Long Hostile Poems
Long Hostile Poems. Below are the most popular long Hostile by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hostile poems by poem length and keyword.
Myself
Me! Mere a lady not fairy
Wished to be very Special,
Noble, High Intellectual,
Sublime, Supernatural,
But turned just ordinary.
God-gifted was my talent.
Goal was ahead to access
through hostile circumstances.
Failure dominated success,
in old age only to lament.
Started as child prodigy
devoid of proper love and care,
lacking in genuine partner to share,
being a lone fighter to bear and dare
in last phase composed an elegy.
04/02/16
"Futile Fragments" ( A collaboration~ Linda-Marie P.S. sweetheart )
by~ LINDA MARIE *p.s. SWEETHEART
shattered to inner core emotions reside in vogue
as tattered tapestry etches death to vibrant vase
egotistical desires ejected common sense to rogue
fine ... adieu ... departure in the misty vague haze ...
fragmented fragile pieces exploded with destruction
simulation created to ebony volcanic ash
love vacated unceremoniously scans of interruption
emotions sustain tremors of immature backlash ...
enchanting charms reflecting the pain of sheer intense
to resurrect romance is a haunting dream of death
provoking passions escalate chaos ... havoc ... suspense
suffocation dwelling to captivate life's bated breath ...
bittersweet faded memories succumb to shadowed jest ...
by~ POET D:
Moshing fragments overlooked, a darker dance limitless
conventional Gothic hearings..... praising the sewer that runs
analysis running ticking with the passion of an atomic bomb
the perceived exotic unity of this frightens world~ shadow dust
lashing out tropical grasses and utilities . . . tampering every hell
Burning paper that represents hostile . . . black ashes
results of a detailed creature mourning the abyss
examination of falsification~ fragments that crawl in our inner walls
A poisonous micro-fragment is presented approaching
objective with the exploration of breakage . . . virus. . . patterns
meaning destroying every awakening stage in this bio world *via~ wide
Deep identification losing all Revelations,
Laughing fading away with the criteria formed
must we ~ need us~ crawling in my inner walls. . .
use me ~ need me~ feed me~ critically re-evaluate me . . .
A Collaboration with * Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of Poetry Soup RIP
~A Poet Destroyer COLLABORATION~
Careless and crazy I have become as a human being with a wicked human nature that is an entity to God Most High..stumbling upon the tragedies and misfortunes of this World of Woe
Helpless, fearful, cheerless, grateful - these are the sentiments I embrace deep down inside - when will I be set free from this captivity I call Hostile Home?
Emptiness fills my cranium and I am in want of wisdom that is contrary to the lusts of my heart; ancient destruction and decadence takes over me and I am praying that I'll still have hope in mind and confidence to find
Angst and anger zap me like silver lightning and it slithers into my veins, sending me pangs of painstaking pain that overthrows me, overwhelming me to the extreme, my self-esteem below zero
Random rage disappears and I am left with what I call "chear"...fear not, cheer on! Anxious joy chears me on and I am the vibrantless sun and You are the illuminating moon! I'm defeated to the core by the iniquities of my passion-drenched heart, mind and soul
Fearfulness builds adrenaline throughout my body...so uncomfortable in my own skin when I'm associating with my companions
Underestimated by the words I say, but I'm stronger than I realize, I'm not alone and I'm not a failure...I'm an invincible individual with a chearful mentality
Loyal to the creator of this Earth, but I'm fearful of the destruction that the world must go through...but I'm cheerful that You are by my side always and forever - I'm faithful and hopeful that Your Word will lead me to the Kingdom of Infinite Glory, where Jesus Christ will raise us from the dead and crown us as Kings and Priests, so we can judge the world with righteous justice!!
I AM A SURVIVOR
Unforgivable betrayal
Once put me in deep dismal.
Generous Time was best healer.
Deceit failed to be a killer.
Envious enmity once chased
Ungrateful wickedness I faced.
Self-esteem was my protector.
I am an unhurt survivor.
Struggling with hostile ambient
Erect head has never been bent.
I survive being born- fighter.
Life is nothing but adventure.
08/29/17
I 'm A Survivor Contest by Julie Rodeheaver
At the Planet Gym
embodying my best business
when suddenly I wonder
Why am I here?
repeats
and repeats
in my wandering ear
And what magic
might appear
Isn't that *****?
Not WHY am I here
with these Straight People
because this overpopulated question
may obscure other
quieter
ambidextrously resourceful directions
less shaded by fear
of robust diversity
I suppose
But, what can I hear
about why am I here?
and not over There
on the Other side
What two-sided relationships
would I need
to become fully here today?
and all seasons yet to arrive
in this sacred home of People
Plants
and PlanetEarth
With gratitude,
I suppose...
but, Why am I here
again?
Cannot mean
only those purposes and means
asso-sedated with my home address
and sometimes needy
sometimes hostile
[downright spankin mean]
neighbors
More creature comforts,
certainly
AND we search for sacred meaning
inside
more intimate
Spiritual enlightenment
perhaps shyer,
timid
early childhood Loser-Trauma
Drama messages
win/lose valuable
Vulnerable communications
with imperfect win/win transparent closets
Hiding chronic stress histories
of anxiety
longing for sacred peace,
or even just a secular piece, you know,
now and again
For chronic stress,
anxiety
Longing for peace
or restored ego-resiience,
or at least a restored recliner
Happiness, and a marketable craft
and EarthMother teaching skills
For relearning happiness
in hope,
joy
in anticipation,
gratitude
for opportunities
to co-invest
in always interesting neighbors
In the Planet Gym
mindbodying
our best health business.
I was a good Buddhist jack tar,
Confident to sail this ocean of time alone,
All desire renounced and stowed away
Like smuggled cargo I pretend is legal trade.
I was well-practiced in the art of navigating perils,
Steering clear of revenue cutters, hostile native islanders,
And other such threatening complications.
Now has a typhoon struck that threatens contentment,
The swells have made me dizzy
And my sea legs seem uncertain
As I ride Poseidon’s roller coaster sick as a lubber,
An unlucky smuggler caught in the act
Of feeling long dormant desires stage mutiny
And relieve me of command of my senses,
Lusting after that other salty wonder.
They brought me the child
long before he became a man feared for his deadly silence.
He sat at the edge of the chair
like the edge of the world itself,
watching fingers twitch,
watching mouths bend into counterfeit smiles,
watching fathers slam doors
two seconds before the storm arrived.
The others called us “too sensitive.”
But sensitivity is merely pattern recognition
without anesthesia.
He learned early
that love could arrive holding flowers
and leave carrying a weapon.
That footsteps in hallways
forecast weather better than television.
That a tightening jaw,
a shifted glance,
a laugh half a second too sharp
could predict catastrophe
with mathematical precision.
So the nervous system adapted.
Not badly.
Brilliantly.
The brain became a lighthouse
spinning across black water,
searching endlessly for wreckage.
And eventually
the search itself
became the illness.
Because when humans survive enough fires,
they begin smelling smoke
inside rainstorms.
They read danger into pauses,
betrayal into fatigue,
violence into ordinary human clumsiness.
The amygdala, overworked old sentinel,
no longer distinguishes
between a wolf
and the vigilant rabid memory of one.
This is how extremes are born.
Not from madness—
but from repetition.
A person cornered too many times
stops living in the center of the room.
One memorizes exits.
Studies eyes.
Measures tone.
Dissects every syllable
like a bomb technician clipping wires.
And the tragedy—
the terrible, clinical tragedy—
is that that child is often correct.
Just not always.
But “not always”
is where relationships come to die.
Because eventually
the loved one says:
“You think everything is an attack.”
And the wounded mind whispers back:
“No.
Only the things that look exactly like the last one.”
In my profession
we give this elegant names:
Hypervigilance,
trauma response,
hostile attribution bias.
But beneath the textbooks
it is merely this:
A human being
who learned survival then fare well.
The burden bird’s wings in flight,
a duty none should bear
its weight never fair.
Although these wings
a stalwart agent,
is it enough to continue this fight?
An unfair question
to say the least,
the bully burden bird
does not cease.
It is a true beast.
A relentless creature,
a creation by one’s self
but one can’t help.
A hostile hammer
a continuing beat,
there is no sleep.
The fatigue is real
from this self imposed state,
oh please oh please
if only it would retreat.
Forward the burden bird’s flight
with an altitude now lower.
This birds journey to finally end
when there are flowers.
Only to know
if comes departed or celebration
wings will need to soar
bringing true salvation.
3/10/17
Across the entire galaxy
Areas with high to little amounts of gravity
Places torn asunder from catastrophes
And calamities
Causing widespread agony
Events occured slowly and rapidly
Lifeforms with similar and very different anatomies
Any of which may have experienced tragedy
Art of all kinds, occasionally on tapestry
Those with and without any moralities
Experienced or unfamilar with gadgetry
Before, during and after the first and last majesty
Still to this very day, much considered sacrilege and blasphemy
It's a travesty
Because there is more important things happening above and below canopies
Beside, on and nowhere near any balconies
People obsessed and putting out death threats over another's sexuality
Actions carried out callously
With brutality
On purpose or randomly
Showing no practicality
In all actuality
Movies and games of fantasy
But for now I'm talking reality
Staying in touch with my spirituality
While having a plan and strategy
A true man I'll be
Always there for my family
Regardless of if others relate or are not understanding me
Take care of yourself, and any cavity
Don't let it get worse and turn into atrophy
Relations hostile or having amity
Others battling insanity
Apathy
And/ or displaying vanity
Due to their own mentality
I'd like to become experienced with many different things including alchemy
This was intended to be more than a rhapsody
And written with voracity
By: Dalton Ogletree
1/3/2012
Shrouded and festooned with quaintness i try to elucidate the trips of mystery,
T’was dark and it was then I realized that the morn and noon was history.
A smooth trip on mother nature’s bounties rolled on neatly into a joint,
It felt all day as me and the bard within went on a trip from reality the shackle disjoint.
Rendezvous point was miles away at the foothills of the zeauoxian Milky Way
Way beyond my mind can comprehend I see myself move fast and dwindle away.
Away, away and far away through starry paths, the galactic colonies and black holes
Yesterday seemed like tomorrow and today like the near future, written on ash scrolls
Tornados, galactial storms, raining meteorite, planets, & stars,miles beyond them travel,
Oh my body is the ship and my mind the deck console for the paths to ravel.
There at a distance I see us approaching Venus,
Hovering above hostile mutant colonies with mammals, moth worms and flora genus,
Earth behind seemed afar & beautiful and I every moment growing creative and ticinus.
Ship trips and galaxial flips,
Tardy nites and the dark nicotine stained finger tips,
Annular eclipse occurring in my mind’s eye as the white light zips,
Rummaging my mindly scripts for notes of melancholy strains as the notes dance on,
Slammed by the downer, my trips are done and for another, on ganjain I count upon.