Long Invisibly Poems
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The Peterson Directed Handwriting System...
Tis beyond the depth and scope
of this electronic post,
and author, what triggers deliverance
housing bounty full memory absorbance,
yet no matter how many
heat sinks plumb cognizance,
most ordinary happenstance
often dredge up old nettlesome
rusty mettlesome names
of teachers forbearance
nearly half century ago
recalled in a flash,
and helped birth this poetic instance
break open literary
piece de resistance,
yet I will make
no subsequent reference
albeit once, about Peterson Handwriting
non cursively typed poem
filled with nonsensical abundance
dashed off viz seat
of my squarepants
typed, via strong arm lance
meant tubby considered pure entertainment,
so...,this rhyme merely hints
at cerebral imbalance
as minor rave and rants,
culled from convenient
20/20 hindsight stance,
while this quiet as bobbing sponge
minutely straddled across
space time continuum expanse,
and (analogously, invisibly,
plus quixotically perched circumstance
amidst wide webbed worldly metaphysical,
intellectual, and existential kants),
yet unable to disguise me
porous (poor ass) student advance
barely getting promoted,
cuz sigh re: Seine ed lee
imaged myself prince charming
to frolic and prance,
and dreamt about being in France,
when teacher called on me,
I immediately (whistled like
a little teapot) appearance,
whereby steam issued
out chrome dome
(scanned hull – i.e. numb
skull) affixed on
short and stout genetic grants,
which noggin always
(automatically) looked askance,
while me got alphabetically seated
from grades three to six
(mrs wells, mister stout,
missus shaner, and
miss rinderle respectively)
with absolute zero exuberance
(at Henry Kline
Boyer Elementary School,
I just recalled aforementioned
randomly accessed memory by chance
casually rifling thru
memory bank, freelance
sing, while pissing
away time performing,
"I gotta urinate dance,"
thus rendering painstaking years
perfecting penmanship style
(reference poem title)
executed with Liberace flamboyance,
whereat yours truly obsessively and
compulsively excelled at
duplicating signature compliance
plus crossing T's and
dotting I's with rapacious
perfectly ruled slants.
The truth
It will destroy you
An August day
While you sweep up
rose petals
On our Sun drenched
porch
You look at me from
under heavy lashes
And say it's ok
You don't wish to be
without me
It's ok your always
want me
Your never stop
I'll bask in this
glory
Thanking God for you
loving me
As tears prick the
back of my eyes
The hand around my
heart squeezes a
little tighter
Until I am
breathless with it
In time
There is a
difference to us
Making love is no
longer rushed
After
I look at you,
looking down at me
But neither of us
say it's pointless
Your days a little
darker
A little longer
Things a little more
useless
The hand around my
heart squeezes a
little tighter
As the truth picks
away at your dreams
one by one
At Christmas we
pretend we are still
happy
Completely in love
While in the garden
with your sister
The truth pours out
of me in great sobs
She says it's ok
your get through
this
We both know she's
lying
Inside she's crying
I had no right in
making you love me
So the hand squeezes
a little tighter
round my heart
Somewhere along the
way
Anger rises
The tension
surprises us
You begin to resent
me
Hate me for letting
you love me
And I am sorry
I stayed a little
too long
Cared a little too
much
I needed this
whatever it was
So the hand squeezes
a little tighter
round my heart
Invisibly I collect
my possessions
Storing them
They lay in wait
Courage appears
At three in the
morning on a Tuesday
Quietly I get my
things
Wait by the window
for a taxi
As the hand squeezes
a little tighter
round my heart
The knowledge
erupted
Watching you hold
your new Godson
Looking at me
longingly
Knowing I can never
give you this
Tears glazing your
eyes
Looking so proud
It's wrong for me to
keep you
With me this is all
your ever be
A childless man
In your hallway
You help with my
bags saying nothing
I will never be
wife, bnever be a
mother
Without you I'll
never be anything
As the cab pulls
away
You say your always
love me
I say I know
But I have to let
you go
I'm giving you a
chance of what I
can't give you
The most precious
thing
A family
So the hand
completely squeezes
my heart
Still smarting from stupid scamming fraudsters...
five months ago to the day
Twas the cusp of tooth thousand
twenty three summer solstice,
when yours truly (a fool
and his money went separate ways)
mine cherished nest egg,
I would immediately miss
lesson immediately learned courtesy takeaways
linkedin with looted
checking and savings accounts
analogously yanked, unmoored and unbridged
at Citizen Bank quays
me subsequently exhibiting,
maddening, and snorting
re: imagine how figurative
unbridled horse's ass neighs;
a fate engendering
mental anguish on par with
voluntarily unrolling Scottish welcome mat
readying yours truly
being lynched courtesy kkk
(I apologize for any
incantation, incrimination, incubation,
indiscretion, insinuation, intimation, invitation...),
cuz metook poetic license
attempting to accentuate brazen crafty deception,
how con artist invoked tender loving care
while (all the while) stealthily employing
stealing gambit, which hack
by the way incorporated his suppressed hurray
for him positively coaching me
invisibly eliciting, interposing, manifesting,
questing, and ushering entranceway
into sought after vaunted money
synonymously enlisting sprinkled pet accolade
such as "good job"
never disclosing discerning ulterior motive
exacting a risky (business) mission
unlike dramatizing the WWII story
of the Thailand-Burma Railway
regarding those soldiers who built
Bridge over the River Kwai
in the former scenario exhibiting
how yours truly (me) did betray
requisite necessity to protect
fungible assets of mine
by voluntarily cooperating
with the enterprising villainous prankster,
who applying one alias
called himself "Harvey Specter"
guiding blindsided yours truly
(who received nincompoop of the year award)
obliging scoundrel to withdraw cash willingly
and convert sain moolah into bitcoin
(a type of digital currency
in which a record of transactions maintained
and new units of currency are generated
by the computational solution
of mathematical problems,
and which operates independently
of a central bank) courtesy digital wallet,
which nefarious experience found me
posting a gofundme page to no avail!
Who Beside This Atheist Doth "say" Thar Haint No Angels?
Two fatal head on
deadly automobile accidents
in quick succession at
Zieglerville, Pennsylvania
poetic traffic circle
killed me twice today,
this communique notated, recorded,
and transcribed adieu "say"
je nais sais quois eh
by divine angels, who aided
this deceased jay
bird, said winged
saviors didst sashay
in mine close proximity, this lifeless
badly damaged body
sprawled on the road,
when just by the "FAKE"
skin of my...er...dentures,
I whiz invisibly
whisked toward unearthly safety,
and (just in the nick
of time before corpse
of mine thorough lay
underwent aught top say),
this generic organ
donor and eBay
trader found himself shunted
into an expansive
cerebral, cerulean,
and celestial heavenly
gate atmospheric quay
king cosmic arena,
where Cupids practiced play
ying getting strangers lovestruck
when rehearsals debuted, yay
nearly finding this
wordsmith spell bound
yours truly with a may
zing starry eyed,
and stir craze zee,
the first female
(coincidentally, a head
over heels teenage crush)
aye didst yip pee
mon decaying flesh
felt WOWed, cuz she
never looked better re:
eternally sleeping with her
stone face, prithee
one, where death be
not proud did justice,
yet rules forbid fraternizing
with deceased, nee
(repudiating no exceptions
against gender bending
strictures) amidst soul asylum,
could witness punishment, nay
saying of guilty party landing
squarely into jailed
into the absolute
worst hellish clinker
back to the future as
joining every other
mere mortal upon Earth,
next best option offered
aside from (undying soul
reveling in immortality),
would be fate offered,
by Scott, sans the blimey
(hen pecking) road
less traveled me
disappointing fate,
where alternative possibility,
chosen minus collisions, and
absent adolescent
post mortem inamorata.
Reindeer herd - heard clattering
Rangifer tarandus kept
this deep sleeper awake
cavorting, deer ring
escapade haint fake
dreamt only a smattering while
Santa did shimmy and shake
with ho...ho...ho...
no worry mate - everything's jake
resonating resembling thus Spake
Zarathustra jollity did quake.
Yours truly (i.e, me)
awoke with rapture
forty hooves with
four "toes" on each foot
surreptitiously, soundlessly, and simply
did invisibly bore
I noiselessly swore
sizable wrapped holiday box
with duct tape to secure
merchandise found thee missus
(Abby) excitedly tore
painstakingly, neatly, and lovingly
my feeble protest she did ignore
(think lame gesticulations)
ah... lo and behold goodies galore
unable to deter impetuous more
or less analogous to child like roar
ring with giddy excitement
December twenty fifth,
could not await opening your
linkedin holiday deliverance
including Trader Joe's gift card
to "fake" Monseigneur
Matthew Scott with dogspeed
to wish thee (Andy, Ansley,
Marley - if by ghost of chance...)
plus other kith and kin) bonjour,
and joyful new year, whence two score
orbitz will find me
newly minted centenarian, argh... your
brother not yet ready to explore
afterlife, which grave kismet unavoidable,
courtesy grim reaper conquistador
though... even now no fear arises,
when permanent sleep shall nevermore
witness generalized (anticipatory)
anxiety cease to perdure,
which bouts of panic
running rampant near winded seen yore
citizen banker (me) disgruntled
as if possessed by maniacal führer
running me rampantly ragged das
exhausting emotional furor
takes (and/or took) toll, I deplore
and decry lifelong psychological struggle
germinating while in utero,
when my nonexistence
no bigger than a spore
biological vagaries manifestation
nine months before
set figurative deoxynucleic acid
blueprint stage permanently
etched to the core
every cell sporting mutation
begetting, coding, dunning ensure
ring subsequent generations
oft times pondering,
whence final breath of relief
will signal time to scatter ashes
buzzfeeding boughs of sycamore.
The winds of change blow in time’s one way course,
waft from the fading end to an unknown another,
as the momentum they gather from the power
the spurt of history gives, it goes on increasing ever,
the direction they receive from the coded message,
the current events provide can’t ever be altered,
the intent they read on the social landscape page,
people delicately design, can never be changed.
Civilizations blew away in the destined gale,
the Indus valley turned into a great desert,
empires collapsed on decayed time in gusty squall,
lie scattered in archaeological sites and in art,
all ordained to meet the change from the start.
The mankind sheds the unwanted old grime,
like the dry leaves of summer the winds sweep,
and bury under thick sands of the senile time.
The indomitable spirit rises from the debris,
new generations of beliefs and values emanate,
that survive as long as they can strongly defy
the forces of fated change the winds generate,
and the strike of destined wrath time arrows apply,
transforming fast and invisibly the insipid core
of the traditional society of integrity and unity
into a new deceptive one that seems steeped
permanently in intolerance and in hostility,
infusing a sense of change that gradually sips in,
traditional concepts of living slowly recede,
families and relationships disintegrate within
to morph into the present-day fragile breed,
desperately designed to meet rather blindly
the demands of current times made irrationally.
The shape and the space of mind’s frame alter
with changing pictures it holds, but doesn’t know
the time and the people that are constant movers,
displayed in the kaleidoscopic everlasting show,
the winds of change visibly perform as they blow.
If the storm is strong, wrecking civilization landscape,
everything on its way crumbles beyond recognition.
So savagely the winds surge nothing survives to retrieve
from the wreckage that can’t be swept aside, it stays on,
for everything drags everything into the ruins.
July 3, 2020
Contest : Strand Completely New (4), Any Theme Any Form
Sponsor : Brian Strand
For thus I am entangled in a web of despair!
A widow's orb of woven thread.
'Tis a stalker's venom that keeps me there.
A visceral poison; paralyzing it spreads.
Transformed; trampled, worn and threadbare!
Wherewith in my mind; 'tis death that treads!
Bid me this death and I shall dare!
A malignancy that carries to suicide’s deathbeds.
Somewhere in whirlwinds dreary mist;
Ruthless emotions that I’ve amassed.
O’ what of these debilitating migraines that still persist.
Of these imperishable thoughts that last and last;
Then I question; what of my youth placed at risk;
Gone like the dusk, dim and vast!
And of the fragrant flowers that no longer exist?
Withered by remorse from my past!
A lonely dispirited soul, frayed by angst, I ride on misery's carousel;
Persecuted by unquenchable blame;
Ensnared with guilt; shackled invisibly to a living hell.
Plagued, tormented; a scorching paranoia set aflame.
I've suffered and watched as life slips away, a pitiful soul, an empty shell.
What of this dishonor its tainted my name.
There in the darkest depths of the abyss where I dwell;
I’m tormented in evil’s shame!
Guilt leads the way along this desolate journey; filled with anguish!
And what of this wretched heart that keeps me stirring?
That’s perched me upon a precipice where my joy does languish;
Alone and trembling!
O’ sweet joy, sweet precious joy, I pray do not vanish.
I seek this buried treasure that keeps me yearning.
This desperate quest filled with years of dead despair, I cannot relinquish.
My eyes red, masked with anger; smoldering
'Tis a mighty river’s rush, a surging anger dwelling deep within.
A thunderous beating pulse pounds my chest,
Unbearable this terror; this debilitating din
O’ this intolerable throbbing that I detest;
Its heaven’s glorious mercy I seek while engulfed in sin,
My body quivers, I've given my all, I’ve done my best.
And sought relief, but realize that what’s to come has already been.
For it is these demons that I cannot put to rest.
Radicals of PostMillennial Zeroism,
like Fundamental PreMillennial Taoism:
YangMind,
severed from YinBody,
falsely promises
unmitigated monopolistic political omniscience
and monotheistic economic omnipotence.
YinBody becomes spiritualized-denatured
empty womanized
invisibly purged
recessed
depressed
repressed
suppressed
voiceless
powerless,
eco-normatively absent
lacking positive nutritional flow trends,
panentheistically dormant.
Just as Holonic Spirit/Nature abhors vacuums of appositionality,
insides divorced from outsides,
there is no such physical dipolar divide
as either of these bipolar metaphysical extremes
might imagine
just as there is no such thing as Yang MindSpace
without YinBody's bilaterally evolving sensations
of not ANGRYpast and not FEARFULfuture
panentheistically omnipresent -(-0)
co-passionateMind/pleasureBody
peace-full NowTime +/- 1
midway in-between
polymathic polynomial equity.
And, their divinely humane ecopolitical stage
balances MidWay Wu Wei
issuing advent of M.L. King's (et. al.)
non-violent powers of love
Beloved Climaxing CoPassionate Community/Communication,
Health/Wealthy Indigenous Wisdom Family,
organic/sacred EarthTribal Peace,
and any other polypathic/polyvagal
eco/neuro-logical
bilateral YANGformation YINflowing system
we might care to nondualistic bicameral wealthyMIND
and polyculturally healthyBODY
co-arise together
Like a primal positive
peaceful co-relationship
between monotheistic FatherSun's enlightenment
and panentheistic EarthMother's empowerment
Renewing
reconnecting
reweaving
re-ligioning
wealthy plutocratic YangMind's
sacred omniscience
healthy democratic YinBody's
organic omnipotence
Regenerating
bicamerally nondualistic omnipresence
RePresenting a choice
deeply felt within each Sage/Muse soul
between win/lose 0-sum Business As Usual,
continuing irreligious anthropocentric retributive wars,
or re-ligious EarthTribe
restoring win/win
+1 = -(-0) polynomial peace:
For both Radicals of PostMillennial Zeroism
and Fundamentalists of PreMillennial Taoism
(alternatively titled eldest daughter despises us)
Eden (beloved eldest daughter) icy
flat tone of voice spoke volumes,
when she talked with the missus and me
courtesy cellular telecommunications key
December twenty seventh
two thousand nineteen
unwavering listless dull verbalization see
I subsequently told spouse, she
thy super smart self reliant progeny
fending for herself approximately
last half dozen years exhibits je
ne sais quois profound loathing
predicated growing up dirt poor free
quint lee lamenting deprivations re:
guarding legal tender adequate specie
i.e. money - at least compared to every
MainLine millionaire flush with dee -
suppose able income, and oft times
lovingly, pleasantly, unexpectedly...
receiving largasse gift horse courtesy
zayda (my father), who art not yet
in heaven sprung monetary help, ye
this second born and only son did
profusely think him (papa) lee
ving voice messages on his landline,
and tracfone, plus wrote heartfelt poem,
similar acknowledgement modus operandi,
when said offspring
became twenty three
years old - five days ago, nonetheless thee
admirable, dependable, honorable... née
holds Matthew Scott (namely he),
who helped beget
darling feels angry,
and doth plainly exhibits contempt
(you) dear reader guessed correctly
towards sorrowful dada,
where inescapable thralldom
doth invisibly chain
(think ghost of Marley)
apologetic sir, whose
precious kinder, I
will unwaveringly cherish
forever love and Revere
despite up Paul ling
destitution, grinding linkedin penury,
and red hot poker faced
anger, yes... dismay
prevails how unforgiving
once (Benny sent) baby,
inside joke, I attest neigh
scent "star student,"
now grown young woman,
no longer - figuratively
wrapped around yours
truly her finger
father who fell short, natively cree
hated abhorrent within re
cent mammary, bosom (hers)
harboring scathing unmasked vee
hum mint, blistering, rancorous,
seething, volcanic withering...,
no matter disgusting revulsion
toward aging mommy
and repentant daddy,
I LOVE YE EDEN + SHANA!
I stand where silence is thicker than bread.
He,
not a man anymore,
but a bruise walking upright,
a shadow that still pays rent to the body.
Loneliness is not beside him.
It is the room itself,
the ceiling sweating plaster,
the window coughing dust.
It pushes through his skin
like cold water in a cracked bucket.
His heart still taps,
like a drunk knocking on the wrong door.
Each beat a protest,
yet the protest already sounds guilty.
To breathe is to sit in court,
to be tried by the wallpaper,
by the squeak of the chair,
by the dripping tap that counts the years.
Time here sharpens into nonsense:
a drip becomes an entire calendar,
a sigh shakes the floorboards.
Even the smallest rustle,
the mouse behind the wall,
falls upward into God’s deaf ear.
And still he remains:
a candle without fire,
burning invisibly,
like the taste of ash in your mouth
after a funeral feast.
I cannot step aside.
His abyss has been nailed into my ribs.
I carry the shame of impotence:
not for sins,
but for what cannot be done,
for the way care turns into theater,
a hand waving at shadows.
The walls pretend to hold him,
but walls are polite liars.
It is absence that chews him,
absence, slow, official,
with a face like an empty chair at the table.
I know this story.
It’s older than stories.
Adam shivering in the weeds
outside the garden fence.
Job scratching sores in the dirt
while the sky locks its jaw.
All exiles line up here,
every silence rehearses its lines in his throat.
So I do the only trick left to the living:
I stay.
Presence,
as a badly tuned prayer.
Presence,
as rebellion without slogans.
Witness,
as the last coin we have to spend.
For what remains
when hope folds its tent,
when meaning slinks off into the dark,
when words smash their heads
against the stone of despair?
Only this:
to squat beside the abyss,
knees stiff, hands useless,
to whisper without sound,
that even here,
where loneliness is stitched into the fabric of being,
life still stutters,
not entirely alone.