Long Knifed Poems
Long Knifed Poems. Below are the most popular long Knifed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Knifed poems by poem length and keyword.
I notice nostalgias fly
I’m soaring oh so high
I shy away, I won’t lie
This here, I cannot deny
I’m brazen today,
But I’m under a wicked spell
I’m brazen today,
But I’ll nurture my lullaby-stricken well
As I brew it all away in hell
As I, out of the blue, dwell
In a world, going pell-mell
Does this cruelness ring a bell?
I’m brazen today,
But I’m under a wicked spell
I’m brazen today,
But I’ll nurture my lullaby-stricken well
I’m brazen today,
But I’m under a wicked spell
I’m brazen today,
But I’ll nurture my lullaby-stricken well
Some say
I’m a loner come what may
But, I miss my family
I do dearly, extremely, and tremendously
I’m brazen today,
But I’m under a wicked spell
I’m brazen today,
But I’ll nurture my lullaby-stricken well
I’m brazen today,
But I’m under a wicked spell
I’m brazen today,
But I’ll nurture my lullaby-stricken well
I’m under a horrendous, disastrous and mistrustful spell
But, I’m brazen as hell — does this ring a bell?
Oh well…
I tired of trying
So fatigued of crying
I’m intrigued of your belief system
Your relief and grief gave me Jerusalem
Vibes…vibes…
I heard it through the strawberry vines
And the cherry trees above
I’m a rainbowish dove of love
I’m brazen today,
But I’m under a wicked spell
I’m brazen today,
But I’ll nurture my lullaby-stricken well
I’m brazen today,
But I’m under a wicked spell
I’m brazen today,
But I’ll nurture my lullaby-stricken well
I need peace in and of mind
I can’t stand being so blind
Brazen, yet sheepish
I am so outlandish
Peculiar to the touch
I miss you so much…
A bunch of tears stray away from my eyes
Over the years, I have given in to your lies
Now, I know the truth behind it all
I must stand tall and hear His call
I’m brazen today,
But I heard you’re under a wicked spell
I’m brazen today,
But I’ll nurture my lullaby-stricken well
I want something true
I want someone — I do
I can’t live with myself any longer with this knifed strife
If you can’t be with me through the silver linings of life
Armageddon wold be an amazing boon
to accompany ourselves amidst others in rubble strewn cocoon
or perchance an arid extra dry spell blows humungous dune
donning any brave soul to weather
fierce-some dust bowl appearing like a ghoulish goon
vis a vis via global sand man disallowing any inhabitant 2b immune
whereat autumnal days will mimic those analogous to tropical June
day where nary a species of flora nor fauna,
which latter muffled cry viz Claire de lune
barely heard above the blindingly pitched
(scoring major lunar home run) when earth's moon
appeared to be batted, snatched, and whacked -
piñata like casting darkness at high noon
this out of other worldly debacle
(viz: a scene of apocalyptic, cosmic and epic rune
from twilight zone re: outer limits offsetting
sole millennial Gaia satellite believed rigged forever) -
which end of planetary status quo came soon
er than expected, accompanied by Gustav Holst eponymous tune
once Luna rung seismically, titanic ally uprooted, violently wrenched
prior to crash landing at ground zero rocked and rolled out of orbitz
before careering, and screaming thru the atmosphere
analogous to a near full term baby in utero yanked out of womb.
though the above dynamic gigantic jack-knifed
nihilistic quantum spectacular universal wreckage
sans the inner sphere of solar system
(known to mankind, when said creature, an outlier)
whence even amidst the early
bipedal hominids that throve a sage
no event (whether natural or caused by human error),
would compare neither cap cha, when are bit rage
emasculated, and wrought onto the terrestrial firmament
no way to measure nor gauge
the depth, length, and scope of total and
absolute value eradicating any trace of simian equipage
reducing the arrogant, conceited, ego-maniacal, dotage
boot far-fetched science fiction phenomena would
witness civilization captive in their own technological cage!
Form:
Charge d'affaires struck by lightning bolt
While high falutin dip low matt
flying his kite insurgents
planned coup d'etat
clear out of blue, a devilish
forked, jagged, knifed
dagger "O" type electric current licked
more'n the pants off harried envoy
clear rants heard
all the way to Timbuktu
damn donnybrook loosing mayhem
special averred ambassador
last best hope
thwarting total mortal Kombat
Zeus bribed - putin two and two...
together spelled collusion
arch enemies of democracy de facto
2020 election in cahoots,
whereby sore loser trumped,
activated thinly veiled plot
made good diabolical promise
demanding winning or else
"ye ain't seen nuttin"
imposing himself victor
nee, declaring tyrannical
prince sup pulled "purple" reign,
despite just shy winning majority
crowed as "FAKE" optical illusion
claimed apparatchik infiltrated
voting booths rigged
machination stole courtesy
bounty on mutiny playbook page,
the average joe buyed
entire hook, sink, and liner
titanic ruse to unseat
all time self crowned best president,
apprentice skills garnered
thru "art of the deal,"
albeit machiavellian
who refused to admit defeat
usurped, proclaimed, kindled... diktat upon
those opposed driving fiat
vis a vis disallowing, discharging,
disenabling, disguising, distilling
carving up United States
in league courtesy
best buddies Kim Jong Un
populace will pay price
bear every burden
every hardship el don jon doth
punishingly mete out
recruiting military modern
death cab for cutie squads
dirty deeds done dirt cheap
personal vendetta and vengeance
as just desserts
succeeding presidential term
to abdicate pronto
lest civilization bombed
back into stone age
no matter enfranchisement
law within lady liberty land,
nonetheless he decreed
global hegemony forever
pressed hot button
omnipresent nightmare manifest destiny
global destruction unleashed
threatened to obliterate
every last trace of mankind!
'I don't want to burn...'
Otto flew onwards.
It was a joyous flight.
Then trouble hit again.
His other worst fear.
Engine failure!
Must land.
Where where where?
Altitude has gone.
Trees are so close.
Wrong place to crash!
Touching close.
Want to close my eyes.
But I must to see my end.
Drop the flaps to glide longer.
There!
A field.
Thank God!
I can make that.
Keep the nose down.
Don't want to stall.
I can do this!
Dead stick landing.
I was trained for this.
Here we go!
Bump!
Bump and slide.
Damn that's rough.
My warplane is sliding.
Come on now, stop!
Oh crap!
A ditch, right across the...
Mama save me again!
I don't want to die.
Mutti!
Otto came too and shook his head.
His vision was blurred and pained him.
A sweet smell wafted towards him.
The drip of petrol was audible.
He panicked and dug at the brown earth.
It was mixed with broken Perspex, above him.
Undoing his straps, Otto tried to escape.
The broken canopy trapped him.
Drip drip drip went the gas.
Then... just out of his vision.
A boy, aged about eleven.
Help! Help me! Hurry. Please!
The boy ran over.
Looked at the inverted plane.
And saw the trapped pilot.
Did he know that Otto was the enemy?
And had killed his father?
Otto flung off his flying goggles.
They made eye contact.
Help me! Hurry now.
The boy found a steel bar.
With the intelligence of the young,
he levered against the wing.
It leant against the ditch edge.
Moved with a sickening jolt.
There was a gap.
It was enough.
Otto dug at the earth and cut his hand.
Bending double, he crawled out.
Drunkenly standing, he looked at his plane.
He shook his head and felt his broken bloody nose.
Then fell to his knees and vomited.
Fractured ribs knifed him.
Otto passed out.
When he looked up, the boy was gone.
Without him, I'd be dead...
'I don't want to burn...'
Otto flew onwards.
It was a joyous flight.
Then trouble hit again.
His other worst fear.
Engine failure!
Must land.
Where where where?
Altitude has gone.
Trees are so close.
Wrong place to crash!
Touching close.
Want to close my eyes.
But I must to see my end.
Drop the flaps to glide longer.
There!
A field.
Thank God!
I can make that.
Keep the nose down.
Don't want to stall.
I can do this!
Dead stick landing.
I was trained for this.
Here we go!
Bump!
Bump and slide.
Damn that's rough.
My warplane is sliding.
Come on now, stop!
Oh crap!
A ditch, right across the...
Mama save me again!
I don't want to die.
Mutti!
Otto came too and shook his head.
His vision was blurred and pained him.
A sweet smell wafted towards him.
The drip of petrol was audible.
He panicked and dug at the brown earth.
It was mixed with broken Perspex, above him.
Undoing his straps, Otto tried to escape.
The broken canopy trapped him.
Drip dripdrip went the gas.
Then... just out of his vision.
A boy, aged about eleven.
Help! Help me! Hurry. Please!
The boy ran over.
Looked at the inverted plane.
And saw the trapped pilot.
Did he know that Otto was the enemy?
And had killed his father?
Otto flung off his flying goggles.
They made eye contact.
Help me! Hurry now.
The boy found a steel bar.
With the intelligence of the young,
he levered against the wing.
It leant against the ditch edge.
Moved with a sickening jolt.
There was a gap.
It was enough.
Otto dug at the earth and cut his hand.
Bending double, he crawled out.
Drunkenly standing, he looked at his plane.
He shook his head and felt his broken bloody nose.
Then fell to his knees and vomited.
Fractured ribs knifed him.
Otto passed out.
When he looked up, the boy was gone.
Without him, I'd be dead...
Trumps Feeble, Limp, Rox... Zilch State Of Emergency
H.G. Wells..., ah...now there
without dark shadow of a doubt,
in my (myopic brown) eyes,
a prolific writer hooked hood accessorize
the English language, and captivated
populations, sans "The War Of
The Worlds" to realize,
with an assiduous presentation
convinced listeners, how
aliens did cannibalize
innocent Earthlings strictly via radio,
where rapt audience could actualize
"FAKE subjects" pretended to agonize,
yea of course after receiving
substance that did anesthetize
in an effort to minimize
potential melee erupting,
which feasible outburst,
could tinder, kindle, and antagonize
crowdsourcing masses,
who suddenly became repentant,
and sought to apologize
each to their personal deity, apprise
zing respective comportment, thus
the apprenticed faux presidential Don,
rather than agonize
over farcical shenanigans, where dissension
among rank ken file seems to arise,
could take page from said playbook
visiting storied aforementioned scribe,
whose spirit author might be able to authorize
and conjure creative satisfactory
acceptable non costly deterrent breadthwise
cuz, more anger will materialize,
particularly if monies summarily brutalize
for social services that benefit the 99%
myself and the missus included analogous to...baptize
with gentile invisible knifed incision
or if Semitic tolled uncivil lies,
asper emotional financial, mental...
painless process to circumcise
purportedly for best interests
of citizens at heart, but tummy
essentially acting counterclockwise
to the modus vivendi that underlies
the immigrant experience that peopled
United States Of America, who did colonize
at expense of rightful natives
scattered innocent tribes, whose demise
vis a vis any fact checker, would
clearly recognize as blatant lies!
He died for freedom and the righteous cause of liberty.
He gave up his own life so others could enjoy liberty.
"OOH What a lucky man he was. OOH What a lucky man
he was.....Nobody could save him so he laid down and he died."***
The Short Story.*** "Oh What a Lucky Man he was."***
He died alone with no freedom fighters at his side. He fought
against slavery and oppression and to help liberate his fellow man.
But he was just another human, and an ordinary man. He was not
a professional solder or a police man. He witnessed danger around
him so he sacrificed his life for his fellow woman.
He died in an dark and dangerous ally way, trying the save
the life and the virtue of a young woman. Vicious hoodlums
instantly attacked and knifed him. The earth cried out in pain,
as it received the life blood of a young and noble man. Their
attackers also murdered the young woman, after robbing her
of her virtue!
A few days later their bodies were discovered by the police women and
the police man. He was given a hero's funeral for the courageous way
he died. He wasn't a pillar of the community, he was not important nor
gainfully employed. If the facts be made known, he was unemployed.
He never held a job in his entire young life. He was a drifter and a loner.
He lived and died a John Doe and she also lived and died as a Jane Doe. They enjoyed their fifteen minutes of fame upon their untimely demise. The law enforcement community and the family of the young woman mourned
their wasted young lives! The hoodlums were apprehended by the law.
But they did not repent of their dastardliness deeds. They held no remorse
at all. How many other victims' did they stab with their knives?
Love as always,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
October 05, 2020
***This is a fictional short story.
Sidewalks are broken
Weeds grow through the cracks
The people that use them are like the sidewalks,
broken and worn down
They have names like Turkey, Louie the Bum,
The Sandman
No one knows their real names
They call me Kid
You see, no one cares
All they care about is survival,
the next minute, then the minute after that
And so it goes
This is my school, for life
In these alleys, on these sidewalks
Where no one can tell if the garbage man came
Where grey is black and black is death
Where rainbows are neon and books are wriiten on stone walls,
in paint
It's where you can get knifed for a nickel
And die for seeing things you shouldn't see
It's another world
It's where those that had come to die
And those already here feed on them until they do
How is it no one sees?
Are they all.. blind?
They created this place
This filthy space between us and them
You'll find no advertisements for whiskey in their suburbs
Just manicured grass
They look and say
" Look at them.What's wrong with them?Don't they know any better?"
As if we chose to be born in hell
Sure..
This is the first place I'd pick
Bad schools, broken windows, no jobs
But hey...their sign says Buy Whiskey
Fools!
How little they see
How little they know
In their world pain is a commodity to be sold by drugstores
Their world would be over if someone turned down a dinner date
Their lives would be over if they were ignored
They would see their lives crumbling
I laugh
We were born in crumbling
If someone leaves us it's because they're dead
Either shot or stabbed, one to many needles in the arm
It doesn' matter...no one cares
Those that aren't here seem blind
My day is now over and I must be aware
I might trip and fall, scratch my knees
Would anyone have a band aid?
Do you know where I could find one?
Do you even care?
(a quid pro quo plug for zaftig women)
women that tip weigh ling needle to spin vicious circle
akin to puppy chasing her/his tail
or require digital scale,
at the extreme alt right registering heavy
ba Jill 'en Jack knifed pail loads
whether young or old ought to be appreciated
not waifer thin self starved as a rail,
instead they suffer unfair injustice
like a trapped quivering quail
thus this fatalistic, generic,
and holistic landlubber
wanted to point head lee
hammer home one secure
heterosexual bondage stronger than
omnipotent Marcy's Playground
weather beaten pail
Trent Reznor's sixty 9 inch rust free steel nail
into the coffin of bias
against bevy of beautiful babes
within the mind of this male,
who inherited genetic predisposition
for being average, hearty and hale
yet feel compassion for those engaged
in an ongoing with battle of the bulge,
hmm... perhaps hiding ample bosom
akin to milky sopping wet grail
or accepted unequivocally themselves
without envy of lithesome women,
who seem to possess flair with nary a flail
yet possess much love to avail,
and tis wise to love oneself unconditionally
despite premium aesthetics considered svelte
which mass media accentuates de facto spelt
definition of femininity aka runway models
donned in faux animal pelt
whose deliberate self exhibition
prompts madding crowd of man
to waggle tongue with slack jaws
as if ready to melt
or at instantaneous signal telepathically felt
drop drawers upon removing blackbelt.
Leaves of the Dead
Les feuilles mortes
They fall like dead soldiers
Dreams knifed in the dead of night
It is as yesterday
Once more
Where love was kissing my cheek
Where hopes had dreams
One could see the blossom of loves desires
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
Ah now I am holding a cane
I have all but forgotten yesterday
I have no lovers
My friends have all but gone
To their designated places in the ground
Piano keys in soft lit lounges
I remember the vodka stingers and sultry singers
Telling me life was jolie oh so jolie
If only there was love…
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
At 3am, with burnt cigarette butts
If only there was love
When the metro finds it’s unwitting end
Reality and cubes make ugly paintings
There are only drunks
Dreamers and bums
Thief’s picking pockets of your final instructions
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
If you can sober up and face the poverty
Of your empty aspirations of hope
Come to the bois de Vincennes
Where Kings and Queens danced and dined
What better place
To splay the butter
So that the knife slides smooth
Whilst the sun fades kissing the seine
Autumn leaves will fall
Dead again
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates