Long Flaying Poems
Long Flaying Poems. Below are the most popular long Flaying by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flaying poems by poem length and keyword.
The surgeon generals
are scalpel meeting once again
Fear doktors of war
are planning to raise another mar
on Earth’s topographical skin
Pigmented epidermal cells
are being prosperity lullabied put to sleep
under the celestial lights
Souls with eyes and minds closed —
their ears tingle lustily,
hearing cash pillow talk on poverty sheets
But, the gorgeous planetary patient
has no operating room human rights
Oh, such an awful terrestrial plight!
Yet, the view from the firmament heights
show another picture
of love from above
No stitches are seen
on the sky blue-eye, brown skin beauty
Regal global queen,
daughter of the Lunar tides,
your disfigurement is a cosmic shame
Moon princess,
Snow White seasonal changeling,
the galloping Four Horsemen are coming
upon the dispossessing gale wind
to trample upon
your perfect facial contours again
Hazel spring eyes,
with a cerulean crown
over her cloud-colored wedding veil
She wears such a Polar aurora adorable,
pristine mountainous gown
But the Jekyll dogs of war
are viciously on the shadow Hyde, waiting
to gnash another canine needle
into your verdant cheek vale fertility
Upon an evergreen face
does not one strand of virgin
forest hair
stand out of winter place
Until the anaesthesia bombs needle drop
to pockmark your oasis skin ...
and the monstrous dissection begins
Bloody butchers bullet love
slaughterhouse flaying
Stitching border sutures ... raised-flag lines
that are ever changing
As the summer fruits of world peace
are no longer autumn falling
Cris-cross scissor map marks
have so money land-lust sullied your timeless beauty
A planetary Bride of Frankenstein
is now your geo-political, laboratory scarred destiny
And I’m afraid to experimentally speak:
more stitches are soon forthcoming
Yet, from high above,
tho’ I hear
the negotiating table scalpel scrapes ...
I see no ugly stitches
on your indigo beautiful oceanic face
I expected more
Tolerance
Understanding
Support
I expected more
Yes, I’m an idealist
I have a better name….
A fool
A child
Thinking that trust still means something
That people won’t turn into cannibals
Eating each other whole
Biting away pieces of reputation
With our razor sharp teeth of
Innuendos
Slander
Gossip
G O S S I P
Without finding out the truth
Hurling words that stab and tear
Flaying souls bare
How do you dare???
How do you dare!!!
I expected more
From you
From him
From her
From them
From us
Cannibalism…what a shame!
Who would engage in that???
And yet
Here we sit at the feast
We sit with blood running down our mouths
Hunched over the carcass of someone’s
Murdered honor
Devouring
Thanking the powers that be…
“Thank God isn't me!”
Gossip = “Social Cannibalism”
Sanctuary not found
“I demand sanctuary!”
I expected more
"Great Expectations"
Dashed to the floor
A fool
A child
“Little one,
“Expect nothing
And you will never get disappointed.”
Eileen Manassian Ghali
PS...this place needs to be a safe place, a haven....a sanctuary for people who share the same love to FINALLY be appreciated for their work and their dreams...goals and aspirations. WE ALL need to think before we "speak" about others and surmise
this or that. We are just going to lose more people from this place if something isn't done about that o'l grapevine... :(
“Wherever two or three are gathered”…or so the verse goes…Here seems to be my take of late...
“Wherever two or three are gathered
Most surely NOT in HIS name
Gossip is the order of day
The hottest PS Game!”
A game in which there are NO winners...only Losers. Think about it...Please...
Also..please...NO COMMENTS on the inspiration behind this...Just some food for thought..for ALL of us.
Darkness crushes last remains of light,
oozing hatred leaks from every pore,
as I stand before my final task.
Sinking deeper within my rotting mind,
cascading horror corrupts ,
laying bloody tale to what awaits.
Stepping forward fear reeks,
delicious decadent it engages my interest,
Watching amusement as all others fail,
each demon before me,
ripped shredded torn apart,
puddles of flesh sauteing in blood.
Pulsating walls beat with lust,
drinking greedily all the splatters,
that perhaps would go to waste.
Treading stealthy over messes of skin,
faces still etched in surprise,
as I had peeled off their smirks.
Facing the ultimate duel,
my dance with the devil,
as the screams of the damned,
play a lilting melody.
Eyes of fire sear through my soul,
to die not now not here,
defiant gaze meets his anger,
deftly seizing this moment of pure rage,
raises his head and lets out a mighty roar,
he charges with all his might and gore.
Slicing precise with the needles embedded under my nails,
those he had put their,
many eons ago,
flaying his flesh into ribbons so pretty,
spraying blood so black ,
night cowered in fear.
Whimpering now this most feared god,
crawling away to escape, I think not!
Straddling now his beaten bloody chest,
slowly painstakingly insert needles into each eye,
licking and sucking my fingers clean,
little gurgles of sound emitted from this once proud king,
leaning down to kiss his sacred lips,
biting out his forked tongue,
enjoying each moment as it slithers down my throat.
Finally slicing his head from his body,
raising it high so all may see,
I am the queen of the dead,
the Soul to die for,
bow before me,
or a similar fate shall be yours.
I ain’t a doctor and never will be,
but one night I got into hot water,
I was trying to help but it didn’t help me,
the night a young wife had a daughter.
And it all began with a sunset,
and me underneath a palm tree,
cutting some fronds off the palm,
due to threats from the S.E.C.
As I cut away fronds near the wire,
a spike lanced into my hand,
and try as I might to retrieve it,
the flamin’ thing had made a stand.
I couldn’t quite hold it with tweezers,
and a needle could just feel the end,
now seeing that it’s after hours,
outpatients I’ll have to attend.
And quietly I sat and I waited,
my turn for the doctor to see,
when a fellow stormed through the door,
in panic he yelled, “Please help me!”
“My wife is out there in a taxi,
and right now she’s having a baby!”
Swiftly the waiting room emptied,
and the only one left there is me.
So I ran to the aid of the father,
and flung open the taxicab door,
removing the young mothers clothes,
and throwing them onto the floor.
Her contractions were ever so close,
I could tell by the way she did shout,
so I yelled at her “Keep on pushing,
and the baby will find its way out.”
But she insisted on wanting to sit up,
I laid across her, to hold her down,
her legs and her arms were all flaying,
and she really was going to town.
Now I was beginning to panic,
‘cause I think her water just broke,
and as I tried to feel for the baby,
somebody grabbed me and spoke.
It was the young mother’s husband,
who thanked me but said, “You’re too late,
my wife has delivered a girl,
and you’re in the wrong taxi mate!”
Let my words bring on the darkness
May my words wrap you in shadow and scrape the inside of your skull
Scarring my beautifully sadistic scenarios on the inside of your braincase
Let my words coat you in darkness
Your nightmares are child's play compared to my twisted creations
Let my words cascade you in darkness
Here's where my words draw on the dark curtain in your thoughts
The pens that I carry rip into the flesh of the one next to you
Dumping endtrails and viscera at your feet
Let my words shroud you I darkness
As the mist settles upon your ankles, holding you in place to witness
Let my words spit upon you the darkness
Now I bite my words into your brain,
Grabbing you by the scruff of your neck
As I lick my pens clean and let your acquaintance's blood run down my chin
Staining my beard with such a lovely taste for later
Let my words grasp you from the darkness
Now your my next meal and your fear makes it more than worth while
Let my words encase you in darkness
Blackness so thick you can't see your hand in front of your face
As my imagination slinks around the room
Clicking their claws on the stone floor
Giving life to sparks as they walk
Let my words pressure you with darkness
Making every breath harder to take.
Let my words claw at you from the darkness
Flaying tendrils of flesh from your body
Piling up like the dead in a Spartan battle.
My imagery locks its claws into your rib cage
Shattering it like glass rods
Spilling your organ upon the floor
Let my words feast on you in the darkness
As they lick your still quivering heart
Frightened of memories fading,
Early morning,
sunlight caressing the face
introspection at the reflection
in the Brahmaputra river
Afternoon,
sweet aroma of the red sand
and green on the countryside
struggles flaying arms to swim
across the blue waters by Narasimaswami temple
while religious, in prayer my hindu hands together
in obedience
red tilak, bells, sanskrit chants, and blessings.
My palm rubbing my little brother's
curled black hair.
His curse and my fret,
a desire to know his last words
Search for his voice in dreams, Since ---
Evening,
at the Christmas markets
walking towards a German castle
with some Ghuwine in my belly.
Later,
my first snowfall
snow angels shining on me
skies dark, trees naked,
and land covered in white,
My haven in New Haven.
7 pm,
climbs by the Kangaroo point
blinded by the flood lights reflecting
on the slippery quary rock.
Night,
Her christian mind, velvety short hair
and her soft cheek against my thumb
by the river bank
Losing her words, familiarity, losing, and
a chance with mon amour.
Late night,
blue fountain (Fountainebleu) camp fires on my birthday
sharing the trunk of a car
for a good night sleep
3 am morning,
glaring at the moonlight on cobblestones
walks in France,
in contemplation of memories old
A day spent, as the next day comes
I crave
to keep something found,
and I crave
for the return of something lost
Traces of the masterful
impregnable prepubescent wall
still extant scads of decades since
complex edifice erected to force tall
permanently leaving me unmoored,
marooned, and furloughed ready for pall
bearers to spill soil upon my
then emaciated stick figure overall,
an unlovely bag of bones
stripped of flesh,
sans unseen deadly parasites,
who valiantly tried to mothball,
and nearly succeeded, kneaded,
and deeded landfall,
when aghast parents
at wits end betiding,
halting, and ramming ace kickball
player with serious
game of life and death,
the latter cleated toehold
unanimous decision to install
topnotch scorer anticipating
seeing his name plaque mounted
within glass encasement within guildhall,
faintly hearing inaudible teammates
praised showered, visited
head upon one, with grit and gall,
who clinched championship
wrathful excoriation against me
referee could not forestall,
who fumbled, kindled (as predicted)
loose tongues flaying hide with no rescue
to escape being skewered behind eight ball,
thus the above "FAKE"
metaphor merely to accentuate
self repudiation delivering
to this defacto scapegoat
bullies taunts endlessly berate
ting, jackknifing, and resulting
with implacable self hate
deferrening allowance,
asper my grant (migrant)
humph...pariah status
to learn social skills quite late,
and apathetically to marry and mate
despite ambivalence within my pate
even now...the entombed fortress prison wall,
I cannot obliterate
hence... no surprise WALLS - I HATE!
In those final moments
before you breathed your last
all you heard
was spat out at you in hate
insults inflicting wounds
deeper than the nails
that riveted your body
to that cross
Out of eyes
swollen almost shut you saw
the ones you’d come to save
foaming at the mouth
in a rave
no time to swallow saliva
because the fast paced taunts
had no pause
your ears filled
not only with blood
but with curses that lacerated
your breaking heart
flaying it
with ever word
how absurd
that these humans
couldn't see the nature of the One
Who could with a WORD
make them all cower
stripped of their power
and He could set Himself free
but...it was not to be
because of His indescribable love
for you...
for me...
Oh, Jesus!
One day
Your ears will fill with praises
songs of victory
dedicated to you
pouring from the lips
of a very different throng
those who to you belong
the saved and the strong
singing at Your feet
lifting Your name high
where it was meant to be
above all names
Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved (Acts 4:12).
Only you know if I’ll be there
if your eyes will fix on mine
shining love that's Divine
as I sing with the rest
a love song to You, Jesus
Only by Grace
only through You
Jesus…
“What a beautiful name it is!”
Eileen Manassian
Inspired by What a Beautiful Name it Is by the group Voice of Lee
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tiIMtID54K8
Reading Poem 3
"Ode to Nicolet Lane"
There I saw green visions,
and a young boy of 9 years running by,
As I stood once again upon the aged asphalt.
Last time I stood there was 58 years hence;
I recall the sun was sinking
like a ship into a gray gloom it seemed,
and summer was breathing its last,
as 1961’s national celebration
of labor and the getting of goods, commenced,
with the flaying and cooking of
pig, bovine and crackling fowl,
our thick smoke arose
like a geyser of giddy anticipation
of all things worth working for,
and worth dying for.
Our thoughts turned to the times
of slowing down the stringent clock,
of attempting to lasso in
the final minutes of faint freedom,
when beneficent windows will exhale at last,
issuing the perfumes of time and closure.
One’s childhood never really dies,
when it is possible to return
to these old mind streets.
I turn on my heels and see
the green trees of Nicolet Lane,
continuing to give a widespread shade
58 years hence,
and I can see Tyke the ghost dog,
chasing yet another chevy impala down this road,
barking and yapping incessantly
at a pair of white-walled tires,
escaping once again this mad dog running amok!
And look. I see Time way down the lane there too,
limping along with a walking stick,
testing the sediment and the feel of autumn’s touch.
We both know supper will soon be served yet again,
and we will exhale at last,
while unfolding our napkins
to receive the soup tureen.
I can sense the air a changing, through my eyes in peripheral see
This I have to await, to await what she brings to we
Oh! this trepidation, I'm in fear of what we've been told
For her skies are not what they seem in fear of her unfold
Suddenly azures are bleached, diminished from their blues
Maybe the headlines, the news informed, are now becoming true
Cobalt bluey greys, amidst blackened silvery delights
Beckon my eyes in see, this night a changing sight
Sporadic openings honour, it's as if their about to clear
Then thunder like kettle drums, reignite my fears
With one hell of a mighty crash, resonating thunderous noise
Straight away my mind reminds that nature knows destroy
Mountains in the distance, in daylight so far away
A flash here, a flash there, their standing in disarray
I stand here awaiting, knowing, that her heavens are about to burst
Her cascade, cacophonous noise, she rarely lets us thirst
Ice bullets teeming, streaming, amidst droplets of what could have been
Crashing, caressing, stressing, man's modern life now screams
Stop-lights, signs swaying, flaying, crashing to the ground
But even the designs of man, can rarely imitate her sounds
Seconds, minutes, hours pass, now a calmness before her storm
There will never be a day, when even we conform
For I marvel in fascination, so vivid in what she displays
In lightening we appear to be, but we will never outweigh