Long Paralysis Poems
Long Paralysis Poems. Below are the most popular long Paralysis by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paralysis poems by poem length and keyword.
Conceptual paralysis
Hot wired matrix
delusional her hereditary mono-glide
Diet tried smokers cough
Apocalyptic pop-tart
Disappoint a trend of the needy
You gave it back
Watching the watcher
You had a laugh
The diamond left its mount
The horse shouted out rude names
The map of life is on your palm
Testing your attention to see if you're real
The missing songs sang of castles walls
Paradox of building with sand
Next government field trip
Not no fun no fake-ness in the bosoms
Season's as her bounty
The streets of all our passion
People fill in the spaces
Kill in weird places
How can you no care,
Silently demanding
Glamorous outstanding
Electric compassion is who ate her
Was never far from anticipation
The dream loses fire once a foot has felt
More than the pain and shock of lost desire
Old? Oh, Goodness!
The old lady is jiggling the bed!
With her earphones on, bobbing her head,
Tipping her shoulders to front and back,
To up and down — her chest the same.
If the partial-paralysis hadn’t set in so
Eight months ago, she’d be in a quick go
Up jigging across the room to reel with
That Irish, God-praising banjo she listens to.
Old lady, her moves shaking the sheets off!
Quite a sight to see! And, too,
With the angels around her bed clapping in time
And tapping along to the beat of joy’s music.
Her physical therapist had said to keep moving,
“There’s no such word as ‘can’t’ and you
Aren’t old ’til you hit three digits,” which means,
The old lady tallies: she has three decades
Of swaying, twisting, bowing and turning to go!
———————————————————————-
(c) sally Young eslinger 1/18/221
Thanks be to God
As I tried to pull her along with me and our eyes started adjusting to the darkness,
we realized that she was not suffering from some sort of paralysis. Instead, a pair
of large harry hands protruded through the sidewalk and were each wrapped
around one of her ankles.
I am not sure why, but I unzipped my pants and started to urinate on the hands.
“What are you doing”, cried my girlfriend, full of fear.
“Our urine is like acid on their skins”, I answered, not really sure how I knew this.
She stared at me with a quizzical look on her face as if she, too, was afraid to ask
how I knew that – fearful of what my answer might be.
As the skin burned off the large hands, my girlfriend was able to step free and we
started running down the darkened city street.
Off in the distance was a barely perceivable blinking red light marking the
destination I was heading for. Even though it felt like we were running in place and
in slow motion, the red light grew larger and larger with each lethargic step.
Finally, we reached our destination. It looked like a domed baseball stadium
hovering five feet off the ground. I approached a door-like structure and
yelled, “Permission to enter the ship” – only the sounds that came out of my mouth
were strange bleeps and blips.
“No humans allowed”, boomed from the spaceship in the same bleeping language
that I had just used.
“It’s okay – she’s with me”, I responded. My girlfriend took a step back, stared at
me with terror in her eyes – eyes that then rolled back as she started to fall in a
faint.
Just in time, I stepped toward her and grabbed her before she crashed onto the
ground. Her weight and momentum took me down with her in a soft landing with
me cushioning her fall.
It was then that I awoke to find my girlfriend on top of me having somehow aroused
me enough to be pleasuring her in my sleep.
"Oh, you feel so good", she moaned ...only, it came out in bleeps and blips.
01.12.2019
I’m scared to sleep
Tonight scared of what I feel
When I fall asleep
I’m scared of this thing which I can’t tell if it’s real
Or not but when it’s around
I feel as if Mount Kilimanjaro is on my chest
I can’t scream I can’t move I’m like a mouse bound
In a lab I thought the reason to sleep is rest
But as for me
I’m compromised
Every time I see
This creature I’m paralyzed
Head to toes and the more I try to move
The more it tightens
Its grip I keep asking myself is it the roof
The door or the window it uses to creep in and frightens
Me to death I’ve tried to look hard into the dark
Thinking I’d see its face but all I see is nothing
While this happens Ginger doesn’t even bark
Nor come into the bedroom to rescue me from something
The whole experience takes less than a minute
But it feels like forever
The only part that moves are my eyes which I can’t forget
How rapidly they move up and down asking myself when will it be over
I’m scared to sleep tonight scared of sleep paralysis
Scared of what it possesses
as the Sandman hovers above us
arm around you, bodies relaxed
electrical pulses from the brain surge
my body slips into a paralysis
everything is where it belongs
in the security of next to you
lies more than a reward for the day
i am far beyond mere satisfaction
i am floating in a placid being
waves gently guiding me
i leave with you on the Ameles potamos
the warmth of your kiss goodnight
upon my wedding ring
a ritual so among the beloved moments
you touch me with, fresh warmth at days end
that guides me to slumber
life could not have given me more than this
holding you as the Sandman hovers above
now i wish to hold you in my dreams
until morning brings to me
the dream i love the most
as the sun roars into existence
your lips pressed to mine
3/18 Abilene Kismet
Psycho Analysis
by Michael R. Burch
This is not what I need...
ANALysis,
paralysis,
as though I were a seed
to be planted,
supported
with a stick and some string
until I emerge.
Your words
are not water. I need something
more nourishing,
like cherishing,
something essential, like love
so that when I climb
out of the lime
and the mulch. When I shove
myself up
from the muck...
we can f**k.
Originally published by Unlikely Stories. Keywords/Tags: analysis, paralysis, psychoanalysis, psychology, therapy, nourishing, cherishing, essential, muck, sex, sexuality, **** cancer, analogy, psychological, words, love, growth, satire, mental illness
I rouse from my nocturnal torment, with a hazy amnesia of the terror that just filled my head.
With stalwart conviction
d I purposefully open my eyes to view my surroundings—
Yet the room seems wrong,
a shadowy figure peripherally mocks me.
I make a futile effort to turn my head and look at my foe.
Invisible iron shackles make me a prisoner to my own bed.
The air thickens, syrup-slow, pressing lungs that forget how to rise.
My tongue lies dead behind clenched teeth; no scream can climb the throat’s sealed well.
It draws nearer—
not footsteps, but a thickening of darkness,
a subtraction of light where light should not be taken.
No face, only the suggestion of one:
two hollows where eyes should burn,
a mouth that is only absence smiling.
It sits at the mattress edge,
weight without mass,
and the springs do not groan.
I feel the cold seep in—
not from window drafts,
but from the place where its hand almost touches my chest,
hovering, deciding.
Heart hammers against ribs like a trapped bird,
each beat loud enough to wake the house,
yet silent to the world beyond my skull.
Time stretches thin,
seconds become centuries pinned beneath its gaze.
I count them in pulse, in panic,
in the slow drip of sweat that cannot fall.
Somewhere distant, a streetlamp flickers—
proof the ordinary night continues.
Cars pass. A dog barks twice.
Life moves on without me.
And still it watches,
patient as stone,
as if my fear is a wine it has waited lifetimes to taste.
Then—
a tremor, faint as a moth’s wing.
The iron softens.
Fingers twitch once,
a small rebellion.
The shadow tilts its head,
curious, almost disappointed.
It begins to thin,
edges fraying into smoke,
receding like ink pulled back into the pen.
I drag one breath—
shallow, ragged, miraculous.
The room rights itself.
The lamp glows ordinary amber.
The figure is gone,
leaving only the memory of weight,
the afterimage of absence.
I lie still a long minute,
afraid to believe I am free,
afraid the next blink will summon it back.
Outside, dawn is considering the horizon.
I turn my head—
at last—
and the room answers with nothing
but silence,
and the slow, grateful rise of my chest.
HAIKU MOMENT 8
Stray cool breeze
Plants a calm ease;
Heat wave reprieve
~~~~~~~~~
So many laps
Round and round;
Brisk walking spree
~~~~~~~~~
Weary worry
Spreads load heavy;
Too much tension
~~~~~~~~~
A good laugh here
Marks worthwhile cheer;
Light moments ease
~~~~~~~~~
Mall excursion
Goodies galore;
Tempting bargains
~~~~~~~~~
Curious wonder
History unfolds;
Vanity confronts
~~~~~~~~~
Curious eyes watch
One winning glimpse;
Claims sure credit
~~~~~~~~~
Power decrees
Curious claims;
Hypocrisy reigns
~~~~~~~~~
Afterword
Too much, too quick;
Choke on delight
~~~~~~~~~
All in due time
Decipher mint;
Sing the same song
~~~~~~~~~
Nobody then
Somebody now;
Mental paralysis
~~~~~~~~~
Once upon
A yesterday;
Unknown quota
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
17 August2016
Singapore
SENTIMENTALITY
Sentimentality,
Or, synonym of Insanity!
If you indulge, it will bulge and enlarge
to engulf you at ease.
and power of judgement to decrease puzzling you.
Sentimentality to exhibit an illusion view.
Not sentimental but be practical to analyse.
Allow the brain to work in full
not to nourish weakness of mind
making you fool and mesmerised.
Sentimentality rushes by emotive urge
driving out all senses of reasoning
non functioning brain
to direct or to guide.
Partly mental paralysis.
05/30/22
Sentimentality
Contest by Julia Ward
Dreams come clearly as I lie in my bed,
thinking of the creatures alive below me.
I cautiously draw up the comforter edge.
Beneath the mattress,
beneath the sheets,
beneath the platform,
I see them and withdraw quickly.
They are there!
The demons,
the Daimos,
the creatures that scream in my nightmares.
Two of them, living in the dark, dankness under me.
I feel them watching, always watching.
In daylight I gather my courage and chase them,
but they are too quick and simply scurry away into the shadows.
At night they chase me, climbing beneath the covers on my bed,
gently tickling my legs and sniffing my fingers,
just to remind me that they are always there,
always watching, always ready to pounce,
leaving fluffs of demon mane entangling me as I sleep.
If I sleep.
Sleep comes more scarcely each agonizing night.
In my night terrors I open my eyes and see them upon my chest,
their eyes staring
their ears listening,
their long teeth gnashing,
as I feel their warm breath,
slowly, exhaling in my face, teasing me.
They know there is nothing I can do.
My limbs ridged in sleep paralysis,
they taunt me.
My only desire is to rid myself of their presence
and the fear.
Beings of the night, hiding from the sun,
silent and ominous in their ubiety.
I look again and there they remain,
moving with each wisp of breeze.
The horrid sight I see.
The mesmerizing dance of my abhorrent dust bunnies.
09/04/2024