Long Hallucinations Poems
Long Hallucinations Poems. Below are the most popular long Hallucinations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hallucinations poems by poem length and keyword.
Awful avocados always
Breathe bitter blue breaths
Craving cardinal’s Christmas carols
Ditching deliberate dungarees during
Elusive extraterrestrial escapades.
Forsaking fitful Floridian flamingos,
Getting gaudy, gratuitous gnarly gifts,
Herewith having hilarious hefty hallucinations,
Imagining India’s illustrious indigo ideologies.
Jackals jerry-rigging jealous junking jackalopes
Kangaroos kissing kindly,
Lamenting lovebirds likely leering
Meandering muddobbers making merry,
Nevertheless necessary negotiations
Ostentatiously overhauling orange ostriches
Private parties practically prancing,
Quiet questions quickly questioning
Ripe red russets revolving rapidly
Sensing secretive shadows shyly
Traveling through trickier times,
Underlings ultimately understanding
Variegated virgins vitality
Waxing willfulness whilst
‘xacting ‘xtra ‘xciting
Yarned yellow youthfulness yipping young
Zesty zipper zings zealously, zapping zebras.
On a muddy moonless avenue
his drooped silhouette tugs
while the hollow niche of despair growls--
permeating a former soldier's anthem.
All dawn moaning, all night lamenting
with lost faith buried under clay--
robed in a cloth of delirium from a warfare furious,
blistered hands marking a smoked-alloyed existence.
Quarreling with ghosts, his eyes quiver
as black powder of bullets explodes
unto pools of flushed hallucinations...
unresolved wounds leading him into oblivion.
For Anthony Slausen: Black Powder Contest
11/13/2018
.
LOST dreams slide insensibly toward madness of dreams -- you close your eyes shut your wooden windows to life ~~ your dilated eyes drowning in a violent ocean.
Mister, you forgot your hat but now days no one wears them good day Sir. Oh, froth from your mouth falls pouring the overlow of your head without moorings of your paralyzed tongue. How you got me thinking, "wasting my time."
Outside your heart the citizens of a lost world await tensed up toward your hallucinations.
You let me down.
If we had a world of our own, everything would be nonsense ~~~ so way way down inside curiouser and curiouser! Rabbits and Cats oh whoo!
We were fooling then like double death swift dying of mingled breath an evaporation of unknown strange perfume between souls in a naked room called Love ~~ a telephone.
And still I ask are you the same? How are you feeling? Don't you realize the things we talked about like dreams -- i'd brush summer by with half my smile so half spurn.
Housewives do, a Fly they do like black magic.
If i look into the skies I could with you within a year. I'd wind months into balls and put them separated into drawers by centuries, delayed.
Subtracting, wondering why (that you were mine, I was never yours in time-twilight) i'd toss it yonder, like a defunct mind and choose Eternity.
Okay. So you never answered and I let it ring a bit longer.
Like the shadows of forevermore that will not speak, "it stings."
Oh wap doo duh hop no side dreams between telephone lines.
Oh, hot wax on my third eye it left a mark ~~ it's how I knew I could have loved you.
:: 07.07.2022 ::
Madness, the Mad Hatter blinks.
Madness, Oz's link.
Repercussions of concussions.
Madness was Portnoy's Complaint*,
Madness must reciprocate!
Hallucinations filter by
Leary* winks at Dali's eye.
A house lands on the wicked witches thighs.
Chicken Little wanders by.
"Madness," Hitler's honcho’s sneer.
Madness splices genes with fear.
"Lobotomize!" becomes the cheer.
Kellogg’s* enema's find waiting rears.
"Are you the ass? Or is it me?
Have I ears and a nose? What do you see?"
"Hehawww," said Pinocchio's friends.
"Heeehaw," said Darwin* back again.
Round and round went Steven Hawkings*.
"Madness," said Poe's raven* squawking.
"Madness," said Einstein* in a blink.
It drive me crazy just to think!
"Reciprocate!," said the missing link.
* Art by Salvador Dali
* Portnoy's Complaint by Phillip Roth states
if you know you are crazy than you must be sane.
* Timothy Leary explored LSD and other hallucinogenic drugs.
* Kellog [of cereal fame] proposed enema's as the cure to
all health ills, plus loads of sex!
* Darwin proposed man evolved from apes.
* Edgar Allen Poe was mad when he wrote The Raven.
* Einstein had aspergers syndrome.
* Steven Hawkings is a wheelchair bound scientist [has autism]
he extrapolates on the edge of mathematical reality.[Really!]
A Penn Valley phantom appears to haunt and lurk
premises at 1148 Greentree Lane
his youngest daughter (Abby) I pledged my troth and, natch won my Zison’s
Dunkirk
ire and vindictiveness akin to rivalry of Abel versus Cain
now breeds and festers hallucinations that make me go berserk
also brings to mind myth of another named King Canute, a Great Dane
whose battle cry and hymn of the Republic made manifest with ease of dirk
visitations with ethereal sprite pushes me to madness and makes me go
insane
torture treatment mangles mental management amidst mire and murk!
The rattle of chains heard despite noiseless apparition and wraith, which curse
and bain
from dark and sinister shadows make me feel like a jerk
at such fallacious belief in preternatural imaginative creations ranked as inane
by this skeptic whose vulnerable acuteness to otherworldly visages does perk
especially during wee hours of morning when superstition runs amuck and
seems to gain
upper hand and let spiral out of rational control thought of afterlife quirk
yet confession must be made that long dead father of wife does wag finger of
disdain
and utter silent disapproval and near ruination by marrying a bum of a guy who
lacks for work!
Nautica --By David Lustrup 2012
The moon kisses the sea
With a million points of light
Galaxies in motion
On your surface shine tonight
Your salty water,
An elixir of dreams,
Fluid flowing ether,
Through starlight's glowing beams
Delirium drops and hallucinations,
This gathering of fish, and the crabs, and crustaceans
And all of the beings that live down below,
Enchanted they sway to your ebb and your flow
Gracefully they dance in this briny masquerade
As phosphorescent shrimp light the seaweed promenade
Their gowns flow slowly like serpentine sails
As they dance in moonlight to the song of the whales
Form:
Conscience
Rattling around through the attic
Of twisting pathways –
Buried deep in cellars
Waiting to speak
Always present –
Illuminates
Returning phantoms of ambivalence
That won’t stay out of sight;
Lies
Refusing to stay silent;
Rationales pushed down
Jumping out like a jack in the box;
Marginalizations march
In maddening circles of consequence;
Ghosts of indecent decisions
Unable to rest in peace;
Sly designs of deceit
Slow eat away at the tender marrow;
Masks of deeds conceived in darkness
Fear the face unmasked by transparency;
Anxiety of sins uncloaked
Trembles at the eyes of the not yet;
Buried bones of sneaky words
Speak out unbidden;
Houses of flimsy excuses
Fall like dominoes;
Hallucinations born of if only
Become reality;
Sleep and solitude
Look away;
Pacing arenas of grey acres
Reject clear sunlight;
Music in the mind runs wild,
Refuses resolution;
Ever present truths, twisted in tornadoes,
Remain.
8-11-20
Contest: Infliction
Sponsor: Silent One
Stubbed my toe but I’m still dead.
Moments feel like organs.
And hours are my taste buds tasting organs.
It feels like I’m dead like paint chips crumbling.
It’s like being born as a centipede over and over.
That’s why stuff happens faster.
Blink and your toe pops off in a field of nowhere.
This is like a severe mental illness.
Except that I have most of my eyes and fingers.
Eat a donut like nothingness.
Stubbed my toe and fell asleep.
Sometimes you need a sharp pain.
Like a tree needs branches trimmed.
Stubbed my toe but still have hallucinations.
It takes so much.
Heavenly Hallucinations of Love’s Divine Destiny
A wondrous spirit of true love now softly murmurs its echo
On the wings of God’s angels, as they ascend heavenward.
This and more occurs as radiant cultured pearls begin dancing
Their magical-mystical dance deliciously in the oceans deep.
With this, the bright-blue-mirrored waves of the oceans move
In a melodious tempo of love with the pearls as they dance.
Caressing the heavenly sparkles rippling deep in the oceans’ waves,
An enchanted diamond-cut glass now trembles and shatters loudly!
At this moment, a mermaid of angelic pulchritude takes her divine
Throne as the mystical dance continues throughout the late night.
Crystal chimes begin sounding pure with a fire and fury of emotions
Within our hearts, as they excite our passions palpably and exquisitely!
The candlelight’s effulgent reflection in this moment transfixes me true,
By your warm and loving touch and the magic of your presence with me.
Coloring and scenting the air surpasses all others as the breathless and
Honeycombed eminence of your being touches the depths of my soul!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid, A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – July 21, 2018
(Couplet)
Final stage of dementia, imminent oblivion,
Mind slowly dying, waning to black obsidian,
A trail of breadcrumbs, left behind in my wake,
Beacons across time, for the trek I now face,
Paving the way, for my journey, back home.
These markers I’ve set, some sad, but mostly fun,
An eclipse I once witnessed, of the moon on our sun,
Impossible coincidence, yet happened just the same,
Pebble’s silhouette, overtopping an alpine range,
Paving the way, for my journey, back home.
Something enters my head, and this really scares,
An occupying army, executing locals, in town’s square,
Hanging them on makeshift gallows, I’m so terribly afraid,
Did it even happen, disturbing hallucinations, everyday,
Paving the way, for my journey back home.
So unbearably tragic, when better off to just die,
Last perception, lucid memory, myself a baby boy,
Birds flying around my pram, heart jumps with delight,
Loving parents laughing back, at this gurgling sight,
Paving the way, for my journey back home.
Reflections-echoes-shadows, diminishing light,
I’m moribund now, siphoned away from this life,
A strange unfamiliar signal, begins to resound,
Seismic shock, upon chest, follows heavy pounds,
Paving the way, for my journey, back home.
Grim Reaper he cometh, I grasp his cape tight,
Sensations no more, only darkest ever night,
Paved the way to death, by writing this poem,
Brain has turned to ash, embers guide me home.
Dedicated to my mother
Christine Kavanagh.
1928-2016 RIP
By
David Kavanagh
Form: