Long Manacled Poems
Long Manacled Poems. Below are the most popular long Manacled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Manacled poems by poem length and keyword.
though I yam Caucasian,
tis rightful to honor that most bitter
racist genocidal crime
nonetheless ovation qua
quintessential significant contribution
vis a vis that doth litter
anonymous multitudinous peoples
many unknown dark skinned souls
bravely fought as non quitter
with melanin so coon sitter
this asthma feeble attempt
made to mind of literate
parent, guardian or sitter
adorn aye rhythmically twitter
to *****Sapiens with Negroid color
who, despite being human bondage
managed to adorn
worthy contributions to society,
though an American (though not so proud)
and civilization since time immemorial
hence, I wanna pay poetic homage
to persons born
akin to diversity exemplifying gamut
analogous to Indian corn
debased brutally and forlorn
and raised in cornucopia horn
of plenty with rare serf tenderness
whipped by wicked task masters
from the crack of morn,
aye cannot fathom why
a great proportion of humanity
must struggle on scraps of subsistence
viz with fifty plus shades of chocolate
vile shamefully opprobrious sworn
vengeance toward those
via heroic efforts escaped,
page number 2
manacled, tortured, et cetera history
as slaves an existence
until...pacified family dislocated
sans rent asunder, ripped and torn.
Once a proud family akin to Brady
bunch, now brutally, nasty
and short lived poorly destitute
(case in point) like Haiti -
once a nation extant with cultural finery
insidiously raped "Lady"
lacerated odiously robbing
unique peoples as owners didst slay
practically naked "Primates"
encaged like wild animals in zoos
culturally robbed while
abhorrently marched in ones and twos
shredded souls without shoes
(analogous to persecuted Jews)
of singular ambition to break shackles
though tightly fused
to life as they chose.
Mightier than fibs and sharp swords,
Manacled truth will with time prevail
Against high peak and gigantic vale,
And glossed lips' deodorized words.
Sharper than lucre's nectared studs
Stabs tested truth's right-driven nail;
Till all wrong-worn tongues wax frail,
And fain betray old veneered guards.
Unfettered truth predates olden floods.
Earlier than Noah's Ark and hasty hail
Unbowed stood her long-tenured trail,
Defanging vibes of fact-twisting nerds.
Unbent still won truth's candid cards,
Outlasting every knavish fibbing tale;
And justice bespectacled favored jail,
Where oft cool heels of reptiled duds.
Why not tell it to blank wingless birds:
If stoutest truth's tempest-tossed sail
Long neutered was by wealthier gale,
Over gold's Monsoon-storming girds?
~~~Magna est veritas et praevalebit~~~.
Their spears did not get heavy,
flower blooms did not sprout from barrels.
Some chew on ancient bullets, many captured themselves.
In dark allies a switchblade blindness entered their hearts.
Everything is a memory.
The living kill awkwardly, randomly with great kindness
a kindness that poisons the tongue, a sweetness
that fattens the maggot.
Such kindness stalks, buries the raging men alive
and the dead men yet survive.
Rumi said: ‘you must dance in your own blood’,
That kind of killer instinct leads you out of the fire,
into that oblivion that polishes eyes.
Mad men attack, they are your own wolf pack.
Embrace the fang, bleed into their mouths
until rage chokes their gorging throats.
If you have a ghost in your heart make love to it
in the gore and the spittle.
The raging dead men
have slaughtered themselves upon a dark stage
far from the light. Don’t pity them,
they are mad with love now,
though they cannot ever be near you,
their heat is a pornographic illusion, just the mud
of a killing field.
They are manacled to greater lusts,
passions only those beyond the horizon of themselves may see.
Those who have come through
are set apart as scarecrows in a field of sleeping dogs.
In the light of day
light candles, scorch the wax until the dark smoke
gutters into absence.
Don’t pray for the raging dead men,
they are all inside you now, pray to set them free
so that you may also dance upon their blood.
"My Own Country"
I am my own country
these firm battlements
have delivered milk
like honey to a baby’s lips
traversing the landscape
these undulating hills
are the alters men worshipped
now less than sacrosanct
pushed life forth territorial
like vice admiral commanding battalion warship
sunk hearts that raised white flags
their Morse code eventually pierced my mind
with the swords of their thoughts
sharp and poignant in my wake left behind
rained manna like ash from burning souls
imprisoned between glass and flesh closed gate
wrote their stories on my windows
with ghostly fingers from memories
just dreams a manacled fate
captured minds to win the war begun
before something else was lost
before the time of closed in frost
I am my own country
listening to whispers
from the cracked Fibonacci shells
on all my broken shores
small tsunamis I have collected
lying in the shallows
drifting in the sands of what was forsaken
this is where I began again
where the real treasure was found
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
gvlm
klb, mlb
"Travelling Woman" / Bat for Lashes
https://youtu.be/_W3hhyrtxJE
LYRICS/ "Travelling Woman", Bat for Lashes
https://genius.com/Bat-for-lashes-travelling-woman-lyrics
Today, March 8th is International Women’s Day. After centuries of relentless struggle, are women happier today…? Can’t say! Despite all claims to equality and progress, women are still at the back seat struggling to balance between her work and domestic chores. Alarmingly assaults on women have skyrocketed in our land than never before, especially in some of the Asian countries. Some thoughts on this ‘great day’
She dies a hundred times,
In the throes of spite and neglect
In the agony of betrayal
In the shame of defeat
Yet alive with charred spirits
And deep burns that shall not heal.
Shut in the cage of servitude
She lives an ugly duckling!
Fed on taunts and threats
Drunk on slander and slight
Smothered by age old mores
Manacled by custom and tradition.
A door mat under crushing feet
An expendable commodity
Bartered away,
Or
Bought at the highest bid.
A toy to play with
A curio wrapped in folds
To be disrobed before feasting eyes
And torn apart by man’s beastly lust
A chattel to be pawned and pledged
A chalice to be cast away
When emptied of its contents.
Yet, she is silent
Mute like a dumb animal.
Oh No! It's time to break this silence....
However, nemesis will take hold.
Please know, there lies an ember
Down beneath the dying hearth.
As the wind veers around,
The smoldering charcoal would blaze
Growing into a wild fire,
With tongues of flame leaping into the sky
That would ravage the Earth
Leaving nothing
But,
Heaps of coal
And piles of ash!
Masked maiden
In lacy black frills
Manacled, chained
Sensuous thrills
Birthday suit bare
Heavenly toned
Sweetened and ripe
In wanting groan
With her laced black fan
She lures with her scent
He slowly walks to her
As her eyes lament
She looks up to him
In hungering stare
As he looks down
Desiring her there
He offers his hand
His maiden in black
To rejoice in their join
Passion attack
To a leather couch
He rests her down
His dark haired vixen
Lacy gowned
Hands encroach
In bodily roam
Synchronised
Heavenly home
In pleasurable touch
Their joys arise
In welcome slide
His pride inside
Rhythmic rhythm
Tantalising tongues
Hands homing
Sexually sung
Perpetual in motion
Writhing want
Cries of caressing
Her heavenly font
The mix of their motion
River of love
Quench of two
Eagle and dove
Rosy complexions
Flora flushed
Passions hushed
Pinked and blushed
Couched and cosy
Hunger appeased
Two covered in lace
In lovingly please
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love5.php
Stone and steel is my embrace,
A petrified dance in the grey expanse.
A cold monolithic grace…
I am jagged edges…
My soul claws at the barren sky.
I lie, a silent scream against the fading night.
Whispers of wind through fractured rock.
I dash my soul in foreign lands
a forgotten language etched in my bones.
Twisted metal limbs reach out,
an armature of my doubt,
grasping ghosts in the swirling dust.
A monument to my decay,
a testament to time's relentless march.
The weight of ages bears,
crushing memories into rust.
Yet, amidst the ruin,
a spark remains,
a flicker of defiance in these hollow eyes.
A testament to my lingering spirit,
a refusal succumb to the endless darkness.
Stone born of bone,
a weathered vertebra twisted insane
Raging against the manacled god.
Metal fingers clings,
a forgotten purpose,
a silent scream of industry.
Jagged edges bite the air
My mind is in free fall despair
My shadows pool like secrets
The earth opens
A wound that refuses to heal
I stand and defy the depths
Something stirs,
a memory,
a dream,
a fear.
Stone n metal
an ancient embrace,
All is forgotten between flesh n machine.
I whisper to the wind
stories of the monolith.
The eye of the storm,
blind and unseeing,
stares into the abyss,
A silent sentinel
secrets of a world
consumed by my shadows.
Ironclad choke hold tightened
around pencil necked geek
stranglehold noose asphyxiated
courtesy mailer daemon freak
specifically America Online
server gremlin sought out meek
resplendently attired as Doctor sheikh
wordsmith scouted out as weak
cussed link within human league
surprisingly springing thru Lenovo
external screen, simulating sneak
issuing nary soundcloud when tweek
king "FAKE" childish
ploy regarding peek
a boo as preschool prankish charade,
emulating, feigning, gamboling as mystique.
Little did yours truly discern
unsavory fated deaf fete
incorporating cunning linguistic deceit,
whereat innocent naivete scourge did mete
undeserved pummeling thrashed thinker
savagely, sadistically, and sacrificially beat
mastah to bloody pulp frequent visitor
courtesy aforesaid web portal
unexpected encountering
heinous nemesis greet
ting this chap with
suspicious groovy and neat
out of vogue colloquialisms
circa nineteen seventies
dead giveaway handy dandy
blues clues poetic feet
toe tilly tubular (iambic pentameter)
maintaining quite exemplary
skill for Pete
sakes, blindsided,
hoodwinked, outsmarted...
mine acute intuitive
perception, albeit fleet
tin gully as laxative courses
thru lower gastrointestinal
tract analogous to
GoLytely/PEG Solution
preprepatory for gastroenterologist
to ass esse seat
of pants anatomy i.e.
derriere, whether polyps
populate and remove
if necessary tenamount
to separating chaff from wheat,
and if all's well that ends
well patient with sore tuckus,
nonetheless rearing
to experience healthy
gluteus maximus treat
ting him/herself to feast
like gourmand and eat...
dagnabbit blasting impish,
where dark shadows
house outer limits of twilight zone
pestiferous heterosexual binary
bugaboo with chutzpah
nabbed against gangland
style angry bird
twittering parakeet.
Mojubjub knew that the Corcoran tree
Was tall and comely and fair to see.
Yet all the worms in the House of Owls
Could not move; for Mojubjub’s scowls
Brought a score of ladies and their Pekinese,
Only to hear Mojubjub sneeze.
His mother said we shouldn’t mind;
For, after all, he is so kind
He gave to the princess who slept on a pea
A bouquet of roses and fleur-de-lis
To let her know there was nothing to dread
From spending a night in the House of the Dead.
And all the flowers on the Corcoran tree
Bent low to kiss Mojubjub’s knee.
While in the walls of the House of Owls
The worms stood still and heard the howls
Of a thousand manacled Pekinese,
Tortured by thousands of manicured fleas.
Cat-suited and cute
Baring flesh to her navel
Her bronzed body
In wanting able
Wrists manacled
As her chest pouts
The needing of join
Her heart shouts
In tethered mode
With silken scarves
To her body delight
One caresses her curves
Her chest rises
Saluting his touch
His manly hands
Now in cupped clutch
Their lips meet
Tongues entwined
Tasting licking
De-vine in dine
Catsuit peeled
Down her wanting curves
Her eyes yearning
For his manly serves
As she lies there manacled
Hungering for their zest
His adventurous kissing
Starting from her breasts
Torso traversed
As her scents allure
Following her aroma
Heavenly pure
Her thighs, she holds
His manly shape
Eventually
His shadow drapes
Two engines tuned
To race in time
Revving hearts
In loving rhyme
Manacles opened
To feel her caress
Absorbing each other
Inner flowing finesse
Our sighs in rhythm
Kissing unites
Dove and her Highlander
Cat-suited delight
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love5.php