Long Morbid Poems
Long Morbid Poems. Below are the most popular long Morbid by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Morbid poems by poem length and keyword.
Obdurate goat tangles rough knotted rope
Stuck beside shadowy friend, Silky Oak
Hedonistic prisoner capricorn, cheap trope
Ethics remain riddle, morals mere joke
Towered timber utters truth in its creak
Canopy clapping hands crush recollection
Billion fingered Silky Oak, silver limbs oblique
Obscure overlooked sins, a whispered detection
Keeps capricorn unkempt, tethered to trunk
Smooth curled horns apply keratin to bark
Scaffold of decency rubbed back, defunct
Gloss of molestation, shamed oblivion hark
Hefty hormonal avenger of societial conform
Ediface eroded by wiles of willful exhibition
Tortoiseshell taupe noxious horned capricorn
Weapon wield deposit encircles oak, dark depiction
Mirror denies texture, mirthful obstreperous ignores
Shine diminishes structure, erect neck narrow
Malnourished foliage, goat's gritty diet implore
Capricorn's carnal gyrations abate, restore marrow
Fractured cracked tenacity, tree's foreboding scream
Matchstick snap collages goatman gonzo in debris
Collapsed capricorn of devilish demeanour obscene
Scruple niggard gruesome morbid marauder buried
22nd August 2021
Written for Contest : This Or That Volume 6.
Tethered To A Moment
Sponsor : Edward Ibeh
In my global village, Oxy, where folks live all alone,
There’s lots of open secrets, for secrets are well-known!
Fairly dark alien residents live with us above ground.
A dull roar or deafening silence you hear when they’re around.
In mobile homes, alone together, some big babies live,
hanging out with old boys. Head butts they like to give!
An idiot savant is here, and he is terribly nice.
His glasses are half empty, and he likes to use hot ice.
Non-working mothers are employed here as paid volunteers.
Infinite in number, earth angels are those dears.
One skinny broad likes idle gossip. With sad clowns she talks.
She gets cold sweats. In restless sleep, she wakens from sleep walks.
A petty officer with some lame effort likes to find romance.
She wears tight slacks but lusts for men who only wear dress pants.
A gentleman bandit had brief longing for a student teacher.
Her morbid humor was, for him, her second best feature.
Mostly in my village, folks are devilishly good.
Private citizen have open house in every neighborhood.
Others, though, are pretty ugly; some are really fake.
The highly depressed with quiet rage are just too hard to take!
All that aside, with mild enthusiasm, I must say,
I love the mud baths, rock gardens, and elevated subway.
Come visit. You’ll love our jumbo shrimp, local celebrities,
work holidays and free love; all make forgotten memories!
Written Aug. 26, 2016 for David Lindsay's Oxymoronic Obsession Contest
Every line has one or more oxymorons. This was great fun!
A wild flower, grew up through
a crack in the pavement, I wondered,
why already not trampled
by so many preoccupied feet?
Sat I down on a
park-bench, further pondering this yellow
charmer, to which I cordially gave greet --
“little tenant,” oh just missed another!
Thinking I saw it, knowingly parry aside;
(one wild flower, persistent, determined
not its beauty to hide.)
Unaware came a team of training joggers,
in colorful, striped briefs; legs and tennis shoes
thoughtlessly-trouncing-everywhere –
Feared I this brave little trooper had finally been
dealt its fatal wild share -- the wind of the runners' healthful,
self-indulgent passing, seemed more a cyclone of careless,
petulant stomping – no sense a little blossom would
they spare!
Deeply rooted in soil, it could not retreat, without vocal
cords it could not plead a shriek – could not shield itself
from such crushing, annihilating defeat.
Sat there I a sad bit longer -- would not dare open my eyes, felt
a tear slipping, my heart seeming knee-deep in morbid dripping.
Smeared blossom, and grieving sunbeams, saw I like a funeral's
dark-arm-band – a segment of my bright world, had just tragically
ended...gone with the lone blossom's, last futile, floral stand –
till a child opened my eyes, making me take peak,
a sweet little voice, not the least tinge bleak, as they carefully parted: “Oh
mother, isn’t that dandelion so dashingly chic!?
At first I thought it a
random drop of light -- why
not, the universe is full of
yet to be diagnosed, while
remaining natural mysteries.
Searing through the dark overcast --
perfectly oval, left was a singe, sign of
novel, puncturing intrusion, on what was
already a hoard of unusual flashing nimbus.
Came a rumble and a roar!
Such putrid blast! -- common to the bowls of a glutenous fat man,
at a smorgasbord. Dark insatiability continued.
A thickening! Bloating stench of atmosphere. A sense that
could only be likened to pure evil. Dared seemed my formidable
curiosity! Stars, a flickering mass of descending glitter --
Was there no bottom to this luminous fall?
I shuddered to think.... But could not turn away.
What negative presence, had come to disturb the restful nature
of a Southwest summer's night? I did not know. Could not venture
even a morbid guess. What all consuming demonic presence -- light alone
seeming incapable of subduing -- rendered every foreboding blotch
amusing to me! Entertained my curiosity. The fouler the contrast, the more
excited became a deep, dank, primitive fantasy I long harbored somewhere inside. Was it simply spirit
being infected by a transient, though treatable abscess? Or something far more primitive? Malevolent?
An enchantment that could not be, once entertained, so easily subdued, extracted from the mind. From the heart. Impending doom for a foolishly inquisitive soul. The ancient document, the incantation
I held in my hands, seeming to radiate an offer of unbridled power. What would I do?
What would anyone sane mortal do on All Hallows Eve? Burn the damn thing!
fireball friday,
hello
you know i did not
miss you at all
the cool air freezes
my eyes favorably
foggy
i relax inside the
zonule of aftermath
paradise
with green tea
ginger ale in hand
and carelessness
concrete in stature,
i start the hose and
retire that fireball
that is merciless to
the touch
i cut on some roy
orbison because i
happen to dig the
man
after that, me,
mitch, and jenny
will take a ride to
the havana moon to
meet ole chuck berry
i will then become
some kind of fool
with joe and the
tams and enjoy the
moonlight and music
with ruby and the
romantics
fireball friday,
goodbye and good
riddance....for
now....until morbid
monday....(EXPLETIVE!)
Soul-are
Is my soul conscious at this time?
No further question marks in asking
as the query is itself the answer
tentative and playful statement
of intent of letting go solutions
to a problem which is not
The conscious soul
There is an ‘is’ somewhere
out there in there and
where they meet when
is and when they not
No definition and it is
at the point and time
the fleeting flowing moment
ever changing change
‘My’ is longing and belonging
when the meaning wanders
me in fragments wholeness
wonderment and expectation
pondering what’s mine
possessions baggage lightness
entitlements and freedom’s safety
When I am and not am and both
and stand and fall proceed
my journey un-arrested
‘Soul’ my essence source
alone conjoined the Universe
en-lived en-storied
told untold narration from within
without because of why
and how my circles spin
spiral radiate alive and morbid
mortal where the crossing
exit point and destination
questions not what there if now
is after momentary permanent
impermanence for ever lasting
going gone beheld in truth
‘Conscious’ of the contradictions
compliments of contemplation
complementing opposites and syntheses
polar angles sides perspectives
hidden exposed below the surface
and above the tidal mark
of scion’s collaborated offspring
consciousness of consciousness
transcendental comprehension
and awareness of what can
can not be understood
‘At’ where at when at
is lost and found and lost again
no at without the it and as and I
attending context inconsistent
alterations wrapped in time
location in perceptions
‘This’ that there is here
for now and when it is
and gone just when the past
has changed from present
to the future this and
present past and yet again
is what there is appraised
forgotten passed surpassed
uncommented in meditation
upon reflection feeling thought
‘Time’ so much so little just enough
and left beyond the time of time
when time has come will go and stay
forever when my consciousness
which was has gone
20th May 2016-05-16
Contest entered: Is your soul conscious at this time?
Echoes of unease
Blurry poise dumps peace
Blunt noise does not cease
Stress in sharp duress
Morbid fate grips mess
Loud voices address
Transient cords now spring
Watch deep ooze time flings
Struggling vivid things
Here thrills and spills wet
That and this and that
Wager on lost bet
Variety seems nice
Traces of odd spice
Vice in lame advice
Fear now loiters long
Can the fake seem strong,
Or know right from wrong?
Zest seeps instantly
Oozing energy
Can joy feel lonely?
No much more to say
To myself today
Survive life's foul play
Struggle with more wit
Embrace bit by bit
Exult style that fits
Leon Enriquez
21 March 2016
Singapore
A life in waiting is a weight in living,
the more you shove your tongue
down the swallowed route
the more you'll be wrung
and suffering breath for the mute.
If I didn't have an Offence- O-meter
I would be happier,
but I would also be accosted.
A life in waiting is a weight in living,
Crawling to walking
Strengthens the caulking
on the runners stalking,
and zip zip zips
the tips
of your toes to the ground.
Who'll make the sound
of the morbid when you're done?
A life in waiting is a weight in living,
and the weight of existence
is a reminiscence
of what you missed,
whilst everyone else kissed
the hate, the love, the livid,
the missed, the depressed, the rigid,
everyone is tangled
and together we are a bit mangled
but all as one,
is one for all.
And without you we'll eventually fall.
Patience is a virtue,
and wildness too,
and so we live privileged and restricted,
and we wait for the wake
of all our dreams come true,
but this life of waiting is a life I'll never of knew.
Take a picture and pass it on,
circle the differences until you're done,
and when you're fed up of waiting
in your tower of political correctness
of purification failure
of nothing but age,
turn to the mirror and see the lines you grew
without the rain having ever fallen on their cracks you never drew.
You ask of me silence as I Rome
Saint peters square gathering hymns
beneath Di Vatican where Satan sits
in solitude a prisoner of haste awaiting
a time to live a time to give malice a
wretched sea urchins filled with rapture
borrowed by solace envy kackling carny
unfolding aimlessly becoming nothing in the
eyes of God sending chills of fear weathered
under the soil sandals of the child of God wrath
behold the tyranny engraved over the watchers
minds eye calling to pontius pilates consciousness
professing goodness portraying the death of Christ
from a morbid dream shared by his wife come to me
now seek truth return void from your sinful actions
hatred devoured love conquered an yet I am still here
Walk through this world with me
feed and awaken my soul
share all my dreams with me
along with your silence I stroll.
Reach down deep into a loving heart
walk through my morbid fears
allow not a wealth to fall apart
pick my Self up, deafen the sound of my tears.
Walk through this world with me
I need to feel your kindling power
share all my dreams with me
I'll live through what is sweet and sour.
A journey of many a loss, a Light to reach
blowing the dust off, a gem would glitter and win
If only the book of Nature would me teach
the flame of harmony would ever glow and never dim.
Walk through this world with me
paint mysterious stories of no ending
share all my dreams with me
on dark paths, we blend colours and keep ascending.
In Life, we reach souls and bloom
the road is long and the pleasure is strong
we learn to build in the heart many a room
and yearn for the realm to where we belong.
The lines used :
(Walk through this world with me
Share all my dreams with me)
George Jones song : 'Walk Through This World With Me'
https://youtu.be/ieDXpVpjieE