Long Queerly Poems

Long Queerly Poems. Below are the most popular long Queerly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Queerly poems by poem length and keyword.


Being Used Spitefully

I don’t mean to be disrespectful,
But you’ve been rather neglectful
I know that I’ve been not perfect
At least I know that I have intellect

Listening to music in repeat…
Driving me crazy to my feet…
Queerly dancing around the street
Merely having fun – I found it neat

Sweetly singing to myself ridiculously
Rapping and swinging so meticulously
Rippling waters below me dance rapidly
I thought you and I were free from captivity

Oh, oh, oh, you’re my lost paradise in my eyes
I found myself in my house…wanting to find home
The truth and lies fill me up with hellos and goodbyes
I am a cat, catching a mouse…wanting to simply roam

Oceanic foam is on my feet…
I swim and sway, sway
You’re waves of doubt are overflowing with deceit
I sail away, away today
You make me feel incomplete

So, I’m falling away from you
You broke my heart into two
You gave me rue too oh so true
If only you knew the hate you put me through 
And the hatred you can’t undo 
And the hateful things you do
So, I’m free-falling away from you

You’re so cruel 
You aren’t cool
You’re acting the fool
I swim in my misery pool 

Regret hurts and you seem like you don’t care
I’ve met up with comforts that were temporary
Upset and fed up with you…life is just so unfair
I’m fed up with the fact that you hurt me carelessly…spitefully…


Molten Or Metallic Marvels

I really truly don't know 
why
some things under the 
sun and sky
attract and catch my 
fancy

Quite queerly they 
happen to be
hot melting smelting 
solids
that melt into exquisite 
liquids.

Take for instance heated 
liquid gold
molten glass or molten 
brass
and to watch magma 
'neath the earth's fold
Ooh I love just about any 
melting mass.

With similar bizarre 
ecstasy and fascination
do I always watch 
onscreen molten lava
Gliding in serpentine 
turns, oblivious of my 
admiration
Ah, I just love all that 
golden molten mass

Sometimes I even have 
such an eccentric craving
to watch just any solid 
beauty melting smelting
that I satisfy this craving 
by simply imagining
the honey to be some 
liquid fire gold
in a crystal clear jar and 
liken it to
a metallic gold syrup in 
the furnace burning
As if it were stagnant 
mini-lava
right before me glowing! 

As for other mesmeric 
things
that I find real eye-
catching
are those which 
everybody else finds 
ravishing.
And they are in all shine
dazzling diamond dust
Magical celestial stardust
Glittery terrestrial gold 
dust
in mankind's metallic 
materialistic lust.! 
But I, I am allergic to 
dust!:) ;)
Form: Rhyme

Builders of Reality

"Time drops all these moments as
decayed, spoiled riches.
And vibrating strings of light
dance the tip of Souls while 
enjoying the orchestra
of all life!" -- E.P. Robles

--

[Too late; as late as it gets thought I.]

Upon this very late or very early
morning while i began to realize
i left my dreaming snoring then upon
a glint from parted curtains I was certain
a something queerly missing ~ or should
i say amiss.

There, upon the fabric of dusty thoughts
while peering out my window pane
i came to see a dastardly scene that
almost certainly brought me to my knees!
There upon the shrouded street
were many short blue-clothed things
busily erasing each moment as it passed.
Unbeknown that "i" was one between
the 'there' and 'here' they froze
all the while i stood and stared;
"Oh no oh no!" they screamed at me
squirming then churning they moved
and rebuilt the past you see
and found myself in bed again
and all ends well that begins
and all beginnings have always been
--endings are myth!

:: 04-20-2017 ::

Premium Member If You'Re Hapa and You Know It

Hendecasyllabic Alliterative Pseudo-rhyming Abecedarian


Artfully arranging all attestations
Breathlessly bringing bright beautifications
Carefully constructing clever contraptions
Daringly, dauntingly delving deductions
Eagerly, easily ending extractions
Fancifully forming flirtatious factions
Gustily grasping gigantic gradations
Hazily having harsh hallucinations
Instantly inking imagined infractions
Jarringly journaling jacked judications
Kindly knuckling known keratinizations
Lightheartedly launching lame litigations
Misguidedly making mean machinations
Noticeably needing noninterventions
Obnoxiously outing odd operations
Pensively perusing past permutations
Questioning queerly quixotic quotations
Relentlessly razing rare restorations
Sneeringly slinging snarky salutations
Thoughtfully triggering true transformations
Unduly uttering Ute ululations
Vibrantly voicing verve versifications
Willingly working warm winterizations
Xenophobes x-ing xenotransplantations
Youthfully yearning yak yarnifications,
Zany, zesty zebra zombifications

----------

Hendecasyllabic (11 syllable lines), alliterative Abecedarian employing pseudo-rhyming

Yarnification ought to be the process of making yarn or tall tales :-)
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.

Map Battle part 2



              My soul burns with an unquenchable righteous desire.
Yours belongs to the Prince of Tyre, the Lake of Fire, 
in WEF land of Oz, where bulllshiit is behind the curtain 
and evil blooms,
where a wicked agenda auras the room.
Like a demon, a wraith possessing our Constitution 
in amendment of their ulterior concocted solutions.
With a spark of dick-traitor-ship,
selling on China seize 
and a touch of Poseidon directing the breeze.
Your darkness fades into the night, 
faces never to be seen in true light.

Your Baphomet queen commands with un-regal race,
a heart of a coward, a steady undertaker, pace-maker, 
race baiter, poll positioned race fixer,
with algorithmic elixir.
Beneath your crown, a traitor's biometrics,
a force to reckon, beckon under chaos 
cup and shell company politics.

In shadows lurks a Cheshire grin,
A riddle whispered on the wind.
A trickster's charm, a cunning scheme,
A world of wonder, a madman's dream.

My hands are like steel gripping tightly 
onto what’s right.
Yours are queerly writing ripping into curriculum 
and student's minds.
Strange how the only time you can be obscene 
in public is at a drag show or mocking parade 
of God's rainbow that you hijack in mocking stage.
But these colors won't run at the battle if Megiddo,
where you and your band will be done!

Beware the tempest's rage,
reaping the whirlwind while reading your -lists page.
In the eye of the storm, a lion enraged, 
soon you will be counted and placed in that lion's cage.
For power fades, and loyalty wanes,
In the heart of chaos, a new reign enters the cage, 
matches you against desires righteous flame, 
you'll be pissing and running, 
trying to be put out of your miserable shame.
art
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Quality

This is something we are not able to maintain these days,
Fancy feelings are in each step in vivid quantity;
Fresh air, fresh stream water, and fresh food are stopped from all ways,
Junk food products have come out with all their moronity...!

When I meet a known merchant of quartz to shop, lo, he says:
When I ask him for pink and when he shows me green or red;
When he argues with logic that only 19/20, no? Anyways…!
How can a lover of quality, ever, go ahead...?

Colors, starch, and chalk powder have been mixed with rare spices,
With sincere hearts, we should accept our errors, sincerely; 
The tamarinds our folks in the south waste want of prices,
I purchase at high prices in the north, indeed, queerly...! 

Body and mind should be pure for quality to conserve,
Heart and soul should connect too and work with every new verve...!!!
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Coyote Corner

Image of Coyote Animal Snow by Pixabay

Coyote Corner

Coyotes are wolves near cognate brothers,
closer to jackals who are bred o'er seas,
plus, noted slang for smugglers of mothers
and tots who lacked to grasp the ABCs.

Found hereabouts the USA, merely
south of the border some ways then back up
northbound throughout Canada. Stars queerly
dusk also dawn ... wreak howls, dull stares faceup.

Coyotes balance the way that they hunt;
when they are alone, they pounce on small prey,
nevertheless, whenever they confront
larger beast's, pack forms and perfects the slay.

When faced by coyotes, thrash your body,
yell, throw objects or be a wolf and *pee.

*Though blood brothers, wolves are also a coyote's nemesis and they are quite savvy of "marking one's territory".

2021 June 1
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND SONNET
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 July 30
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member The Stars Are Black Tonight

The stars are black tonight
They understand this indigo grief
to honor you, they dip their crowns 
into the inkwell of infinity.

The stars are black tonight
mood pared by garish green
even the sun tastes of old dried blood
a heart wedged between tide and reef
the stars are black tonight, my love.

Will I ever embrace the grace of truer days, 
when you coddled a nearly dead beloved pet
gave your time and lunch to that raggedy gent... 
The thickest of your defenses stripped of all veneer...
The stars are black tonight, my dear.

This night lies, queerly tilted in the mind.
I've dreamt of you in thorny places
that I'd never care to seek nor find.
I'd much rather go completely blind; the stars are black tonight, my shine.

I imagine your skin kissing the cold earth.
Rain waters tickling that red kelp hair
swaying to the drumbeats' blight.
Of the final rest, there's no respite
The stars are black tonight.

Premium Member Fading Figments

Deep sleep 
seems to be a figment 
of my ruminating imagination

Just as my polypathic sex life
seems to be a fading figment
of dark penetrative 
and glad light receptive
co-passionate re-imagination

And trauma
feels like a figment
of my Master Knows Best addictive history
limiting legitimately compassionate love
to exclude all my body's wrong
but feels so right
sacred places

Thinking I am a bit queerly curious
about integrity's 1/0 bi-genderal
iconic Taoist co-governance
for health care
 
CoPassionate pleasures
crowning Light
receiving wealth share,
deep 
dark repair 
root chakra Power

Dipolar Co-arising
convex-White 1
precessively over
concave-Black Non-0
recessively co-passionate
warmly pleasant 
secular bipolarities 
with sacred potential
wholarity hilarities

Regenerating ego-1/eco-0 co-empathic mindfulness
appreciating timeless win/win balance
yang-1/yintegral-0 cooperative,
stimulating co-passionate win/win pleasures

Co-invested 
since before indigenous wu-wei messages
SunCrowning Light/Earth DarkMoon Powers

Deep wound
whole wombed Black Hole
not-not 0 = +1 panentheistically co-radiant
holonic co-therapeutic 
Earth Communication NeuroSystems

Verbally thoughtful passions
and nonverbally felt pleasures
pursuing win/win 
CrownVoiced/RootChoiced
co-impassioning grace

Like sacred wind,
a penetrating figment from above
seems to become flirtatious 
with deep and wide 
creation-bearing seas
yearning seasons
churning pregnantly below

Where troubling sleep
becomes a figment
of deprived
traumatized
self v other
win/lose chronic
degeneration
within

As colored in
between white monotheistic lines
and misbegotten monopolistic lies

Black Hole sacred figments
of timeless wounded blues
lacking courageous deep sensory crews,
curious illuminating clues
searching for compassionate thrival news

As deep sleep 
becomes a fleeing figment 
of ruminating re-imaginations.

Premium Member Polyboxes Paradoxes

I faced alarming paradoxes
as I headed toward puberty.

First,
my King James Bible-belting parents,
extended family,
and all-hopelessly-WHITE farm community
taught me

God loves me
and all the children,
red and yellow,
and black almost as much as white.

That felt good
but then I learned God hates me
because I became queerly obsessed
with hot guys,
and not hot girls.
So, God restoratively created me
so He could retributively hate me.
That seemed like poor justice and peace planning to me,
and I was still in fifth grade.

Then I learned that God had given me two extraordinary gifts:
Possibly unmeasurable intelligence,
and so,
my grade-school principal warned
my evangelical farmer parents,
we were not to be surprised
if I was and saw this Earth
in a somewhat different way.

My second gift
was the envy of all good Bible-belting out and still-in teenagers.
I could sing with the angels.

So,
the God of Infinite Love 
is my Creator
and I am His Frankenstein *****
with a mind and singing voice to soar,
full of Grace.

You and I might both be surprised
how long it took to figure out
Something is very wrong with this picture,
and I don't think it is just me.
It was merely everyone else I knew and trusted
in that Bible-belting time.

So I sang for them in full voice
but gave as little voice to my sexuality as possible.
I wrote papers and test responses
in full A+ voice
but told no one
I knew they were asking wrong questions
for me to answer with full-versed integrity,

Free to sing with David and Jonathon
free of magic superstitions
standing in for mythic polypathic wisdom
of Solomon

Not to divide innocent organic Promise
God has conjoined as Love
of and for children,
red and yellow,
black and white,
gay and lesbian,
bisexual and transgender

And, yes, even straight-faced
Bible-belted out and inward Hate,
Supremely Evangelical Christian Colonizing InBred Correctness,
while continuing to give birth
to hidden,
shamed and blamed ***** Grace
of a Loving God
polypathically immense,
deep and wide,
future through past
regeneratively just
and peaceful
and wickedly funny

Because if we cannot laugh at our egocentric stupidities,
then we must cry out for cosmic tragedy.

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