Long Rapidity Poems
Long Rapidity Poems. Below are the most popular long Rapidity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rapidity poems by poem length and keyword.
My wife maintained her spirit and humor all through the pre-op preparation process. She
joked and laughed with the nurses, assistants and doctors as they poked her, pushed her, squeezed her, took blood, took measurements, poked her some more and basically, just abused the hell out of her in preparation for what we knew was a serious operation.
Many of the healthcare professionals did not know what to make of her smiling face,
sarcastic tone and bubbling humor as they were all well aware of the seriousness and risks involved with the upcoming surgical procedure. But her good humor was unwavering.
In the six months since her dissection and the two months since the decision to perform this operation, my wife did her homework. She knew exactly how serious her condition was and the risks involved with this necessary operation. And yet, she kept her spirits high and her optimism never dipped.
When the anesthesiologist came out just minutes before they rolled her into the operating room and explained, for what seemed like the one thousandth time in the last two weeks, the risks and seriousness of her procedure, for the first time, I noticed signs of fear on her face and saw tears well up in her eyes.
Holding my hand as we approached the operating room where I was to be left behind, she looked up at me and said, “Take care of yourself and our Spencer”. The doors swung close and the six hour operation commenced.
It’s now seven days later and Cindy is well on her way to a full recovery. The doctors could not be more pleased with how the surgery went and with the rapidity of her recovery. There is no reason to believe that, within 8 – 10 weeks, she cannot be back to her normal, active self.
She is back to joking, being sarcastic and a regular pain in everyone’s ass – she is slowly
becoming Cindy again.
I will never forget, however, in the one second of fear and worry, how her concerns were
about the well-being of me and our son – and, not about herself.
I love you Cindy Flach.
And, I hope that if you ever decide to read any of my poems – given you do not understand my obsession with writing these silly things – I hope like hell, you choose to read this one.
Welcome home, love.
The more weapons there will be:
the more likely a crime will be committed using one;
the lower their SES (socio-economic status) will be;
the lower their intelligence level will be;
the more likely they are be mentally and emotionally incompetent;
the more likely they are to have a persecution complex;
excessive defense mechanisms, experience mass paranoia,
be mentally incompetent or imbalanced, be an increase in suicides;
the more likely a woman will be killed or injured;
the more likely accessories will increase weapons effectiveness and rapidity;
the more likely they will be automatic designed to commit mass murder with;
the more likely principles stated in the 2d amendment will be violated;
the more likely the victim and killer will be from the United States;
the more likely the killer will exhaust their supply of ammunition;
the more likely a weapon will be used in an altercation;
the more likely there will be an accidental gun death;
the more likely will be the absence of an effective weapons training program;
the more likely safety devices will not be present;
the more likely an accidental death will occur at home;
the more likely owners of weapons will encourage weapons safety programs;
the more likely no local files or background security checkups exist;
the more likely will be absence of cool down period for purchase of weapons;
the more likely will be an undocumented weapons sales;
the more likely will be increase in amount of money to support damages;
the more likely a potential murderer is to steal a weapon;
the more likely a weapon will not be used for self-defense;
the more likely a woman will be present in a domestic abuse situation;
the more likely increase in deaths will be created and caused by a weapon;
the more likely will be the absence of a successful permitting process;
the more likely will be the presence of a negative stimulus.
Trying to make up my mind regarding weapons.
Form:
something that doesn’t speak out loud
at parties, but creeps across the fine
dinner table,
through glances, faint touches,
laughs & intentional momentary stares &
changes in the tone of one’s voice,
when s/he makes eye contact,
letting one know that kink is
involved, when it comes to what is in
store for the
evening---
just when the talons get dug in
is anybody’s guess,
but both parties agree that
once the rest of em’ are preoccupied,
somewhere out in the back of the house,
somewhere in a secluded room
not used by the rest of the folk during
the early evening,
somewhere, where the moans of pain &
pleasure cannot be heard,
they walk
hand in hand.
spontaneity leads to spitballing,
spitballing leads to deeper conversation,
deeper conversation leads to comfort,
comfortability leads to trust,
trust leads to permission,
permission leads to vulnerability,
vulnerability leads to possibility,
possibility leads to awakening,
awakening leads to pleasure,
pleasure repeats & repeats & repeats into
ecstasy.
digging deep into human
urge, gripping tight with both hands,
hold palm straight, swinging down,
slamming & echoing the slap throughout the
room, following again,
communicating with &
constantly checking one’s pain threshold,
with the reddening coming &
the streaks, the fingers being imprinted,
but still, more is wanted,
so the steady slap, the smack,
increases in rapidity,
in strength, in force,
with every motion planned, deliberate,
to bring pleasure through pain,
constantly communicating,
letting s/he who enjoys/endures
work at him/herself whilst the
room gets louder with moans,
wincing, cries of excitement &
cries of hurt,
all the while
inside, s/he rises,
rises, rises, rises,
further up the hill,
as the skin grows a deep red,
as the skin begins to bruise &
then finally,
the
spankgasm.
Through the creek of the door there sneaked in a silent messenger of Lucifer,
A breathing man sneezed till the last breath, and was shrouded with chillness,
It was a soothing flame of fire choked the chamber in and out,
Rapidity was a trait of the silent messenger which breathed its force mysteriously,
And there was coughing, sneezing and spitting with rising temperature,
The stigma of Covid-19 had its recycle with its mutated psychology.
The victims succumbed to the predator’s double-bladed scalpel.
The illegitimate entry of Covid -19 into an Oriental province is an infamous history,
The silent messenger then turned to an untamable monster that devoured the ‘innocents’,
Clinical staff ran helter-skelter to fight with the devouring monster,
The malicious hunter with his hunting dog wolfed breath in minutes.
The mammoth giant in miniature form of virus wielded his weapon ‘cross the horizon,
And multiple lives were dragged thro’ the tunnel of darkness,
The malicious organisms with short span of life-expectancy breed countless generations,
And enjoy themselves with the crown of sinister leaves.
Who will chase the messenger of Lucifer and shall redeem the world?
Day in and day out chemicals and antibiotics run under microscopes,
Vaccines are tried in every corner,
But experiments and efforts seem to be a fiasco.
So Who shall chase the messenger of evil from the face of human lives?
There is One Who made man and creations,
So, let’s seek His Providence to walk in His Word,
And Life on earth shall be a way unto the Life of Eternity.
Shall we all….?
,
Covid-19: A Silent Messenger of Lucifer!
Through the creek of the door there sneaked in a silent messenger of Lucifer,
A breathing man sneezed till the last breath, and was shrouded with chillness,
It was a soothing flame of fire choked the chamber in and out,
Rapidity was a trait of the silent messenger which breathed its force mysteriously,
And there was coughing, sneezing and spitting with rising temperature,
The stigma of Covid-19 had its recycle with its mutated psychology.
The victims succumbed to the predator’s double-bladed scalpel.
The illegitimate entry of Covid -19 into an Oriental province is an infamous history,
The silent messenger then turned to an untamable monster that devoured the ‘innocents’,
Clinical staff ran helter-skelter to fight with the devouring monster,
The malicious hunter with his hunting dog wolfed breath in minutes.
The mammoth giant in miniature form of virus wielded his weapon ‘cross the horizon,
And multiple lives were dragged thro’ the tunnel of darkness,
The malicious organisms with short span of life-expectancy breed countless generations,
And enjoy themselves with the crown of sinister leaves.
Who will chase the messenger of Lucifer and shall redeem the world?
Day in and day out chemicals and antibiotics run under microscopes,
Vaccines are tried in every corner,
But experiments and efforts seem to be a fiasco.
So Who shall chase the messenger of evil from the face of human lives?
There is One Who made man and creations,
So, let’s seek His Providence to walk in His Word,
And Life on earth shall be a way unto the Life of Eternity.
Shall we all….?
,
"The Upper Room"
When time expanded
the heart opened -
the mind, like a shell,
spoke like a wheel
turning
the sum of all
towards the central core
the next number
in the sequence
is the sum
of the two before it
to believe in 1
order is found within
synchronicity’s calculation
The eyes watching,
collectively move
beyond fear
leaning into the place
of love, a new language
beyond words, very near
inside
the key turns
we are
a higher form
of alignment,
we are
the conduit,
collectively opening
the door
to the place of all things,
where there is a time
and place for everything,
the inherent divine
of all things
one note,
playing us all spectacularly
the mouth opens
inviting,
inside the cry
darkness like a cave,
speaks volumes
like light
the ears hear
the soul escape
on a vibrational note,
we are mirrors
reflecting the echo
inside us all
beliefs
and thoughts
we are used to,
bound by colours
and separation,
are unhinged gates
now removed from us,
thrown away
we are
love notes open
felt in the core,
not seen,
accelerating alignment
manifestation
the rapidity
of the tone vibration
transformation,
the true eternal
self expression, found
in how you dream
to see
your world
we are
vibrational scores
now opening door,
becoming
something other
than what we
were before
entry to the
Upper Room
Love notes,
we are keys
in vibrational score
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
"Heart Chakra Opening"
https://youtu.be/DxMzvUtN3Gc
It’s autumn time in America,
the colors are changing ...
(it’s alt right to gasp in whited disbelief)
as poplar majority, quaking Aspen leaves
slowly fall off
the John Birch branches
Minority bad weather report
says with autumnal census certainty,
that the colors are changing
irrevocably
And as such,
the changing of the times
has weed hateful nettle disgust
rooted permanently
Forest green consequences are seen
ever spreading
with solyent rapidity ...
(it’s alt right to paint a Snow White
enchanted cottage fantasy)
As the waxen ruling majority,
manifestly, cope with
becoming the newest minority
These be the autumnal days —
the kaleidoscope, tabernacle feast harvest
befalling America
Changing of the color landscape
is being coldly received,
winter frostily ...
(it’s alt right to fiery bemoan in ash-white grief)
The reaping season of Autumn
has duly arrived in America,
with equinox clarity
Equal time for daydreams and nightmares
demand sober vigilance,
as the latter-day fermented rain
begins to foment fall —
An end gathering of
rainbow intolerance disparaging,
mightily ...
(really, it’s alt right to cry with pale hope rantings)
Winter teardrop flakes of uncertainty
are alabaster doubtful falling
America now ghostly faces
the haunting reality of changing colors,
changing what was to what will be
Autumnal days of whine and wilted white roses:
a nostalgic weep binge of dead leaves ...
Drunken ivory desires
porcelain pining
for past skin demographic superiority
A VISION
--------
The raw reflection, she is
The silent mirror of my soul
Who in her stillness channels deep
The sour secrets that stain
The dying hopes that drain
The heart of their keeper
Her dreamer's dream, like dice
Enfold in the fist of his hand
With rapidity, restrained
Unreleased to disband
Raveled, like the white lit stars
Secluded from the searching eye
Enrobed inside the night's dim sky
So was his love for her, emotions deep
Possessed, but never a prize
Displayed of him
The glamour hind the golden gates
Her city, there within resides
The glow of glory and my eyes
Like lips of lovers quick collide
Encumbered, closed inside a kiss
A soulful duet, sung
With power, undeniable
With passion, indescribable
Bowels of intimacy, in love
The bride/groom,
This ethereal, intimate scene
My eye beholds
Yet with heart of hearts
I withdraw and withhold her
Though so ever wise,
She's shows herself
Her wisdom, infallible
To myself, I say
"Be wise, take heed!!!"
For I know from my mind
The famine shall flee
Understand!!!! Understand!!!
Your will, to hers, yield
For your fate, in her hand befalls
"A wrong direction," she assures me
"Never should you know of fear"
For this angel, sent to you shall guide
And oversee you through the ever
Deep and dark divide
Between the distant realms
~Poetra Jah~
A construct of such fleeting integrity most ways
The life I’ve lived within these recent days
Beyond my measure I’ve been trying my time
Striving the life I long of sublime
I’ve reached too far, beyond my grasp
Out into thin air disregard of my past
Why did I think I could light up tomorrow
When never before could I envision the morrow
Holding myself the esteem I’ve long sought
Believing the life I can see I could wrought
Ever the liar to myself always grandest
And dragging down with me those whom I’m in hand with
Existence continued above that I’m able
Battling above, around and below my life’s table
Convincing inside myself I can win
All the while knowing my blood flows too thin
Why did I reach for and grasp that I can’t hold
Ignoring those days which long ago I unfold
I tell of myself that I can lift to the light
And walk in the path which shows others right
That which not I am nor ever will seem be
What I strive and I long for at last shown not me
My hose of cards falling ever faster now
I’ve not the speed to rebuild the art – how?
I’ve been plugging the leaks of the dike of my life
Moving faster and faster to pretend I can right
Now the water is consuming with a rapidity I can’t match
And the tide beyond rising to smash that which lasts
Form:
They demean your value and destroy your image,
utter wild cries like creatures in pain,
their expressions change with the rapidity of a kaleidoscope,
faces change with each turn of their talk,
like a wheat-field under a summer breeze,
flounders like a huge conger-eel in an ocean of dingy morality,
pay no attention to their toxic words.
They disbelieve your opinions and discredit your imagination,
oppressed by their indefiniteness which hung in their minds,
like a thick summer haze,
moving in the same dull round, like blind horses in a mill,
laugh like the sudden outburst of the glad bird in the tree-top,
talking and thinking became to them,
like the open page of a monthly magazine,
their jealousy, fierce as the fires and sound like the throb of a bell.
They defame your abilities and demean your value,
impressive as a warrant of arrest for high treason,
laugh is like a rainbow-tinted spray,
eyes glowed like blue coals,
voices are like a clap of thunder which interrupts the warbling birds among the leaves,
vanished like the shapes that float upon a summers dream,
what they say is often a reflection of them, not you.
They are destructive as the lightning flash.