Long Potentate Poems
Long Potentate Poems. Below are the most popular long Potentate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Potentate poems by poem length and keyword.
Why should we
be allotted a day at all
there is no allotment
we carry the load
we always have
we always will
it is au naturale
we succeed
the pain, or,
somehow
just proceed
despite it all
the ripping open
of seals, torn -
the message crowns,
at the opening
the trident
at the door
inside, revealed
we are
the strength
potentate
high above
the little man
the smaller
sacrament
the Mother
that birthed
it all
Candide Diderot. ‘24
“Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children.”
Barber, Samuel. Adagio. Strings.
William Makepeace Thackeray.
International Womens' Day.
Spoiler Forewarning Alert!
This averred title announced straight
away so lingering fans
(hoop fully letting me abbreviate)
a short cut so ye
can up and evacuate,
while metered time,
not yet foregone and not to late
hence best heed mine caution
which can protect minimum damage,
asper gray matter within pate
or blithely ignore
admonishment, aye accentuate
hmm...okay,...you apparently
decided to forsake adequate
prophecy, resigning despite
honest to dog admission to punctuate
a most unpleasant prediction,
I did woof lee aerate
worst case scenario,
leaving disabling genetic trait
to effect generations,
where legions of lesions adulterate
causing future offspring to mutate
and closely resemble
teenage mutant turtles, this potentate
(albeit self declared
only mein kampf, thee only life,
his existence he can arrogate
he doth officiate),
hence proceed at your own risk,
to avoid unpleasant fate,
visited upon unborn sons and daughters
uttering imprecations
unintelligible expletive laced spate,
that would approximate
(a cross between duck and pig)
incoherently gutturally excoriate
ting tee, thus don't tell me, I didn't
forewarn ya, whar
yar heart might palpitate,
thus causing da ole
ticker to fluctuate
dem eyes of yaws
could severely dilate,
while sweat gushes out every pore
streaming like liquid useless tube video,
a salty sea would then perspirate
out every last drop of fluid,
erupting magmatic plasma
to pool agglomerate
right under keister,
a lovely bag of bones
delivered to Norristown State
which inability to hydrate,
hence resultant mummification
heroic measures futile
thus humane decision would necessitate
and remaining days
on Earth numbered
starting with zero, not very great,
now this extinct reptile
hoop heed dead gratefully,
express message, and clearly articulate.
The Non-Sublimininal Criminal
High Priest of Hypocrisy
The Diplomat of Draft Dodgery
The Great Example of Paying Test-Takers
The LoudMouth of Wealthy Fakery
The Main Proof of Miseducation
The Nanocrat of Non-Payment
Potentate of ***********
Sultan of **** Patronage
The Grand Probah of PooPoo
The Big Wheel of Blather
And Salesman of Bull-puckey
High Lama of Skullduggery
The Master Purveyor of Inaccuracies
The Pride of Misrepresentation
The Scion of Misdirection and Nepotism
The Black Knight of Spite
Grand Lizard of Hate and Bigotry
The Fometer of Torment
Master of Catastrophe
The Master of the Quick Disaster
The Worshipper of War by Proxy
Lover of Lies and Liars
The Promises of Pusillanimity
The Handmaiden of Bribery
Worshipper of Massive Greed
The Purchaser of Fake News
The Dandy with Unseen Clothes
The Undead Ghost of the Capitol
The Horrible Haunt of the Presidency
Embodiment of Embracement
The Shamelessness of Gross Shuckers.
The sight of this bourgeois, career politician/businessman
(A so-called liberal, no less)
Seated high on the dais at the all candidates meeting,
Looking down on his constituents.
Trying to look as human as possible,
He's wearing his best crocodile smile tonight.
And no matter how hard he tries to look harmless,
He still looks slightly inhuman, perhaps like a
Conspiratorial, world-enslaving E.T., or
Somewhat mad, Byzantine potentate.
Reptilian, his soulless, lifeless eyes momentarily
Slide back and forth in their sockets,
Back and forth across the crowd before him,
As he scrutinizes, with a cold, calculating, alien look,
His sheep-like electoral victims-to-be.
Or maybe what's most disturbing, even truly
Frightening, is that the strange look in his eyes
Actually seems like the look in the eyes of, God forbid,
The 12-year-old sociopath whose photo was in the newspapers:
The unfortunate, little monster who tragically, heartbreakingly,
Willfully murdered a child half his age.
In a truly gentler, kinder world,
Work would not make a person merely enslaved;
Family would not be used as a weapon against one;
And the struggle for liberty would not, in
Effect, make real freedom the domain of only the few.
King of kings, He is on the throne,
Lord of lords, He rules the earth,
Mighty God, comparable to none,
Never-ending One, who can measure His worth?
Only Potentate, He is true and just,
Perfect, He is the Ancient of days,
Quenches the soul when on Him we trust,
Righteous, inscrutable are all His ways.
Shepherd and Bishop, our souls does He keep,
To Him be all glory forever and ever,
Unsearchable are His judgments so deep,
Victorious, He will reign as King forever.
Who is there like unto our God?
X-raying us, every thought He has read
Yesterday, today and forever, He is Lord,
Zealous to perform all that He has said.
---------------------
8.9.16
Ache in soul, O prophet?
The world is horrid hell.
Tracheotomy Tophet!
Suffering a-swell!
Gale, crash with titanic force!
Roil the ocean bad.
Ship that I'm in, blow off course...
That will lurk, O lad...
Horror, thou art with us.
Volcano, just explode.
Mayhem, madness, ornery cuss.
Bitterness, fate, ode...
Cry of a dying warrior?
He must have got hit square.
Poisonous and on the pour!
Blessings, be thou bare.
Grim and grateful, hoary, high.
Machine on the move.
Doom and Death, deliver! I?
What have I to prove?
Clash of giant armies?
O warlocks, bombs away!
Never mind the charm! Cheese?
Just dessicate and flay...
Pray, O poets, not too long.
Come on not too strong.
Best to stay where you belong.
Potentate, thy prong.
Song of banshee, sirens, wail.
Never end, O tale.
Hollow, are you, garbage pail?
Blizzards contain hail...
The Wish
I dream of sleeping in a bed of rose petals like an Indian potentate
who waits for his favourite concubine to come to join him in his bed?
I know I have to wait long till the petals are squashed and cling
to my body itch my bed will smell of degeneration.
I drive a motorbike across the Alps but can’t smell the edelweiss
for petrol fume; cows go on grazing unaware of my presence.
If I swim in the Ganges, it will be among the corpses floating down
to a heavenly ocean.
There is a temple in India dedicated to rats; I will go there, seek
a cure for my fears of vermin
Jasmine flowers are enchanting like virgins open up late at night
but I will not swap any of them for my sweet almond tree.
This sudden warped concern for ampule,
the cruel force of world dictators,
these psychological taunt of the media,
Nescient chemists controlling our minds,
tycoons uttering lies in egoistic motives,
these pretentious drama of publicized jabs,
enhancing their personal ambition to rule,
these old prime ministers at the precipice,
unwilling to retire for greed,
frightened by the plague concocted in Wuhan,
confusing my will by their own fears.
conspirators accusing me of conspiracy,
invoking laws on their medium,
censoring opposing opinion,
These organized crimes against my will,
A cooked up opium rushed out of laboratory,
compelling a Police state devoid of volition,
mRNA coated codes, their Greek gift to save the world,
the same world they pass by in pain,
these tyrants suddenly more catholic than the Pope,
or civil than a civilian,
Liberty at the mercy of potentate,
silence all demanding,
The hysteria unending,
my trust for their kindness is zero.
Born in Cincinnati that buckeye state
January 13th 1959 – 57+ years to date
A tangle of arms & legs testing lungs, which sounded great
He kind of resembled a misshapen octopus with oval pate
Glowering inxs of deep purple from blue mood being irate
Thrust out the womb of Harriet Harris whom Boyce did date
After courting this youngest Kuritsky kin whose ill-fate
Whisked by grim reaper, which demise she did hate
For her being imbued with vim and vinegar til illness ate
Away her je nais sais quois personable maternal trait
Evident during my boyhood reflected by her son of late
As he too inches closer to his mortality and Hades gate
Aware that each day ought to be cherished as the rate
Of time courses down that zip line where grim reaper does wait
Attired in brand name hoodie swinging scythe across oblate
Spheroid i.e. terrestrial firmament – though many years some great
Yet to be lived – trying to recapture childhood bliss before freight
Train on a collision course toward self-destruction ala tete a tete
With Anorexia Nervosa as thy then coveted deadly mate
A brutal hellish spiral down into abysmal depths of despair did create
Indelible psychological affects undermined existence I now equate
writ horrendous emotional, physical and social upon head of mate
Pledged his troth (almost 2 decades ago), which spouse doth berate
For lack of expressed concern and attests schizoid psychic slate
irrevocably seared and stunted natural development where I rate
prepubescent, early adulthood mental illness did grate
Against once boisterously playful innocent boy crushed potentate
Only male heir from me deceased mother who tried to extirpate
Mailer daemons who forged suicide pact and via voice did dictate
Albeit without success, yet decry forsaken innate
Experiences with female relationships lured my own poisoned bait!
"The Elemental’s Confession as a Peace Offering"
In the moment I lost my head
my hands tied without voice
I wasn’t crucified
I was looking for some kind of
release from the solitary confines
of a confessional habit that was
reclaiming an unknown peace
bare legged, yet not running
with the violins soaring
in a sore heart
I was elemental,
some unknown mysterious being
suspended inanimate
in shades of dark amber
immaculate, impaired and too late
crackling through the cameo potentate
black capsuled and swallowed by bitter smiles
with my precious time drowned
in captured glass, scrying,
peeling back all the layers
a confession waiting
unholy and holy
escaping a small mind
metronomed and pulse
throbbing towards you
telepathically,
my sonar to this day, bleeds forth
encircling your heart
it is where I worship
it is my church
bleeding tired heart beats
like a cathedral organ
pipes smoking, a tortured phantom’s hymn
of an unending time it would seem, within
the brutish Bardo, Vulgate immersed
mind staked in the fire, still,
passionate and burning
disconsolate
restlessly waiting
for your confession
to me,
that never came
to finally be opened
to finally be set free
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"I burned your picture last night
just to see you move.
smoke illuminating
from those flashing signs"
1. Habit
2. Confession
3. Bardo
4. Vulgate
5. Elemental
6. Potentate
7. Immaculate, impaired