Long Knifing Poems
Long Knifing Poems. Below are the most popular long Knifing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Knifing poems by poem length and keyword.
You pop my heart so heavily to the rhythm of
“like a prayer”from Madonna.
You flare the stars at night
gleaming towards darkside.
You flame the solar sphere; before you,
I became ichor.
You wade your way into heaven;
you're a goddess.
Night with your scarlet lips,
is untamed.
A fluid from your cup is juicy
for it sends me
to cloud nine
dreaming of us in a canvass of artwork
made by rosy poetry
in a setting of dramatic show:
I, Suleiman
You, Ada
playing in Atlantics.
I come with a song,
make from it a dulcet medley
reciting how I found mathematics
at the doorstep to your heart;
my discovery of indices
sorting pleasures beneath your apartment
In a dark red light,
flaky as a clinker.
Woman, you must have thought the instruments
to twang at night
into something that crawls to the paw of the gale
knifing my ears.
call it an act of love
because at your feet
music ends and kick off.
My discovery of you is a quicklime
melding sacred love with holy kisses
over burnt and baked lies
without a draft of smoke
forming cloudburst of rue.
Allow me from your city stare
at roses crashing beneath your waist
affection that goest before your thighs
hallowed by thy bosom
into the gates of confession.
Allow me to snog thee gently
feeding on thy hipped blonde
to your gratification
lounging my spearhead along your riverside
to stir, montarily, moaning
like the touch of flowers.
Tonight woman,
I bring you a song.
Like the sun, crawling to buzz the horizon
I reveal to you the lips of a man
wearing the colour of red for the
eyes.
Do not go up
swinging between the stars
for I without you is tradegies of baked pictures.
Excel Chinagorom Michael
Blech - impossible mission to savor mug of ginger tea...
When the entire mug awash
with floating leavings
by golly by gosh,
sipping said herbal brew
analogous challenge
to eat spaghetti squash
with one chopstick.
Earlier yesterday February twenty fourth
two thousand twenty four
found yours truly (me)
blithely consuming delicious
La COLOMBE DOUBLE LATTE
cold iced latte, complete
with a frothy layer
of milk and a touch of sugar.
Lower gastrointestinal war civil
immediately declared
because yours truly beleaguered
by lactose intolerance.
Courtesy veritable sweet tooth
(er...rather dentures)
craved absolute zero sum game yoking,
wickedly villainous, x'acting tummy
upsetting Pavlovian salivating, romancing,
quid pro quo woe pea pie us, orthodox,
conventional, nun habit forming (Lie),
mouth watering, lip locked, kickstarting,
Je Suis ill lust trios, hymn bracing,
gobstopping, feasting immediate laxative
inducing, decadent chocolate baneful
cake courtesy of adoring bubela, (the
same over stuffed ego freezer oft
mentioned counterpart, who unwittingly
prepared spot of tea), charming,
hugely overpowering tenderly loving
zee missus diabolically exuding
"FAKE" gracious humane insinuating
jabbering, knowingly ill loo man hating,
needful offal pestiferous quasi rip
snorting, tush under fire, violent
whooshing, expelling xyz lower
abdominal contractions, indubitably
kindling, jumpstarting instagramming
howling, fostering execrable, debilitating,
besieging posterior, automatically
clutching derriere, experiencing ferocious
gluteus maximus intractable jabbing, knifing,
lacerating, mutilating nameless oaf (me),
painfully quaking das simian, torturously
undergoing vicious wretched excessive
yawping worse fate than death!
Otherwise ass hide from irritable bowel
syndrome approximately
twenty four hours ago
from Saturday February twenty fifth
two thousand twenty four
me quite yawningly wonderful, uneventful,
sedate, quiet, ordinary, mundane, languid,
joyously humdrum, fabulously for
two whit tuss lee drab
characterized local buttuck blaster
also hashtagged endearment
as bubble butt.
Now shall I cut thee a slice of outrageously
luscious, keister jump/kick starting heavenly
gourmet deluxe cheese cake?
A STORY OF TEENAGE THUGGERY, JEALOUSY, TEASING AND TAUNTING -
THE DESTRUCTION OF A PROMISING LIFE ................
Staggering down the rain-drenched street
I see you, reeling drunkenly
like a sailor trying to keep his balance
on a storm ravaged ship.
You stop only to vomit your intoxication,
falling to your knees, then wobbling back to
tottering unsteadiness as you roll
faltering, aiming for the safety of home.
Your friend tries to steady you, but
you push him away in a tirade of independence.
Sober insecurity magically transformed
into inebriated confidence.
Then, there she is - the teenage focus
of your immature passion. She doesn't see you -
she never does - she ignores you
as she teeters on her too-high-heels
staggering, like you, over the rain-drenched cobbles,
taunting her hormone packed companion
with her pert breasts and pouting lips,
until she stops to kiss him in your view.
Sudden sobriety steadies you as you watch
them jealously - touching, kissing, exploring -
you call out angrily to distract them: you swear,
you name-call, a juvenile torrent of verbal abuse.
The reinforcements appear from the shadows:
his mates, jumping to his defence.
They grab broken bottles, discarded wood, one has a knife,
and they chase you, full-pelt, down the rain-soaked street.
You are easy meat: your reflexes and reactions
still laggard with drink. They floor you easily.
Blows raining down in a frenzied downpour
of merciless, unceasing violence......
kicking, beating, spitting, knifing, wild,
like a pride of lions decimating their prey.
You sink into unconsciousness, your lifeblood
draining, trickling with the rain down the pavement.
She watches, silent tears snaking from
mascara-laden eyes. She notices you now:
for the first time she acknowledges your existence
as your very existence is snuffed out ....
snuffed out like a near spent candle.
Seventeen years obliterated by youthful hatred.
Seventeen years annihilated by needless thuggery.
What a waste. What a bloody, bloody shame.
....did I say this was a 'story'? No, sorry, it's true......
I fall a raindrop from stratus to stratum
birthed from clouds pregnant with thunder
a lion’s roar —a pride in the sky— fierce!
armed with lightning’s rip and slit
the scythe of claw and tooth finds its prey
knifing sunset’s skin desecrating cranberry rays
it’s red demise fills my see-through-eyes
Sun’s canvas shredded
I fall through tattered pages of watercolor-layers
accumulating dust and blood of the slayed day
I arrive not a predator but a peace-maker
my raiment fleece of lamb not mane of beast
I come to rest
a drop of rain who clings to a windowpane
… translucence transforms me
inside a room I see myself with my possession-pain
a swaddle-bundle I rock to soothe
pain held against my breast like a newborn
crying to be fed
nurtured with lemon-squeezed tears
and sticky sick-sweet milk of revenge
my fingertips trace my descent down the glass
I pray not to let the dark moon be my doom
I know myself like turmoil-seas know the shore
let the salt-sea’s seethe meet still grains of sand
abrasions cleanse one of crime and grime
I know myself like the night knows the morn
let the night be a knight
and capture rapture with light-swords of dawn
I know myself
the games I played with leather fringe and lace
his Marlboro face the Moët taste
the magnet attraction pulled my limbs apart
I am a tear liberated from the storm
free to fall free to fall oh I had to fall so far to be free
fall from heights where lust-wishes glisten
slip the stardust handcuffs
fall from nimbus find the limbus of self and soul
find a way to rise above black seams
and wanton scenes of my scream-dreams
translucence transforms me
I let go of the windowpane
and die to myself casting off pleasure of pain and sin
I fall to silent-sister soil inhaled to be exhaled
on dizzy wind-whimsy-warmth of first light
I fall a new drop of dew wet with sky light
as I bear Love's cross like a white lotus bears its muddy birth
Famed gold crepuscular rays angling down
Knifing in between, through volcanic haze
Hualalai and Mauna Loa’s crowns
Fire Goddess Pele greets fresh island day
Fuchsia blooms explode, steal attention
Pollens mingle on zephyr coastal breeze
Hallowed entry, this tropic dimension
Surf thunder backdrop, soundtrack of the sea
Running shoes crunching the roadside lava
Kaleidoscopic blooms, soon to transmute
Mango, papaya, lilikoi, guava
Untended harvest of paradise fruit
Slow tempo set to the island perfume
Soul dances in the fragrant sensation
Unbridled speed would be this journey’s doom
Not to give in to the exultation
Entering town, the cast of characters
Pungent whiffs of spoiled fish atop stale rice
Green Shangri-La’s dingy inheritors
Tropical Bukowski's frayed paradise
Amphetamine native, drawn skin and bones
Wincing eyes, loose grasp, cigarette homespun
Tribal markings long burnt, faded blue tones
Completed journey, dark side of the sun
Manicured denizens clutter the way
Fair guests at the Royal Lik’a’Heini
Young surf seekers grimace to greet the day
Pakalolo Hostel, skunk-and-briny
Volta at the pier, Triathlon’s temple
Hallowed asphalt, footfalls of history
World’s smartest man living life so simple
Broom pushing, tune whistling, smiling at me
I should run faster; it's Ali’i Drive
Temple of Ironman’s Marathon pride
Vainglorious dreams have boiled alive
Burgeoning pace, a seaside suicide
Fair breeze has halted, sharp rays now reigning
Blanket of torpor fights progress forward
Through fragrant pillow, all fight is draining
A ballistic migraine arcing southward
Demons exorcised, sultry purgation,
Epic journey ends in clear sacred brine
Feet dive in wet sand, a bless’t sensation
Gaia’s ocean of sweat swallowing mine
4/28/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
Lower gastrointestinal war civil declared
because sweet tooth (er...rather dentures)
craved absolute zero sum game yoking,
wickedly villainous, x'acting tummy
upsetting Pavlovian salivating, romancing,
quid pro quo woe pea pie us, orthodox,
conventional, nun habit forming (Lie),
mouth watering, lip locked, kickstarting,
Je Suis ill lust trios, hymn bracing, gob
stop ping, feasting immediate enema
inducing, decadent chocolate baneful
cake courtesy of adoring bubela, (the
same over stuffed ego freezer oft
mentioned counterpart), charming,
hugely overpowering tenderly loving
zee missus diabolically exuding
"FAKE" gracious humane insinuating
jabbering, knowingly loo man hating,
needful offal pestiferous quasi rip
snorting, tush under fire, violent
whooshing, expelling xyz lower
abdominal contractions, indubitably
kindling, jumpstarting instagramming
howling, fostering execrable, debilitating,
besieging posterior, automatically
clutching derriere, experiencing ferocious
gluteus maximus intractable jabbing, knifing,
lacerating, mutilating nameless oaf (me),
painfully quaking das simian, torturously
undergoing vicious wretched excessive
yawping worse fate than death!
Otherwise ass hide from irritable bowel
syndrome this second July Sunday 2019
quite yawningly wonderful, uneventful,
sedate, quiet, ordinary, mundane, languid,
joyously humdrum, fabulously drab
characterizing local buffoon, i.e. yours truly.
Shall I cut thee a slice of outrageously
luscious, keister heavenly gourmet deluxe cake?
"Love, Blood Red"
I trusted with you my heart.
I trusted with you my Special Love.
I trusted with you, with YOU..
Everything I'm made to, for, and of...
I was willing to wipe all your mistakes entirely away,
Your Light to keep shining dissolving all the grey.
But while I was busy Loving you, your mistakes and all,
You were busy knifing my heart, enjoying every fall
Of every tear, of every drop of blood you could drain,
Drinking from my misery, guzzling down my pain.
As you lick your lips, sucking my blood of rosy red,
Are you dreaming of the day when I'll at last be dead?
Are you looking for hatred in my heart to find,
While shredding it and torturing my mind?
Sorry to disappoint you dear, sorry I'm without,
But my heart is filled with Love, keeping hatred out.
In my heart I grow Love, Love grows just for YOU,
With forgiveness and understanding, always on renew.
But in your heart you grow hatred and ego fed pride,
So abundantly there's no room for Love to reside.
Because your heart for Love has no space or room,
Destroying mine became your mission to entomb.
As the last drops you suckle from my bleeding heart,
With my last breath I'll say I Love YOU as I leave, depart.
As you taste the final drop, will you smile at your victory then,
Knowing it's my last drop, you'll ever drink again?
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2014/04/26 22:00:00 (EST)
All rights reserved.
This is our world
where the savage is called civilised
The well dressed man can hide his perverted nature
and posh talking woman can pretend she is not a whore
Wars can be started by a country or a nations greed
covered up there selfishness with false pretentious of greater good
The innocent are born to suffer and the wrong doers are left free
Our country's fighters shot dead at the scene
They didn't care that he was only eighteen
The rich to suck on there own wealth to help
The poor can do nothing but watch
Knifing on the street, shooting and murders shake our world
but do we look to see the reason? No we just turn and look away
The screams of the injured are left unheard or simply ignored
Children's innocence are stripped away barely before they begin to live
and the old ladies next door can not believe her eyes
Mothers and fathers at our fighters bedside while he fights for his life
Or die's of one mans selfish greed
Thousands die each day, many more follow the same way
Suffering every inch before they meet sweet peace
But do WE notice do WE care?
A young man will die in a war, while we watch T.V
Word will not even reach out ear
Ignorance
This Is OUR world, controlled by few who feed on greed
For a young man who is fighting for his life in hospital after stepping on a bomb fighting for
our country, his leg was blown off as well as his thumb and is blind in one eye.
Form:
plasma barrier
force field
pressed against
yielding bubble
slipping through
where have I been
precious energy
spent with
no return
foolishly
so many verses
wasted
treasure hunting
down helpless
vapid creatures
left inviolate
monster medicine
not
cold heart beating
icy breath swelling
preening scales
ticking claws
filing sharp
words
swishing long
slithery tail
pheromones
of worthy prey
lurking invisibly
close
deep rattling sigh
reptilian razor
head
slashes fro
coordinates locked
Kodachrome melting
vision dissolving
not his
homeless heart
matriculating
from detachment
to isolation
deep dark hole
retreat and sleep
forget the day
expand horizons
smash boundaries
find fuel for fury's
freedom
roam green pastures
trample evil woods
ramble fields of desire
turn the ocean over
scrape its depths
no limits to this
madness
no bottom
to this storm
train ran away
knifing the night
sparking the rails
bearing down
the moon
bust out
this cocoon
shoot the stars
drink the black
spit and
slam these gears
slice
grid squares
into spinning
sucking
vortex
yeah
and she was
always there
you just
stopped seeing her
see her now
and see you've
finally found your
monster medicine
Might you have a poet deep down in your gut
That you try to keep tied up and gagged?
Do some days make you feel slightly stuck in a rut
For a fear lives that you might be tagged
If you dare to explore new relation with art?
So, you're lost in the newness and don't even start?
Well, art's more a calling, most don't have a say,
'Poets' answer the phone and respond,
And it's not like you're tied to a desk the whole day
More like sitting in peace on the bank of a pond
That might offer thoughts up like "hawk knifing the air,"
With sweet music inherent! Next moment you're there!
A poet might follow paths (having no ploy)
That bring "rainbow-like promise" to mind.
It's a thought that might tickle, you follow the joy,
Or a dream that caresses, the world's left behind
To take care of itself, though there's fruit on God’s tree,
Likely there on return if you need company.
It's quite a conundrum, exploring yourself,
There're suggestions of things that you hide,
You find comfort in this, dusting truth on back shelves?
Sharing feelings seems carelessness, have you no pride?
And it makes others wrong who aren't equally brave,
Be prepared to lose friends if you're poetry's slave!
Brian Johnston
April 21, 2018