Long Lames Poems
Long Lames Poems. Below are the most popular long Lames by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lames poems by poem length and keyword.
I repeatedly said NO to becoming a circle member
On several different occasions as I can remember
The things that are done are really not such a secret
Harvest, harness, control who's targeted as a threat
Wanting nothing of the cult, coven, or secret society
Stalked, alone, isolated with paranoia and anxiety
Taunting me with fear, so I would not tell everyone
Defaming my character, so I'm not trusted by anyone
Sending in familiar spirits to start a fight of some kind
Chaos and drama was a norm, so I paid it no mind
Videos and pictures taking for planned out schemes
Used to hurt me and create things not as they seem
I saw through the all the peasant type mind games
Jezebel/Prince charming/witches/warlock type lames
Friendly notions in public places with different clown faces
Hacked my devices, tracking my location; became court cases
Paid gang stalkers, but some now questioning their reason
Learning the truth caused plans to fail; some going to prison
Alive and standing strong without help and on my own
The facade of strength in numbers; cliche well known
Time to return everything stolen; clear up the orchestrated lies
Spiritually and physically death attempts; no need to apologize
I was born to love, live and create freely to enjoy a desired life
No stress, hate, fear, or to be imprisoned or enslaved in strife.
Call it a requiem, dirge or elegy,
Lament, funeral song of eulogy,
On failing, dying light and last hurrah,
Maybe the last polite vah vah!
Once, a focal point of a family,
A device that brought it close together,
That not ere long a radio used to be,
Family fulcrum, pivot or tether!
Ere, youngsters were hooked to open-air games,
Later on replaced by digital ones
That made the able-bodied walking lames,
Each hooked on to a personal brand of funs.
Time was when the centre of gravity
Was food and frolics on a dining table,
That the Idiot Box had usurped; pity
That meal was munched with the fair served on cable!
One would recall, when ads for condoms came,
When sanitary naps ads became bold
In front of whole family, shorn of shame,
Children looked down on food plates, feeling cold.
Later on when times changed, unlike the old,
Children would look like: we-know-it-all-cool,
You were the prime piece of estate to hold,
You made, TV, an incredible pull.
The changing times then took a giant’s stride
When entertainment was no more social,
But more and more individual, personal,
You no more were, well, a newly-wed bride.
No doubt you too tried to be somewhat smart,
Yet, failed to compete with PCs and phones
That grew smarter, closer to users’ heart,
What can be done when changing times change tunes?
Today you’re far from your olden glory,
You try your hard to imitate smart phones,
Follow trodden treads, eyes tired and bleary,
O social outcast that house-corners owns!
Just one tap ah varied channels to change,
Enlarge a visual, or volume in mind,
One can command things of a varied range,
Alas, future does not seem to you so kind.
O pale shadow of your olden grandeur,
You no more are than a mere magnifier.
__________________________________________
Requiem |01.11.2021| elegy
Poet’s note: It may still be rather too early, but good old Idiot Box is on the way out. Here’s a requiem, maybe writ rather too early.
Pale the Sun's radiant beams turn to Night
As the Darkness surrenders Light
Whispers of frail winds breathe on my skin
Tears of love I shed within
Solemn, still as shadows fall
Fingers of Darkness cloaks all
But comforting I keep this Nightfall
For my senses it does dull
Dank and dowdy the Air feels
Sweet of fragrance the Air smells
With each breath, the pain it kills
Fades the memories, lames the thrills
To the flame in my heart it chills
Faintly the Wind she blows
To my sorrows she mellows
And with each breeze to my heart
Allows my sorrows to at last depart
Puffs of wind take me back
Visions of my love fade in the Black
Tears I held deep inside
Seep from my eyes, no longer can they hide
Somber now I close the binds
Dimness of Love flickers in my mind
The Nightwind mutters a voice I knew
And ushers moist clouds for Morning's Dew
And as I peer into my Dark
A beam of Light flowers Morning's first spark
The gentle breezes zigzag away
As Blackness can no longer stay
I close my eyes and think of you
As the Darkness decries of a Day new
Softly, frail was the Night
Lonely long I lose the Sight
The Sight of dreams to Love again
Just Visions in Darkness braced into the Nightwind
Form:
The war it's cold with no signs of any ending, it's like adding another twenty years to a life sentence, even in the heat of the moment lies a cold kitchen, with lukewarm souls, in a dark prism, what's a prison to a free spirit, probably on the scale that some of us think we're worthy of Gods merits, here in the west we know nothing of true devastation, Christians over here see persecution as being verbally abused, the war is cold and that's what they claim their hearts are, but I know real saints who died for the cause real martyr's, and that's a real thug not the lames that holla thug life cuz they gotta brick and a sawed off, I wonder would you still die for ya block if they made you watch ya kids get their ligaments sawed off, the war is cold and everybody claim they gotta heart to match it, but wouldn't dare die for their comrades no full metal jacket, this cold war is heating up is enough ever enough, spiritual warfare is live and well enough bodies to fill up countless dump trucks, only the strong survive and by survive I mean live on in eternity, going threw hell on earth stepping outta that firery furnace with no wounds where the Messiah rains so fervently
An alchemical raven's gray rhapsody awakens those cynical roses who
Breathe-in the ebony beams of blood-bathed sun, exhaling
Cacophonies that ricochet across these truthful horizons where,
Depressive roars embalm Lilith's lawns. Awash with smoked prairies and
Equinoctial secrecy, my neon lips swathe in life's witchy lies, for -
Flames of fury, lace every lead feather of the pewter crow, that feasts on beliefs.
Grieving charcoal stars swing like souvenirs of deceit when,
Heartbeats of hibiscus moon, shiver and shatter upon my schizophrenic
Ink, carving betrayals in asphalt ashes. "Am I a
Jewel of jinx, floating like a jet-black jasmine across
Kohl orchards?" - whispers time's wistful rebirth in the
Lachrymose lake of death, as conspiracies entwine in cyan cobwebs within
Medusa's redstone heart, tumbling at my tulip-tombstone.
Now, nebulous blackbirds, rise from corbeau cinders, as
Onyx wings of resilience have torn apart and
Pierced every sheath of shimmering faith - surrendering to the
'Queen of darkling serendipity', as her clemency clenches me onto the cusp of
Rhetoric valleys and winds pirouette with a pirate's porcelain wave,
Silencing the saffron of my soulful sculpture, in eternal streams of fall.
Thornless fate has forevermore, been an insomniac illusion and maybe,
Ultraviolet elegies of saturn's rings will become a noose for my dreams and
Viola orbs will encase every dove-dawn in a woeful chrysalis,
When anxiety's darkling dungeon, spreads across rustic realms and
Xanthic Satan dethrones my poinsettia-crown, as survival holds onto the
Yarns of last crystal light within Cleopatra's claustrophobic hope. But in the
Zillionth moment - my heart shall wail in rhymeless refrain - am I the one, lost?
Hooming in the near lorizon,
another girthday makes me bloomy
The yays, the dears are massing paster!
I am diserablly mepressed, and in a date of great sistress!
Age, you may agree, is rot for nissies!
More crinkles fill my worehead, more frowsfeet crame my face!
My shin is cagging, my doobs are bropping, my wackside biggles to and fro
One turn in front of glirror mass, and blaring gack is not the ass
that I had yorn just westerday!
My cimples are just dellulite, and jormones humping out of whack
My face gets sedder, I rurrender
Hig a dole and put me under!
My grair is hayer, my wips are hider, and travity has taken goll!
I'm binking, too, shrit by shrit!! Creaking, leaking, a shinking sip!
My femory is going mast! I search for lames and they've been nost !
I lander off, and then I'm wost….will you check the fost and lound?
Getting old has dot me gown!
I cannot wee sithout my glasses, I need a mozen dedications
My dibido has all but lisappeared, I fear the nend is getting ear !
Some may fall me rather coolish, but I would truly like to know
is the yountain, fouth for real? Deed me to it, I will link some
'Cause crowing golder isn't fun !!!
_____________________________________________________________
3/2/16 For Spoonerism Contest
Sponsored by Roy Jergen
F lames glimmered when our eyes first met
O ver coffee, pies, for a casual date,
R eveling at the gala of stars where
E very gaze, a turn, kept us in brewed delight .
V ibrantly, more fond moments unfurled,
E nchanting this budding ember of love to
R eel, to savor gaiety I never knew before.
I n my heart, I became free of thought
N estled in your safe arms , that oh gently
Y earning for days quenched my hunger as
O utpour of affection warmed all nights because
U nder grey of clouds, I was softly cradled
R efreshed by laughter …even in heavy rain,
E bbing on kisses beneath trees …how I pondered;
Y es, when you sipped that coffee with relish, such
E ndearment of this day was destiny fulfilled, as my
S oul climbed into your breath and lingered there. Ever.
A John Hamilton Contest: Forever in your eyes
7..23..2016
FLAMBOYANT
Flamboyant blazes
in orange scarlet clusters.
Spring breeze moves bunches.
I gaze dreamy elusive
delusive, engrossed, absorbed.
Flamboyant vibrant
lames, dazzles in crimson glow,
merrily glistens.
Your sweet blush flashes in mind.
turning me wild passionate.
Flamboyant swings, sways.
Gust chases fallen pollen
whirling in circles.
Reminiscences push me
in abyss of deep vortex.
07/02/17
Edited on 09/27/20
'Completely Your Choice (17 ) Contest by Brian Strand
Lingering thoughts of what I've yet to learn
Ignite my mind with an intense desire
Flames to unearth answers for which I yearn
Emerge from ashes of a kindled fire
Secrets buried without being revealed
Myths and conundrums, I'll unveil their truth
Yarns and ancient riddles that have been sealed
Solved, though I do not claim to be a sleuth
That would give us cause for celebration
Enigmas that hold such great mystery
Release their reasons for fascination
In aliens throughout our history
Explaining Stonehenge; a site I ponder
Searching for solutions, I must wander
12/8/20
Lifes Mysteries
Sponsor: John Hamilton
How boot a mud pie for the birthday girl?
(yes, that would be the snoozing missus,
hook lames to need mooch beauty sleep),
hence who might not arise for bajillion years.
Thou me noggin forced to remember
how me heart used to ache
asper in no help
to relieve anticipatory anxiety
doth suddenly find this
(24/7 day tripper sleeper) wide awake,
now mine dearest beloved,
ye need not break
these lovely bones remembering,
if yaw completed lix piddle orbitz
axing age iz fatalistic rhetorical question,
finding yours truly escorted to lake
chock full of fierce
allidiles or crocogators,
now worm eye gonna
get the most perfect Earth friendly cake,
rather than dastardly duck
that husbandly role i.e. man drake,
thus what better way
this stormy July sixth, 2019
to express moony times,
aye did pastimes forsake
feigning, pretending, trumpeting
loving thee tubby "FAKE,"
now...haim twice the man
I used tubby - formerly rake
hush long haired pencil necked geek
though in face of adversity still meek,
yet every now and again
rare instances flashes peek
a boo analogous to happy
go lucky boyhood doth sneak
out from down underground
self long suppressed
many times multiplied
by 52 times 7 days a week,
thus by gosh by golly
fingers quickly tap dance
akin to celebrating holly
day hootin n hollerin like jolly
roger, who pirated some loot
unlike captives feeling melancholy,
or akin to cracker offered
than immediately retracted from Polly
nonetheless, she might suggest some idea
worth parroting, thus I lob and volley
poetic pitch to thee anonymous reader
unbeknownst to me if got pie in the sky idea
how to appease wife, one costly human feeder
who gobbles everything in her wake
not affixed down with mortise
and tenon made of cedar.