Long Gouge Poems
Long Gouge Poems. Below are the most popular long Gouge by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gouge poems by poem length and keyword.
Let me take you on an adventure,
Through insanities doors, to the land of dementia.
I guarantee you will be spellbound,
While holding on for dear life, riding hell’s bloodhound.
To seek the excruciating pleasures of pain
Where your piercing screams will be my gain
Let me take you through the narrow passage ways,
With the wall embedded razor blades
If you must know, there is only one way in
If you try to go back the blades will rip you skin
And as the passage narrows, believe me the pain will be a real scream.
Why not try the bondage section
This I consider my favourite selection
Watch them sloooooooowly slice chunks from your flesh
And eat them while they are pulsating and fresh.
And when you cry out expressing your pleasure in pain
They’ll gouge your eyes out and eat them, the crunchy sound is appealingly insane.
So if you are interested just sign your name on this scroll
The price is not much just the price of your soul
He spoke before his people a little while back
He tried to justify our presence in Iraq
Against terror there would be a war
Weapons of mass destruction would be no more
They told him of our losses as they tallied the dead
The losses are Insignificant is what he said
Several nations searched the land
But found neither weapons nor contraband
To fund this war being fought on foriegn soil
He allowed OPEC to gouge the price of oil
No controls to be put on their insatiable greed
Leaving the nation in dire need
Politicians have no loyalties if that's what you call it
Their major concern is the size of their wallet
They use the budget and the price of gas
To wage a war on the middle class
So as you campaign on your stack of lies
With rhetoric, excuses and alibis
When the vote is in and the pot is stirred
The common people will be heard.
This was written for the political bull we hear from both sides of the fence.
Empty promises, excuses and justification for major screw ups. The media and
the government appear to be owned by OPEC. We need leadership, not excuses.
We need education, not entitlements.
Twas the night before Christmas I went shopping suits,
As shoes looked rat-eaten, needed also warm boots;
Sales girls, in malls displayed suits in variety,
Blown up cost and lean purse grew my anxiety...!
Malls are looters, I thought, like the fox and sour-grapes,
Have proprietors, owing greed, have become apes?
In cool colors and satiny shine they sell soul,
Counting cash at the cost of the poor is their goal...!
Textile showrooms, as less showy, could be better,
They might not put me a perpetual debtor;
Varieties, there could be more, in cost less,
After all, to grace all seasons I need good dress...!
American Giant; Peter England; Rouje;
All internationals seemed like dagger and gouge;
Fashions so funny; rough and gunny; yet the cost,
Summing my few notes repeatedly, I was lost...!
Settling to try local stores, I slowly walked,
Shops were numerous like swarms serially stocked;
Each had limits in my sight; in brand or in grant,
Grade low if price less and vice versa if looked grand...!
Some smiled; some giggled; some, like friends made me convinced;
Some, like hooker-women luring actions evinced;
All these shops and show-rooms, as I narrate, not bad,
Within, I know, lack of notes is what made me sad...!
Street textile vendors will help me out, I believed,
By such sure sincere folks I will not be deceived;
With such thoughts, like an athlete I ran to each street,
Challenges like pain and perspiration, I did beat...!
You are late - they said, they pack up by twelve at night,
On Christmas they feast; though fiscally they are tight;
I went back thinking of suits within my wardrobe,
Though they have many holes, they are best in whole globe...!
25 November 2022
The Night Before 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
May 8th 2009
take a moment
—to look at me
just one final moment
what do you see?
when you look into my pain-filled eyes
is there darkness?
a sliver of light?
excruciating affliction crashes over me,
do you not see?
is there nothing?
only a blank, impassive face
no significance, no sign
of guilt that smolders inside of me
deadening my sweltered heart
oh how these eyes pour acid rain
incessant dripping in the night
eyelids red and swollen
too miserable to endure
on and on that wretched rain will pour
until there’s nothing anymore
and our cruel silence, that vermin
crawling about awkwardly, unyielding
invading me
dwelling within these withering eyes
that you lackadaisically look upon
in hatred perhaps
or sheer pity
gouge them out of their sockets
they mean nothing
for even the darkness will not blind my heart
my love grows on as my expression dies
time is our enemy now
see how he flies!
look at me
and don’t utter a syllable
simply look
it’s the only way it will cease
a mere gaze
a moment’s peace
be the one to clear the clouds
the filth…
and if you can’t repair my world
replenish the damage
then by your presence
by your life
it will blow the toxic waste away
and clean up the developed grime
that you cannot see
i alone have caused my acid rain
and without you I am nothing
my guilt may devour me
but say nothing and only stare
gaze in wonder
intimately, unfailingly
the dripping is already less heavy
no longer weighing me down
your sun will shine
although you’ll never be mine
i give in…
i accept
my eyes glaze over
in dreariness,
in weariness…
they forlornly droop
tremulously close
stillness overflows
—and my heart slowly…
with much effort
opens
at last
The Rain Has Stopped
While fighters ought to be gracious and calm, feeling fury is a sign of weakness. ( By author )
When everything droops in your wake
Your stance was hollow; it was fake
Your path is fair yet worth the wait
That's where you should wander your fate
I'd cop through a scene of wanton
Key strewn bits are struck by motion
Turn over sadly; roots are hay
I'm vowing my last breath away.
My heart calls for few gouge scorner
Truth spoiled on the side of corner
I am quite keen to accomplish
Fight failed, but never the skirmish
Dread sweeps the sight, and the mind stray
Smile on the lips once sorrows spray
Nose-binds to trust, waive stink disdain
Heart falls with each sight; calm remains.
Uproar warmly greeted my stride
When the grind of routine subside.
The pulse dashed at the sight I view
And heart was thumping in my chew
I breathed to calm my helpless feet
"Stay calm and grow on," to my greet
From inside, mind is home to loads
It's wicked snide skimpy and goads.
Written: January 12, 2022
C Form - Couplet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
“I have seen what cannot be unseen.”
Confessed the little boy
To a uniformed interrogator
From a small chair
In Iraq,
The boy’s lips dried and crumbled
Around his mouth
Like chalk
Outlining the final place and time
Of his terrible crime.
Dust is glued to his cheeks
From what was his teacher’s
Breath of ISIS rot,
The man’s kiss of death
Planted upon the boy
By stolen Mohammad.
From miles and miles of rubble,
From arms and legs
And removed heads,
From the smell of rape still ripe
In the clogged blood rivers,
From cities where fire, wind and stray dogs
Are hung upside down, stiff and dead,
From a country
Where there are no streets, trees or flowers
Anymore,
Where even water refuses to flow,
Where every name of everything
Has vanished
Forever,
Where all the buildings
Have been returned to Earth
Like cracked boulders
Rolled down hillside avalanches.
From this victory…
The boy is all that remains.
What to do with ruins?
Stand
What is left upright, for the sake of defiance?
Cut out his tongue? Gouge his eyes?
Bring in bulldozers and swipe the city clean?
Kill him now, and get it over with?
Spit on their black flag? Ban it forever.
Burn it down to ashes?
Stare upon the whole thing
With unspeakable awe?
Give the former place money to recover?
Remove his hands and feet and turn him loose?
Dig it up from the root, eat it and **** it?
Forgive it.
Forget it?
Rinse, wash, repeat.
Shine the light of God
Upon its evil face.
Stop the insanity of believing in God?
Call them animals, treat them as such?
Fillet them for an eternity?
Put it behind glass in museums.
Enjoy the victory of owning history.
Give up? Call it too grim.
Determine that he’s a ticking time bomb?
Never speak of it again.
Live in fear.
Let him go?
Have faith.
Stuff him with heavenly feathers?
Give them what they deserve.
Start over.
Realize, you can never start over.
But,
Still.
He’s a boy.
Sitting there.
On that chair.
Trembling,
Within a hand’s reach.
What to do?
What to do.
When not only countries are ruined,
But children,
As well.
Why?
The interrogation of my terrain remains united with the departure of my illicit rout.
Unanswered;
It remains unanswered.
Every neglected weep of desolation seems to surrender into a twisted sense of homecoming.
As if I sought for it.
As if I craved for it.
As if I was such a deceiving fool to find comfort in the con of my own coiled hatred.
Every huff of laughter blooms in the scored rage of my cruel consciousness.
Every wretched scald for logic cuts through my stripped armour of malice.
Every beseeched gouge for a way out ignites the contamination of my polluted isolation.
Why?
The secluded sagacity of my sadistic void fades with the shaves of my skin.
As if an answer would demolish the fences of my enclosure.
As if an answer would kiss my wreckage back together.
As if an answer would dim the conceited lights of a blinded stage; a theatre dedicated to the amusement of my liberated decay.
I ask you a question.
Yet perhaps, all this time…
The answer has been inked onto the rot of my revolting ruin.
I am my own void.
Such cowardice. Come out and show your face!
How dare you hide behind that desert shrub.
Because of you, I’m in this barren place,
a parched and burned-up victim of your snub.
You scattered rocks and prickly pear about
to set the stage; then added atmosphere;
offhandedly subjected me to drought.
Now vultures seeking carrion are near.
So I must draw you out from whence you hide
lest down they swoop to gouge my dwindling mind.
To let you go would be my suicide.
I know which bush you’re cowering behind.
My quill is aimed at you. Now change the scene.
Oh, Villain Muse, repaint this wasteland green!
Golden sorrow, wishful ocean breeze
Prick me in the heart, Pluck the cure for your disease
Painted violet for everyone to see
Crimson was the hue, not the colour made to bleed
Carve my mind, plant seeds inside my brain
The wiring of a circuit, I’ll never be explained
“Psychopathic” who is there to blame
For my soul not being the same
Maybe i should tear it all apart
See how long ill go without a heart
I’m not morbid, I never would cause harm
Be grateful you know who you are
Burn me twice, rip the skin off of my face
Document and watch me decay
I’m not human so I don’t have a say
Celebrate if I die today
Slash my skin, or gouge one of my eyes
Fearful of the ink inside
Clutch my throat so I put up a fight
The vivid screams I still hear from that night
Shadowed terrors, the night was what I feared
Soaking through my duvet were tears
Painful breaths whilst covering my ears
When my eyes weren’t closed I thought my end was near
Lightning, thunder, oh how I had changed
My mind has been different since that day
Compensation, I suppose they had to pay
And I suppose that included my therapy
I may be used to standing on a stage
But every actor plays a different face
On a pirate ship in a stormy sea;
goblinskin sails fly o'er me.
To a far off lands wid bloody hands;
upon Savage’s shore did 'e land.
“Sing Hey, Ho, ’m wild and free;
at least its nae a part of me!”
Threw a mad mans skull, 'e spot me prey;
and call me black 'earts into the fray.
Knee deep in mud and covered wid gore
I gouge out der gold teeth ta add to me store.
Sing Hey, Ho, ’m wild and free;
At least its nae a part of me!
We loads de treasure, raise anchors of bone;
hoist high de midsail and fly fast home.
Wid a new gold tooth and diamonds rare;
an' Booberie feathers dance’n me hair.
Sing Hey, Ho, ’m wild and free;
at least its nae a part of me!
From de Slaugh bones jaw 'pon m' knee;
I carve a comb wid a tee hee hee.
Wid a skillful 'and an a bone white knife;
I finish a fob ta bring ta me wife.
Sing Hey, Ho, ’m wild and free;
at least its nae a part of me!
To Cursing's foul harbor threw sewage galore;
bundles of pelts stacked ta da fore,
down da plank, 'e walk wid swaggering stride;
viper oil coats the sword at me side.
Sing Hey, Ho, ’m wild and free;
at least its nae a part of me!
Threw thieves’ foul dens 'e carry me horde
unload at de tanner, strut ‘board.
“Cook ‘ere!” I holler “Bring me dat stew!”
Snowbeast meat pie and hearty brew.
Sing Hey, Ho, ’m wild and free;
at least its nae a part of me!
Ghoulskin sails unfurled, storm crestin' high
'e sail out ta plunder and land 'e spy.
“Ahoy! Me buckos! What’s ’pon dat shore?”
monsters dressed in bones, naught more.
“Sing Hey, Ho, I be wild and free…..
“By gum,” der dressed in de likes a me.”