Long Projection Poems
Long Projection Poems. Below are the most popular long Projection by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Projection poems by poem length and keyword.
though thine wife gladly
(and long time ago)
verily swept passed
her final child bearing year
this house broken husband
genuinely hankers to father
(yes sire re:to set sea men
"NOT FAKE," nor NONGMO
free and reduced)
and longingly participate
in parenthood again
donning baby proof couture wear
analogous (as aye imagine dragons
fire breathing worth tolerating),
those who fervently veer
yearning to undergo
sex reassignment surgery (SRS)
with unintentional surgeon's delicate tear
aye thru thoroughly anesthetized flesh,
(especially genitals under going
transformational substantial removal
via said - bravely bite ting the bullet -
sharp pinching shear)
contemplating, formulating, issuing
personal specifications to cutting crew
validating, testifying recapping re: questing
genitals do not reappear
since significant surgery purport, some hetero
sexual person might coon sitter *****
yet no doubt a homosexual
and/or lesbian would ap pear
to understand completely if he/she
didst unwittingly accidentally overhear
confidential conversation,
yet warmly reassured the speaker,
they did not intend to get near
enough to glean enough information
that said transexual could reduce wardrobe
with women and/or menswear
and this once distraught,
distressed, and distributed
without willingness unfairly
fated to live stemmed,
undoubtedly wrought from sexual misalignment,
would post surgery
hover off the ground and modestly
swagger off into the sunset
(this scenario projection strictly of mine)
anyway he/she could map out in one direction
destiny describing,
an upswinging trajectory linear
once future freed where gender now nsync
???????
with physical gonadal accouterment
unconcerned if urge arises
to swivel derriere with flare.
-------------------------------------
duyeer93
st
america
online
dot
com
matthew scott
highland manor apartments
schwenksville, pennsylvania
19473
USA
Perceptions – from eyes of fools
Perception is usually a matter of projection.
Perception usually dictates what become the rules.
Genius - lost in insanity – self, it calls.
Talent hangs on walls,
in the air of music halls,
upon the platform of a stage.
Artists play out images, in a rage.
Talent appears from thin air, left upon a page.
Artists leave their glory, carved in stone.
Talent resides within the spirit, all alone.
Artist, the man at the podium doth pronounce
yet, at the end of the day, gives less than an ounce.
Empty words, out of his mouth, off his tongue bounce
and the world goes around.
B. J. “A” 2
December 12th 2014
Where come from the agressivity?
Sometimes on the roads, I see aggressive situations
Drivers, bikers. And rest
They shouting
Why?
Are they happy to create suffering, pain, and fear?
Yes. Unfortunately.
But why?
Hmm.
This is a good question. Question of the law enforcement
Hmm.
People like agessivity. But why?
Good question
Yes. It is
I can’t understand. Them. Why good?
Why good to hurt others?
Maybe the reason is the desire for power
Yes, and there is a little bit of bravery there
No. The reality is this, emphasizing the person
The self-person wants to realize its will
A projection inside the world is changed to universal
Yes. And he or she doesn’t want to break
That’s why they are a destroyer
Killers
Yes
In the labyrinth of my mind, thoughts swirl like shadows dancing on walls of mist,
Unanswered questions whisper in my ear, like autumn wind through dried leaves.
Am I a splash of color in the universe's painting, or just a pencil mark that can be erased?
The mirror of my soul reflects a fractured mosaic, each shard bearing a different face of my reality.
My friends are beacons in the night of doubt, illuminating the path to an unknown shore,
But the waves of my own fears mercilessly strike the rocks of confidence, slowly eroding each certainty.
Am I the one they see, or just a projection of their hopes, an illusion created from kindness?
Their words are seeds of light, but the soil of my heart is too barren to let them bloom.
Time flows like a mad river, carrying fragments of what I was and what I could become,
And I float on its turbid waters, clinging to twigs of hope hanging above.
Perhaps one day, when the sun rises over the horizon of self-understanding,
I'll be able to clearly see my face reflected in the clear mirror of acceptance.
Until then, I remain suspended between what I think I am and what others see in me,
A tightrope walker on the thin wire of existence, balancing between doubt and hope.
Perhaps the truth is neither in me nor in them, but somewhere in between, in the space between realities,
Where my authentic self waits to be discovered, like a treasure hidden in the depths of life's sea.
A rhino's eyesight is really myopic,
Perhaps that's what makes him so misanthropic.
His hearing and reflexes, though, are sublime,
He can turn on a nickel and stop on a dime.
The projection that grows
On the end of his nose
Is not really a horn, though,
As one might suppose.
And when he needs scratching,
There's another small hitch,
His legs are too short
So he can't reach the itch.
He's ugly, pugnacious,
Rude, and unsociable,
And his manners at mealtime
Are simply atrociable.
And should you insult him,
He'll never reveal it.
His hide is so thick
He prob'ly won't even feel it.
("Contagion III", 2020, original pen and ink and oil)
Trigger Warning
From the safe space of my hardened little heart
I send out my love
In waves of conditional bliss
To all who are just like me.
And since that’s actually no one
That love only fills the hollow hardened space
A geode no one will ever open.
Yet within this mirror-facetted crystal cave
A whole world revolves
Like a Whoville on a clover blossom
Hidden from every other by the simple
Abundance of endless pink waving plains.
Last night a friend shared these words of wisdom;
The cause of Suffering:
“Reifying Nothing”
The end of Suffering:
“Reifying Nothing”
With the sobering effect of pinpointing
That the contentious sides of anything
Are always looking at the same thing
The thing itself
Being so gracious to effortlessly accommodate
Any and all projection
The little distortions
Our hardened little hearts
Create in the vibrating space
Of their solitary confinement.
Each of us all together all alone
The ultimate truth
Being that all truth is relative;
The kernel of ancient wisdom
At the heart of the postmodern cancer
Multiplying in ever increasing mutational loads
Consuming itself
Killing its own in a territorial imperative
Of survival through ever dividing
Identities
Each standing on the head of the oppressed beneath
Each consuming the flesh of those who died before
In the struggle for a cosmic justice
That lives nowhere but
The perfect world of our own crystalline hollow
Now in disarray
Each waiting for a Horton savior
To hear our tiny desperate plea
Acknowledging that we too are a person
No matter how small, or brown, weak, foolish or *****
That we too are
All that we dream.
(11/21/23)
No mystery here.
I’ll speak the truth,
Whatever that truth may be.
Some say truth is relative.
How can that be the case?
What’s relative is our personal slant
Seen through a particular shade.
Truth stands alone.
It doesn’t change.
"Truth is like a lion.
You don't have to defend it.
Let it loose...
It will defend Itself."
Facts can’t be manipulated.
Beneath all structures
The Matrix stands unmoved.
It can’t be annihilated.
Consciousness governs the essence
Of life and is what keeps it spinning.
Everything else, we hang upon
Its structures and accept in acquiescence.
Not truth, but conjecture,
Projection for personal gain.
The Truth is much more beautiful
Than we could ever imagine.
It smiles at our naiveté
And continues to hold
The universe together.
*Dr. Robert Malone
Copyright Chula Fleming © Sept 30, 2024
three incisor teeth burst through fresh flesh...
opaque as pearls, strong as love, precious
beautiful baby babbles assertively
mesmerized by mishmash sounds
that her astounding mouth can make
prose poetry in its practice
as canines erupt, she moans from the ache
teeter-tottering restless to repress pain
speedily advancing in substantial strength
distracted by oblivious destructiveness
a significant stepping stone approaches
as a capable kindergarten adult
she wiggles loose her first baby tooth
receives a rich reward from a fantasy fairy
more teeth disappear like pressed piano keys
then return acutely out of tune
braces displace awkward half grins
an investment of finances and adolescence
unstoppable with seducing sweets
she sneaks cuddly candy under covers
falling asleep with sugar plum dreams
not counting a few costly cavities
free-spirited, experimental teen
meets Christina on the street
samples compelling quartz crystal
returns for seconds, as someone else disguised
mesmerized by mishmash sounds
that her astounding mouth can make
speedily advancing in substantial strength
she lucently levitates to a loftier place
a magnificent mind babbles assertively
sweeping the streets of pixie dust
no need to eat or sleep
like a firefly in heat, she dances frantically
teeter-tottering restless to repress pain
distracted by oblivious destructiveness
she visualizes voices that vivify the way
to the day's salacious survival guide
prismic vision's shimmers no longer satisfy
cotton candy granules' sweetness subsides
coming down from kaleidoscopic clouds
half-awake, she moans from the ache
shrill shrieks portray poetry's unspoken pain
death's drab projection is her heartless reflection
hocking heirlooms to trade for a transient thrill
a despondent inhabitant of tragedy
creepy crawlers invade every inch of skin
her thin figure balances a skull's shadow
irretrievable, ill-treated teeth crumble
like the city's plundered storefront windows
filthy, for granted, forlorn, fast-fading
...three feeble canine teeth remain
10-8-2023
We're all fighting the war internally & it manifests
before our eyes
This spiritual battle is apocalyptic, the one that so
many prophesized
We live in a time of revelations witnessing the lifting
of the veil
Liberation comes when you see you're the reason
that you're locked in mental jail
We're still failing to see that we've been blinded & duped
into fighting with ourselves
Friendly fire comes from an enemy we never expected,
the lower nature of ourselves
Realizations hit like a bomb that's unexpected as we destroy
the physical mentally
This war with the self is a projection upon a screen, there
for all of us to see
I wish all of us could see that we're more alike than one
would think
Rise above the obelus that they've inserted & see that world
is on the brink
It's only the mind we see imploding, but we think the world is
crumbling outside
Realize that we are more powerful when in sync & not divided
inside
"Plain women know more about men than beautiful ones do."
Katherine Hepburn
Beauty in the mind of the beholder
Labelling prejudice masks of projection
Cursive weaving loops of adornment
Venus hidden under Mona Lisa’s smile
Mirror mirror on the cat walk’s wall
I know nothing but that I know well
Narcissus marvels in the golden pond
A snake slithers from an apple tree
William Tell shoots again from the hip
Marilyn shows off curves of delight
Bows to a cross of enchantment
Takes another sniff of cocaine
Hepburn revels in passing Morning Glory
Seduces independence unveils her charm
Stakes claim on Goddess of smashing seduction
When the looking glass shatters to pieces
Burrows wrinkles deep in the face of time
Cinderella throws a shoe at the image
A crossdresser debunks devouring myths of fatal femmes
Hermaphrodite mounts a quick challenge on Trojan horses
And after all its a plain man’s ride in a beautiful world
No serenade and no rodeo when Juliet receives
Romeo disguised as a bank clark from hell
Counts his losses when costumes fall short
And yet we classify the beast and its false allure
When instead we are better advised to take value
From upright meaning without mascara and shadows
The scribe challenges such categorization
Dips his nib into a fountain of truth and
Chuckles when lip sticks kiss true virtue
03rd January 2020