Long Pulverized Poems
Long Pulverized Poems. Below are the most popular long Pulverized by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pulverized poems by poem length and keyword.
Dumbfoundedness still prevails three weeks later...
when held spellbound courtesy grifter
Flim-flam man left lasting emotional whiplash
his derelict perfected artifice
to hijack every last cent
smarted me with indelible smash;
living daylight delivered I kidney you not
envious affliction affecting
last named member and founder of the Byrds
with crosby, stills, young and nash
entire corporeal being turned to hash
condemned state yours truly relegated,
cuz cremation unaffordable, though pulverized
and transformed into powdery ash;
Impossible mission to conceptualize
transmutation into cremains, the brain
lodged within me noggin
ill equipped to envision mine gray matter
even after asking mister Google to explain
that cremation takes place
in a specially designed furnace,
referred to as a cremation chamber or retort,
and exposed to extreme temperatures –
up to 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit–
leaving behind only ashes.
Following the procedure,
a cooling period required
before the remains can be handled.
Yours truly can best attest,
when succumbing as victim to virtual heist
I most likely flip flopped
into one percent atavistic Neanderthal state;
a surprising revelation
23andme genotyping results
yielded said presence of proto human
after analyzing DNA
courtesy saliva sample from eldest sister.
No other logical satisfactory explanation doth chime
lapsed consciousness, hence reasonable rhyme
whereat one twenty first century mortal man
virtually travelled in time
cast into nasty, shortish brute
obliging deft inducement
outsourcing valuable dough.
Though aforementioned far-fetched notion
smacks of high skepticism,
yet no more ridiculous than
hominids over bajillion years springing forth
from flotsam and jetsam in the ocean
I may as well broach another theory of creation
(just came to my mind),
that divine omnipotent wizard
sprinkled magic potion
across primordial sea
after watching an advertisement promotion
claiming said product
contained the seeds of life and white lily.
Convinced that snake oil salesman
wrought deleterious influence
triggering a debacle that rocked
the financial market,
(albeit constituting one singular naked ape),
an attorney general based in Philadelphia
believes I presented a convincing case,
which hopefully witnesses
recouping all or most of my funds.
A Wandering Boy with a Song in His Pocket
Arabic Poem by: Salman Dawood Mohammed
Translated into English by:
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
===========================
(5)
Just like the wind
I drive out loneliness of an empty bench for two...
And, like a curfew, I mourn pedestrians’ noise;
And as a shirt hanging on a laundry line,
I drip down, with all my moisture, on the surface of your days
And curse the cloud standing in the queue of ablution.
Then, I hate
Music,
The guards,
The law,
College students’ uniforms,
And astronauts;
And I dislike my life!
That all developed in the centennial commemoration of my wilting,
Amidst an assembly of militias and tambourines
Endorsing the funeral procession of my lamps
In the alleys
Of your absence.
***
(6) deleted
****
(7)
Housewives,
Hawkers,
The Ministry of love,
Tramps,
College youngsters,
Thieves,
Guests of No-Stars hotels,
Songs,
Traffic controllers,
Victims of the national anthem,
Train drivers,
Bin Laden,
Weather report announcers,
Gilgamesh,
Jurists,
Speech writers for the President,
Drunks,
And my mother,
All,
All shouted to my face:
“Don’t do it, O crazy! Or else you will die!”
But
O Glory!
I did it
And...
I fell in love with you!
***
(8)
Rest assured
After you, I wouldn’t be alone
A labyrinth is a home
And footsteps a family.
***
(9)
Your desertion, the deep rooted in wilting,
Is like a nail untouched by hammers;
Here it is, with its only sharp tooth,
Signing the deeds of tears
On the body of waiting.
Your painful desertion
Has pulverized me
Sincerely...
Hence, I saluted the remaining ashes of my burning with you,
Then
I lay on my blood
On
The heart of sunset
And
I ..... Died!
***
(10)
I loved you and went on
Just like a cloud skipping school.
I strewed my shirt buttons on your fields
And let down science class;
So my rain couldn’t be in a bottle anymore
And the road leading to you
Is no more a battle field
Or a bird market;
But
My soul is pouring down on you
And my hand
Stands
..
..
An umbrella.
***
(11)
The teacher said: “Draw a human heart.”
I laid a kiss on your palm,
And locked it in with the softness of your fingers.
The teacher is now in the recovery room
And I am
Accused
Of forgery.
****
Translated by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
* Salman Dawood Mohammed. A poet from Iraq
GREEDY AND JEALOUSY
The haves and the have not, they all stand at equal pulverized
Stretching their hands for arms giving, yes we are all vulnerable and vagabonds
Having money is valueless in the absence of helping hand, skills and ability
Maybe, maybe not–I need you and you want me is the root of jealous and greedy
Needs and wants do not drink from the same cup-if you need me then I need you
Dig deeper and read between the lines you will see the thin blue and red lines
Blue you want my skill-red you don’t want me, your greedy causes you to abuse me
Greedy from the rich-Jealous from the poor, all at the foot of the cross
Avaricious speaks up and boast, all is in palm of my hands
Equality is the blindfold for the naïve; If I have the money then I have the power
You cannot fit into my shoes neither eat from my plate, get what I offer or die
This is animal farm, I the lion still rule-no corruption just connection in my world
The food is mine, let just use your spoon, and you will be also feed from left overs
The power to hire and fire is in my pocket, please my egos maybe you will be safe
Even if humility causes you humiliation, you are obligated to be humble at all times
Faith is for the weak, visit my palace and witness words turn into money
Greedy from the rich-Jealous from the poor, all at the foot of death
Jealousy often originate out of lack, give me enough that I may not steal
Come walk in shoes, being feed from crapes falling from the rich man’s table
I wish I had all they have and wish they had my strength and skill, beauty of inequality
Sorrow in my inner soul, so drifted from the beds of the sea, drowning in my envy
Okay you have the food and I have the spoon, maybe I should turn my spoon into a knife
Mr. rich man, we are all walking in the shadows of reality, jealousy and greedy are just results
Do not take my meekness as weakness; neither should you turn my humility into humiliation
Greedy from the rich-Jealous from the poor, foot of birth and death is equal
We are all equal, Greedy and Jealousy are like twins, just depend who saw the sun first
We all need each other just as the succor field needs players, without each other there is no game. So never let you greedy take you swallow you neither you jealousy mislead you.
Vladimir Putin itching
to loose nuclear bomb
end of the world scenario ofttimes
iterated throughout history
though an atheist (actually Unitarian),
no doubt this, that or another psalm
countless times the Bible
references Armageddon and doomsday
impossible mission to remain
cool, collected and calm.
Whether affiliated with donkey or elephant
Democrat or Republican viz
blue war red respectively
political hot issues don't amount
to a (Sam) hill of beans
when Sword of Damocles count
approaches zero hour
as global tensions mount
signaling increased chance
trigger finger will free
avast nuclear winter
(across world wide web) re:
leasing plethora, pyrocumulus
mushroom clouds tree
mend us planetary explosions
annihilating webbed wide
world, an irrevocable
indeed earthlinked debacle
spelling widespread species
multitudinous extinction
ex post de facto after super
bowling powers (wannabe) vied
to wrest empowerment spanning
entire realm sans third rock
from the father, sun and holy ghost,
who turned substantial pock
kits of flora and fauna
once populating oblate spheroid ad hoc
significant swaths of life forms
pulverized and/or turned to ash
transformed into radioactive wasteland
after war mongers brash
lee usurped hegemony
(ruling inhabitants
of Gaia with an iron fist
with a smidgen of flavoring
courtesy of Missus Dash
superfluous taste enhancer,
when sibling burnt offering views
between Venus and Mars incendiary
tolled mourning news
smithereens sole remnant
poisoned every square inch
from weapon of mass destruction
that did cruise
engendering thick noxious fog
disabling fox but not cockroach
while smoldering seas and continents
skull and crossbones didst poach
amidst the gasified, liquified, pureed
where holographic ghoulish super bowl coach
rendering lifelessness home for menagerie
where virtue trounced vice as organisms
(particularly one primate) didst try
(predominant 21st century simians)
tool heave with amity, comity, and empathy
animals and plants an experiment
that went awry
presaging a nuclear winter with nary a winner
implicating mankind as the absolute sinner
instantaneously after Doomsday Clock
signaled point of no return
where grim reaper the sole grinner.
Anchors Aweigh...
destination unknown
for this Earthling
stardate: February 26th, 2022
At sea since time immemorial
I relish being alone
upon oceanic expanse
yours truly doth bemoan
me gal Sal (one among
numerous female confidantes),
no matter, she easily
mistaken as a crone
magical powers keep
her manning far aloft drone
as surveillance hovers above me
(to intercept encrypted
communication maintained
courtesy bluetooth earphone)
the two of us sol survivors
I feel like a foreigner since
global thermonuclear war
bombed webbed wide world
into pulverized power
vaguely similar landscape
to age of Fred Flintstone
and Barney Rubble
recurring memories redolent
of yesteryear, whereby I groan
though simple living
such as me and the missus
did Potschke coaxing homegrown
organic fruits and vegetables,
though, I attest we did
get violently angry with each other
and unwittingly cross interzone
where brickbats exchanged,
especially after she discovered
an illicit extramarital affair
between myself and Joan
since kindergarten her I known.
Weather beaten cap'n,
and watertight bewitched craft
time tested since maiden voyage
(circumnavigating the globe
back in the day of my youth),
I ranked tough as a pitbull,
when severely pitted
against raw elements
of swiftly tailored,
harried stylish nature
against leathery faced
reptilian skin, hard drinking
(actually as corked
poetic convenience - vermouth
arbitrary bottle of choice
if for no other reason,
than to rhyme
with the above line),
and tobacco spitting, while
colorfully swearing as an uncouth
Furies (of Agamemnon)
fighting (tooth
and nail) Pirate,
where rickets, scurvy,
and thrice unconscious,
currently ample proof
could not forsooth
bring me to Davy Jones's locker,
cuz I never wanna
get relegated to an underwater
whale schooled booth,
this raconteur can nonchalantly,
glibly, and blithely attest,
with braggadocio, despite
no warm welcome will
ever greet mine tinnitus
pained ears, I can plainly
imagine acrimonious retort
upon me behest
his far more'n lifetime
bobbing (like a sponge)
square pants float
buoyed atop crest longing e'en for
(carping, caviling, hen pecking,
or shrewish) wife.
…
You advance by the step, destined to accelerate my heartbeat; I have a tendency to feign nonchalant despite my rapid, unsteady breathing.
Petrification courses through me as you stop, millimeters in front of me; shockingly, your touch is quite gentle as you tilt my chin upwards, I notice your grin.
It seems as if you want me to notice your sadistic expression, and in a swift motion you grab the knife I have.
I’m still staring intensely at your smug expression, though I don’t need to see it- I feel it;
…
My stomach has been penetrated- I look down, shaking, and see the knife in, the one you took from me; I drop on my knees while coughing out blood, as I feel my insides out. But when I look back up, you’ve already left, so I attempt to retrieve the warm, sticky, blood spilling out of me.
I know what’s necessary- I crawl across the floor, dizziness possessing my head- my hands tremble as I struggle to open the lid.
I choke as the iron tablets erupt in my throat; accepting my fate, and closing my eyes; Though I’ve been fixed, It won’t be the same.
…
When awoken, my eyes scan the room but narrow at you; there you are, hovering over me; Your idiotic expression courses rage through me as my fear inflicted being screams words like “sadist” and “freak.”
It possesses my every vein until I feel them burst- you’ve stabbed me again…
Though it doesn’t stop there- you proceed to bring the knife down, each stab harder than the last, until eventually you’ve carved a hole through me.
But when you stab me again, you stab me through the hole; it doesn’t hurt anymore.
…
You pulverized me to the point in which it doesn’t hurt anymore.
…
The first time I felt nothing but guilt, rage, panic, fear, and sadness. Though when I was hurt repeatedly, the pain stopped- as you were stabbing nothing but an infinite void in me. I’m not a masochist- the reason of writing this piece was simply to express the following-
The more you get hurt, the less pain you feel. You’ll remain null, and even when healed, you’ll never be the same again; you may be over it, you may be unable to feel pain- though in your head those memories will forever reign.
[ p a i n . ]
Mister money bags no more
Ah..., how I idolize the days of yore
before June twentieth, and twenty first
two thousand twenty three
when utter senselessness wore,
a trail of woe brutally
ravaging and savaging mine psyche,
yours truly attests gullibility tore
and rent asunder
leaving cumulative finances
decimated, pulverized, and frankly zapped
rendering me poor
as a Unitarian church mouse named Kishore
dirty deed done dirt cheap extempore
courtesy yours oblivious to "red flags."
I still bitterly lament how
the computer/scammer
who called himself "Harvey Specter"
exhibited exceptional faux zeal
and blame myself,
whereby figurative cog and wheel
within sixty plus shades
housing mine gray matter
did not properly turn
ordinarily (when perspicacity,
sensitivity, and acuity optimally function)
setting off an ear splitting squeal
loud enough to rouse
a sleeping Leviathan
when upon awakening would bellow
now cue the giant
from Jack and the beanstalk
Fee-fi-fo-fum!
I smell the blood
of an Englishman:
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I'll grind his bones to make my bread.
Nevertheless significant loss
viz medium of exchange
(enriching the coffers of another -
particularly him that scoundrel
née fraudster foisting financial fiasco
frazzling father most definitely nonideal
modus operandi I envisioned,
hence the gofundme page
(ofttimes sited with
gentility, honesty, integrity...
when crafting previous poems),
yet passage of time did not heal
severe financial hemorrhage,
keeping checking and savings accounts
analogously under critical care
(think intensive care),
whereby heroic measures undertaken
wads of cold cash linkedin
to many intravenous tubes
but ideally capitol offense
aired once again toward remuneration
imposed upon ganef
who bled me dry
courtesy convincingly, glibly, liberally...
sweet talking his way,
and I swallowed hook, line and sinker
(fabrication that Citizens bank employees
scheming to siphon investments)
yielded zilch (the big goose egg),
absolute zero positive result,
i.e. even partial remittance of lost monies,
when yours truly did make an appeal.
Atomic bombs are dropped on babies
Humanity is thrown out of the door
Humanity is dead. Humanity is no more
There are too many aggressive and demoniac atrocities
Wars are heartless, bestial, perilous, satanic and deadly
The hypocrisy is clearly obvious and real
This is the end of the world for many
For too many innocent human beings. Yes, this is a big deal
Human lives are no longer important
The streets are painted with real red blood
Oh! My goodness, this is worse than a major flood
Homes and buildings are pulverized. No need to pay rent
Nobody wants a genuine ceasefire
Because emotions and feelings are on fire
Poor babies never had a chance
Poor victims never have a chance
Poor pregnant women never had a chance
Poor weak elders have no chance
Humanity is mephitic. Humanity is no more
The doors and the windows of hell are wide open
There’s no hope. There’s no darn heaven
No need to say more and more
Bombs fall like dead autumnal leaves
Terror is ubiquitous and death is inevitable
Nobody wants to turn the table
They are all liars, criminals and thieves
This is no lie because they are all over the news
This is beyond fear. This is beyond sadness. I refuse
To listen to these well dressed anchors who are lying
Let me close my eyes and cover my ears
What a pity! I feel sorry for the babies
The toddlers, the youngsters, the teenagers
The men and women who die due to abject atrocities
It’s a shame. The criminals are now over-explaining
Perhaps this society should go back fighting with spears
Because the rivers and the seas were not so dirty and bloody
I can’t listen to the racist criminals and the evil bandits who are applauding
One again, let me close my eyes and cover my ears
In my body, there’re no more tears
Humanity is dead. Death is ubiquitous
The hypocrites and the bad politicians are truly dangerous
Toxic, strange, selfish, Machiavellian and inhumane
Hell is everywhere. The world is insane
Yet the Sun is shining
And the Moon is sadly watching.
Copyright © November 2023, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
She gazed at the looking glass, but the mirror refused to grant her a preview of what might happen, a clear picture of where she had been and if she existed at all, the spectre of the moment seemed to be disguised from inspection. Coming to terms with having absorbed and condensed too many of society’s norms and demands had seemingly been her duty and the prism of requests on her image of beauty had failed her inner Self. She drooled onto the spitting image of nothingness and the slobber ran down to the frame that upheld phlegm and contempt before it trickled down onto the baseless floor founded on hardcore delusion. Diet pills and dark shades had not relieved her from a succession of errors of reason and emotion and when she had blindfolded herself, the blinkers tore deep into her misrepresentation of surrender and cosmetic denial.
scanned in revulsion
vacant echoes burst the sight –
shards of glass splintered
So many fragments pierced into her eyes, that dry tears covered the pulverized viewing and heart-blood sprayed all over her soul. A point of no return, because if she failed to stem the flow and bandage the wounds, gangrene would set it soon and salving the lacerations would only speed up infection and purulent grime. The wall in front of her blurred out of proportion and there was nothing she could do about it other than retrieving bristles and paint from the storeroom and gloss over the shiny remnants of disrepair. And therefore, she entered into a journey of the unknown, drew rose petals and thorns onto broken canvas. Before she knew it, she decoupaged disintegration and fractures, glued a mosaic of imagination to mirror what should have been there in the first place. Sweat dripped from her forehead and smudged aquarelle shades which reassembled self-worth and confronted demons and abuse. An inner voice shouted, ‘all you need is a mantra to caption the artwork which you truly are.’ That is when she wrote her first poem and became free of doubts, oppression and cynical critique.
blame discredit reproach
failed to appease me in vain –
reflections can change
26th March 2021
Alternately titled: Get out of my head mister chatterbox!
While inside me noggin legions
of monstrous demons abhor
protest being force fed
arcane and obscure
assaying into religious dogma
hence mind chatter goes full bore
thus crafting poem quite a difficult chore,
one lightweight bag of bones
basketcase weave gotta deplore,
nevertheless mine tincup rattled
courtesy garden variety eyesore
athwart slip stream
of space/time continuum
twenty two minus
seven years and fourscore
orbitz around black hole sun
scattering cremains galore
camouflage ashes colored like hoar.
Upon prima facie first blush
me mind's eye all atwitter,
sans long forgotten
"FAKE" sexual exploits
set mum (chrysos anthem) all aglitter,
boot like short order cook I hapt tubby
quickly realized trumpeting collusion,
a near fatal collision course
with Matthew Scott's antimatter
caw zing friggin insomnia
finding ma noggin scrambled
likesome lithesome cockamamie critter
whipped into frenzy
like battered butter
holy grits, alm manned in fight of ma life
cause I haint acquitter
baa (jaw edge), ah woe cup feeling
hedged hog extremely bushed 'n bitter,
this raging red bull inside me mind,
now body wheeling wickety wack,
lichen to moss elf gut seasonal litter
bitta asthma - insides
got balled into wah racket
like quietly rioting unfetter
herd plain tennis (see) hens,
gone south tub bespatter
ear rilly jawboning jabberwocky
reducing gray matter,
and all flesh sundered
into meaty platter
to pulverized, irradiated,
cremated... faux fluffernutter batter
analogous tummy Aunt
Jemima's famous flapjacks,
she fantastically fashioned better
than Betty Crocker
tossing spatulated glommed
gook suitable as bonesetter
high as the Taj Mahal,
while she merrily jabbered,
her native patois singsong blatter
all this inaudible clatter
muffled 10,000 maniacs mad as a hatter
madly clangorous dinner cowbells
aroused bacchanalian sybaritic skitter
ring jitterbugging fantasies
of barenaked ladies doth splutter
as bedraggled, frazzled, grizzled...poetry
like cocky rooster that did stutter!