Long Flayed Poems
Long Flayed Poems. Below are the most popular long Flayed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flayed poems by poem length and keyword.
Soul of Beauty
Through the dirt and grime of centuries
Bloody carnage of hate and fickle fate
In mediocre destinies
With shattered and reviled dreams
It came creeping
From the tears of lovers
Left to weep with graves
From the stories and legends
Of hearts bitter revenge
Struggling to rise
Floating in the carbon toxic
And the filth of monoxide stench
Rallying with the scream of cinder burnt
Atomic rising sun wastelands
Ever straining
Cringing and cowering by pilloried hands
Slapped back to the slavery
The chains of abuse still hanging
Bare and bleeding their spiritual noose
It lifted up
In wretched and ravaged cries of torture
The prostituted life of raped soul
In the stinking and festering pits
In concrete caves of darkest eyes
A quiet cry
With misguided faith
And fear filled thoughts
With the drudgery of time
And its wasted philosophies come to nought
To be recognised
All terror and anguish
Delivered to a single inescapable point
Of useless and overburdened hope
To heavens repentant angel of death
And be free
Trammelled by its own steel shod hypocrisy
Flayed by its lies and deceit
Whipped to the post of progress
And entertainments release
At last released
With a felon grin
And wrenching sadness
Pleading eyes
And with wistful smiles
It came creeping
Struggling to rise
Ever straining
It lifted up
A quiet cry
To be recognised
And be free
At last released
The soul of beauty
The heart of mankind
The spirit of love
On wings of twilight her hopes flew away
As day eagerly swam into night
Simply had not been a wonderful day
Stars in the sky were a glorious sight
Filling ethereal heavens completely
Showing her optimism so sweetly
Feelings of pure love were in the air
Could she forgive herself? Would she dare?
Evil doubts within her soul began to ring.
Her emotions were not easy to share
Contemplation is a heartfelt thing.
She sat by river on the south side bay
Figuring out how to make angry thoughts right
Gentle ideas escaping for sighs far away
Glowing in her dendrites, bits but so bright.
Plugging in gaps ever so casual and neatly,
In a manner as to not defeat thee,
Yes she had been betrayed, flayed full bare.
Could she release this anger now? Could she dare?
She had been the victim of a masochist’s fling
This humiliation she was not ready to share.
Contemplation is a heartfelt thing.
Gathered sorrowful ideas in a unique new way.
Determined to obliterate the blight.
Exploded with truth, mighty pen had its say.
She wrote down sad feelings into the night.
Enjoying her perch down by the sea,
And shade of a tiny bonsai tree,
Self feelings smiled, she remembered to care.
She had been lured to an evil one’s lair.
Feelings of worthlessness began to sing.
Forgiveness of self is now parading in air.
Contemplation is a heartfelt thing.
Joined momentarily by a fat hopping blue jay,
She knew what she had penned was amazingly right.
She reveled in daylight sun’s prettiest ray.
Watching the jay ‘til he flew out of sight.
Feeling this instant she was at long last free.
Absolved of blame by God’s glorious sea.
As she wrote it down and began to share,
Her heart was lifted by daybreak’s hopeful air.
Doubts flung out by a David’s giant sling,
Writing was cathartic, easy to bear.
Contemplation is a heartfelt thing.
With a hidey ho and a hey, hey, hey,
She followed her bliss with all of its might.
Her words of truth were now in full display.
She knew she would sleep better that night.
Feelings of relief had overcome thee.
She recovered her soul life down by the sea.
The rest of her life seemed more than a bit fair.
For herself, she again started to truly care.
Warm heart full of hope began to sing.
Possibility of true love now in the air.
Contemplation is a heartfelt thing.
Twas fortnight before inspection 2021...,
Not a human creature stirred, nor seen
throughout Highland Manor,
property carpeted in lush green
gently hilly terrain,
(a deathlike stillness descended un keen
quiet and quite cool April 26th,
deux thousand twenty one).
Vicious rumors circulate wrenching
hammering, and drilling psyche
where mailer demons invade,
that immediate hell fire enfilade
natural hair color made
gray follicular shocks amply pervade
instantaneously turning
Janus faced with Machiavellian
mean streak inlaid
(how word some would say)
"stern", any previous
housewarming aura
experiencing welcome spiel,
nor iota of politesse present,
but Trumpeting her entourage,
asper self important capering escapade
taskmaster known to abrade
even the most stalwart macho,
gung-ho, brave heart appear afraid,
thus oft time tis most
advantageous and optimal
prospective mutineers betrayed
Princess Ja***n Ge***r
harridan de jure ushering tirade
akin to a petit grand mal one
woman banshee masquerade
hoop puts on be preyed
upon switching pretentious airs
dead ringer give
away (immediately
points gnarled finger
sentenced to clinker visage),
non verbal charade
hence unstoppable mounting
anticipatory anxiety manifests
as disabling, impending,
oppressing fate
cannot be delayed
if insubordinate tenants
try with futility to evade
officials with truncheons flayed
doth rarely give surcease
renters passing grade
she, the consummate
de facto grande heiress
of Gr***e & Qu**e
inherited plum deal,
where lifetime employment,
and generously paid
analogous as born
(that way) portrayed
maintaining poker face
into royalty made,
now as single mother
to biracial heir
purportedly inhabits castle
abode with parents,
thus no child
care costs paid
expectant heavy foot
falls getting louder,
(oh...no that jist
my heart pounding
whence approaching raid
so please inform this jade
did troubadour if privy to let
(me and the missus) aid
i.e. a safe and sound
place to call home
with this hole in the poetry wall,
I would immediately
make thee a fair trade
in lieu of living, where
mercilessness doth parade
expenses property upkeep,
teaching (two
door ring) English,
or even employed
as a mister minute maid.
VII
There never was an army quite like Xerxes’.
Hyrcanians, Medes, Egyptians, Syrians, Scyths –
soon, Greece would grovel at its tender mercies –
a fate more gruesome than the grimmest myths.
It drank whole rivers dry. Took three days with
the crossing of the bridge. Then came a scare:
as Persian lava swamped its xenolith,
the portents were not good. A pregnant mare
gave birth to healthy offspring. But it was a hare.
VIII
A blundering boxer trying to swat a fly,
the Persian force could lunge, but could not kill:
it lost all credit at Thermopylae.
The Greeks, hard pressed, were in the battle still.
To win a war, you break the other’s will,
and this was not occurring. Could the key
be naval warfare? So, for good or ill,
Salamis earned its place in history.
The fleets would clash there. Whose would be the victory?
IX
A tyrant’s strength is his Achilles’ Heel.
His habit of command, of being obeyed,
occludes capacity to see and feel.
To trap them at their moorings seemed a raid
assured to smash the Greeks. Their fleet once flayed,
they could not go on fighting. They must lose.
But Persia’s pride, colossal numbers, made
disaster certain. Tangled, cramped, confused,
the sharks became the bait. For Xerxes, dreadful news.
X
“My bridge. Is it still standing?” Xerxes asked.
Oh, in that question, what a universe!
The pampered prince who - up to now - had basked
in sunshine felt a clutch of fear, and worse:
the tide of fortune, swinging to reverse,
began to drain him of all certainty.
The bridge was now his lifeline, and his curse,
his last hope and his vulnerability.
Persepolis lay far away, fenced off by sea.
XI
So, despots kneel before their own adventures,
become the playthings of their crazy schemes,
contract with Fate, creating wild debentures,
condemn themselves by sure-to-crumble dreams.
Unhappy with mere wealth, they seek extremes
which bring no comfort: sick ambitions bloat
and fester. Most familiar of themes,
Great Xerxes’ boasts grew more and more remote,
until the day his restless minions cut his throat.
You see it in the old movies,
when Indians come into play,
somebody calls them,”savages,”
and it seems to fry people’s brains.
They flip out, demand censorship,
know nothing of real history,
can’t empathize with either side,
to see how that all came to be.
It’s obvious that most regret
how things happened in these past times,
and they’re not wrong to regret that,
it isn’t that hard to go find
broken treaties and agreements,
politicians playing their games,
most wish that things had gone better,
but history never can change.
Yet this does not change stubborn fact,
and looking back it is well seen
that some things the Indians did
were barbarous to the extreme.
Ritual torture was practiced
on captives by most of the tribes,
and done long before Columbus
ever had the new world in sight.
Like burning people at the stake,
or things that were much more foul,
like tying intestines to trees,
forcing souls to self-disembowel.
Making people run the gauntlet,
to be beaten by hard-swung staffs,
make it through and you might be safe,
if you didn’t…well, that was that.
Now by any modern standards
this is savage, that much is fact,
but honestly, were they alone
when you take the time to look back?
Europe had its iron maidens,
and the rack in medieval days,
and the Turks once were infamous
for leaving many captives flayed.
The Japanese in World War II
treated captives like they were trash,
Britain used to ‘blow out the guns,’
for your sake, please, don’t look up that.
Islamists rape and mutilate
in ways that would leave you disturbed,
and savage Chinese socialists
do awful things to the Uighurs.
But somehow, in this PC age,
we give the Indians a pass,
try to forget what they once did,
this really does strike me as bad.
No people should be above sin,
we see our mistakes from our scars,
to stay at peace none can forget,
must understand all that we are.
It’s important the we know this,
noble savage myths do no good,
especially since we’d forget
if there was a way that we could.
This evil lurks in all mankind,
and it should leave us all non-plussed,
Were the Indians savages? Yes…
but no more than the rest of us.
watching silently as the ground is disturbed, unearthed
the simple act of digging a hole captives my attention
shovelling multitudes of mixed emotions upon my heart
reaching fingers to let the sands flow slowly through them
life blood seeping, fertilizing soil, and yet draining emotion
innocence disappears from within me, soul lost and confused
strange a farmer digs a hole, raising such usefulness from within,
to feed and nurture, life wondrously cultivated
a young child digs a hole and places seeds of both real and imaginary,
from the real flourish flowers of such incredible beauty
the imaginary grow into dreams of color, rainbows of the future,
where all is possible and the thrill is in the mystery, yet unblossomed
others dig holes to build, the foundations of houses,
a future of the everyday, of need and want,
places where dreams are housed in security, waiting
then there are the holes that are dug for treasure,
to seek and search, to yearn for treasures to enrich our lives,
to provide more than we have or really need
holes dug to find clues from the past, to enlighten us,
illuminating the future
holes, simple mounds of earth, yet the reasons are as big as mountains
holes in ones mind are opened, to allow possibilities,
yet to escape reality
the duality of a hole, to allow truth and yet to escape from it
when need arises
the heart has many holes, wounds left flayed wide open from lost love,
holes from inferiority, abuse, and the constant pounding of thoughts
callous and calculating, cold and unfeeling, the heart is one large hole,
filled to capacity with the emotions of our lives,
I stand now beside this freshly dug hole of blackened earth,
where no life now protrudes
where all future is lost, aspirations gone, no hope of the new,
the rich or the beautiful
as the ebony casket is lowered into this hole,
all that remains is finality
loss, surrendered lifeless into the earth and I wonder why,
there is no escape
bringer of life and yet taker of the ended, life and future returned
mystery unveiled, unravelled, mystery no more,
now just a hole in the ground once again
5 down..for just 84..what do you do.. try and survive..shut the door..or instead more hardcore jive...out on the lash ..go to town..
On his way to 184..borrowed the crown from the real deal surreal cartwheel Panto clown..smash down the door..
Red hot..bespoke with the oak..smoking..old school Ben Stoking..first ball stroking for four..
Robin Hoods with the wood..forget Bazball..score quick..this is rabbit out of a hat trick Bazbat…the latest riff…
Smith so svelte..helter skelter..velvet belter..decided with his tintin quiff..to go.. well biff..Indian tiff..felt..smelt.. the tangy twang pang..dealt a dashing dollop of crashing flashing banging wallop..
Every Test tragic.. loving how Jamie and his magic torch did scorch..the run reaper..nearly took number one spot with the fastest ton..still got..the highest ever Test score for an England keeper..and only 24..
Let's rant…about Smith and Pant..the Gilly God above giving his nod..the Wizard of Oz..Lord of the willow sword..showing his love..for the zen of the men or bruvs with the glove..
The notorious adored odd bod panto Pant.. and his brother from another mother..glorious
Smudge not giving a fudge..not just giving the scoreboard a nudge but an almighty Blighty budge..
Smith's sublime partner in crime… dirty flirty Harry also got them shirty with some barnstorming performing..
A nifty pretty shifty 150..as north..met south..our poise boys..from the Republic and Surrey..hitting not just a flurry but a slurry of runs in a hurry..
Will give them some slack..but if there has been a faint Bazbat taint..always having a crack..all out attack..a lack of that knack of restraint..no looking back..artists with only one way to paint..
Willing to adapt and change..us fans rapt..still immense offense but with more defence..alright common sense ..
Smith and Brook wasn't an..off their trolley volley folly..the way they played..slayed and flayed.. by golly made sure the Hollies..still held sway..eased their dismay and stayed jolly..
Won't pretend ..was always only one way this was going to end..
Jamie.. Jamie..Jamie and his magic torch..
When Love And Dark Unite, A Shiny Tangled Web Catches Prey
There were hidden tentacles of hate in her heart
That her coils had not consumed me, I gave thanks
My soul nearly erupted, my mind suddenly went blank
Her touch was exciting, but frightening from the start.
She would serve me a great gulp of her poisonous brew
My hunger and thirst exploded, but I begged for more
There, in dark tides, my limp body washed ashore,
I was another roasted carcass for her blackened stew.
Waves washed beads of sand over me, around and about
I woke to see a smiling sky, laughing at my sad demise
I was but a damn fool, allowing her to have me as her prize
She kissed with thorny lips, smelled me with a bearded snout.
I lay waiting for dawn to tell me it was but a bad dream
Its gleaming rays would invade my brain and make it clear
My heart and soul were enslaved. I wallowed in woeful fear
She always dragged me in, convincing me we were a team.
I sensed night coming forth and dreaded the moon beams
This time her thorns pierced my lips, blinding me with lust
The temptation was too riveting. My body she had trussed
Her fingers soothed then strangled 'til I heard my own screams
Another bitter potion she'd concocted and lured me to drink
My breath came in short gasps as she searched my glazed eyes
Night hawks called, so I thought, but the trills were my own cries
I prayed to wake, but I swam in her dark waters, blacker than ink
Disgusted with my weakness. What kind of man had I become?
Tortured for want of the one who held hate within her heart
These thoughts meandered through my mind, tearing me apart
I must be strong to turn away and never more to her succumb
Another sunrise found me, my back flayed upon the beach
Rays of dawn warmed me before a salty wave slapped my face
I could not move, or would not move. In shame I was a disgrace
I walked into the ocean. In death I'd be out of her tentacled reach.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Robert,
thank you for asking me to reach into the dark a bit for this one.
I'm always honored to mingle my words with yours.
In the book of Matthew for everyone to see
It asks a very clear question, Where Is He?
Who are they talking about? Who could they possibly mean.
I believe they're referring to Jesus Christ, the new born king
There were three men from far away kingdoms
known as The Magi
They had come to acknowledge The Son of Man
thus fulfilling the prophecy
Guided by a bright star
on the eastern horizon
They travelled far to see the One that God
said keep their eyes on
Born in a manger to the carpenter Joseph and the Virgin Mary
He was the Holy Spirit in the flesh, God's prodigy
Laying in a bed of hay
He was sent to show us The Way
We've forgotten what the day Christmas truly represents
It's not about gadgets, new clothes nor expensive presents
It's not about I-pods, plasma TVs or the new X-box toy
It's the day to celebrate the birth of our Savior the Deliverer of our Joy
We can't seem to remember that Jesus was sent as a gift from God above
To deliver us and redeem us with the sacrifice of His blood
That was on the crown and the cross for all the people to see
But the one unanswered question remains
Where Is He?
The Jews betrayed Him, the Romans flayed Him
they kicked Him to the curb
They could not discern that He was God in the flesh
and His flesh was the Word
They tried to corrupt Him, then interrupt Him
when all He wanted was to show them God's Kind
But the passion in Him had subsided because of their closed minds
Where Is He, the one we now need the most?
Where Is He, that manifestation of the Holy Ghost?
Well He's not at Macy's, He's not at Target and
you can't reach Him on the latest I phone
Would you even greet Him or mistreat Him as
the heir to the heavenly throne?
If you were to see Him, could you even perceive Him
as being the most important gift
that Father God had sent to us,
so that our hope and spirits would lift?
Where Is He?, God's only begotten Son,
the child in the manger, the new born king, the Anointed One?
Many now believe Him, many now receive Him
that miracle maker from so long ago
Our Messiah, Our Salvation the One we all should know
Where is He?
The world closes in; it’s so close in here
The light grows dim, I’m full of fear
Please help me love, before I fade
Don’t leave me love, not this afraid
Circling shades that rip and tear, flesh is flayed and heart laid bare
Crawled towards hands dripping blood; all that’s left is the place you stood
Oh so cold that empty ground, as the shades descend with awful sound
The banshee screams of tortured souls, were given pause by this death toll
Circling shades found no life blood; all that’s left is the place I stood
There now stands a shadow thin, lost to life and the love within
Hearts don’t scar or fix or mend; they just cease to beat at loves end
The world closes in; it’s so close in here
The light grows dim, I’m full of fear
Please help me love, before I fade
Don’t leave me love, not this afraid
This shadow man rules these shades, the flock of pain out on parade
A guiding dark that kills the light, saving from the blinding sight
Where true love burns so hot and bright, the circling shades come to fight
Drawn to blood to hurt to pain, the suffering of true love insane
This shadow man’s endless foe, with teeth and claws he doth know
He leads his kith his pain filled kin, through the light, the burning sin
The circling shades of oily black, all are souls with no way back
The world closes in; it’s so close in here
The light grows dim, I’m full of fear
Please help me love, before I fade
Don’t leave me love, not this afraid
The heart in him that ceased to beat, an obsidian rock full of heat
A black fire burns deep with in, a fire to forge weapons to win
The endless war against a foe, more deadly than you can ever know
With flesh a flayed and heart of rock, he will endure, he will not stop
The enemy made a true nemesis, when it gave to him that fateful kiss
Locked together in endless duel, shadow and light their respective fuel
A heat from hell burning bright, wrapped with shadows in endless fight
The world closes in; it’s so close in here
The light grows dim, I’m full of fear
Please help me love, before I fade
Don’t leave me love, not this afraid