Long Nitrous Poems
Long Nitrous Poems. Below are the most popular long Nitrous by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nitrous poems by poem length and keyword.
Along Iran's alluvial fan,
spanned a virgin, untested
train
A scourging blight the tender,
fecund suckers did restrain
A heartier tulip bloomed on
Tunisia's arid plain
A docile wave the royal
Jasmine blight to stain
Transplanted in Egypt; a more
fertile strain
Leaching the arid soil, the
tyrannical oasis did drain
A hybrid sprouted on Libya's
fallow terrain
Fertilized by a torrential,
nitrous rain
To Oman's tepid steppes,
uncultivated varieties shrouded
fenced row and lane
Disparate pods releasing
incendiary seeds seeking an
aggregate gain
In Syria's suburban parks a
mutant variety skirted eminent
domain
With underground cisterns to
water it's hostile mane
In desolate Sudan, a floral
chalice did simulated hope
contain
Anon, pilfering hands it's
potting soil did obtain
Older Than I Remember
Things have not gone,
the way that you believe they should.
I have not said a thing.
Things are not what they need to be,
but that does not matter.
I will stand beside you forever.
Getting old, life happens.
Being young was easy.
Now everything must be;
measured, counted, poked, prodded,
cut, snipped, or looked at.
Vampires are fed often,
the amount of blood requested,
on any given trip,
gallons.
Cancer, prostate,
high blood pressure,
or worse.
Nitrous…
Headaches, depression,
brought on by too many
visits to too many places,
you were never supposed to go
if and or unless…
you were dragged.
It is hard to remember,
When we danced all night.
Now we take turns on the walker.
Now we have a plate on the car.
You are still everything to me.
I know we are not the same,
But I believe we are better.
I would not change a day…
a moment, an instance,
from here to there,
for anything else.
The word my heart speaks,
out loud to my soul,
not in a whisper,
but in prayer,
to my God…
humbly,
thanks.
Fast And Furious
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Converted Street Racing Cars
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Nitrous Oxide Gas
© Copyright KC.Leake
9th April 2015
All Rights Reserved
50 cartridges of Nitrous oxide
the old drunk called it hippie crack
One spun case after another
dozing in the bed
His brain pulsing, blood starting to boil
Menudo from the spiritual Mexicans cured his hangover
smoked some weed
covered the stillborn kitten with a laundry basket
Sipping bottom shelf gin
Eyes half open
slurring words through crooked grins
cracked teeth exposed..
He kisses the sacred heart of Jesus
And chugs the backwash
From the empty cans
Lining his bedside
Lola comes home from saturday mass
He can smell the familiar smell
Of pork adobo creeping through the vents
Half asleep
He joins her at the table
“BLESS US O LORD, AND THESE THY GIFTS, WHICH WE ARE ABOUT TO RECEIVE, FROM THY BOUNTY, THROUGH CHRIST OUR LORD…”
And before he could say amen
the feeling of vomit coating his mouth
Stops him in an instant
She makes his plate
And stares at him in silence
As if knowing
But never says a word
When he wakes up
He can smell the lit candle that sits
In the corner of the wall
Where she prays
Next to his bedroom door
Ave maria, Ave maria!
She looks to the holy mother
talks to the statue
about the sins of her sons
And goes to bed with a tired heart
Whiskey bleeding through his pores
He feels a pull
toward the tiny baptist church
Near the center of town
on the corner of Pecan St
He throws his shoes on
slurs the act of contrition
and goes to sit amongst
the honkie kin of Luther
The thought of communion crosses his mind
still unsure whether its withdrawals or the spirit
pulling him to partake in the sacred blood
He invokes St Joseph
reaches for the rosary in his pocket
fumbling its beads
as they collide with beer caps
from the night before
After the service
he walks along the hwy
committed to the act of penance
each step a pilgrimage
going nowhere in particular
faithful to the spirit
regardless..
Twisted and taunted,
I stood in the wintry path where
sparkling silver slivers of mercury
searched for their brethren
to merge as one.
Colder than my path, a clammy cold
from the nitrous night, crept through as winter winds
coming from the chill of the grave,
and blasting me with icy shards, scraping at my bones
and freezing my soul.
Its harshness racked me as balls in a triangle –
trapped with no escape but for the staff
on the muted shape at my side.
The chill soon left my body as I was filled with the heat
of a thousand flames that rose intensely blue, not quite white-hot.
As the flames moved toward the now fiery shape
beside me, they drew me through and pushed my heated blood
throughout my body and the sinister shape smirked
as it swept into me as charged lightening, the flames
now indigo-violet.
My mind burned and turned to blackness as dark as
the edge of the universe.
It filled my bones with molten lead and turned my blood
to a roaring, raging volcanic lava flow.
I bent, not knowing what to do, not caring,
no longer feeling or thinking.
A tiny smoldering snowflake flickered red inside me
and quickly faded into hot intensity.
I was anyone, anything, other than myself –
lost and guided by the entity now residing within.
Normally people claim to like
New things. However, this is
Not always the case.
Neuropharmacologists have found that high levels of
Norepinephrine can alter minds to cause other
Neurotransmitters to direct thoughts along
Non-divergent paths so that the old is preferred and
Now reject any changes to environment.
Naturally people will take a
Noncommittal approach to all of this by denying all of this if asked
Negotiations will then take place to elicit the truth from these
Nonconformists who feel that anything said will be printed in the latest
Newsletter for Neurological Sciences which will make them appear to be
Neurotic
Neophytes. They may feel they have to inhale copious amounts of
Nitrous Oxide to regain their sense of
Normalcy. But this is being
Naïve.
No amount of a drug will allow them the
Novel lifestyle they so enjoy.