Long Gutter Poems
Long Gutter Poems. Below are the most popular long Gutter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gutter poems by poem length and keyword.
Descending,
I manipulate and manoeuvre for the updraft
Spluttering,
I spiral down, then briefly up again, to glimpse a glowing sky
Flapping,
I fall forever faster, flat-eagled
Plunging,
I watch the unwelcome gloom envelope my horizon
Tumbling,
I twist, turn and turbulate, ... then the thudding thump
Gasping,
I groan and exhale, a noiseless moan
Curling,
I recoil as innards become outward form
Emerging,
a base inside-out creature crawls and creeps
Tasting,
the tongue-tied intestines and the unseeing socket eyes
Groping,
a gruesome grub befriends the worm and slurps the slug-slime
Engorging,
as flaunted members flail blood and flick licky, sticky fluid
Reforming,
dim visions populate carnal shapes with awful movement
Gaping,
a fearful half-formed and startled face averts its gaze
Residing,
in deep gutter niches... these are my companion dwellers
Wallowing,
I sniff a redolent upswell of dank fissured earth
Disturbing,
I scrape, cleave and wipe away a smear of covering soil
Trembling,
I sense a warmth of body, a stretching of exotic wings
Enquiring,
I mutter clumsy overtures and crude enticements
Retreating,
I hear unmistaken rebuke and a sigh of disappointment
Imploring,
I elevate my utterances and seek a further hearing
Caressing,
I feel a welcoming and forgiving response
Pulsing,
the creature's cocoon gives way to nebulous female form
Ascending,
at first a cherub woman smiles playfully down on me
Transforming,
a stimulating and sensuous siren cavorts and teases
Uplifting,
wings gather me in for a swooping flight of fancy
Revealing,
from above, her intimate view of dwellers in the hinterland
Coaxing,
she fills me now with empathy and understanding
Alighting,
my body-mind lies prone beneath her
Tingling,
I feel her form and thoughts slowly enter and encompass me
Exploring,
I arouse and we gently probe between lips and sphincter
Delving,
I follow our rhythm of kiss, taste, touch and thrust
Wandering,
I experience our ambiguous male and female desire
Playing,
I laugh at how we tickle our innocence and sophistication
Loving,
I know for delirious moments what it is to be another
Consumed,
lost in coexistence with a like- but more extraordinary- mind
> Walking into that bar
>
> That nefarious den of
> iniquity and evilness
>
> Twenty drinks too sober
> The scent of bad craziness
>
> Hung in the air
> Like an over ripe mango
> Desperately seeking to have
> sex
> With wild, dressed up bananas
> Running around with the Orange Man
> Down the Street
> The Moon looks out on the mad
> scene
> Sniffs the air
>
> Saying, "Man, this is
> bad craziness"
>
> And runs away to join her
> lover the Sun
>
> In an orgy of drunken
> forgetfulness
> The Planet Mars, not amused
> Chases after the maiden Venus
> Under the cold, calculating
> glances of the Planet Pluto
> The Moon and the Sun
>
> Rent a room in the Hotel
> Venus
>
> Across from the Jupiter All
> Night Diner
> Cosmic **** kickers
>
> Out for a night of Earth
> bashing
> The Earth trembles, shaken
> Moans with passion
> And I awake
>
> Saying, that was bad
> craziness
> Out there on the edge
>
> Between the inner me and the
> outer Zone
> I went on down the road
>
> And met a lady
>
> A outlaw lady on the far side
> Money, power, passion
> Rolled up in a bundle
>
> Electric chemistry
> Fills my head
>
> Zapping my brain
> Into demented muscles
> Paranoid, pulsating images
> Scream out
>
> With mad passion
> And demented noises
> The night turns ugly fast
>
> And very, very weird
>
> Weirdness in the air
> Scent of bad craziness
> The moon
> Is freaked out
>
> The Sun falls asleep in the
> gutter
>
> And I say to myself
>
> I'm just another cosmic Guy
> On the loose, on the edge,
> On the wild side of things
>
> Watching the show,
> Unfold,
> I wonder, is this all
> A drunken bum show?
>
> Who is the star, who is she
>
> The maiden up there in the
> bar
> Black, leather jackets
>
> On stage naked visions of
> nightly lust
> Dancing with an attitude that
> could kill
> An elephant in heat
>
> And the Moon
>
> Continues to dance across the
> evening sky
>
> Satisfied, allows mankind to
> sleep it off
\ Yet another night in the City
> of demented Angels
>
> Finally rest as the sun comes
> up
>
> The masks come back on
>
> And I walk down the road
>
> Putting everything back into
> the box
> Until the next night
>
> Of bad craziness
> Lets the wild beast within
> Escape its leash.
>
> Bad Craziness rising yet
> again
I stayed awake all night listening to the sounds fighting with the night and battle raging in the street erupting my heart beat, one bad news after the other the body lie waiting in the gutter and the morning crowd kept walking on without a music or a song, and I said to myself what on earth is going on?
It is the question you usually hear when the dogs’ barks late at nights and the stars over your head are shining brightly and hope looks at you from the window. You cannot read it; you cannot understand it and you cannot deny it.
It looks like a pecan pie rolling sitting on the table with shoes and hat getting ready to connect the dot and the man in the dressing room is walking with a gun strapped to his side and a beach ball bouncing in front of him.
I am still wrestling with this heavy feeling inside it is not pain or any form of physical aliment, it is the environment and its occupants that is sucking the raw energy out of me and the urgency to tell a prolific story. I can’t tell it alone; I have to tell it in a night gown with incandescent lights around my bed and a bulletproof roof over my head. When the tension fades and morning weight subsides, we will write this story together and it will serve for the next century.
The temperature is rising and the squirrels are coming out of the ground they have fist like man and sand to cover the entire land. They are running up and down the streets trying to escape the beguiling heat but the sun creates a simple track and mercy is holding on to the rock with the pipers and the minstrel playing a merry tune
It is not the rhythm that you usually hear or the one that is saturated in the atmosphere, it is not the sound of death that is running the marathon around the track, it is the formula that you dig out of ice and the jewel that is sold at a very high price, it is the type of rhythm that make me feel nice. For one moment the cluttered space around me evaporate in thin air.
The window is wide open in my face and I can see everyone that entered the race, they are still walking under heavy burden covering grounds and surveying the town, and looking for substance all around but just before 2:00pm the ship will dock in the harbor and you will have fine spices and tea for th rest of your life; the window is open wide and I can see you standing in awe gallivanting with your new bride.
A Dragon Squirrel Brigade
Dragon got home from the Army, wanting to be totally, in control.
He wanted to be a Drill Sergeant, to teach the recruits, to be bold.
He gave them all a blankie, and a binkie they could keep, I am told.
They’d throw a rock, and shoot in a blink, like the knight’s of old.
He’d practice the squirrels, now, waging a fight, in an old Hawk War.
A sling shot army, his name to fame, who could dare ask for more?
An army waiting, as they fly at our birds, yep, here’d come the corps.
The gumball tree is ready, yes, ammunition does abound, in galore!
Yep, they’re better than those darn possums, I say, sleeping in the day.
They’d Shoot, hanging upside down, slingshots and gumballs, into play.
Dragon marched them up and down, the trunk, and limbs, in the array.
They’d find the perfect spots, to shoot from, at their whim, in the foray.
Seems, they also learned to jump, into an amazing flying squirrel act.
The flying squirrel missed his target, got caught, in a boy’s hair, for a fact!
A kid then threw rocks at the troops, as the hawks were forgot, you think!
Unfortunately, they are squirrels, and some times, do some squirrelly things.
They closed the town down, with a hornet’s nest in every Road. That stings!
Nobody dared go down the streets, a curfew had been struck, in a blink.
Yep, at that moment, the Hawk decided to stealthfully, swoop in for a bird.
A gutter frog jumped on the hawk’s back, forcing him, to the ground, I heard.
At that, our first hero was made, as gutter frogs joined the squirrel brigade.
As the squirrel was removed from the boys’ hair, the barbershop became…
A place for squirrel nesting supplies, so the curfew was lifted, fast as it came.
A gutter frog offering this advice, became the new General, in this war game.
Squirrels, were tired of marching, and being yelled at by Dragon, that night.
They replaced him with the gutter frog, with less smoke and fire. Alright!
But Dragon’s work was done that day, as the troops were ready to fight.
Finally he was a Hero, for he had turned the tide… He was so very proud.
The moral to my story is:
The troops got a Drill Sergeant, but didn’t need him any more.
A General is enough to carry on, for a Generals’ planning is better…
Than a young Dragon’s power and fire… as, yes, Dragon went off to play.
Written by Carol Eastman 2-8-2015
Myrtle Parker
Myrtle Parker lived on the Riviera,
That’s the English one not the French.
Her favourite tipple is Red Currant Cider,
Only beverage her thirst would quench.
Never did she marry no husband,
Preference for life single and free,
Though kept two doggy companions,
Twin Westies, Florence and Zebedee.
Miss Parker was a gatherer and hoarder,
Antiques, curios, lots of impractical tat.
Her catchphrase was somewhat familiar,
“I‘ll find a good use for that.”
Tumbledown Cottage name on the gate,
Aptly called for badly required repair.
The man from Devonshire Council,
Shakes his head in anguished despair.
Oh, dear Myrtle what are we to do,
I cannot see the wood for the trees,
Environment Officer is calling today,
He doesn’t like cockroach and fleas.
Myrtle lives close to Muscle shell beach,
Small cove of shingle and coarse sand,
Opposite the Cat protection league,
Where she buys new clothes second hand.
One summer had a house full of Kittens,
That grew into fully grown cats.
They left her in search of new comforts,
Plagued by visits of large rodent rats.
Myrtle decided on a radical clear out,
To make way for a new feather bed,
But could not let go of her treasures,
So continued sleeping on the sofa instead.
Seventy years old, obstinate and proud,
Devon Council man returned to her door.
“This house is making you poorly my dear,
Regretfully you cannot live here anymore.
Oh, dear Myrtle here’s what we’ll do,
Move you into a comfy town flat,
Environment Officer is calling today,
Condemn your cottage, so sorry about that.
Myrtle Parker was born in this house,
Her father he worked on the boats,
Mother stayed home baking bread,
From freshly ground buckwheat groats.
Tumbledown cottage is full of memories,
Though can’t find many for the clutter.
Diminutive rooms two up two down,
Walls dampened by broken pipe gutter.
If I have to go then take me in a box,
She chained herself to the newel post.
I’ll defend my rights for all I’m worth,
Then haunt Council man as his ghost.
Council man arrives excited with keys,
For Miss Parkers new urban home,
But Myrtle had been true to her word,
and perished on the staircase all alone.
Oh, dear Myrtle what have you done,
Your new flat was shiny and clean,
Environment Officer is calling today,
Demolition boss with bulldozer team.
I watch for her after midnight's twelve strokes,
often thinking how life likes to play cruel jokes.
Stilettos clicked on pavers as she walked
a nod on the stairs, but we'd never talked.
Eyes smudged with black liner, like bars on a cell,
She always returns looking like she's been through hell.
I knew her name was Lucy. I heard him yell at her last night.
She trembled past me in the hallway, teary eyes full of fright.
Midnight lady, short skirts, and pouting ruby lips,
street corners for an office as she swings her hips.
I saw her in the morning light when she walked out the door.
Fresh face, pink cheeks scrubbed clean, and nothing more.
In jeans and baggy t-shirt, she looked like an innocent child,
not the kind of woman who got paid to drive men wild.
Lucy - if I tried to rescue you what would you think of that?
Would you have to worry about the guy who wears the fancy hat?
No one can own another, so I'd like to make an offer to you.
I'll buy you a ticket to anywhere if you tell me you're through.
I'm just a stranger, but I know who and what you are...
too young and beautiful to live a life that's so bizarre.
I've never gotten over how guilty it made me feel
for living that life while pretending nothing was real.
I'm offering you the way to get out the mess you're in,
a life of danger, a tangled web of emotional sin.
Dear Lucy,
I'm leaving this note and money under your door
because I don't wanna see you around here anymore.
I wish someone had given me the chance to be free
then maybe I could forgive myself for what I used to be.
You don't know who I am, and it really doesn't matter.
My name once was Lucy, before I was bruised and battered.
Long ago I had a daughter that I was forced to give away.
I'll regret the choice I made until my breath fades away.
Signed: Someone who cares
Someone who dares
I prayed this Lucy was not the daughter I had born.
In her faded jeans and baggy t-shirt she had worn,
I watched her walk away with all she owned flung over her shoulder.
I knew she'd have a better life than I had by the time she was older.
As a tree, my limbs are broken and brittle. My life not worth a dime.
But if she is my fallen apple, out of the gutter I must help her climb.
DONJOURN WORLD
Help me for i want to know
Although to know for me is to be free
But not by all men, but by my freedom
I have been lying in this gutter world
Wondering why i cannot get up
Perhaps fight my way to the freedom land
Where i see all men work and walk in pleasure
Yet the more i see all men walk pleasurably on the land
I hate the morning that raise me down through the donjourn land
Early that morning i found out
That inside this donjourn is where most people in our world belongs
Funny enough is it in cry
As i found out that we have the same believe, share faith, one same blame
It is their fault; they are responsible for the big world in the gutter
I know that during the beginning there was no gutter
Infact, the world indeed was built without shallow pit
And ground of merciless abode as ours
Yet for men to be happy and share wickedness
They built this absurd kingdom
Every time i see one in the land kingdom and beg for their help
They have a recitation that made me believe
That their world is a world of same slogan, one belief
How did you manage to end up here
Find your way up, i have a lot on my hand
Yet the hand seems free, less occupy i swear
Although, it is a question and a little confusing answer
But sure painful, also a heart sincere message
A rather two edge sword
Our kingdom always dash the pains away
With the normal consolation word
I know they will all deny the charge
That we happen to exist here does not mean that we will end up here
One day i know by our complain and the God that put us here
By our side, we will at the end of the day join the land mob
But the space of time and what they are doing
And the endurance of the complain in them
Made me hate them by their will
In them i see much difference from me
Their will and my will, their see and my see
Have a lot of gap than our appearance
In theirs’, there is no way
In mine, there are ways
But i only want to find out the time
And if possible know how to break quick
To become the lord and king in the land kingdom
Early word by the land kingdom friend
Made me know that i hold my freedom
I was once like you but i never believe what you people says
And that is what led me to the land kingdom
I always think more than the land kingdom
One more mystery that no one knows
I think like the God that created all kingdom
MINNESOTA OG
by BambiLynn'14
We need to bring some OG back to the game
They say only playas change, the games stays the same
But that ain't true, and it smells bad too
I've watched and thought and come up w this notion
Staying true to me is failing thug devotion
OG principles need to get back in track
Stop violence and hate, bring respect, g.p., and true hustling back!
All this hatin and violence can hit the door
Let's define what OLD SCHOOL GANGSTAS stood for
There was standards and rules for all OG
And to fit in the circle, you had to be...
True to the game w caliber and class
Not recognizing popcorn, gorilla, gutter, or trash
No one took from their home to invest in the game (insane)
You put your all in your home then hustled to come up or keep yo standard of living the same
The game kept severe poverty out of the life
Especially for kids whose dads walked out on their wife
Back then the only out was to play ball
Working only for a few gifted and tall
OG's didn't hate, had each other's backs
Supporting and competeing a little in building stacks
No pulling guns If one in the circle did wrong or violated
It was worse when OG's shut them out into starvation
Paying in shame, and being left out and without
Teaching a lesson instead of ending lives is better without doubt
Violence puts everything in the spotlight
Stopping all hustle, all money, having to set it down out if sight
When you take a life, you end yours too
Original purpose defeated, no life, no money you fool
When our own turns on itself~something's terribly wrong
Bring some OG back is the point of this song
Treat one another with love and respect
Deaths only a heartbeat away, on that you can bet
Stop all this killing and hate, have each other's back
Burning your own bridges isn't the right fight or attack
No hustle or game should be how you live
Or the legacy passed down to your kids with nothing to give
It should only be used as needed to come up and do more
Making things better for our families, not killing them to even the score
Don't take from the kids, settling for gutter and trash
Be true to you and the game, with caliber and class
Do what you do to come up, but keep growing past the game
Fight to be better, not each other, keep home and family sane
Dawn Forever Rising
It starts
Street lights fade
their tiny soft-winged tenants flee
checkerboard facades change
last night's illumined squares now dark
become but yesterday's portals
some polished
some weather streaked
all reaching to reflect first breath
Steam ascends from the city's vacuum
gratings rattle with subterranean yawning
people-movers wind their way
through mazes of starts
stops
Topside tracks
like fixed contrails
glisten with frost
not yet enjoined by speeding transit
their skeletal tributaries
readying the trickle of humanity
into a mass ocean of glass and steel survival
Uptown
Downtown
A street sweeper's tire rubber and swirling brushes
beneath the overalled believer in Lottos
holding firm the wheel and gears of faith
of trust
gathering gutter-lodged disposal
glass and plastic
paper and cardboard
spinning into the vortex
lifting yesterday's careless cast-offs
inviting today's Starbuck anew
reflections of another kind
Leashes strain from anxious sniffing
bladders hold
ready to burst
seeking just the right tree
the right hydrant
the "ah, yes" that only a canine can know
Rays of sun begin spilling down alleyways
the long-tail rodents scamper for cover
their bellies full
seeking safety after a long night of ancient ritual
food of anything
digestion of history
all in a night's work
Suddenly
Full light cascades down avenues and streets
itinerant pigeons and seagulls spread habitual wings
ready to adore the steadies
the loners
park walkers
window ledge dependables
homeless with dance cards of crumbs
envying the moneyed insomniacs throwing chunks
baguettes gone stale
fit for few
a feast for many
senses loving the coos and warbles
the bobbing thank you
the reciprocal bonding
few but the lonely can appreciate
Finally
The steel and glass imitation of nature
comes fully alive
a sun's illumination without reserve
energy's provision for another day
Rich mix with the poor
money exchanges hands
the hotdog vendor
the hedge fund taker
the cookie jar provider
Most become tomorrow's yesterday
knowing little of the other light
requiring no rising or setting
illumination that never grows dim
something as nothing
forever light
never of darkness
Such for some
awakens from a New York sunrise
this dichotomy like no other
forever reminding
our eyes of dawn
one's inner light
is forever rising
Verse 1
Yo, in the heart of the concrete where dreams collide,
I was born in a struggle, learned to thrive and survive,
From the south, but my hustle got that east coast flair,
Faded jeans and old kicks, but I’m still rare,
Lurking in the shadows, they doubt what I’m about,
Impossible they said, but I’m breaking every route,
Like a plain yellow pumpkin turned golden carriage,
From the block to the penthouse, I’m living like a marriage,
Between ambition and hunger, yeah, that’s my reflection,
Navigating through these streets, I’m the intersection,
Dodging all the envy like I’m Neo in the matrix,
Climbing to the top while they stay in the basics,
Plotting my ascent, got the crown in my sights,
With my heart on my sleeve, I’m igniting the nights,
Chorus
It's impossible, they said, but I’m breaking that mold,
A plain country bumpkin with a story to be told,
Got a slipper made of dreams, fitting snug on my goals,
I’m the prince in this game, while the world unfolds,
Verse 2
Rolling through the city, feeling like a king,
With every bar I spit, man, I’m claiming my bling,
From the dirt roads to the bright city lights,
I flipped the script, now my future’s looking bright,
Yeah, they see me grind, they see me elevate,
But they don’t see the late nights or the fears I contemplate,
Used to dream in silence, now I’m loud with my truth,
The proof’s in the hustle, and I’m out here uncouth,
Street symphony, composing every note with finesse,
From the struggles in the gutter to the lavishness I possess,
Impossible for a bumpkin? Nah, I’m redefining the game,
With a vision in my heart, I’m igniting the flame,
So every doubter can witness the rise from the ground,
I’m the fairy tale hero, no need for a crown,
Chorus
It's impossible, they said, but I’m breaking that mold,
A plain country bumpkin with a story to be told,
Got a slipper made of dreams, fitting snug on my goals,
I’m the prince in this game, while the world unfolds,
Outro
So here’s to the dreamers, the ones who don’t fit,
The pumpkins turning carriages, yeah, we’re lit,
From the streets to the stage, we’re claiming our space,
In this world of impossible, we’re winning the race,
They thought it was impossible, but we’re rewriting fate,
A plain country bumpkin? Nah, I’m ready to elevate.