Long Liquids Poems
Long Liquids Poems. Below are the most popular long Liquids by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Liquids poems by poem length and keyword.
I have condoned myself to suicide
To death
To feel acceptance, the burge of pain, enlightenment
All with immediacy
As if i was but a figment of a whorish imagination
I often find myself the stranger among the room of fallaced faces
The stranger among the few that thrive within the seeming warmth of human kindness
Albeit never from the settlement of warmth shadowed and blockaded with the grief of my own lacking position
I have no abstract line of movement
My blood shall lay upon the scythe of all apparent spectators
Belier a mirthless laugh at my own stupendous stupidity
As if a comedic moment
Be it believed all sins shall cower within swinish torrents of bloodily bodied liquids
My means of memory, a mere settlement of who i had once recounted
But a passing star within the leavening eye of all worthy to unworthiness, writhing within the clouded dust of saddened gloom
A star to befall the reputation strung by a mere trapezing wire
Mirthless, as mirthlessness shall soundly recede
Be it the bodice held within, the sacrificial lamb pungent with the blackest bile poignant within sorrowful sunlight
This one shall hold, dally a dogmatic dance upon the cherubim meadows
Be it, be it by this apparency of a death to be, shall concede
Be it, to be still the meadows' sleepless waters, a hind to be distinct
Led the dearest hatchet to sombre sleep, as all shall be it buried
Born a barred bastard to be slain and scandalous
Let it be the gore of ghoul to lay placid, unminding, the gall of all surrendered to swim within the waters of despair
Be it, as all shall stay, i do but bid the season's shallow greeting, by the morrow's meaningless adieu
A fallen farewell of my own, do pay the sun wilting fare, fictitious as the repetitive face may appear
My appetite for soundless life has departed
As my sultry dance burnt anew, shall depart by the wallowing song, of all apart of it.
Thus thou shall sleep no more...
27//1//2025
23:07
Tally-ho! Forever the foe.
Sugar, you temptress, you hide everywhere
In many a form you never play fair
You sneak in my life like a thief in the night
Stealing my breath with every sweet bite
Making me long for your taste everyday
From the moment I wake, I’m your gullible prey
A ‘dangerous substance’ is what you should be
With red and bold letters, for innocents to see
There is not a food where your charms are not found
Queen of addictions, you should have been crowned
More forms than a demon, you use to deceive
You change your appearance, to make me believe
Liquids and solids, and all in between
Your arrogant invasion, at the least, very keen
In every known texture, you’ve come to exist
Creamy or hard, too many to list
At breakfast, lunch, dinner, you always control
Little by little, you’re taking a toll
No matter the food, you always are there
You’ve caught me at times in your devilish snare
I’ve seen you appear on some labels, three times
In a court you’d be guilty of three separate crimes
Sugar, you temptress, I’m watching for you
And the very next time when you make your debut
My childhood was both sour and sweet,
Sour because I lived with two mothers who were immiscible liquids,
Sour because of sibling conflict and strife,
Sweet because my brother and I enjoyed the company of communal friends.
Growing up on Apple Avenue was a memorable experience,
There was a large field at one end,
It housed a public school,
There were vendors on the field who sold indigenous confections,
My brother and I were their loyal customers,
There was a tree on the field that barely had leaves even during the rainy season,
We were told different mystical tales about the tree.
The highlight of one of the evenings was a bicycle race,
Chopper versus BMX,
The race was about which bike was faster,
In the maiden race, my brother was a few metres ahead,
The Chopper rider committed a foul,
He collided with the rear wheel of my brother’s bicycle,
My brother’s bicycle tumbled and he sustained injuries,
It resulted in a fight between rival groups.
The bicycle race was on hold for a long time.
September 25, 2026.
3/2/17
Molded ceilings
With the paint peeling
Revealing
Something unappealing
A building long forgotten and forlorn
Rotted floorboards
Broken and torn doors
In a bad condition and poor form
Large amounts
Of trash strewn about
All throughout
The house
Due to weathering, bad habits and tendencies
No longer sitting steadily
Foundation in jeopardy and the whole structures integrity
From an accident that happened chemically
By the incorrect use of chemistry
All around the ground grime and filth
Many different types of liquids spilt
Left there with little if any kind of guilt
Most of the fence is bent
Regardless of the intent and no harm being meant
It all left quite the hefty dent
Such a pungent smell, without a mask, you could not adjust
The whole entire place riddled with dust
And far too much junk and "stuff"
Stored improperly collecting rust
Just about on the cusp
Of falling completly apart in a way that is abrupt
A path was taken
And the damage changed it
Leaving it dilapidated
No longer accessible, but at one point it had a basement
By: Dalton Ogletree
They enter the strip
joint like the last
flurrie of flakes.
She hears the music,
hears the voice of the
D.J. Wind, enters on cue.
Her cold poles await her
as she moves to the beat.
One south, one north.
She works them both.
They call her Storm
she is the feature act.
Drawing her minions
in for months now.
Quickly the starkness of ivory
starts to melt off her body.
The long blanched gloves
covered those particular
patches are the first to go
revealing the fresh lustre of
bare skin once again exposed.
Sexy,
she's a professional!
She stares out
noticing the skeletal
frames once only
shadows,
now with a glimmer
of light.
She knows her time
is short now
feels a hint
of life in her
domain of
dead stares.
Hears sounds
that are telling.
Was that really a chirp
or just a whistle?
The pulse of warmth starts
to pump through her veins.
Now her shiny robe
falls to the ground and
you can sense the smell
of want in the air.
The flow of liquids
previously frozen stiff.
Storm the stripper
slowly teases the crowd.
Down to her Victoria Secret
garb she tugs at our groins
knowing her audience craves
more.
In this case that also
means less.
I personally will miss her
in this present form.
Her tidy white lingerie
against her tanned skin.
Covered peaks,
rounded mounds.
You just want to
ride up, and maneuver
your way down.
The timing is wrong.
I know she will strip bare
as first the top goes then
down to a G-String of snow.
Naked,
winter stands
in front of me.
She will meander a bit
shake with a breeze
of perfumed cold.
Slide onto the floor as she undulates
with her come ons that near a finality.
She saunters off the stage
and me I watch winter's end.
Spring, on winter's barren
ground starts to peek from
around the curtain,
with her touch of green.
Warm breezes.
Her array of pastel colors.
Ladies and Gentlemen,
Winter has left the building,
Spring is here!
01~19~2015
Sponsor: SKAT A
Contest: Winters End
I woke up this morning and my hair was such a mess
Its grey roots are showing through - oh dear I must confess
This lovely shade of titian red it really isn’t mine
But when I get the colour on I just look so divine
I open up the bottles and mix the liquids so
The mixture smells disgusting; but then again I know
Once I’ve hit the bottle and the mixture is all gone
Grey hairs will be covered so I have to carry on
My hair is dyed I cannot lie, but it makes me feel so great
To eradicate the grey ones it’s really down to fate
My mum went grey at an early age and dad he has hardly any left
So if I couldn’t dye my hair at all I would be quite bereft
Jan Allison
19th February 2014
Will you be waiting for me when I get there, I have so much to share, I have been waiting for this day to come when we would walk together in harmony under the sunlit skies and laugh at the things we experienced at the woeful goodbye.
The people were so mean they kept trampling on our dreams and at nights I used to break down and cry under the trees with the dogs standing around me. And when there was no one around I spread out on the ground and weep bitterly.
Sometimes I could not console myself and at times I feel an invisible hand on my shoulder comforting me. I have grown above it now but each time I remember it, tear come to my eyes, and I cannot help but laughing about it.
The days keep pulling me apart and I see thousands of shadows wandering in the dark and the weary soldiers in space searching for their lost boots and settlers from earth invading the moon.
There are thousands of them around walking without crown and their naked backs exposed to the heat disrupting my heartbeat and setting my mind on fire.
There is so much to see when you glance at life from a distance and penetrate the motion in the air; the elements will cause you to fear; the open space above the moon contain droplets of liquids that you cannot see and the stars floating in thin air will take you to the hole in the ceiling, you can pack the open space with disc from your computer chips match color with color and contrast color with pigment
I have spent many years in this clustered space, reminiscing the good old days with courage under my belt and determination in my head.
The days come and go and watch the oxygen flow strengthening the slender plants while the bad weeds withered in the grass and the ghost secretly passed away as they kneel down to pray and I can feel the truck shaking on the bridge and my spirit kept still.
Vocabulist nonalcoholic punchdrunk stupor January 1st, 2020
Unlike the vast population swath,
with painful hangover
average celebrant merely
doth confusedly blink,
who devoutly pledge
new year resolution
to give up drink
immediately fall off wagon
as he/she eagerly downs
shot after fermented shot
while forearms link
with family, friends,
strangers, et cetera
and immediately rethink
alcoholics anonymous pledge
gamely nod and playful wink.
Yours truly (me) never found
wasted, soused, besotted,
et cetera alone
and/or with round
of best buddies real,
and/or imaginary
nor got stone drunk crowned,
(cuz never did I make
friends - no lie),
plus never felt compunction
to quaff hard inebriant
(think booze hound)
life as extremely gawky introvert
(think long haired
pencil necked geek)
preferred company of books
with cute button nose bound
between pages, this theme
I could expound
till cows come home to roost
after bovines well rested
from their sound
sleep unready and unwilling
to confront battleground
(think slaughterhouse five),
thus beef rendered me, we clowned
and hoofed up memories
promising each other pound
for pound, we would stand our ground
never freeload, mooch, sponge...
nor EVER succumb to the bottle
no matter how hardbound,
especially when attaining rough-age
older not necessarily wiser
if necessary resorting and astound
ding farmer in the dell
to Diet of Worms smellbound
while reenacting Holy
Roman Empire called
back in the hay day -1521
courtesy Emperor Charles V
offering sobering admission
lips ne'er taste amber and/or clear
liquids of the gods, no matter
believe me you reader hopefully
aforesaid confession doth not dumbfound.
She sat at the small circular table
the grain now strained
from smears of spilled liquids
a newly placed cup
mist clouds of heat feathering upwards
her gaze darted to the windows
as a glare flicked its tongue against the glass
mocca waves as she gently
blew then sipped at its warmth
the slight clink of cup and saucer
bringing her eyes back to the battle ground
her attention enthused
in a single drop that rolled down the outside
a cough from before the onslaught
she interlocked her fingers
giving her a sembelance of peace
she slowly tiltled her head
her eyes focused and still
her tongue gently misting her lips
her simple lips now pursed
a growl giving birth to her utterance...
“It’s just a cold,” the doctor said,
But every time I cough,
I worry when I’m on the plane,
They’ll want me to get off.
“It’s just a cold,” he reassured;
“You’ll have to wait it out.
I’ll give you meds but you should know
Their helpfulness I doubt.”
“It’s just a cold – you’re lucky
There’s no fever and no aches.
To heal, get lots of rest and liquids –
That’s just what it takes.”
“It’s just a cold” is what I’m told
Yet Monday I’ll be flying.
I’m following the doc’s advice;
I’m really really trying.
For traveling has lots of stress
And sickness, in addition,
Despite it being “just a cold,”
Will worsen that condition.