Long Lucidity Poems
Long Lucidity Poems. Below are the most popular long Lucidity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lucidity poems by poem length and keyword.
happiness
i have spent this life
with mermaids and maidens
the most beautiful of women
who made words like sweet perfume
flying above me are valkryes and fairies
long looking for my soul
and how they could bless me
lovers and mistresses made of the earth
built in human weaknesses from birth
they answer my calls with words
of worth, pecancy and flirts
also in my kingdom are queens
and princesses
perched on high mountains
and lifted heavenly
men with pen's exalt their beauty
because it is their solemn duty
to worship each other in this way
some search for saddness
and saddness they deliver
some search for gladness and
it too is in the quiver
some are sinners
some are saints
some from out of musty
books they paint
emotions or some worthy cause
matrons and the mothers
who could only live
by the graces
only a mother could give
i've laughed with these women
and cried on their shoulders
enough time has passed that
they've made me grow older
daughters and sisters my next of kin
i shared with you my secrets
my poetry with in
and sang my songs
of juvenilia
and angels that brought
lucidity and luciferous
to dark caverns of
inhumanity
gratis for the guilty
words describing filthy
from those who
writhe in pain
cowgirls and tomboys
you know who you are
with words of encouragement
you made me a star
and to add to the list
one vixen and one witch
one who's been deleted
and the other
i don't know which
but they all make out the
women i love on the soup
they turned out to be
a tight little group
i think i've added all to my list
especially a woman
who's name rhymes with bliss
so here's to you all
i give you this
a great big hug
and great big kiss
he knows his alphabet and counts to forty
socially inept a heart that’s free of guiles
his mind confused he sits aloof in his own world
outsiders attach their numerous labels
it’s still a mystery what goes on in that subconscious
there’s a level of corrosion in his young brain
I seldom get to break the seal
and relish in precious moments of lucidity
though far and few between
he’ll contort his body when cuddled
that my touch is not welcomed
it hurts so I want to cry
but sometimes the sun
the moon the stars align
and I see a spark light up his eyes
there’s no happier surprise
that’s when I see God’s signature
on this exquisite work of art
AP: 2nd place 2020
I Am Like the Sun Unbound
the Great Governance of Ohm dwells in Thy Light House,
I Am like the Moon, Blissful in Lucidity
in Judicious Harmony, I wield Fire like Gervasi
High Vibes is the Jive, I Coruscate in Eternity
I Am like Bucephalus stampeding on the Front Feet,
I Am like the Wind, Ever Hasten in Pure Flow
I Am like Hayk, Blitzing through Urartu on Marengo
I Am like the Stars, Glistening like Chapels of Flame
I Fly High in History, like Comanche Untamed
I Am like the Ocean, Infinite in Oceanic Splendor, My Spirit Soars
Into the Depts of my Soul I Go,
I Am like Moses, Parting Seas of Disbelief
One Eye, Four Heavens, I Return to my Essence, Full Speed like the Nazarene
I Am like Aurelius, Commanding Forth New Frontiers
I Am like Jefferson pursuing Dreams, forging Trilogies of Liberty
I Am like the Elements, Master of the Great Mystery
Sword Upright, Shield Strong, I Attain the Helmet of Victory
Here I stand once again, in a temporary state of
lucidity.
vivid, and clear Is this mental panoramic vista
So I know I have times before been in this vascinity
Of this chaotic interlude in my minds.hurricane,
vortex, cypher, twister.
Forever debating rather I'm deep n Still water
If I'm lost in ever thought engaging rebuttal
Maybe I'm not that far off Just little out of order
I'm I really this soulful or am I squatting in a puddle?
Have I loved and lost or Just lost love
I ran with the ball or was I Just knocked down
I believe in righteousness, I see nothing above
Why do we swim Destin to drown?
Why Do we give are life's away
Chasing things That once Were free
How can heiarchy coexist with a better day
Why do we all know, but refuse to see?
When did we become fearful silent peaple
Why did we take the volume of are voice down
Why is their certain types for certain steeples
When did we decide to let this stick around.
When did Americans become afraid to put the foot
down.
and sale out our ethics for are children's futures
Only to be made a fool with earnings took and worked
till we are put in the ground
Since when are we tourist in corporate cultures.
Are we now men instead of American
Are we on the same team on common land
Anser with honesty and hear your seraphim
And then tell yourself the truth of the Lamb.
Knowledge gained liberates or mutilates.
Ramifications of reality’s realm reached
make your insides want to abandon the body ship.
Rocking back and forth as you hurl dry acidic pain
expelled by the force of shell shocked lucidity:
You’re not good enough to be loved.
Breathing in is treason.
Your heart demands release of life’s lease.
On the kitchen floor
crumpled dreams drag to prostrate form.
Alone…..
Every reason to stay is obliterated.
Ascorbic failures scream.
Heart blood transforms to salty rivulets.
Self-loathing usurps the throne of belief.
"Appeasement sacrifice,” it sagely suggests…
"Your life!"
Relevant Reasoning...
For someone for whom love is cell oxygen
grey matter food
supreme soul sustenance,
life without full bodied Love is death.
Might as well...
Cowardice cackles and goads….
The cut isn’t deep enough.
Red streaked line mockery of mental hell feels
abhorrence breathing between the sobs
that one hears …
No one hears
Troubled mind has drained desirability’s delight.
Not strong enough to live not strong enough to die,
you are spent…
negligence purged.
Silence begs to benumb,
yet a reminder remains.
The thorn of truth finds a home.
Embedded in my side,
it won’t be denied.
Removal immuned
it is unseen by naked eye-
exposed to the naked heart.
With every movement of love making
matrimonial mattress yet exudes
the faint scent of virginal dreams...
Pain permeates
It digs in deep.
Nothing will change.
YOU cannot change.
You are unlovable.
You're troubled and troubling brain
takes beauty down to notch of insane.
Give it all away.
Lavish and ravish.
Obsessively bid for love
while you auction respect away,
but herein is the cursed truth:
You are not good enough to be loved.
You never were.
You never will be.
For Charlotte's Heart and Soul Contest
September 2, 2014
Hard considerations for the future of mankind
The bard sings commiserations as he looks for what he cannot find
A shard of intimidations hurled toward the innocent and kind
A card that invokes incantations as they question the lucidity of her mind
A lenient life sentence to constantly wonder through philosophical terrain
The convenient repentance of a man who stands by greed to gain
As expedient incentives are formed to stop the poor from expressing their pain
The ingredients for inventive warns creatives to endure the weight of constant strain
Contemplations of Shakespeare Goethe, Baudelaire and the weight of my conscience
Concentration camps that are now there in full view and they dare to call it nonsense
Salutations reserved for the configurations of the absurd at the next NATO conference
Conflagrations of callous imitations create the mystery surrounding the inference
As fortunate fictitious narratives headline the cheapened world of truth
The ornament of original design distracts me from lamenting my youth
Apportionment indicates politicians should resign amidst this carnival of the uncouth
At the tournament of malaise and refine there’s no winners unless you’re a sleuth
Propositions that reduce visions of possible elevation to rubble amidst all the splendour
Inquisitions of the most formal revelation as you walk past the local street vendor
Tacticians of emotional stagnation imbued in all that you deplore and render
Submissions and overt culminations of all that you wish to ignore like the very last Big Spender
Reverting back to the hopeful realms of redemption and beauty and refine and a can of mace
Converting over to Islam as a Christian ponders prevention of the dissemination of an entire race
Disconcerting as an innocence is forming in the intentions and warning in the lines of her softening face
Introverting the pretension and reflection as we reach to the heavens for grace
The End Elizabeth Moroz Copywrite 2025
Another repetitious dream – 3
The outsider look in, from within / looking at
Dreams come alive during the morning hours,
long after most of the world – on this side of the sun –
has risen from the fading light of moons glow and dreams.
My dreams ride the steps of escalators from deep down,
where – from the darkened cracks of the subconscious –
voices speak – in riddles and rhymes – to the conscious
mind, during those sleepy hours where depression takes hold
and binds, ties one down - in the light of day - to their bed.
My dreams are telling me - as I see myself – I am involved
in what is portrayed upon the screens that lay on the backside
of my, closed, eye lids that hide from the outside world
a true view of my soul and all that is whispered in secret.
Phrases depicting – as I, in states of lucidity – watch the play
unfold – from my balcony chair – as I become the actor,
and in this, a one man play, I am all the parts of all the characters
that have danced, strutted, pranced, crawled before these eyes.
Eyes that catch the essence of the story but not the subplots,
nor the beginning, the middle, the end, or what lies between
the lines set within the heart of all the prose, poetry and rhymes.
And so, as the outsider looking in, looking at the insider
looking out, comes from within, is the script writer, the actor,
preforming all the parts, with all the nuances projected,
that awake, never comes to light, except in small flakes,
specks and flecks upon the mirror he hold, reflecting
the images of the child, the boy, the youth, the man, the aged.
The strange world of dreams !!!
B. J. “A ” 2
June 19th 2005
I don't wear glasses in shades of rosy pink
and I don't believe that fairytales come true.
But when I dip love's pen into indigo ink
I create the man I desire. Could he be you?
I sketch with words, the traits I most admire,
Honesty, loyalty, with a dash of quirky sense.
Give me a soft sweet kiss, set my soul afire
Converse with me with lucidity, intelligence.
I'll be at your side, your warrior princess,
riding into adventures with my Sir Galahad.
I offer romance, roses, and feminine bless
dressed in lace, I'll be sweet Victorian clad.
I'll loose my hair beneath the silver moon;
lean in soft against your masculine chest.
Come hither, do not fear the windy dunes
They'll soon abate once passion has its rest.
I don't wear glasses in shades of rosy pink
but I do love quills, in softly colored ink.
If there's a chance you have such knightly qualities,
Would you be interested in sharing life's frivolities?
~A collaboration of Mystic Rose and Lin Lane~
December 15th 2015
Thank you so much, my sweet talented, Vienna,
for your romantic visions and soft shades of ink.
Enchanted by your voice, I almost fell asleep,
in a field full of sunflowers, dreaming reality could mirror dreams.
I followed you so far, unconcerned by the fatigue,
walking through danger just to keep my place beside you.
Loved you so hard, when I saw you I missed a beat,
rational as I am, I was startled that I lost my breath.
I carried it to wake with you beside me,
wondering at night if an angel could be disguised.
Hearing you, I learned that dreams could also become scary.
Seeing you near taught me vigilance.
Loving you moved me across worlds — but I had traveled far enough.
Carrying it this long, I saw our colors — bold and subtle — filling the canvas.
Now.
My ears can listen from afar, but I cannot hear you.
My legs could cross layers of hell, but not to reach you.
My heart now beats fast as falling leaves, but not seeing you pass by.
I still carry it — but it no longer shines the same.
Treachery, misery, things brought by insanity. Places know in Abysmal Fog.
Like Parricide, and infanticide. Things purchased from the blackest soul.
Teeming with and saturated by a malevolence only known as ABYSS
Darkness can only be fed by what was once lucidity turned to insanity.
Homicide, suicide, killing for pleasure, and the grandest must be Regicide.
We struck our liege down once … why not again! All it will cost is a fading soul
Freedom’s laid to rest in a country gone insane
Peoples hates and fears forgotten through all the pain
Political powers ruling the soul of human race
Grasped in the clutches of democracy
Leaves the mind with a blackened space
Two thousand years since Jesus Died
All is lost no hope no pride
Went to the lash to save us pain
Amassed our fortunes for nothing but gain
Went to the cross to give us existence
Through blood shot eyes we give back resistance
Two thousand years since Jesus died
All is lost no hope no pride
Shed his blood to forgive our sins
Gave our money to do it again
A crown of thorns he wore for us
A gown of gold we hold for us
The cross he carried, no warrant, no cry
The coffers we fill, we never care why.
So maybe it’s time for His Own kind of crime
This thing we saw before …. Called Genocide