over taking
Accidents in the making,
Motor bikes screaming past,
Driving fanatically fast,
Showing off thinking it’s a blast,
A terrifying scene,
Spades, The queen
Of death on the road,
A taxi collides with a
Garbage truck,
Taxi overloaded, what
Incalculable bad luck, people just fly
As most the passengers die,
And garbage and muck,
Fall out of the truck.
Driver trapped underneath,
Fire men, paramedics
Try to pull him out from beneath,
Traffic police guiding cars, into
One lane,
For some, it will never be
The same,
As ambulances carry the
The injured away,
To perhaps see another day!
The dead covered with silver
Thermal blankets are waiting
For the mortuary van
Damn,
Don’t want to see any more,
Want to run,
But trapped in heavy
Traffic jam,
I want to scream and scram,
Suddenly the police open,
The road,
Other cars also broken,
But minor injuries
Thank God,
1st responders, I must
In awe, laud!
NON METERED TAXI’S IN SOUTH AFRICA ARE ALLOWED UP TO 15 PASSENGERS IN A MINI TAXI
AND UP TO 22 IN THE LARGER ONES – THIS WAS AN OVERLOADED MINI
TAXI – MORE OR LESS HALF THE PEOPLE SURVIVED. THIS OCCURRED JUST OUTSIDE
JOHANNESBURG
I’ve come to the place where I can see the bigger picture and can truly say; My Journey? God allowed it! I would not be heaven-bound Today if...He hadn’t allowed...the roads that I took Yesterday. It really is that simple. You see, God waited (Isa 30:18) for me a long time, and now I’m totally grateful and so aware; our present relationship did not at all depend on me, it was He…Who First Loved me! Pressing-on…
I’m so past the faulting and denying
so over… pointing fingers of blame
I’m making my way to my eternal home
but not without some trials and pain
And I don’t care anymore who’s right…or wrong…
I’ve no interest in whether they ...pay
who really cares if they say ...sorry?
for, revenge got lost…in heaven’s overlay
I mean, really…
there have been times when I’ve gone…there…
to that miry and profuse place…
of loathing and despair
There have been times
when life handed me some things
that brought me to my knees…
where to me ‘holiness’ was a joker’s sting
So…yes, decisions I have made
haven’t always been for the right reasons…
thereby I and others were grievously affected
as I willingly wallowed in those dark seasons
However, of this I can attest…
when my filthiness was scorned…
with the odor of my carnality pervading…
and my self-worth scattered and torn…?
When my very presence was detested
and every step I took…was to some a liability?
when I didn’t even…try…to do better
with my selfishness…a gross reality…?
When I wore my sexuality like a badge
and I was desired…only…for that…?
when, over time, none wanted me…for anything…
but turned….and gave me their back…?
There was…One…who reached out a hand to me
who came declaring His Love…without a condition…
who embraced…all…that I was not, then waited years…
to hear…my words…of an honest contrition
So, why do I Love Jesus… like I do?
Why do I flaunt His Salvation, yes...fanatically?
Why will I never turn from following Him?
Because He was that…One…Who First Loved me!
Rom 5:6-8, 1Jhn 4:19
copyright;jmsbell/1/5/2021
Slow down, Democrat!
Another Trump Bump;
speed again controlled --
your downhill throttle,
your Radical in a green
bottle...corked, the lessen:
Don't Drink and fanatically
drive --
All US gears back in Thrive!
Our Nation having had full,
of your screwy, Woke Jive --
You've been overwhelmingly
voted out, to unclog the Nation's
impacted, suffering Republic Orifice;
The People have loudly spoken~
showing the exit-corridors,
to Left Politicians lacking acceptable,
sane, moral borders --
American has taken a huge laxative dump
Bowel corrected, clear for freshly discharging
those newly elected given firm, purging orders!
She’d talk to friends about all this, and quickly say two trends,
the ones with children felt pity, the singles would not bend.
They’d still insist that woman did not need men or family,
and when Marnie raised up her doubts, they’d screech fanatically.
At least then Marine understood where she had gone so wrong,
she had lived life by their playbook, and marched right to their song.
She’d never stopped to ask herself: Are the feminists off-track?
It all looked so damn obvious now when she looked back.
They had led her to loneliness, to put off marriage’s call,
until now it was much too late, no time remained at all.
No man’s strong arms, no little feet, no grandchildren when gray;
like oh-so-many ‘strong woman’ she would just fade away…
The realization made Marnie face a hard, unpleasant choice:
Should she try to ignore these thoughts, or speak and give them voice?
Many people would just keep it all to themselves inside,
but having spent this long in the dark, that just felt like a lie.
So she made an internet show, a place where she could speak,
and when she put it up online a whole bunch of people freaked.
On social medica her friends avoided her like the plague,
and when her video went big the feminists did rage.
She’d known the net was a bit rough, but not quite to this scale,
‘Nazi,’ ‘Fascist,’ ‘Woman-hater’ were the words that some did rail.
Yes, the cancel culture did emerge, and came hard for her,
but she took it as a good sign, she was causing a stir.
Day after day she would pump out videos speaking truth,
wanting to keep nothing hidden from older female youths.
Explained it was impossible to go and have it all,
that men don’t looked at woman much once they’re hit that wall,
that this was human nature and was not going to change,
and if they wanted families they’d have to rearrange
a few of their priorities, and maybe put things off.
The more she spoke about these things, the more feminists scoffed.
They finally complained so much that they got Marnie banned,
but, alas, it was too late, and they did not understand…
CONTINUES...
born with hair slightly wavy as
summer sea's crest, Mom would
treat it as her morning decor ritual---
ponytailed, pinned at the crown with
zigzag of ribbons, braided two-ways,
and god knows what arrangements
followed--oh yes, the old maid bun!
jet black , it flowed down past shoulders;
the envy of high school.girls as we
started to soiree and party...like so,
by 2000, my lattice of curled tresses
met its waterloo: silky, straight locks
invaded mod media, downgrading
my status as a hometown freak...
my Nicole Kidman jive looking passe!
I remember fanatically calendaring
regular visits to a stylist-- a rite abhored
in young adolescence...
yes, magic of fad can be done;
from brazilian rebond, collagen tweaks,
highlights in tints of raspberry or maze
and more top shot brouhahas just
to be part of the scene!
yet, few seasons back, i began missing
myself... though shoulder length
locks inhabited me; i grew forlon, empty.
Imagining how Mom ran her fingers
down my young hair, I chose to let
my tresses flow without restraint---
jet black even through bright hues
of moonlit passages and
dawn's sequined, golden rise.
now. air- tossed, wind blown,
hand- caressed, aloe- rinsed
with few organic whips,
I sweep my hair
in its free flow movement --
allowing the me to be the natural
woman I am.
Amazing antiquated alluring alligators
Bending ballistic beyond belief barbells
Crushing curious crimson crucial crocodiles
Delighting dark dank daring darling dwarfs
Enormously elongated elves effortlessly enthusing eagles
Feeling frisky, ferocious, fervently, fanatically fine.
Green gators goading gregarious grievous gargoyles
Hyped up hungry hippos happily hurrying and heading
Into illustrious inlets, ignoring ignorant iguanas.
Jealous jumping jaguars juggle jagged jade jewels,
Kosher kicking kangaroos kill koalas with kindness
Laughing loons languish luxuriously and lightly
Meaningful monkey mascots masticate meaty meatballs
Nevertheless, nefarious needle noses nest in the north.
Opportune opportunists ostracize osprey and ostriches.
Pathetic purple porpoises propose to propel pouting princess.
Queen quickly and querulously questions this
Respectful, responsible, roughnecks readily respond rapidly.
Sadly sensuous swallowtails sing seriously and solemnly.
Taking terrific tubs of time to think
Understanding unilateral Unitarianism
Verifying various variegated varmints who vegetate
While willing whales wish worm water would wander away.
‘Xacting ‘xpecting ‘xtra ‘xams
Young youthful yellow yaps and yips
Zing zanily and zestily into this zealous zebra zoo.
Near the edge of democracy’s garden
sprouted the Tree of Misinformation,
quickly growing into the largest tree
with leafy branches broad and long and tall.
Though toxic was its eye-catching fruit,
many ate the deceptive apples
that clouded their minds
and blinded their eyes.
They could not even perceive
the clear, self-evident truth
that a deceitful serpent
had slyly seduced them.
Fanatically following the swindler,
angrily amplifying audacious lies,
they spread wide more tainted seeds
throughout the lush fertile garden.
Will the garden wither into wastelands
littered in reeking, rotting fruit and minds,
while the people perish
not understanding why?
(This poem was inspired by the not-nearly-so-dark Oct. 8, 2024 Frank & Earnest cartoon by Bob Thaves as well as the equally dark Garden of Eden story in Genesis 2 and darker-still political events. See also my poems “How Would Jesus Vote?” and “The 2023rd Psalm.”
While Shuttered Up Inside... ©ozy
Snug Air Conditioned Demesne...
Analogous to my boyhood
cosseted and bereft, I assay
to poetically elucidate how majority
of mine years found me
deft keeping danger at bay
only thru the pour substitute
of my imagination
remaining safe within the causeway
of a quasi Norman Rockwell picturesque
unblemished near utopian day,
where trumped up "FAKE" danger
stoked courtesy of
anticipatory anxiety didst essay
when pinhead size
pores faux stressed
every epidermal square inch
populating skin oozing perspiration
along I-59 pro Roman
lix spittle sweaty freeway
precipitated, via illusory mailer daemons
unavoidably pitching me
into an inescapable fray
unlike late twenty somethings
(Jay Austin and Lauren Geoghegan,
whose cruel fate
at the hands of Isis militants
published online by Irish Times),
evinced carpe diem
existential Great Gatsby
live life to the fullest
created an extraordinary journey
(now forever immortalized as
daring adventurist trekkers)
with ample horseplay
deliberately, egregiously, fanatically
and wantonly killed,
when purely exalting in zest
promulgated by indomitable spirit
found me choked up,
a baby boomer i.e. west
tern civilized married bloke,
who opted to die vest
away from blatant uncertainty
never daring to experience unrest
outside a severely circumscribed perimeter,
exempt from a life
and death litmus test,
where very little harm extant,
when taking repast or rest
only ushering, venturing,
and taking, sans
quotidian cerebral quest
ensconced within four walls
without nary a pest
except...pet peeves of mine
within psyche built a nest,
nonetheless hounded by many a vicious beast
whose predatory cannibalistic feast
comprises thine psychological state greased
with until mortality expires,
asper being temporarily lend leased.
My mind hungered the untimeliness
of shattered existence above all grave
battered thoughts sullen whispers quiet
hushes I employed to write to empty
oneself into an invisible crowded realm
ecstasy of the soul craving my hearts
glow the brilliant hue that send signals
down my spine as if I'd swallowed the sun
capturing necessity illuminating fields
of joy my bones cringed beneath my flesh
holding my pen I'd write of sadness madness
courage and mirth a rapture awaiting newness
fanatically so the meeting of the minds shall
gather in spite my absence an yet I invited
myself deep inside criticism once again
vaguely I'd remember a time of calm
creating prose and song shaking off
writers block like a bad poisoning
chiseling away at a masterpiece hidden
within the braising wall I'd cleverly built
around myself protecting my craft my work
exposing my scars revealing emptiness
very closely dancing with insanity uncertainty
merely unfolding leaf's binderies of truth of love
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen