Long Insinuated Poems
Long Insinuated Poems. Below are the most popular long Insinuated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Insinuated poems by poem length and keyword.
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES...
The Sage world:
Chorus:
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
Chorus:
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
VERSE 1:
He's very receptive,
Looks extremely objective.
And never regarded as a fugitive.
He's a mighty man equipped by wisdom.
But the judgement on him is insensitive.
He prefers self reliance without boredom,
As his world is shaped by ruth,
And few considers to dwell in.
A world he set to spread truth.
His own confidants wished they jailed him.
Chorus:3 368
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
Chorus:
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
VERSE 2:
All his statements holds a mileage.
And his actions are well managed.
Frankly,he's done no wrong.
Yet, political potency took off his tongue.
Many people insinuated his action was based on denied bung,
Since he stood against corruptible stance.
So he was looked askance.
Making the sage create his own world,
Out of comprehensive swirl.
A world where he now dwells alone,
Enriched to divinely atone.
And now his former nation keeps to bemoan,
Whiles the sage has already forgiven them of their wrong.
Welcome to the sage world!
Chorus:
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
Chorus:
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
Chorus:
OH.. Hooo...
That sage has been sitting there for many days.
He could see every event,
But his silence is causing harm.
At every minute there's a killing.
OH yeaaaah...
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES...
Tattle cries are just as loud as battle cries,
but the difference is
tears from mannequins dry on untouchable skin.
You may have a purpose, but your attempt at a movement
is motionless because your passion
is a carefully constructed image
replicated in a false ideology
that manifests into something specific
obtaining a manual manipulation.
A self servant visibility is indicative
of an egocentric personality and everything insinuated
to be perceptually believed as sacred
usually doesn't leave further than the tapping of your fingers.
You proselytize by regurgitating the ways
of a preferred deity and establish yourself
by turning your mirror to reflect the angle
of how you want to be seen and adjust your thoughts
for a higher seat in your vanity
in order to possess everything in your hypocrisy.
The feedback you get initiates a sedimentary mask
you proudly wear and give a name to because
as a statuesque representative in an upscale consumption
of physical and mindful gluttony,
it is the exemplary rock to inscribe your identity.
You disguise it as spirituality, enlightenment, or awareness
labeling it as politics, religion, parenting, racism,
abortion, extortion, activism, or sexism.
It does not, in anyway, alleviate
the struggling strong minded from with holding their weeps
on garments bled by friends in unsung tongues and private sin,
in time well spent where the secrets
of the heart are kept for keeps rather than exposed and disposed of
in a widespread generic documentary
for the world to see the effects of their warfare.
Where words of vulnerability and exposed nerves
are perceived as nothing but memes and black sheep
trying to be shepherds making lists of things
to better humanity in articles utilized by a machine.
As if the top ten life hacks will take neglcted children
out of the slums of a poor shack
and stop the hateful attacks on those who need welfare.
The bandaging by labeling and over medicating
will not eradicate the urgent need for eye to eye,
flesh to flesh, heart to heart
laughing, kind, grateful, melting of this
plastic society.
A Ghoulish Midnight...
WALKING through an eerie empty field,
Unbelievable! I see three abominable witches around a cauldron!
The Witches from the Hell!
are there a toad, fillet of a snake, toe of a frog, and...
tongue of a dog, and what not - brewing together to make a potion!!!!
How come I find the ominous figures who insinuated Macbeth!
I am not a warrior, no way I want to be the King of England!
Three CREEPY figures DESCENDING from the DARKNESS all around,
there appears a frightful castle on top of the hill,
which was just ordinary yesterday, now
turns into a looming nightmare,
under the spell of an uncanny moon,
probably inhabited by blood-sucking Dracula.
SILHOUETTES of ghosts and goblins are freely roaming in the OPEN,
from the GLOOM of the night I hear werewolves howling...
their shiny teeth gritting and glaring
don't spot any LIVING being except me!!!
Am I the only Victim?!
I DREAD this menacing night. I run and run...
falling into an abyss of frightening silence!
Ohhhhh..Thank my stars! I am alive!
These must be all hallucinations of a HALLOWEEN night!
October 25, 2022
For "Halloween" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
10 required words in bold
Writing Challenge - "X'd Poems Second Chance" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
My body confides in me
in grudging ways,
with little murmurs and signs,
each trying to get attention
without snapping its fingers in my face,
like faint, mysterious radio signals from (inner) outer space
that escape detection often,
comprehension always,
small aches that ghost through my body and
the already over-populated radar of my consciousness,
as if keen on being missed,
rashes like miniature night bloomers on the
vast landscapes of my limbs and torso,
origins unknown,
non-rashes, equally tiny, anonymous things,
that surface but don’t stay long enough
before sinking back into the realm of the forgotten,
eyelid twitching out a code decipherable by no man.
I receive frequent messages,
hinted, insinuated, encrypted.
My body has its own mind.
I’m trying to be a better reader.
The fake isolation of the island insinuated the fostering of remnants;
remnants of religious fervor, close knit seafaring families, and rugged farmers;
remnants of power past and present.
A fog shrouded canvass awaits the onslaught of August revelry.
And, where widows walked the peeks of robber barons manses, the elementals now play.
Tomato red fire trucks ring the seaside green. Throngs of , oh so, polite W.A.S.P.S
and multicultural couples dot the lawn in precise groupings.
The squeal of stroller strapped toddlers echo across ocean
and down alleyways lined with painted ladies
Gay blades and saucy sisters saunter unharassed through the crowds of young families.
Prosperously retirees with salt and pepper hair in pink and green golf shirts line the porches
of the gingerbread homes ringing the green.
In the gazebo a brass band plays John Phillip Souza and closes by belting out
the American anthem, after dark, no flag wave, yet random patriots stand.
Their forms silhouette upon the gray fog like their intentions
mocking the holiday aire with their reminder of war….
those raging on in Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan.
and fade with the crowds roar to “Sit down your blocking the view!”
And as the elite, and privileged meet and greet chatting in wonder over the multiple sightings
of airforce one choppers and past President Clinton.
The three times the worlds average wage is spent on FIREWORKS, frivolously,
for the entertainment of the richest citizens of the planet. God Blessed America.
I will always wonder what sort of love we had.
I was naive and blindly infatuated.
You were seventeen years older than I, and sad.
From the beginning our shaky love was fated.
We had met and I fell, but patiently waited,
a fact for which both of our families were glad.
Even though we spoke with words insinuated,
I will always wonder what sort of love we had.
I wonder if we were a curious dyad.
Was this acerbic love become hate belated?
Only God will decide if this is good or bad.
I was naive and blindly infatuated.
Love faded rapidly after we had dated.
I wondered if I should remain calm or be mad,
I questioned guilty feelings that were created.
You were seventeen years older than I, and sad.
You were time-worn, emotionally armor-clad.
I understand now you would never be sated.
You bore the spirit of an unsettled nomad,
from the beginning our shaky love was fated.
Achingly romantic dreams I had created,
a basis for lifetime togetherness’ launchpad.
Alas, I have become confused and frustrated.
Tomorrow, in a renewed search for Galahad,
I will always wonder.
This article is about the underground lyricist and outlaw musician. For other uses, see Zoltan Goliath, Brent Scorn, Lydia Fox, C. Günter Marrow, Elzbieta Bienga (disambiguation).
Otis (Trench Mouth) Trench was born with pneumonia in a black-rain steel town in Third World, Pennsylvania. He was not expected to survive and received Last Rites. His unction was so extreme, however, Death could not grab hold and he slipped away. He grew up wild, learned his letters from a ragman’s son and took off for the high country and the deep blue sea. Upon his return, he landed a job tending bar in a low life shot-and-beer joint called the Old Salem Tavern, but referred to by locals as The Country Whore Inn. He began composing lyrics as a way of minding the tide and easing the drift. It continues to be an on-going process. In a recent interview with the fashion editor of A Dim, Dark Mirror, Mr. Trench was quoted as saying:
At this specific stage of my existence, and in consideration of the circumstances in which I find myself, it surprises me to discover that rumors of my downfall have been insinuated within the chronology of my tenure, since, upon completion of an extensive and thorough inventory of my physical and spiritual estate, as best can be determined by the faculties I still retain within my possession and deemed by myself to be valid and reliable given an honest assessment of the facts of the matter; I testify for the official record, and in a fashion suitable to be notarized, authorized and cauterized, that regarding the state of my particulars, I am of the firm, unwavering opinion, despite whatever dissenting voices may be heard chiming discordantly in some distant pasture of manure-sodden earth seeking to either disturb my slumber or provoke my wrath, and regardless of whatever graying whiskers I may in fact possess, I aver assuredly that in contradiction to all appearances and any other details not withstanding – my ass ain’t draggin’ yet. In consideration of my prognosis, would you hike up your skirt a little higher, honey?
A dangerous woman conceals her trepidation
Rapidly shifting eyes move from left to right
Squinting with strong winds along the harbor dock
It is not the weather or the dark that causes shivering
She conspicuously hides a bloodied knife
Under a blackened cape while trembling
Old age hides evil beneath a fabricated dress
Evil eyes below the hood
A lie waits on her tongue to spit at passers by
Ready to fire off profanities like spotted poison
Was that a dead man rolled in the ocean
Water is cold this time of year below the planks
Another person might be inclined to walk away
Thinking perhaps it was nothing they had seen
Witnesses have short life expectancies
This girl will not be taken home to mother
It looks suspicious no matter how you look at it
As far as we can see the harbor dock is soaked
Perhaps in darkness, perhaps in blood, or poor lighting
Skews the vision on the scene
She quiets her self down to the insinuated crime
Covers the harbor with grungy diverted eyes
A sharp object in her garment is unseen
Gives no alarm and the smile declares her innocence
Expectations run high with charm on harbor tides
A man might be inclined to walk away enchanted
Say nothing but good evening as he passes
But… What is that emerging from her person
Overlooking the harbor questions linger
Hang over everything we think is simple
Something solid, silver like, emerges from her cape
Another soul escapes, rolls off the dock if I'm not mistaken
from birth until this moment with your family as supporting team
the journey within your space/ time continuum stream
found trials and tribulations comprising the spool o yar existential ream
some incidents assessed in retrospect might now appear
as particularly significant undertakings – getting you grounded with clear
insight into what future dreams may become manifest with yar dear
beloved husband – I aver to when ye will endure empty nest fair
lee soon, whereby yar life will constitute andy and his anatomical gear
whose cupidity, fidelity, integrity, levity, opportunity, runneth tranquil
tiding up for gatherings or packing with his efficient globe trotting skill
bubbling with energy, harmony, synergy through his confluence he rill
lee doth possess – in my humble opinion, though less to take quill
to paper, him this brother in law applauds how he accepted any bitter pill
i.e. figuratively when the fickle finger of fate seemed to obscenely mill
a tate a contrary outcome than he desire, a fighting esprit de corps did fill
his entire being – putting forces of destruction re: no longer threat of evil
which waywardness with this poetic intent to type a birthday cheer
sans thy lovely sister activated thoughts pertaining to positive people dear
as senescence shuttles thine youngest harris heiress who everywhere
she goes affects a blessedly diplomatic, friendly holistic imprimatur
and thus tis probably apropos to attempt to communicate with mere
crude symbols i.e. the 26 letters of the alphabet to formulate the near
wrist approximating her significance in me xy z lived life a prayer
and many a broken wing, but tis necessary 4 me 2 expunge – though rear
the positive presence (most often invisible) whence shari did tear
out from the birth canal even at that early infantile stage did wear
autonomy to evince can do spirit whereby she irresistibly insinuated an air
that inexplicably captivated family, friends, romans….with no blare
ring burst, but she exhibited a magnetic trait – I now heartily cheer
cuz many stepping stones to mine current ah fair
rooted tuber remembered per the unsolicited advice aye did hear
when oft times shuttered in this man cave, hell lair
re: us lee chuckling at online jokes, which laugh tier
medicine for this bot deed father, a pro motor still sputtering each year.
Seven Mossad Agents came to Norway a winter day
when a snow drowns the needs of the homeless
asleep in a shop's doorway absorbing the sarcastic smell
of coffee and the aroma of a Napoleon cream cake.
Their mission was to assassinate a man called a terrorist
by them, but freedom fighters by others.
The target had been located, a man of 47 bearded, with
prematurely gray hair, Semitic features, and a nose somewhat bigger than what is the norm in a Nordic land
He works as a waiter at a cafe, and take the bus home
a quarter past ten in the evening, to his bed-sit, about ten minutes ride from the town.
The group needed two taxis to take them to a hotel called, “Larsen's ski lodge” a pleasant little place with
modern IKEA furniture, giving rooms an airy ambiance
the group went to work at once, the leader carrying a
heavy mobile phone, trying to make contact to base, one presumes an embassy, but failed.
One of the women donned a blond wig, walked to the cafe to be sure their target was there
a quarter past ten two men entered the bus, one of them
who spoke a few word in Swedish, asked for two ticket to Husly which was the lat stop before the bur turned around and back to town
when the “terrorist” alighted the bus the two assassins followed.
No point going into details here, but they got their man
and hid his body in a snow drift.
Cooley, they stood by the stop to catch the bus on its return trip, smoking cigarettes of a foreign brand oblivious eyes saw them at the bus stop
The assassins had overlooked one thing, the man had a girlfriend and when he didn't appeared as usual she went out looking for him with the help of neighbors
Her boyfriend was found in the snowdrift
the police quickly knew what they were dealing with
but since they, the local police were not armed, they waited for reinforcement, when in the morning the assassin group came out to go to the railways station
the group were arrested.
Then the bomb dropped, they had murdered the wrong man, another Arab, they quickly insinuated was a terrorist too, what else was he doing in Norway
The court case took a long time, one of the prosecutors
fell in love with the woman with a fake wig, tried to
say she was an innocent bystander, it didn't wash
the case dragged on, in the end, and since the holocaust
was invoked, the guilty only got a few years.