Long Peopleme Poems
Long Peopleme Poems. Below are the most popular long Peopleme by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Peopleme poems by poem length and keyword.
The mind is a womb
Copulate it
Let the semen of reason
Part the legs of its cervix
And you will see
When moth struggles before its born
The power of its dreams for flight
Words are eggs, you know
Virginal eggs,
I saw him hatch them into bricks
Of ideas that he could carve
Like an Edna exhibit
All copulation must spontaneous
A true gentleman has that gift
Not to force his feelings
On his betrothed
He was also scholar, you know
A sort of poet
That prefer metaphors to the conflict
Of chisel and wood
He had such a mastery of the rhetoric
I mean he understood them better than us
For he did not only speak like them
But spoke their strategy better than them
I sometimes wondered how he knew himself
Apart.
Its sort of seemed ironic
That he did have the anger that Fanon composed
Unless wit is a subtle part of it
May be environment is such a part of it
The cool, I mean
We say that about Manchesterians
Roxborough,
If it could produce the soldier-scholar
Could not have produced just a little fire
Even for the cremation of his brother, Roy
Perhaps it was the mix blood ...
Busta said that his mother was Taino
I do not understand is who mixed them though
There is an overt statement of force to be made
A rape scrubbed from the memory
For how could one half of hm
Become so invisible ...
The mission I mean.
I must rule
More than wood, and more
Than water
For my destiny
Is more than what men may leech
So I am not exploited
I am killed for this robbery
And here I am left
A dead man on a throne
Here I am
Shrouded with self government
And staring into the empty eyes
Of children
So why do I love him then
Was it alone because my father
Fashioned my world for me
Gave me this icon
For proximity the barbarians
Who snatched my mother
Washing her white linen one day
From the sweet river
Do not take that thought to the bank
Where my children play
This man deserves his accolade
If only for taking blindness from my mind
If only for letting me know
The chain had never rattled their
And even in their own words
I could look at the world
And ask "why not?"
He gave me a ladder to my education
That was some gift,
Quite the best of all I am given
O it so beautiful to copulate the mind
Or hold hands through the annals
And see this Manley,
This little fountain of great ambition
Flowing at my lips.
I don't play god, i hate you all, a life made of lie i will slay today, nothing steps
ahead, i will decapitate satan for power, god if i must, i don't rules in a hole so dark,
i feel pain in my chest, so before i die i will destroy the world, more hate in me growing
so quick, my mother and father, hope to see you in hell, i'll settle up the score for
good, i love sins more than devil does, as a creator, i punish fear, blood runs deep, fear
runs deeper, love ain't here, not in me, never will, is like a fire inside my chest
punching the walls of my heart blazing, like a passion breaking, poison closed my eyes,
funny look towards the mirror look at all this devils besides me, i love this chain
holding me down, it actually challenge me to fight harder, take me to hell, let me see
satan face to face, let me spit on him, let me see god's face, i'll show him rebelry, now
every body reading this thinks im just confused, if you knew i am more conscious than
angels sounding trumpeths, i die slowly, years digging up the truth, days to grasp the
grass on top of the bodies, so many years, so many clouds, how heavy they hang the god
watching us die? Go away! im not a traitor, i just read the truth, so i will love to kill
you all, so stupid to think you know beyond but i cheated death enough times to tell you
how wrong you are, how stupid you've dealt this war, you let the world fall and dig up a
grave so sacred, let me kiss her farewell, my life is over soon, take me to hell, satan is
dragging me down, Mr. Butcher cut me on million pieces, take us all to hell, enter the
light ahead, fight the darkness inside, is all about violence, is the only way we know how
to reason reality...
How many more years will it take for my writings to make others understand how dark this
place is? How far will i go to show off my abilities? Why is this so hard? Is it real this
pain? For a moment we all bury truth to sleep besides the enemy, drag me to hell, take my
soul and bury my corpse, show me truth, show them death, take me to hell, take us all,
show me the truth, blood runs deep, fear runs deeper, take me to hell and show off my
world, i will slay the snake once alive, were did i fell from? Hahaha! Funny... How long
have you been alive kid?
Form:
"My Stranger"
There's a man that walks in the ends of my dreams;
He never comes into full view.
Keep this a secret, my dearest friend,
For I will tell no one but you.
He's dark, yet calm,
and always searching.
For what? I do not know.
Whatever it is, it must be important.
This, his efforts show.
From my eye's corner, I see him hide
For he knows I'm about to turn.
As I do, he escapes my view.
This obssession with him burns.
At times I feel a fear from him,
Though mostly it's respect.
He's my villain, my nightmare, the Stranger,
And yet it's him I want to protect.
He haunts my head at night,
And fills my thoughts by day.
The contours of his person are not strange.
They are much like my own, you could say.
The librarian that runs the library of me,
Despite my orders, gives him the key.
He runs through my soul,
Like a child on the loose.
With this, his juvenile side,
No one can call a truce.
My heart in starting position,
Waits for the shot of a gun.
His eyes fall upon me,
And with an urgency, my entirety wants to run.
Never prepared am I for his eyes.
Yet, his gaze I fervently want to hold.
At one time I tried to catch it,
But as I did, found I had been too bold.
I lost hold.
He holds me in the palm of his hand,
But, he doesn't know his power.
With a flare of emotion, I'd be crushed,
And over me he'd tower.
With one move, I could break,
But, I don't even feel the bend.
Yet, in women this falling apart,
Is just a becoming trend.
So, I won't follow through.
I can make it on my own.
No matter if my Stranger deserts me,
Or gives me a home.
Once I was desperate for the knowledge,
Of why he constantly sought,
The reasons for my every whimsy,
My every careless thought.
I was trying to fortell when my path,
His would cross.
Or if it ever would.
I know I sound rather lost.
Strange as he seems,
My stranger dearest,
Twisted is he,
But his heart is the purest.
Dark is he, but calm overrides,
Like calm before a storm.
Only I see energy,
In the face they call forlorn.
From my eyes, he no longer hides,
As it's me he seeks to find.
Yes, it's true, he's in clear view.
And, smiling, (surprising?)ever so kind.
As the stars cross this brumous night ~
Standing here with these white washing tides
Carrying away the sands beneath my feet
Glancing beyond the repetitious of this champagne sea
Swells amid the rifts now rising....
Before my thoughts and inside of my heart
Communing with a chromatic collage of endless faces ~
This colloquy within my own souls revelations
As the mist before my eyes begins to clear
And the lighthouse of truth, as truth is, begins to appear
Castaway phantoms walking upon the waters
Beckoning unto me all of their beauties ~
Their irreplaceable hopes and dreams....
Transcending the tangibles, amid an unproportional world
The relevancies of every life, speaking unto me
As a warm tear rolls down my face
While Jupiter explodes, before my eyes ~
Impaling my spirit with these impeccable purities....
Sublime; as I walk further into the swishing swirling currents
Toward the fathoms of acceptances understandings
Taking their precious hands, as the moon smiles upon their, glow ~
Born anew, within this panoramic and palindrome view....
Embracing their beating breathing hearts~These creations!
Turning back the tides of time; castaways no more
For it is all of life that I see now, deep inside the splendor
The wonders of whom they are, each, as a precious jewel ~
Awakened, amid these implosive clarities....
As the stars cross the fading brumous night
Standing here with the white washing tides
Carrying away the sands beneath my feet, forever ~
Glancing beyond the repetitions of this champagne sea
Phantasms of once thought lore, smiling as they come alive
Lessons learned, and shifting dunes, of truths unfold....
While these rubies as tears, fall, from the corners of my sight
Marking my cheeks, unto their graves of what used to be
Slightly quivering lips; as these endless wells of emotion, arise inside
Realizing, how much I truly care, for each and every one, of their lives ~
Mars, now embracing Venus with, an everlasting kiss....
~ Of ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~ Unconditional Love! ~
Form:
I had to take the tram today—
It was full,
almost.
The only seat was beside this cute little thing.
She had on a jersey six sizes too large,
at least.
Then I saw why,
as the little guy underneath kept
squirming and stretching.
I really didn’t notice that small
silent but deadly which I obviously passed,
but she did.
Oh my God!!
I think she more looked it than said it.
It had hardly cleared her lips when
she closed her eyes, clamped her teeth and grimaced.
Once again composed,
almost.
Oh please, go.
Just go somewhere else and sit.
Lady, there is no where else.---
I don’t care, just M-O-V-E,
said between clinched teeth.
You have a problem.
No, lady, you have a problem.
What I have is—
gas.
Well, take your gas up on top.
I can hardly breathe and my baby
just really bit me hard, please,
just go to the back, go to the top,
I don’t care-- just go.
Lady, in case you haven’t looked lately
I can reach out and get hand fulls of snow
from the top of this tram.
It is colder out side than in your bedroom.
It’s cold.
The silent but deadly had suddenly wafted
back to the front of the bus as it made the
previous stop.
It was on me now and it was bad.
There were people every where with bleary eyes,
fanning their noses and moving their heads
from side to side, seeking any small relief.
I envied the wee one still inside the jersey,
nestled up against those two perpetual
food banks, keeping him warm, fed and cozy.
That was a cool idea and I had never seen it before.
Ok, lady, you win.
I’ll get off at the next stop.
But something just wasn’t right.
That was not a “silent but deadly” I smelled.
I mean, if there is one thing I know,
it’s my own gas and that was not mine.
She must have read my thoughts because she turned red.
Pulling the neck band up to her forehead,
I could see her ears turning purple,
as the bus slowed for the next stop.
Without saying a word she put her arms straight out
interlacing her fingers, checking those nails.
She moved her hands underneath junior for support,
moved slowly to the door and got off.
Ironically the smell went away.
© 18 Nov 2010 For Desiree's Epiphanies contest
Who is Edgar Rice Cakes? What does HE have to do with John Burroughs. Jesus Crisis. a
google search What is this? A novella nuevo bye charlaxandroidoneseven. CA17. Short for
Para Cayce. I have read the DeadSeaScrolling. On the PDF machine. Let me inform on my
brothers in the LORD there is seldom any evidenced. These fragments of Aromaic Archaic
would cause language EXPERTS in the field years of Formatting on a Word Processing
machine. Butt Doctor Caycey has Decided it somehow pertains to Jesus.? Oye Vey. I
admitted in a Court Room of lawyers I have not studied all his problems yet I must admit I
cannot read those fragments of isometric triangular wordage. You must admit these people
did preserve it as iff it were a GOSPEL message. crisischronicles dot com A cave a bunch of
yearns placed near the Monestary Remains to find considering the way Climatic Changes
occur the evelation of the Earth is never level Seas rise where desert climes once failed to
thrive. Perhaps a sub culture of Future Post Apolyptic Snow Men; all white and hairy like the
Yeti. Abominable in every way with patches of glowing purple hair where the radiation has
burned some of the fur away to reveal faults underneath no clothing there. They find a
pristene City walk into the Revolving Door and fall back out until Discovering when to exit
one. What fun. The lobby generator comes on. The Computor Hums. One Yeti moves the
mouse Experimentally they gape at Windows song. Not one of them Yeti can get the
Computor to do anything they are all just too old. A Robot walks up to the terminal. May I
help you SIRS? and /or Madames? They step back agape at this hairless ape a tinsel steel
replica of charlaxandroidoneseven. He types in poetrypoem dot com charlax7 Let me show
you my website boys? Do you like poetry as prose? As they fall about the place guffawing
they come out rolling the first time I ever saw a bunch of Yeti lawghing. So here we pause.
As DeadSeaScrollingbyeCharlaX grows cold.
Who is Edgar Rice Cakes? What does HE have to do with John Burroughs. Jesus Crisis. a
google search What is this? A novella nuevo bye charlaxandroidoneseven. CA17. Short for
Para Cayce. I have read the DeadSeaScrolling. On the PDF machine. Let me inform on my
brothers in the LORD there is seldom any evidenced. These fragments of Aromaic Archaic
would cause language EXPERTS in the field years of Formatting on a Word Processing
machine. Butt Doctor Caycey has Decided it somehow pertains to Jesus.? Oye Vey. I
admitted in a Court Room of lawyers I have not studied all his problems yet I must admit I
cannot read those fragments of isometric triangular wordage. You must admit these people
did preserve it as iff it were a GOSPEL message. crisischronicles dot com A cave a bunch of
yearns placed near the Monestary Remains to find considering the way Climatic Changes
occur the evelation of the Earth is never level Seas rise where desert climes once failed to
thrive. Perhaps a sub culture of Future Post Apolyptic Snow Men; all white and hairy like the
Yeti. Abominable in every way with patches of glowing purple hair where the radiation has
burned some of the fur away to reveal faults underneath no clothing there. They find a
pristene City walk into the Revolving Door and fall back out until Discovering when to exit
one. What fun. The lobby generator comes on. The Computor Hums. One Yeti moves the
mouse Experimentally they gape at Windows song. Not one of them Yeti can get the
Computor to do anything they are all just too old. A Robot walks up to the terminal. May I
help you SIRS? and /or Madames? They step back agape at this hairless ape a tinsel steel
replica of charlaxandroidoneseven. He types in poetrypoem dot com charlax7 Let me show
you my website boys? Do you like poetry as prose? As they fall about the place guffawing
they come out rolling the first time I ever saw a bunch of Yeti lawghing. So here we pause.
As DeadSeaScrollingbyeCharlaX grows cold.
Martin,
Not the German patrician, his vision was a stair
But our own peaceful prince
Well he invoked you
And not by calling Samuel back from the dead
He invoked you as seeker
He invoked as our searcher
For history, he said, is built on truth
No, not the lineal story
Of one race's glory on my marginality
Our history is always a collective place
A yard of memory
Where we meet at evening to tell
The honey and milk
Of our emasculated hell.
There is no dying here
How can we
What will the predator parasite live on then
So we are made
Zombies of an eternal pain
And you
Our seeker for the antidote
Between Fiske and Berlin
Here we come again
First son to be honored there
Among the ivy league
The doctor to proclaim
Himself one tenth of all of us
With the same double consciousness
Was it not for Fanon
I almost converged to the monstrosity
But then looking back
Over the Pan-African Secretariat
I knew we will never be divided again
So easily
Just rivers of different colors
Destined to end our struggle
Down awful topography of mountains
Down the callous memory of history
Between the churning white teeth of the sea
From my bridge
I watched that wave rise and fall
A thousand times
Pushing us against gravity.
Garvey would agree with me then
He would shake his head
When you were fled to Ghana
When the merging was no longer tenable
For a man lie to himself only for so long
While he searches for truth
I heard the abeng blow to call you home
William ... was not found in their register
William ... he was a Norse conqueror
Edward ... and all of them spineless kings
Burghardt ... and you ask me why
Why should not a thing like this make Africa invisible?
Du Bois ... so you mapped all the colonizers in your name
No, not you,
Our parents always conscious of their power
Yet I knew every cocoon
Is just another state of cobweb
And you would broke free
And many evenings I see you
Just flying on a page of empty sky.
Mountains
As I look out from my window
I see there are mountains for me to climb
I would not much like to ignore them
But there waiting there for me; all the time
And though their boulders seem so trivial
Their precipice so very narrow
On the rocky slopes that I perceive
Seem so very steep
And there are mountains in my garden
Mountains in my sleep
These monoliths to my frustration
These monuments to my belief
Raise their convoluted flanks
And excuse my lack of peace
So I raise my eyes to dizzy heights
Enveloped in confounding mist filled sides
And brook no easy compromise
And rather believe the truth has turned; to lies
And though their tricky crags seem so petty
It is cold determination which drives me
To fathom every nook and cranny
Of these mountains I choose; to climb
Each foot I gain with conviction
As I scale to the imperious point
With the rattled landslide of berated argument
And every pebble is turned so neatly; on its back
And there are mountains in my shopping list
Mountains in my coffee cup
These confusing megaliths to insignificance
These monuments to a principal
Raise their candid flanks
And excuse my lack of peace
And there are mountains in my paper work
Mountains every day
Their spires and aspirations cloud my every vision
These giants of my dissatisfaction
Raise their procrastinated flanks
To excuse my lack of peace
Yet with unwarranted enthusiasm
I shall dig at their very root
With no intention left to climb them
It is enough for me to believe; in their importance
And through their very heart I shall burrow
An excavation tunneled without regard
No worm or jewel shall deter me
I shall dig, kick, crawl and claw at my desires only enemy
I will prove to the world that mountains can be overcome
I will stand triumphant even if it is blood I have to spill
I shall burst into daylight from their hollow crown
As triumphant as a mole; upon its hill
She hit me hard
Quick sharp blow
The harp of a bard
Can't fix this song
For this melody
I can not sing along
The sound echos through my brain
Driving me insane
I want to go to sleep
And never wake up
Because these voices in my head
Just will not shut up
Love can be summarized as pain
But at the same time it makes you sane
You feel great
At the moment
But in reality
You get hurt
My love and blood
It stabs my very soul
In my heart she will never die
As the Seraphs in heaven cry
My pain overflows out
As i scream and shout
The sound echos through my brain
Driving me insane
I want to go to sleep
And never wake up
Because these voices in my head
Just will not shut up
One day, I'll move on
One day, I shall stand strong
But on this very moment i feel weak
My tears pour out
As I lay and weep
She meant so, so much
But her heart was out of touch
I tried to hold her hand
As we were in the spot
But for her it meant nothing
Not even a drop
For her tears are only shed for him
But she is in a situation
She just can not win
So with every song
That I sing along
She runs through my head
And my world is now
Just dead
The sound echos through my brain
Driving me insane
I want to go to sleep
And never wake up
Because these voices in my head
Just will not shut up
As the pain fades away
I think back to the day
When I had it all
In my hand, but I let it go
I let it fall
In that moment I wanted to stall
Because it made me oh so happy
But it didn't last long
In that moment I sang a song
One with which she sang along
And in the moment
I felt tall
I felt as if I would never fall
I sang this song
But she never sang along
Two hearts bound together by hands
Forever I will be her fan
We can last forever
Don't you see?
I felt something
That day
In your hand
Copyright 2009
All rights reserved
-Matthan C. Atherton