Long Feral Poems
Long Feral Poems. Below are the most popular long Feral by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Feral poems by poem length and keyword.
i need to stop frowning and epitomizing
and sell this Caddy to the Cardinal
trying to let it miss your attention won't fly
since writing is speech even if somewhat removed
or fit only for bouncy news anchor banter
pancake makeup a bit too aflame
like they do in shadow theater
where the container is the contained
because we can still index the cornucopia
eff you said the furry little May Pole Bunny
you can be sure he was in on it too
along with the Hen in the Willow
the Great Flaming Spiral in the Sky
and the nuns of St. Manacle
doing their Plantation Rebel Dance
with cascade of equally herkimer antecedents
perpetually enthused with the mystery of tomorrow
just don't try to tell me how to move my eyelids
smoke signals will always take care of that
cascading across the clacking copper contacts
in a total lack of continuity all at once
it is a pigeon tongue spoken in barter
barely able to walk after the derision of linguists
lobbed horseshoes across the barricades
against surgeons wielding kitchen knives
on a search and destroy mission
for chopped liver epicures from the Bank of Winter
living dead men's dreams was no picnic
memes eating my soul like red worms
only my degree from the School for the Sickly
standing between me and the Necromancers
who were emphatically not house trained
my collective unconscious operation manual
tossed on the burn pile half a life ago
now dumbed down to syntactically correct
in infinitesimal quantities with a Nefertiti smile
my mind a bordello of interpretation
God is not dead he is passe etc.
a raised by wolves feral non-conformist
everything orbits everything else
and that's space for you
which will bend yer crank kid
unless you can get your mood to swing
out from the nether realms of mourning
and the agony of oblique signals
written with the ***** of Satan
shaking money from your pockets again
a Conniving Backstabbing Bastard production
he hated coercion like he hated licorice
he was revolution incarnate all fresh and rosy
it was a kosher Pentecost event
tried quoting Lenin but it was too easy
the proletariat is people in a pickle
the dueling cucumbers of class warfare
now I'm on a dozen watch lists
followed by Diana's paparazzi
to this claustrophobic cinemaplex
and its temporal artery of light
at 3 in the afternoon
a good cheap remedy
following a bad diagnosis
It is easy to forget that in the main we die only seven times more slowly than our dogs.
Jim Harrison (1937 - 2016) - The Road Home
First Bobo, a cocker spaniel,
I remember only from pictures.
He ran way before we moved
to Canada when I was four.
Second Kizzie, a cockapoo, Mom got
when the family moved to Texas.
I only saw her on holidays and such
as I stayed in Canada. She lived
long and was with the folks when they
retired to British Columbia and was
into her teens before they put her down.
Third Sadie, 3/4 Newfie - 1/4 Bernese,
a big black dog, with a big appetite
for apples from a special tree and
the socks our daughter, a toddler
cast off around the house.
I still chuckle remembering
the scattered remnants lining
the farm lane that spring.
She was over ten, and in pain
when we put her down.
Her ashes remain in an urn in the garage.
Fourth Rizzo, a fencejump cross of
Gordon Setter and Belgian Shepherd,
my wife and daughter got him from
a friend, while I was off on a canoe trip.
A headstrong dog who would take off after
a scent or car to return when he pleased.
On leash, he'd almost pull you off your feet.
With age, he grew territorial and
after the third biting incident, I took
him to the vet to be put down.
But she gave him to an older lady
with a fenced yard who put thirty
pounds on him and he lived to
fourteen or fifteen.
Fifth Hailey, who was five when
we got her from the shelter.
A Border Collie - Shepherd cross
and definitely our daughter's dog.
She'd bounce foxlike through the fields
and on evening beach walks, loved
to fetch sticks we'd toss into the waves.
She was over fifteen and failing when
we put her down, days before
our daughter's wedding.
No urn this time.
Sixth Xena, a Shepherd-Collie cross
and beyond doubt a princess
but more sweetheart than warrior.
She has the canine equivalent
of ADD and a bark first policy
when something new appears
and will retrieve sticks or balls
until your arm falls off .
At over eight, she's running strong.
Seventh, Sam, a mostly Shepherd mix,
she's our most 'rescue' rescue dog,
smart, loyal and obedient
a wantobe lap dog with a feral streak.
She responds in kind to aggressive
dogs and we muzzle her on walks.
Now five she'll be with us for a
good while to continue the tally.
Riding a roller coaster
Propelled by life’s velocity
Governed by instincts and thought
Driven by an urge to emerge victorious
Sentience deadened to conscience
Flitting thus from desire to desire
We built an imaginary script
Of narrow ego identity
Some conquests won
We saw not unshed tears
Of mute weaker souls wasted
Owing to our callous, feral savagery
Likewise, we encountered defeat
Whereupon we steadied heart
Resolving to rise once again
Imagining ego as the doer
Our face in the mirror
Reflected pride and conceit
Beggars too began looking away
Recognising our cold, hard countenance
So it chanced to pass that by grace
One day we chose to look within
Shocked to see soul shrivelled
Lonely in our bleeding heart
We stopped the flow of time
Frozen for what seemed eternity
Crying out silently into the vast void
Wishing to be healed and feel complete
A divine voice instantly responded
Asking if our resolve was strong
To walk the talk as affirmed
In thought, word and deed
The path simple and direct
Liken it to a hop-on hop-off bus
We hop off the ego bus and choose love
Shifting consciousness from head to heart
Voice of conscience grew stronger
We dwelt not on material gain
Shifting into mindfulness
A stillness continuum
Yet love that is imbibed
Takes time for assimilation
But what matters time any more
To the one who has since vaporised
In timeless time ensconced in bliss
Empowered by a magnetic pulse
Which we may give any name
Kundalini or The Holy Spirit
Baptised in the stream
Twice born, we yet lived on
Our soul within, one with oneness
Seeing now earth life as but a lucid dream
Wherein we are being breathed by God
As He does for all sentient life forms
To fulfil our soul’s smallest wish
Now aligned with love alone
Now we do honestly confess
We know not what scriptures say
All we affirm from our life experience
Is that once we align with God’s love impulse
For each step we take, He leaps forward
Gathering us in His warm embrace
Lighting the lamp of love within
Darkness then is no more
20-January-2022
Repent and Believe Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Poem inspired by the contest prompt: 1 John 1:9 KJV - If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.
I can remember passing through
this town as a child,
stopping for a pie
on our way north.
Now it’s bypassed – barely more
than a clot lodged
in the spidery veins of a map.
Most of the houses are empty,
the bakery is gone.
I've come here again and stop
to walk beneath
a verandah’s pinholed shade,
past the general store,
the post office
and a butcher shop -
all shut.
Behind windows,
generations of dead blowflies
have left a black crust
piled against the glass.
Some hang from webs
like frozen pendulums
hollowed out by spiders
and passing time.
Across the street an asphalt
school yard is dissolving into grass.
I think about the children
who once skipped
and ran headlong
into their lives from here,
where now a clapped out truck
sits propped up on bricks.
Dumped and stripped of worth
an open bonnet seems to gape
its final breath.
Further up the street,
the scars left
by two world wars
are etched in a modest memorial
to the town's fallen youth.
I run my fingers slowly
down the list of names
and whisper each
into the ethereal silence
in which they rest.
This age has made them unreal.
Elevated on the nations alters
they seem unaccustomed
to the height.
Their age has them stalking
the nearby hills, irreverent,
all too young, blasting rabbits
and empty beer bottles
lined up like soldiers
with their fathers guns.
At the end of the street,
a gutted church squats like
a full stop to the town.
Nothing is beyond except
a gravel road to somewhere else
and a small cemetery
of lichened headstones.
The last person buried here, I read,
was Helen O’Brien who died
in august sixty five
and beside her, a year before,
her daughter, aged just four.
I make my way back
and reach out
to the ghosts that inhabit
this place but can't connect.
A feral cat slinks off
into the shadows of the pub.
Few cars stop here anymore.
Thirty minutes drive away
a multi laned highway
barrels traffic to the coast.
There, towering apartments
glaze the sky where rooms,
like empty shells,
murmur the lonely sound
of breaking waves.
Sometimes there are evenings
when a sadness rides a breeze
from inland to the coast
and goes unnoticed,
except perhaps for a child
who grows silent
and stares at something
wandering the distances
way beyond the reach
of grown up sight.
15.8
“Have faith, my son, have faith
You are Awareness alone
the Self, the One
You are the Lord of Nature”
15.9
“The body is made of worldly stuff
It comes, it lingers, it goes
The Self neither comes nor goes, yet remains
Why mourn the body?”
15.10
“If the body lasts until the end of time
or perishes today—
is there gain or loss for you?
You who are Awareness?”
15.11
“Let the waves of the universe rise and fall as they will
You have nothing to gain or lose
You are the ocean”
15.12
“You are the substance of Consciousness
The world is You
Who is it that thinks
he can accept or reject it?
And where does he stand?”
15.15
“Leave behind such distinctions
as “I am He, the Self,”
and “I am not this.”
Consider everything Self
Be desireless
Be happy”
15.16
“Your ignorance alone creates the universe
In reality One alone exists
There is no person or god other than You”
15.17
“One who knows for certain
that the universe is illusion,
a no-thing,
becomes desireless,
pure Awareness,
and finds peace in the existence of nothing”
The zone of deep silence
Beyond mind
Presence in self existence
Formless space aligned
(21-August-2019)
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Verses revisited on 02-December-2021
Let’s begin then, by exiting self-hypnosis
Enslavement to lower mind
Melding mind, soul, spirit, Perichoresis
Exiting narrow thoughts that bind
Our innate aliveness, where is it located
Is it in the head or the heart
Desire enmeshed thought, has us agitated
Until we add love to cart
Head and heart meld, in a stillness continuum
Devoid of thought, fears and desires recede
There remains in mind-body, no ego residuum
Layer by layer, erst habit patterns we weed
There is no thought, yet our awareness remains
Poised in the void in childlike wonderment
Soul cleansed of feral stains, measuring not gains
Magnetised, reveals innate essence luminescent
We may call this Holy Spirit, kundalini or grace
There is no one now within, to assign any label
In timeless time, we may see God face to face
Inner alignment being all it takes for this miracle
Becoming the answer, we need no translator
Yet the light that already is, we cannot transmit
Ceasing to be a doer, as a humble receptor
Know God in-dwells all, when we cease to resist
Written: September 12, 2023
Ocean Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Ink Empress
“The sea is an underwater museum still awaiting its visitors.” – Phillip Diole
______________________________________________________________
In the endless expanse of the ocean's domain.
Calm, circumfluous crystal collides coiling terrain.
A bed of iridescence behests the view.
Turquoise riddles, azure feral, and true
Humpback whales waltz on the horizon stage.
Their majestic demeanor, the ocean's sage
Waves akin to a shroud, coral reefs below.
In a cerulean ebony, enigma utopia to know
Tidal waves waltz ripples in a twirling thunder.
Foams that fizz and fatuous horses canter under
An aphrodisiac shore, paradisal and grand.
Where quicksilver spume kisses saffron sands.
Barefoot on the shore, spate, and pelagic breeze
The brine in the breeze, a savor of the seas
Seaside pearls and garrulous nautical dreams
A seamount allure, where kelpies do gleam.
Waves wreck as cymbals, water splashes spray.
Unplumbed bedrocks where sunfish play.
Blase naiads and abysmal gaunt cries
In the abyss, the embrace of diastrophism rises.
Swell of the abyss, corrugated, and red.
Balboa sails in pits due to intricate coastal spread.
Nebulous littoral shores, worldly and true
In Japan splurge, a seabed quells the view.
With a caper and a queen, the gulf turns alive.
Natal seaboard, where nexus coldness does thrive.
Beyond the gloom, where ocean waves are silver,
Moonlight pulsates, spritzes, and yelps as a river.
Whipping and splashing, an aqua symphony
The ocean's orchestra in idyllic harmony
From abyss to surface, the music does swell.
A symphony of water, where stories do tell.
In the moonlit dusk, waves waltz and sway.
Their silvery, pellucid shimmer steers the way.
With every pulsating and splashing sound.
Ocean's placate melodies and quiddity abound.
Abyssal symphony is a seraphic sight.
Where nature's cynosure beauty bears flight.
Waves, akin to dancers, gracefully behoove.
In a rhythmic squirm, their sapidity grooves.
Susurrus slipshod secrets of the steep
Splashes of euphoria, sojourn, and sweep
A symphony of splendor, a chorus of grace
The ocean's melody is in every embrace.
2nd place contest winner
~~~~~~~~
The sick elephant, perished at sunset!
Headline news, tears, anger, outrage and scorn.
A worldwide sadness, her baby just born!
Monies were collected, protests in the streets.
Medallions with her picture worn,ah, hearts so torn!
~~
A kitten walks the street alone, we save her!
We scream, "Where is humanity's soft heart?"
Organizations formed then, for feral cats.
We pour huge funds into shelters at once.
But whay of the unborn human, about to be
killed?
Sleeping, softly in their mother's warm womb?
Little fingers, sweet little toes, about to die?
Our hearts, souls, eyes, do we in denial close.
Millions upon millions, will indeed today, die.
Never to see sun, moon, stars or bluest sky.
Taken by methods too cruel to speak.
Angel babies killed in abortion mills.
The world weeps not a tear for human loss, still!
For the unborn, all, yes I will take a stand.
In a world that adores trees more than the
family of man.
A ghoulish thought, human life surrendered.
A baby is not a bad tooth to remove by any
Governments monies, freely tendered.
Sing not to me, that you love humanity!
Nor of world peace, when our own kind we kill.
Yes, aware man wants to this world control.
This world is not yours, it belongs to God.
What good, this verse, in a so very cold world?
Why! So you dare use fetal cells,I ask why?
To use them in a vaccine, you drool for?
Their cells floating in your selfish bloodstream?
We pen about the evils of truly great men?
We hum and talk to Muses, how very!!
We buried God, we loathe free nations.
Globalism only, downing, all the rest.
Then wonder, why all the worldly unrest?
Laughing our lives away, a great escape?
Reality, no, never on our plates!
Good, unborn people destroyed,oh how we do cheer.
Unethical, political thieves and snakes we adore.
As we quill, on God's sunny shores.
1/22/2021
~3~
National Sanctity of Life Day
January 22, 2021
President Donald J Trump
Thank You!
This day to respect the unborn~
Cancelled by the current resident
of The White House on Day One.
So be it!
When I go home damn
Its really quiet
Never thought I'd find this amount of white noise
In the pitch black face silence
As I flip scenarios of something like self inflicted violence
making, my room, look....just a lil more stylish
I'll douse the walls with my wrist's imitation of your red fingernail polish
Seems like
The riot in my mind may have leaked out
Some sound and the floorboards of this house still creek but a paddle im
without
Drowning
In my surroundings
Thought my flow would let me float on but ya boy ain't so buoyant tho
Fall in to the blue sky's reflection as I plummet into my foe
I'm a machine, can't have water get too close
Not afraid of water, because I can't swim
Scared of depth and darkness, and oceans will force me to give in
I don't wanna share my lungs
Lemme breathe for me
Please
Fraid uh water because I've coasted the trans-parent sea
It's weird when you can say "my parents see right through me"
Custody war
But I lost every battle
Reached for anything
All I got was a broken handle on everything
Vices
Sex life flowing down south with her g string and sex appeal
I need to
but cannot feel
As I challenge my demons to a battle
Im kind of like the scent leading the pack to the cattle
Never really see me coming
But I'll lead you to something that'll have ya bowels runnin
Digestive tract star
Ingest every bar
And when you're done im the ****
Even if you ain't really like it
I mean if you want,
Glance at my ego leave a scar
Or get impressed call me a star
My stride the only thing between me and going far
Serpentine with your actions but I call you baby
Cold-Blooded
Now I see why you stay so shady
because to me it seems like you've got nothing but an innocent rattle
Blinded, because I let my lap become your saddle
Your reflection yelling at me im surprised you couldn't tell
Treating me like I was the first Angel sent to hell
If Jesus was a lamb I can be your scapegoat at the very least
Sacrilegious sacrifices, looked past the fact I'm actually a feral beast
Shook, like a Harlem shake rattlesnake attention deficit rook
Playin the say it wit ya chess game and I wrote all the books
King disguised as a pawn
I'll put myself on
Competition going down
South
Hit that nae napalm expellin from my mouth
My fire...
The Life we now live seems but a deceitful drain
Rules abound that keep us all in chains
When will our saviour show us
We are in his favour
Blessed are the rich for they can afford the price rises
Essentials are so far out of reach for us already on our knees
We constantly pray
For what we gravely need
Blessed are the police for they can do as they please
They trample us in their lustful hate of society
Despite claiming to be our big brother
Blessed are the artful for they will dodge anything
And pay an unfair share of taxes
By buying government policy
Blessed are the bankers for they have ruined the day
Lending to us who could not control our spending
But now have to face reality
Blessed are the politicians for they always know what not to say
And lie at election time so convincingly
That we foolishly believe their comedy
Blessed are the immigrants
For they at first appear foolhardy
Working long hours for less money
Till they realise they have rights like everybody
Blessed are the celebrities
For they have distracted us well
From the day to day hell in which we dwell
Blessed are the peaceful for they are useful after a riot
And can calm some but only for a short while
Till the government causes a decline in the economy
Blessed are the rioters for they know the value of greed
And covet an unpaid for flat screen TV
That was too overpriced if bought legitimately
Blessed are the gangs for they rule the streets
And act like feral cats
Till they end up six feet under
Blessed are the silly for they believe the news
And have a forgetful countenance
And will always blame somebody
Blessed are the over-spender
Who keep the internet in boom
Even though it’s unaffordable credit card spending
That will cause future misery
Blessed are the middle classes for they take all the school places
And the jobs and all the cream
And anything they can carry
Blessed are the reporters
For they know how to fan the flames of discontent
With their distilled forgetful hate
That shows gross prejudices
Blessed are the simple folks who the world passes by so quickly
And who seem so unfairly happy
Long may they remain cloaked in insanity
And finally blessed are the people for they will rise up eventually
Another day
When despair can’t be held at bay
"Petrichor "
Two minds
have made an entrance
magnetic bodies electric
minions babble
it’s just wasted white noise
sandpaper against back stories hit
The Wall of Wasted Time
He’s read most between the lines
He’s all hard hot and cool
unruffled piercing eagle eyes
forever on the hunt for willing prey
She’s incognito in disguise
seeking a challenge amongst
the spoilt and unsoiled
green-eyed fray
the two watch
in studied silence
like heat seeking missiles
they will find each other
poles apart
opposites
light and dark
fascinated
they are each other’s mark
the ozone is now charged
the crowd dissolves
invisible all their faces
unread their lips
unheard their madding mob words
whispered all graceless
passionless empty pages
time departs
the fuse is lit
Two minds’ eyes connect
both burning id reflect
the moment before they met
neurons travelling at lightning speed
through pulse to fingertips
reach out towards
each other’s mortal form
to touch the cerebral net
then later
find fingers reading skin
like braille and thirst
to drink from reigning lips
the moment before the
welcome storm hits hips
to taste the salt in
the cumulonimbus bursting
blue feral hollows
of their naked terraform
the Two minds
like absent gods
high and lost
in each other’s ocean
bent and tossed
live their story
tattooed at the place
where bodies leave clean sheets
and souls connect
electric bodies ignite
La Petite Mort
wave after wave
their drowning moans
ecstatically deplore
their final becalmed
silence approaching
the sweet mercy of
Petrichor
(LadyLabyrinth/2018)
https://youtu.be/5hFCZ1tzWR0
"Body Electric"/Del Ray
"I sing the body electric,
The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul"
I Sing the Body Electric, Walt Whitman
(American Poet, May 31,1819 – March 26, 1892)
"The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself balks account,
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect."
I Sing the Body Electric, Walt Whitman