Long Grotesquely Poems
Long Grotesquely Poems. Below are the most popular long Grotesquely by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grotesquely poems by poem length and keyword.
Under a Stone
The twitter and other news organs are full of women
who never made it big, but come out from under a stone where they hid
tell of sexual exploitations they have suffered, some of it might be true,
but for a chance to shine they make their case grotesquely gruesome,
while it is about a pathetic man who wanted them to masturbate him,
and how they rebuffed him, preferred to hold on to their dignity and lost
the chance to become famous stars.
Balderdash!!!
You didn`t make it to the top simply because you didn`t have the talent
and the tenacity needed, to suffer hunger and rejections, as many
stars have undergone, so you found an excuse for your failure and pathetic
creeps like Harvey W. was perfect; it was his and men like him fault`s
that you took the easy way out, blaming someone else.
Disorderly,
His confusion organized,
Grotesquely haphazard.
She never stopped complaining,
Harping him to distraction.
Even now, he had to search
For a miserable hammer.
Cellar dark,
Hands outstretched,
Light switch elusive,
He hit his head,
Against a beam.
Till he found
That for which he needed.
He hung her portrait
Smack in the middle
Of a bare wall,
Above her beloved dresser,
An antique piece which he abhorred.
He bought a lamp
And vowed it would be lit
Below the face
That looked at him
From high above,
Imploring urgently,
Almost begging him
To do better.
He took up the hammer again
He fixed the small bronze plaque
As level as he only knew how
And read the words there written:
"My beloved Mother".
He smiled.
Innoculate against the forces
of the dark spectrum and it's Siren tune.
It's sickly pale green and gold hues. Monochromatic scale of hallucinogenic hopelessness.
Uses your Pride's Holden Magnet in it's vacuum.
A fog in the distance closes in,
like a Harpy in Venusian Projection,
streaming obscenity,
zooming in mirror of it's dirty vanity.
Principalities stalk the bog of your ruin.
Embalming your soul into insanity, Heretic Cocoon.
The Dance of Death's pompous Melody.
Dreamweaving sutured organ,
piping your fog into Mummy Womb.
Nightwalkers overlook the ritual.
Demon Satellites orbiting your perdition.
They argue this violation is consensual.
Taking not in_- the adorn of light's prism.
But staunching irreverence, a shadowed-stench where the light bends, grotesquely mishapened.
The Lord of the Flies-traps closes as if nothing happened.
Rainbows end.
The Keening
Disconsolate depressions on the valley floor of green
With bodies bent and keening, young girls and their kind
Take to the dead fields down, to fall upon their knees
Scattered, sickly tombstones, laid flat on mud and grass
Hearts broken on the sorrow, nothing more
War leaves desolation in a lingering stench of death
Surroundings void of life but drenched in blood
Despair is in the futures of the mourning maidens
After the fight a second conflict brews, the eerie wailing
Malignant, so many hard tears flood in trembling streams
Down, already in the valley, to join the others
In rattling fear the young girls touch each cheek
Of their men, their loved ones, cold and dead
Grotesquely somber faces sink to morbid depths
As reality sets in, not on their side
A formidable enemy, despair is clearly there
The living reminded forever of the cost of life
Crushed, consumed in hellatious fear that never ends
Their loved ones will never love again
Slaughtered, butchered, wasted on the ground
They sink with deep nausea, ugly as the blackened rocks about
Perverted on the landscape, the dead stay in their place
No more warmth of life to fill their needs
The women weep in competition with the rain in torment
Old ladies place coarse blankets on the raw dead men
Too much pain fills their fragile grieving veins
They sing the keening song to praise their dead
Keening continues on the wind and in the rain
It will never stop, never end, always the same
Disconsolate depressions on the valley floor of green
Wailing with great agony and screams
Entered -12/05/14
Poetry Contest Name - Death Shadow
Sponsored by Justin Bordner
Came back for no good reason, other than making a splash
Recoiling in horror, when my demons emit a flash
Anointed by unholy chrism, absolves me from the trash
Can oil ever be sacred, when not making ready cash
So would heaven be enough, if eternal less one day
It's said hell lasts forever, burning plasma if we stray
I belong in purgatory, in its orbit i'll stay
Even a rogue event horizon, couldn't drag me away
Innards will remain hidden, til grotesquely overblown
A hungry mouth sets up residence, seeking a new home
Put two and two together, you see the vision i've sown
A metaphorical language, this tongue I call my own
In the end love conquers all, even love tainted by hate
I loath its taste in my mouth, pity I’m hooked on the bait
(Probably more a short story than free verse
In any case it’s true,
seen through my eyes as a child)
He was a heavy smoker sat by the fire
Coughing and wheezing hacking up phlegm
spitting it into the blazing hearth,
that hissed back contemptuously upon contact
On a rare occasion when he’d miss,
the dog would lick up the gooey mass
with a determined exuberance
A filthy habit I heard some say behind his back,
but he was always happy,
didn’t care less what others thought of him,
a real character,
anyway my whole family and I liked him
He was our uncle from rural Ireland,
we visited him and his wife
on their small farm a couple of times each year,
probably more so, when my Dad had a car that worked,
My sister and I used to make grossed out faces
at each other when he expectorated into the open
hearth of the fire,
we thought it was pretty cool, and grotesquely funny
One spit in particular is legendary,
he spat out a stringy length of gunk
but needed his fingers to help pull it away from his mouth
and direct it towards the fire,
some actually made the distance,
amazingly the dog raised his head
and caught the rest of it, happily wolfing it down,
I mean come on!
we were still in tears laughing, on the way home in the car
On later visits it seemed bits of his face
were disappearing or bandaged,
still he never complained,
his voice was almost gone anyway,
and most unusually he wasn’t smoking
I was only a kid and in those days
you weren’t supposed to ask questions,
but it didn’t stop me asking my dad,
what was happening to uncle?
He told me uncle had cancer of the mouth,
and part of his tongue and lips had to be cut away,
warning me never to smoke,
even though he had one lighting in his hand
Innocent me thought uncle’s face would grow back
and he’d be ok,
but unfortunately he died pretty soon afterwards,
Damn I used to be spellbound
watching him trying to catch his breath
and hoofing viscous gunk upon the fire,
even more so when he missed
I tried to copy him on a visit to my aunt
just after he passed away,
of course I missed the fire on purpose,
The dog never budged
My sister shook her head
I was truly ashamed!
By
David Kavanagh
a cadaver is laid down on a cold dissecting table;
to study all about life, an anatomist ponders
which organ to be excised for examination without bias
he decided to use a median value of the life
from normal curve within +/-1 sigma area
after a thorough examination of the body
the anatomist who is still breathing decided to excise the heart,
which never was stopped until the cadaver breathed his last breath;
and the brain’s layer after layers of good and bad memories, caused from good and evil thoughts or his behavior while he was alive
inside his heart was contaminated from all kinds of waste
and that’s why it made difficulty in breathing; on the surface,
so many big and small cut outs and stab wounds all overshadowed
by the immorality of the mundane world it makes you want to turn
your face away from it
the brain is no difference, after chopping the skull, the anatomist carefully pulled the brain out, unfolded and examined every nook and corner of the brain. the connected cobweb-like thought’s narrow passageway consisting from all kinds of chemistry symbols; it was, found to be a lump of fossilized DNA so fragile that just a little touch of the hand would make it crumble
at the time when the pulverized fossil blown in the air
carried by a gust of wind, started to release an overpowering
stench so disgusting that nauseates the sniffer; however, as you sniff more
and more, it becomes sweeter and finally enraptured the sniffer.
and after all the mysterious aroma thus becomes powerful enough
to delude you into pretense that you bear a charmed life, thereby
dragging you to stand at the edge of a deadly cliff
if a day of life is entangled with so much oddity and complication,
there won’t be any better and simple life beyond death,
yet the grotesquely structured brain wanted to look into
the world beyond as ever
November first two thousand nineteen...
abuzz with Autumnal thrum
Divine myriad biota amidst
heavenly Lily of the valley
(Convallaria majalis),
he didst imaginatively greet
Edenic heavenly terra
incognita immeasurably sweet
nature's ensemble proffering
Gaia's quintessential orchestration
resplendent sensational treat
natural splendour regaling,
this fellow wayfarer
happenstance gifted autochthonous peoples
espied proud specimens unobtrusive
planted armada, viz sleek bodies fleet,
of foot while me accidentally
risking, schlepping, traipsing... offbeat
winessed unschooled tribe,
yet verily synchronized,
primed, muscled... athlete
their soundless rhythmic swiftly tailored
flit to and fro upon poetic
unshod calloused feet
carefully, gingerly, lightly...
I shod dully tread nsync
toward drumlins upbeat
mouthing, kneading, imbibing... glorious
ebullient choral unadulterated feat
extemporaneously kickstarting crisp and neat
pow hour full rhythm across
analogous macroscopic excellent spreadsheet
inducing their sonorous symphonic
roundelay unfamiliar tweet,
whereby flora and fauna future meal to eat
oblivious regarding mine seat
dated existence, which quiescent aesthete,
yours truly basked,
froliced, luxuriated... complete
as once innocent hymnals kindled atrocity
this observer, spectator aghast white as sheet,
how civilization's machinations didst deplete
terrestrial firmament within one fell stroke
eradicated once pristine unbroken
promises chiseled to cheat
rightful owners expansive swath
over yonder til ocean and land did meet
Europeans scoured seas one after another
lumbering bulwarked fleet
exhausting resources while simultaneous
mowing down aborigines
grotesquely analogous harvesting wheat
indiscriminate deliberate genocide
decimating indigenous tribes beat
defenseless against microbial
weapons of mass destruction,
thus only within third blind eye
courtesy invisible paleface with tenderfeet
strictly envisioned Perkiomen Valley
once abundantly populated
with ample game during cold and/or heat
paradise unbroken stretched hinterland,
where place names mock to pay hollow tribute,
where native peoples no longer replete
vinyl city amidst amidst graveyard
lovely bones turned to dust
paved over by mainstreet.
Amidst ¦¦¦ flowers ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ wine,
I pour alone ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ I invite the Moon,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ Moon does not ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ drink,
My shadow ¦¦¦¦¦¦ follows the movement of my body.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ shadow ¦¦¦ keep me company a while,
The practice of mirth should keep pace with spring.
I start a song and ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dance and the shadow moves grotesquely.
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ let's rejoice with one another,
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ again far in the Milky Way.
(Blackout of Amidst the Flowers a Jug of Wine by Li Bai)
Many a student sees school subjects like 123... ten
Many a student thinks it a den
Such makes out of each a slug
Without taking note it's a humbug
That needs to be attacked with felicity
Through little weeny ferocity
Many a student works with team
Many a student matches alone with his dream
Thus makes his efforts seem dry
As if he had never for once try
Despite the enlightenment of the town
Should have not mark him drown
Many a student works delightfully with codes
Many a student boasts grotesquely of his modes
Leading his way through the same bush
Which the warries and wears continually push
Ends up to pleasurably park
While the toughs blissfully bark
He is the family's pet
Who no one dears spank
Got him the gut to bet
No troubles bank
But the course of great career never did run smooth
That makes one soothe