Long Millimeters Poems
Long Millimeters Poems. Below are the most popular long Millimeters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Millimeters poems by poem length and keyword.
…
You advance by the step, destined to accelerate my heartbeat; I have a tendency to feign nonchalant despite my rapid, unsteady breathing.
Petrification courses through me as you stop, millimeters in front of me; shockingly, your touch is quite gentle as you tilt my chin upwards, I notice your grin.
It seems as if you want me to notice your sadistic expression, and in a swift motion you grab the knife I have.
I’m still staring intensely at your smug expression, though I don’t need to see it- I feel it;
…
My stomach has been penetrated- I look down, shaking, and see the knife in, the one you took from me; I drop on my knees while coughing out blood, as I feel my insides out. But when I look back up, you’ve already left, so I attempt to retrieve the warm, sticky, blood spilling out of me.
I know what’s necessary- I crawl across the floor, dizziness possessing my head- my hands tremble as I struggle to open the lid.
I choke as the iron tablets erupt in my throat; accepting my fate, and closing my eyes; Though I’ve been fixed, It won’t be the same.
…
When awoken, my eyes scan the room but narrow at you; there you are, hovering over me; Your idiotic expression courses rage through me as my fear inflicted being screams words like “sadist” and “freak.”
It possesses my every vein until I feel them burst- you’ve stabbed me again…
Though it doesn’t stop there- you proceed to bring the knife down, each stab harder than the last, until eventually you’ve carved a hole through me.
But when you stab me again, you stab me through the hole; it doesn’t hurt anymore.
…
You pulverized me to the point in which it doesn’t hurt anymore.
…
The first time I felt nothing but guilt, rage, panic, fear, and sadness. Though when I was hurt repeatedly, the pain stopped- as you were stabbing nothing but an infinite void in me. I’m not a masochist- the reason of writing this piece was simply to express the following-
The more you get hurt, the less pain you feel. You’ll remain null, and even when healed, you’ll never be the same again; you may be over it, you may be unable to feel pain- though in your head those memories will forever reign.
[ p a i n . ]
I'm feeling good, so I think I'll kick some multi syllable rhymes,
It's a known factor that I flow in undefinable time,
Because I'm killing it, I'm at an undeniable height,
and if you don't like it then you can show me your defiant side
Cause I got a meter, it's full with millimeters to go,
and it'll bust, the brush, will the coat the ground like snow
You listen to one punchline and your eardrums will implode,
Like drowning in the Pacific Ocean and sinking to the benthic zone
It's just to cold, to much pressure for your structure to withhold,
I'll disect you with words, and pick at your skull through damp bones
Through every last note, what I teach you is all that you know
The lesson has been taught, you learned, swallow your pride, and go home
I feel the friction when lead hits paper, and thoughts come to life
Form personification when thoughts speak, and honesty writes
the dictator, of mad rhymes, giving the frustration light,
And I form art because that's what I born to do, and that's right
Stir up some biological warfare, and mix up some chemical fumes,
You need a gas mask, to withstand what's gonna happen to you,
You gotta bad fortune, the palm reader was telling the truth,
Your reputation won't save you, from acid mist that forms dew
With words I torture, incase the rage, then let it out
Then cap it just time, nobody can hear your silent shouts,
you should've took another route, but you pushed these words out of my mouth,
And you made yourself a slave, with metaphors I'll rip you, that's what I'm about
Because of pent up emotions hiding within my skull,
It's easy for me to let loose, and leave the results unresolved
I'll leave you to the bidding, then like a chemical solution you'll disolve,
You'll regret stepping to me, like opening up a puzzle you can't solve
Destroying syllables, this is insanity incased in a beat
Trying to step to me, is like stepping with hot coals under your feet
I'll leave you in a daze, eyes glazed over because you thought you could defeat,
But my attributes were better than yours, cause I was raised by the streets.
"Im scared" I whispered, eyes big round and green,
Fingers twirling a strand of strawberry blond hair,
Twisting it around nervously, brushing pink blushing cheeks.
The sky dark with twilight, two stars overwatching us,
We stand millimeters apart beneath the silver moon,
Grass of green and wheat of silver reaching up, brushing our thighs.
Dew drops glitter in the incandescent skylight,
Violet brushing mountian tops with color,
Deeper shadows producing richer shades around.
"Have I ever led you in the wrong direction, not to trust me?" His eyes,
Darker then golden, more mossy then green in the dark,
Held love, profoundly, deep emotion, and now hurt.
The moon, outlined his shoulder length black hair,
The ends twisting with the May humidity, into loose curls,
It outlined his hard body, ridgid, with accustion.
My eyes, anxiously looked into his, peering into his soul,
Ivory fingers, cold from the air, found comfort in his curls,
stepped closer, breaths mingeling, and touched his lips sweetly.
"No." I let the whisper escape from my aching lips,
Aching for more, needing, wanting, begging, for another kiss,
My heart beat pounding slowly, knowingly-he spoke truth.
His hand brushed my cheek, bringing warmth from the sleeping sun,
His eyes searched mine, trained only on eachother,
The world could wake and we would never noticed.
The glittering orbs outlined in black lash,
Softened now, held question mixed gently in them,
His lips touched mine, moments before he whispered into them.
"Then trust me." the words carressed my perked ears,
My eyes closed, half drawn lids at his nuzzles,
Lightly grazing the soft skin on my bare neck.
My fingers found his hand, strong, sturdy, callosed softness,
Went to move it up to touch my body, while his fibers breathed extasy,
He intertwined our fingers, and i remembered it was my first intent.
Caught up in the moment, the delicate moonlit movement,
Our tongues lightly, roughly, softly, danced,
Parted again, to share a sweet love-bloomed breath.
Form:
4% mnm
Mountainous syllables can never really tread lightly across a rope bridge. But living in a cabbage house is fantastic fun for many leaves make many rooms and many rooms make much rubbish. Don't trip over the staircases. Nor the bins. Nor the fireplaces. Be safe in an oceanographic breeze. It is often wise to counter count. And never leave a leaf door ajar. Ok? Good. Fodder not a fried fish. Especially when driving a forklift truck. Ponder not the wonder of a damsel on a butterfly couch. How very sedate! But neither seductive nor secretive for serpentines are often deceptively shark like. Particularly when partially shaded by a curtain. Pull shut then open to reveal. Wow such revelational defects. How quite ornate. And a man in a suit with a small briefcase is often as round as a round house. No spring in a portly framed partridge. But carrying a cartridge through the airspaces can bring a ship to life. Smiling. Waves kiss the sides. And sailors play swan lake on harmonicas and violins for the dusk often brings dust. And to halt is to delay only for points are gained by talking treadmill like in large halls with lecterns'. Drink then. Capsicum rice flavoured juice creates much lemon spittle. How rather remarkable are the quotes from the pickled saged cavern dwellers in yachts awaiting the demise of development. The continuation of a fluctuation is a fascination for a fattened form. And so the bead arrives on slightly bended knee in a small sixteenth century chapel. Hum not a tune of trotting uniforms and hooves. No haha to that. It is merely a zero percent of a demonic deficit sweep. Swimmingly seemingly surpassing swamps. And a door swinging happily. Haha jumping jamming junipers. Hahaha statutory static void. Hahahaha xx pea leap. Xxxxx monopolistic Z with the p y q. 89.0. Xzx
Form:
Futile effort to plunger the clogged kitchen sink...
courtesy malfunctioning garbage disposal
which won't be removed
by onsite maintenance man
UNTIL/UNLESS
fruit fly excreta wiped off
(impossible to access)
areas along bathroom and kitchen walls
so communicated "the warden."
Thus we (yours truly and his missus)
subjected to inhale
putrid, offal, and noxious
smelling stagnant water
until every streak
telltale sign regarding Drosophila melanogaster
exuded excretory evidence
vanishes without a trace
vis a vis thru cutting
qua yellow elbow grease.
Aforementioned hardy critter
approximately three millimeters in length
and two millimeters in width
one defiant little bugger
proliferate - reproductive propensity
of fruit fly enormous
under ideal circumstances
female lays about 500 eggs
impossible mission to exterminate
or extinguish pesky species
without declaring total mortal kombat,
and even then
no guarantee targeted
above named mite size bug
nsync with his/her brethren
blown to smithereens.
Despite all pervasive existence
plus ingress into mine nasal passage
as nostril dam us foretold
annoyance on par with midges
flying up into nose
far more tolerable
synonymous with lesser of two evils
versus exhausting these lovely bones
tirelessly suctioning refuse
pooling fetid water.
I will seriously ponder
posting gofundme site
as a last ditch effort
to escape nauseating
effluence out the plumbing bowels
worse smell than rotten Gotham
sliding down into behavioral sink
if management here
at Highland Manor Apartments
decrees fiat all secretion
indeed linkedin with fruit fly eliminated.
Baltimore,
again.
8 AM, sweating, shaking
on the verge of puking up
stomach acid.
the car is dead silent.
are we early?
are they late?
is this how its going to be
forever?
who knows.
who cares.
i’ve been watching time
pass and slip through
the cracks between my fingers.
it seems more apparent
than usual.
we are parked at a gas pump.
each time i make eye contact
its quickly broken.
i know what they are thinking.
‘what a shame.’
‘my morning could be worse.’
maybe they even feel
gratitude.
as they finish filling up,
i watch them reach for
their phones.
i wonder if they are calling
their daughters and sons.
on the surface,
just to check in.
but inwardly,
thankful their children
aren’t heroin addicts.
no one wants their baby to grow up
to be
a junkie.
i steal a glance at my other half
she’s ill
but she’s beautiful.
she’ll feel better soon enough.
a young handsome black man
starts over
and my heart
skips a beat.
we exchange currency
for oblivion.
we drive away to find
somewhere to hit.
it feels like
my first kiss.
i can’t remember what makes me happy anymore.
my happiness is
artificial
and fits nicely
in a syringe.
when i get on,
i can breathe again.
i melt into the passenger seat,
successful.
i watch her try to find a vein,
in and out of consciousness.
she’s millimeters away from getting well.
she’ll get there.
i let myself nod but
for a moment,
i wonder
what that young, handsome black man
wanted to be
when he grew up.
i guess it doesn’t matter.
everyone crosses paths at the bottom.
I’m on my knees, hands clasped together under my chin.
He’s standing above me, looking down to meet my gaze. The look of concern washing over him.
We’re so close you can almost see the heat from my body bouncing off his.
The only thing separating us is a red line on the floor below me. Millimeters from making contact with my skin.
I look both ways, but the line has no end. It stretches out and fades into the unknown fog representing infinity.
“Why can’t I cross the finish line?” I plead with the man above.
My skin showing blue and black splotches, cuts new and old, blood clotting on the soles of my feet.
I have fought, clawed, and muscled my way to this red line. But why does he stand here, obstructing my path?
In the corners of my eyes I see proud runners hopping over the line, pumping their fists with victory, then hunching over, gasping for air with relief that their race has ended.
His stance never wavered. He is more relaxed than ever.
I beg. My effort has gone void.
But he knows.
I cut through the paths. I wanted to win. I wanted the race to be over, I hadn’t known what I signed up for. The pain was unbearable.
But he knows.
I missed key steps, scenery I was supposed to marvel in on the way. I ran a race that people were strolling through.
I cheated myself.
My eyes must be telling him what had known all along.
He crouches to meet me at eye level.
“Don’t run this time. Breathe in the air I’ve provided. Look at the mountains I’ve created. Admire the path I’ve built for you.”
These stories and their strategies
tend to remain untold
little bit by little bit
they change our world
Gathering their momentum
bit by bit become
too dangerously headlong
and inch by inch
become encroaching
sneaking up behind you
when we all are sleeping
Little by little
in every tock and tick
the vanishing of humanity
beneath it quietly slips
but these stories in their strategies
tend to be untold
all the tiny little things
of the great wide open world
bit by little bit we find
all the doors are suddenly closed
surreptitiously removed
by sneak thieves
living in the pockets of our souls
Little by little bit
the theater unfolds
the grand illusion of us all
tiny inconsequential
united by ultimately divisible
prone to believe in the unbelievable
by millimeters to measure
our predetermined fall
little snip edge off clip
healing every tiny little cut
until there's nothing left at all
Still these strategies in their stories
take care never to be revealed
we tend to wake up one morning
and find all the white wash has mysteriously pealed
inch by little inch
bit by little bit
we are handed back their tiny little world
filtered away into insignificance
what once there was
is now without us
now a miniature facsimile
little by little
no more of anything of what we used to be
bit by bit
removed it from our memory
those sneak thieves who made their living
stealing all the little things
from the pockets of our souls
I’m tired all the time these days
With aches and pains that show my age.
Rusty springs, instill in me, this unfamiliar rage.
Logic still escapes me as air once clear, is filled with blame.
Smaller piles of laundry now, marshmallows never taste the same.
Branches wither in stilling air, avenues are closed.
Most, I find in disrepair, like my soiled clothes.
I saw an empty car lot where the harlots used to play.
Neglected street signs pointing homeward, each a different way.
With fury of an ant I rail, against an unseen hold,
Walk with toes and fingertips all curled against the cold.
I slide through days like mayonnaise, not caring anymore.
Cannot find my other shoe, now hidden in some drawer.
The steel trap let the bear escape,
Thoughts I thought I knew one time, now wear a sticky tape.
Unfamiliar landscape in so short a meager time;
Millimeters measuring me a lifetime’s final rhyme.
My hands and feet are gray!! My thoughts seem very odd.
Am I talking to myself; or am I hearing God?
My youth and heart, still sing eternal; but for that infernal clock.
Some stories never passed my lips, for fear a look of shock.
I forego summer walks with sun, so merry be it warming,
Gather fruit and evening jute, held tight against a storming.
My eyes are wet, I wonder why, pause by the gate, let loose a sigh,
On my clock the hour cannot wait; I’ve one foot in,
The other’s running late.
HUMANS, ANTS AND SHADOWS
The smallest ants cast long shadows. . .
Little they are but see how discipline they can be
Millimeters apart, they all unify in a single file
It's a dismay that at some point
Humans, don't show such discipline
Instead of waiting for their turn
Sometimes one overtakes, one assumes
someone else's post just to be on time
selfish motive or emergency,
who knows?
Polymorphic ants, they merge
to do an umbrella of tasks
Humans regardless of status and age
All are entitled to do some chore
inside ones home, school or workplace
Hand and hand in a web of labor
Talking to each other
with their own way: pheromones
Some colonies act as one
but some misunderstands, they fight.
Humans as well does communicate
with the languages that abound this earth.
Hence, we can readily convey our thoughts
but still, highest among creations,
there are still confusions and war.
Amazing!
Such little creatures,
Ants and we, humans,
one way or another
cast long shadows. . .
_________________________
©O. E. Guillermo
03:31 pm, January 16, 2015
Note: Pheromones -- chemical substances released by insects (e.g. ants, bees, wasps etc.) the influences their physical behaviour particularly communication, signals.