Long Hazing Poems
Long Hazing Poems. Below are the most popular long Hazing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hazing poems by poem length and keyword.
evening rolled into
my self conscious beliefs
during a subtle warming
of climate change
i'd completed a list
of life's worries
that had henceforth succomb
to a natural disaster before me
why i was quite tempted
to hunker down beneath whims
thee hovering of thee vanishing eye
from this tropical storm
brewing within my soul
emotions were stirring about
calalities of sudden laughter
hazing almost above the hinting
of rouge the sweet nectar
surrounding suicide thoughts
a bleak craving of balance
between life and death
why i'd explored eternal meaning
immortal matter consumed me
wrapping my body in a mauve garment
of my past my present
as my future mingled about sanity
madness had occured over time
an yet i'd never felt
more whole before
than in my death
created somewhere within
my own mangled mind
If one really cares
They can approach their local Mayor
To ask them a question on a Greek organization hazing dare
Either walking through the outdoor mall
Or in a bathroom stall
Yes in the can!
A citizen can make a stand
While dropping a their flap
Making sure the Mayor knows where things are at
It is the people’s right when seeing a community official in sight
To let them know of their plight
But does a person have the access?
When political leaders deal with the masses?
Or are they dependent on the business suit oriented reporter
Doing the information recording
As for getting on the press list
Powers that be should insist
Issues be dealt with and not dismissed
Maturity comes handling a situation
And experience defines this exercise as a professional position
Understanding about the communication flow
Does not depend on who you know
If an important subject needs addressing
It could be solved with a simple apology or someone confessing
Only danger is
When the biz
Is left unattended
A big mess may not be able to be mended
As I sit here by the ocean water
After studying undergrad years ago in Florida
My notebook reflects over the happy hour drink
Our beloved public servants may want to start to think
This whole situation cannot get any colder
And should expect to hear from the master called the voter
Flipping the switch in the ballot booth
That states ‘we have had it’ and we want nothing but the truth
Petals drenched in poison pearls of emerald envy,
carefully placed objectives whilst adrift in my tears of realization
Longing sorrowful souls among lilac lakes,
buried deep into somber depths of tinkering procrastination
Starving for ruby righteousness and pristine perfection, and yet still reaching towards a tilt heart searching desperately sunset embers
Distinguishing luminescent authenticity among
bittersweet endives drifts away with each cooling December
Shall I pursue soft screams for kissed loving
ethereal roses dazzled with enchanting sensations
To float away from every twisted hazing hoax with every spoken whirling weapon - coated with fabrications
All is quiet
as I exit through the Emergency Entrance
at the local hospital.
I notice a black T-shirt
with a pink ribbon logo
announcing in bold green script
"No one fights alone"
Due to context
I'm guessing we're talking about fighting cancer;
harm taking us away
from health care giving and receiving
we would all prefer
while walking out of,
rather than lying in,
any Emergency Entrance.
But, I am a theologian
by training
and practical parenting experience,
so I'm thinking,
Why do we not also wear T-shirts
reminding each other
"No one loves alone"
Or even
"No one loves to fight alone"
or even just among ourselves,
within our own households
and habitats.
I ponder my way back to humble Yaris,
with automatic electronic nothing,
and on the radio I hear clusters of fighting themes:
mental illness
domestic violence
gun violence
automated weaponry
military fear and threat stress-testing, enduring, stretching, growing
hazing as baptism through alcohol
depression and repression and suppression
acclimation to chronic climates of terror
and quiet climates of ever more dissonance
lack of healing sleep
anger management
fear mismanagement
mutual assured destruction (MADness)
diplomacy by threat and RightWing arms sales
military industries
applied increasingly to personal and domestic disarray,
local terrors,
households
and habitats
going up in flames
flowing under floods...
No one fights alone
just as no one loves peace alone,
and health
and ecological wealth
and ego-resilience
and eco-systemic balance,
harmony,
synergy.
No one can sustain love
while violently fighting
just as no one can sustain this fight
for climates
and cultures
and ecologies
and theologies of health
by thinking we are
admirable
or somehow credible
or even possible
sorting through
and choosing Love alone.
As I exit my car,
now home,
I think
My T-shirt would probably be too wordy,
No one loves to fight disease
and unease
alone.
Especially not God
or Allah
or Patriotic Loyalty to Earth
or wherever we find our
remember to Love messages.
All is quiet
as I re-enter our home.
I seem to be,
in this moment,
alone.
Turquoise tears stain my face
Like violet varicose veins
Stains of sentimental sensuality
Wrapped in white fears and black feathers
For love has fuschia flown away
Ruining reverie’s red roses
Turning them black decomposes
Any ink dried died in letters for love
Would have fell on silver sword
Sacrificed, sliding through heart
Silky bloody poetic death
He saves a cutting of brown hair
And a crimson rose of despair
Pressing between pages of art
Like my onyx broken heart
Was only a notch on burnt belt
Firey from love’s hazing hell
Wicked love spell wilting passion
Kisses rationed refusing
To hold wet tongue’s telling
Of rebelling rose’s rise
In spirit despite demise
Petals of purple pain
Painting passion with rain
And teal tears tangerine train
Of torment trailing behind
Like a wedding dress
Of jilted beauty
Doing duty during dilemmas
Flower to remember
Pressed between pages
Of a little black book
Of love unreturned
Life! What approbations to recall?
A solace that never was – Utopia
Should such love get forgiveness?
The seminal seeds of such a cast…
Claims of the spurious narcissistic
Ah! Words, rescind not a sarcoma
lying brashly, filling its poison vial
long swallowed - bona fide denial!
(1/10/2021)
Nearing their curtain’s final fall, they fly
as the geese and monarchs; to warmth they hie
To hobble where once trees stood: golf courses,
smoothed for their lazy electric horses…
Chilled hearts and aching bones pay for the sun
Fenced off for their guarded and landscaped fun
For barely a stone-throw away, poor shakes,
Ripple the divide, hazing man-made lakes…
There they sweat through long sartorial jokes
fearing beams may strike a cancerous stroke
Whites and pastels their preferred uniform
Clearly labeled for their clubs’ garish norm…
Cloistered, they are already neatly packed
Boxed close for flames: coffins securely-stacked.
(3/5/18: ’06 Formula 37PC i/ii DMS)
Focused, concentrating
on some random
but persistent thought
riveted in ruminations
fixed on point and purpose,
ponderings deep and dark
in retrospective scrutiny;
Aged, antiquated,
moments and years,
decades and suddenly a century
passe, slipped into senescence
names, history
lost in time.
Startling, staring, fading away,
hazing in dull images
out of time and out to space,
evanescence, dispersed,
vaporized, evaporated,
lost in the moment,
dematerialized from reality.
Time intervals, stretching, elongating
millennia unrecorded
scratching at eternity,
forever modes, ended
life spans, lifetimes, legacies
names, history, forgotten
in missing time.
A boy. Short. He goes to school and cowardly hides behind every corner, scouting out what lurks behind the next turn. Always shoved and disregarded, he seemed to have no friends. He was bullied everyday by this monster. Someone who terrorized him since day one. “Why me?” was his battle cry, just before every black eye.
A boy. Alone. He was adored at school. A big jock. He hated his life, his choices. He picked on this kid, a rather small kid, who was simply pathetic. He would catch glimpses of him, cowering behind corners, and hiding in bathroom stalls. It was this kid that made him popular. He did not hate this him, but simply saw him as an stress reliever. Anger reliever. He was praised at school, abused at home. School was his safe haven; his home away form home, but no one knew what truly went on behind that strong, muscular smile. Divorce. Abuse. Shame. His mother was a prostitute, sold every part of her just to manage to keep him alive. His father was a drunk. Abused every inch of him to relieve him of his intoxicated wounds.
A mom. A prostitute. As a little girl she was very bright. Did well in school, and even managed to get into a good college. It wasn’t until that one night she mad a stupid mistake. It was one of those fraternity parties. “All the cool kids went, right?” She would tell her self. That’s all it took. One kid. One rufie. One sip. Next thing she knew she was pregnant. She dropped out of college. Told her boyfriend it was his kid. Got married. And had a beautiful baby boy. It took five years until she told her husband the truth. The truth about the conception. He left. She was alone, receiving no support. No money. It took her one month until she found herself in the back of a strangers car in an alley way for $200.
A frat boy. A stupid hazing ritual. “Host a party. Drug a girl. Have sex.” Only he made a mistake. He got drunk. Too drunk. He had no control over his actions. The demon residing within him took over, raped a girl, and impregnated her with what ruined her dreams, his dreams. In frustration he went to get fresh air. And made one more stupid mistake. He was conscious of what he did, and knew he could not live with his mistake. Police found him hung from the fraternity balcony the next morning.
This is in dedication to all those who suffered from something that was no in there control.
Far away in a beautiful world,
She roamed there as if it was hers,
Trees dripping the tears once lost,
And the hills hazing the vision blur.
She walks in beauty like the night cloud,
For here she felt safer,
Than she ever felt in a crowd,
For that one echo she walked hundred miles,
Still found no one,
But not giving up,
Because she has dealt with denials,
These mere words can't explain how she felt,
For in so many years,
She finally felt alive,
Was she the only one who survived?
Heart pounding now,
Strong enough to make her leave,
But this time is different,
This time her heart's not on her sleeves.
Walking down as the night grow,
Near the moor,
Remembering Poe,
'Silence here, nothing more'
All this while,
It has been there,
That feeling,
Of lost love and despair,
This place feels 'fine',
If that's enough,
No soul, no life,
No truth, no lies.
Crowned she ruled,
The place of her own,
Draped she went with the flow,
Of the songs.
Reality still stalks,
Waking up haunts,
It’s sad that it’s almost dawn,
Regaining the conscious,
Still on bed,
Everything looks so familiar,
Yet so strange,
She felt this urge to leave again,
Leave this place to one where she reigned,
For the hope she could find it outside the door,
She went to sleep once more.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,:>>>>>>>:>,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
of late, a solitary fireman’s sedate, sad sobs
sought some balm for his own dreadful sighs,
missing the “arffs” of a terrier he so adored
his eyes slept alone on nights deep in aching ardor…
till he was summoned and exposed to a blazing
untamed flame, raging a tower wired in wild hazing. in
one giant flash of courage, he threw himself unto screams
of canine thunder. then, a fainting spell. a whisked escape…
brave smoke fighter gradually revived from blinks
of quick stupor by warm licks lapping his ashen skin.
accepting tender scratches of mommy dog’s paws,
the flapping ears of puppies awakened his kindred desire…
as he gazed into a gauze of grateful reverie , hounds
clung to his belly as if he were a daddy pooch leading
a lost pack, now orphaned from dreadful calamity,
yet his rare touch dissolved tiny pups’ grating anxiety…
a blessing poured from all this catastrophe… fireman
was awarded three doggies’ full custody. for gratitude
is known as a prize for risking one’s life; the bliss
of God’s gift bestowed on a man and his new family…
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
(( for Joyce Johnson's " Doggy Gratitude" Contest ))