Long Mechanisms Poems
Long Mechanisms Poems. Below are the most popular long Mechanisms by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mechanisms poems by poem length and keyword.
He assumed they were just not used
to the intricate mechanisms of a Browning Box camera.
Images of his young life never taken.
An undeveloped child, an unrecorded life.
At aged seven an awkward boy was caught
on an obligatory school photo.
A sole token; evidence of a former existence.
Later friends shared images of their youth,
while parents beamed over shoulders.
Piles of recorded years as thick as decks of cards
were brought out and examined.
He gulped at the spontaneity of the fingers,
that clicked off every smile and giddy event.
After they died, death revealed
several spools of undeveloped films.
He knew that any faded moments
contained within them
would never be his moments.
He had long chose not to be invisible,
or a victim to any closed
or shuttering window.
Obviously positively negative or negatively positive...going through pros and cons in my daily routine as time flies by oh so swift
Painstaking tears are like waterfalls...tasting the different and diverse coping mechanisms of life as a whole...chaos and peace takes its toll
Isolating myself from the loud crowd...introvert and extrovert time and time again and on beat on fleek on the drums of my numbing noggin
Neglected, rejected, accepted, fascinated...odd, but true, having no clue what to do
Invigorated by opinions, pure or impure, that are 8 shades of grey...but hey, let's be redeemed and esteemed by God Most High, a God of truth we can't deny...so, evaporate the fear and lies in your mind's eye
Oblivious to the dilemmas that were aiming my way, but I'll bite the bullet all night and day...awfully offended, maxed out like an overused credit card that's been spent on and now jaded; somewhat apprehending this personal apprehension, hoping you can emphasize this envy I hold with me in my woes and worthless wallet
Nothing much on my mind, but never denying the power of God's hope and faith...gracious evermore in the sight of my Priceless Father, unlike any other
Shame on me for being a rude dude or an insecure individual; I must have that oh so familiar, yet unpredictable attitude of optimistic aptitude...graze in your own maze, heart that is a numb drum in my chest, thumping with anger still unknown to me...but an anger that's self - absorbent and self - opinionated...sophiscated and arrogant - instead, I should be simply humble and undoubtably confident
In the digital landscape of TikTok, scammers operate stealthily, strategically identifying their targets within vulnerable demographics—specifically, older Generation X users. Each profile is analyzed meticulously, revealing weaknesses that can be exploited. The anticipation builds as the scammer initiates contact, contemplating who will be ensnared next.
“Will she be my next target?” he reflects, as the initial engagement elicits a promising response: “Sure, count me in.” This raises a question of accountability in a game that resembles Russian roulette, fraught with risks on both sides.
The scammer initiates the conversation with manipulative charm: “Greetings, gorgeous! What’s your name? Where are you from? I have seen the signs of opportunity.”
His subsequent messages reveal a formulaic script designed to elicit emotional investment: “Could you be the one I’ve been searching for? The crucial piece in my heart’s puzzle?” When moments of silence ensue, he prompts, “Hello? Are you still there? Let’s continue our discussion.”
The language employed is rife with metaphor: “You shine like a star, yet I hold your wings.” The transition to a more secure messaging platform, such as WhatsApp, is an intentional maneuver aimed at bypassing TikTok's monitoring mechanisms. He nonchalantly suggests exchanging contact information, self-identifying with playful anonymity as “lover, lover.”
The nature of the communication implies a predatory mindset: “Lingerie or satin? To me, it makes no difference.” The scam artist masquerades as a fabricated identity—a “Nigerian king”—exemplifying the archetype of a rogue operator in the online ecosystem. The shared traits among these scammers highlight a systematic approach, appealing to the fleeting desires of unsuspecting individuals seeking connection.
Currently, he manages multiple admirers simultaneously, each vying for attention in this digital charade. The fluctuations of interaction underscore a transactional view of affection, framed as an authoritarian relationship—“Oh, what a night! Oh, what a dictator.”
**Advisory Note:** Elderly Generation X users must exercise heightened vigilance against online impostors. With economic instability as a backdrop, they remain prime targets for unscrupulous actors operating in the digital realm.
Human masses turn to swarm
For coordination
The collective schizophrenia
And the obfuscation
They don't give each other right
For the independence
Thus they killing any chance
For the sense production
Individual achievements
And responsibility
Such is their tendence
Quantity they want maintain
They behaved by schizo
They would liking to complain
All of them are victim
They are wrongly archetyped
In groups of their anthouse
Their biography is bio
Their self is auto
They turn everything to app
They chatbot each other
They are all shall be united
Their God is father
Their neuro is NN
Their brain is google
Their mechanisms are python
Their values frugal
They responsible would want
For the lives of others
Probably this is because
All of them are brothers
Their artworks NFT
Their these satoshi
Evolutionary acceleration
Generation
Generation
This is their syntax so
These shall be the primer
All intelligence of mine
In a single binder
They place I of them as value
Over Is of others
And their speech shall be the glue
Of society of them
For the registration
Of the interaction
Via systems of SIGINT
And ELINT ELINT ELINT
Forming such a weird field
And equality demands
Demands of designation
Program to develop units
Minimal components
And tendency to center
THUS
Initiative I took
For redefinitions
So my system the JADC2
Vehicle Ignition
Iguana is with us
And we hadn't lost it
Seems this bus isn't this bus
I accept
You post it
I demand Military Defense
To be taking action
Possible that mass affect
Isn't the affection?
I could go on and on aborting the rough indulgence of the brain, body, mind, soul, sanity and the art of the heart
Nothing zips in how my mental state can have its way around each and every day. What we call “High and lows” I can experience them or expect them to take its theme in any moment now in which ever manner.
Living with Mental disorder is exhausting. By the end of the day I'm ridiculously tired From overthinking in fighting anxieties, intrusive thoughts and suicide ideations. When the sun finally sets, I'm hanging by a thread.
Hoping and wishing that tommorow will be less atrocious than this...only to wake up to the same inch every single day
I can’t even imagine how calm could a brain be
The pledge of chaos to be altered before night time it’s already being procrastinated by my being
The content of the urge to die constantly
The rawness essence how my mental state doesn’t wait for a start or an end but the fact that the rest of my life this weight that it has over me takes its inherent mark it’s like a white sheet marked with a dark dot in the middle no matter how you cut the paper in order to remove the dark dot it only carries a final fate to shred it instead
Being alive is like being asked to give up your house that you built and lived in it for years and asked to live in it for the sake of safe keepings
The humane and sorrowful need to be heard and understood (inevitable vulnerability)
Harvesting to cope and actually have a defence mechanisms just to make my breathing bearable
Although we all going to die one day a daily dose of allurement of death is needed
Torn in between dark and grey it all looks the same
The battered hope that someday…eventually…maybe things might get better?
It doesn’t get better than this
Ashleigh Ngoqo
All alone I am..
I am in a zone of comfort..
Me, myself, and I..
No noise..
No distractions..
The stresses of life in society..
No longer apply..
Others have placed judgments on me..
I often used my defense mechanisms..
Rescued myself from the vulgar vultures..
Upon my every rituals..
The vultures had torn at my flesh
As frequently as I take a breath each day..
Those who place judgments lacks acceptance..
Often they refuse to accept themselves..
In turn they point their offensive fingers at me.
Along with their pessimism..
Negatively fill the air..
It circulates in my atmosphere..
In my space it surrounds..
In my defense..
I allow evaporation..
Presently..
In my zone of perfect harmony..
In balance as well
A calming and peaceful zone I am..
Silent and still
Serenity is in my kingdom..
A kingdom that I chose for myself..
My kingdom lies here..
In my grandest solitude..
Nestled and tucked away..
From a society that no longer serves me..
For I am not lonely..
It is aloneness that I chose.
Aloneness in my kingdom I am..
There are the CODES
Each Defense does have them
Disparate they are
And each does crave to crack them
Internal mechanisms
Of cryptanalysis of this
The military
Don't want peace
Because
The peace delusional
It is
Is ephemeral
Isn't rational
And doesn't solve
SO cuirios I am about how
All system this
Intends
Out of the situation
TO evolve
There was this
Inherent Resolve
And taken out of the context this
The formulation
Of the operation
Had taken us to be considering
The wiss
Of all ID of all the people of the world
This system may aquire whole profile
Of any person who commits
The crime
It's there where church is fraud
For systema of the LAW ENFORCEMENT
And thus the way they in ARMY trod
Due the INCOMPETENCE of ARMY
Celebrates the FRAUD
12 years ago, after 38 years removed from where I was known, I went back to the area where I was born, to the place where
the basic things of life to me were taught and shown. Not to the actual town, because it was mostly gone.
Not to the actual house, because it too was all gone.
But to the county seat, said to be the home of the blues.
Truth be told, I never felt at home there anyway.
It was a real challenge just finding places to play, Always being told to stay inside the box where we belonged.
As mortals grow, we learn to utilize both thermometers And thermostats so as to not only measure their surroundings
But also to set in place mechanisms to adjust those same surroundings.
So, growing up, I was boxed in, and mine was really just a place to work And stay, where childhood fun was 'shooting marbles' or playing in the hay. But even then, we had no say but still longed for a better day.
Growing up, I was well behaved, never causing trouble, Nor did I make any attempts to burst anyone bubble.
If one had dreams, they had to guard them dearly, prayerfully. Otherwise, they would turn into nightmares or get blown away with the wind.
It's been said that home is where your story begins, which sounds like a God-Send, but I say that home is a place like no other place that you wish would Never end.
In a real sense, over time, I was shielded from the pain of all those things, the good, the bad, and the ugly, that went away, and blessed by God with so many other things with which I have been warmly embraced.
110520PS
notification of fire evacuation
slated to occur
April 12th, 2018 (between the hours
of 9:00 am and 12 pm) did spur
me to validate Google asper,
that direct object heave ving,
pro noun sub bull, verb bose,
ingenious American historical figure
attired in tailored clothes
careful sans his just keen
liberal mien pro
claiming necessity to doze
when body politik
didst need restorative source
analogous to drained battery expose
zing lack of electricity
mechanisms need did tubby supplied
(in one direction) flows
accorded stealing thunder and lightening
from Zeus where prominence glows
vis a vis via leaving
his tell tale fingerprints
upon flame inextinguishable hose
imprimatur of renown Founding Father,
a one man gifted born
improved quality of life
during Colonial American stage
buttressing forlorn
during his deux score and four years
fledgling United States heed add horn
bequeathing blueprints
(functional contraptions,
posthumous patents procured
after populace did mourn
gadgets kickstarting leveraging more novel
Ongepatshket prescience,
quietly revolutionary,
strikingly timesaving),
utilitarian value shorn
tattered stitched timeless totemic tenets torn
unimagined visionary watershed worn,
where underworld webbed wide world burned
with thermal coupling that churned
ferocious infernos
describing how Hades learned
tubby managed
to maximize efficiency
zealousness zeroed Zyder Zee
in said Netherlands
and hellish hot house turned
into a near utopia (More
or less nsync) with Doubting Thomas's,
where many mortals yearned
to escape corrupt fat cats, sans
those condemned to mortality
found minimally a mew
zing, and doggedly trudged 10,000 leagues
under the sea, entombing
jewels for vernacular speaking Josephine shew
wing scars from fire
that threatened Philadelphians thorough
lee hence, forcing many civilians
to dive vining Davy Jones's locker pre view
in 1736 after swallowing embalming fluid
ha I did "FAKE" you
tubal heave poetic pablum from human zoo!
I dont blame her for how she chose to survive
It was never really her choice
It was a forced setup
A gun forced into our hand
To absolve them of guilt
But they guide our hands
On to the trigger
And coax us into pulling it
But was it really suicide
When the world forced us to hide
Threatening to torture us for the rest of our lives
So it was never our choice
When they put a gun to our head threating to shoot us instead
If we didn't put a bullet in our head
I blame her for how she survived
Killing the parts of herself she loved
The parts of herself
That embraced her blackness
That celebrated her differences in a small minded world
I dont blame her for the grief she is feeling
I dont blame her for the part of me thats missing
I dont blame her surviving something horrific
I dont blame her for being her own biggest critic
I hope she knows she didn't have to apologise
To the lies
Concocted by the world in front of her very own eyes
It wasn't her fault
For the words they spoke
The ones that would evoke
Unhealthy mechanisms she would use to cope
I dont blame her for what she had to do to stay afloat
I dont blame her for the lingering trauma
The type that would constantly haunt
Leaving her forever distraught
Like a lump stuck in her throat
I dont blame her silence
Or her acts of self violence
I dont blame how she was born into surviving
A world so cut throat
That it would tell a black girl
She didn't deserve to live
All because of her skin
I dont blame all the black kids for all of the unspeakable ways we had to fit in