Long Rebar Poems
Long Rebar Poems. Below are the most popular long Rebar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rebar poems by poem length and keyword.
In savage streets it’s hand to hand
once shrapnel rips the air that’s damned,
no sin of ego in this land.
Baptismal bloodshed echoes
through rust and rebar ghettoes.
There’s bullet swarms and rocket rain
but infantry must hit terrain,
forget I’m sane and rupture veins
with melee-trench-knife flashing,
the bane of peace doves, slashing.
I wear their red of death and drive
my blade abuzz in hellish hive
to stay alive! Yes stay alive!
The apathy of killing,
and twisting morals willing.
My heartbeat kept, a victory,
it pounds just like artillery
but prized, despite the misery.
A witness to destruction
and holy soul’s corruption
and christened by the selfishness
of presidents with negligence,
we soldiers march with evilness.
The narcissistic leaders,
the preachers and the breeders
of rhythmic spates in drumbeat hate
unfurl their nation flags and fate
in bloodlust war… while heads of state
stay combat clean in bunkers.
I witness gurgling utters
your last and bloody gasp for “mama”.
I grasp with greed my breath in chest.
Thought ricochets inside my skull;
I’m still alive! I'm still alive! I'm still alive . . .
Catholic
Stern but saintly Father Meissen
scolded the parents for not having
their baby boy baptized sooner.
It was April, 1952,
inside the stained-glassed catholic church,
ensconced on sun-split Newlin street,
avenue of pink oleanders and cracking sidewalks.
According to the chagrined mother,
she was told that delaying this pivotal sacrament
for three complacent months,
after the boy’s birth on January 11,
was unequivocally unacceptable,
and that waiting so eternally and unendingly,
actually jeopardized her befuddled baby’s soul.
For if he had died, say in March of 1952,
unbaptized,
then his eternal soul, because of original sin,
would have been mercilessly subject
to the inscrutable tortures of hell,
and the lake of fire.
As per destiny, this glued-on scenario
was not realized, and instead,
the boy received the abundant graces
of a head-turning God that day,
as the boy’s shiny oblivious head
was gently and sanctimoniously doused
with priestly-blessed holy water, fresh
from the rippling baptismal fount,
anchored dogmatically with rusted rebar,
deep below the shadowy sacristy,
among the obstinate urns
and the dark-voiced Dominus vobiscums.
But now we hear his older, wiser voice,
undulating like a lark’s-heel after the begging,
hiding the treason of a reprobate mind,
fondling the prayers of ten thousand children,
crying silent astonished tears
into the cold marble baptismal fount;
A groping wet madness firmly set
among the kneeling statues, and the holy linens,
encrusted with fool’s gold and trusting threads.
What kept these stilled voices unheard for so long?
Why did they not speak before this somber time?
Why did they bend, roll over and
close their eyes so cooperatively?
So reverently?
No one can possibly speak
about the unspeakable, for
Father’s holy, righteous indulgences
were unequivocally unacceptable.
But it is too late now.
Mine eyes can clearly see now
the crying sunken skull at Golgotha,
turning its furious eyes away.
Form:
I was killed by a woman.
Mary C Tripp.
She now lies with me in my grave.
How ironic?
She stabbed me through my heart with a Bowie knife.
Shortly thereafter ended my life,
but it almost didn't go that way.
I was ready to kill her to defend my own life all the way.
She was a stranger. I never met her before.
Out of the darkness of the night she surged towards me with an insane roar.
Her knife first slashed my arms as I tried to protect my face.
She just kept slashing and screaming. She never hastened her pace.
I shoved my foot into her belly pushing her back,
but I could not restrain her ongoing attack.
She eventually knocked me down to the ground.
Alongside me a long rod of rebar I found.
She dove at me through the air with her insane wail.
I could have had her on that rebar easily impaled.
I chose to attempt to keep fighting hoping to restrain her.
She drove that big blade through my heart is all that did occur.
My last words to the medics as they tried desperately to save me,
"Please forgive this woman. When her time comes, bury her with me.
She knows not of what she has become. Such is her world of insanity.
Bury her with me and if I can I'll try to help her rest in peace."
The following were the last words I spoke when I died and ended my converse,
"She was once like all Very Great Women who so sadly for whatever reason got cursed."
Black-blue paint bleeds from within the cracks of crumbling cement walls,
Crushed skeletons infused within limestone erode,
exposing nameless sorrow hidden behind faceless grains of gypsum,
while a forgotten galaxy's celestial ceiling peers through a decaying thatched roof.
Misguided souls reach out into night's void,
screeching repeated sins into feverish gusts of wind,
tethered to each rusting rebar that's barely holding what was once their haven together,
unable to let go, doomed to relive past grievances.
Weathered spiral staircases lead towards nowhere.
Bleakness suffocates while hope is snuffed out,
like the wick of bitter candles drowning in their own wax.
Spinning surrealistic scenes melt into intangible realities,
each soul writhing in agony, trying to break free of abject cycles,
yet punishment clings like the smell of burnt tobacco,
unable to separate the scent from the fibres of existence.
Disembodied voices find no reprieve,
only more excruciation
at the hands of cruel judgement.
I wanted to find myself, so I got lost in the woods,
Turns out life’s easier without all the shoulds.
The rhythm of steps was a meditation
Twelve hours a day in God’s lovely creation.
Even when I was tired, wet, hungry and cold
I didn't get jaded; nature didn't get old
In the south, high blue ridges, flowers orange and red.
Mist drifted over meadows, clouds moved overhead.
I got thin and other-worldly, though grounded too
It felt odd to pass day trippers, same trail, different view
Both epic and mundane, the trail was short and long
Resupplied at Vernon, Conway, Marion band played a country song
Five months later, with unexpected friends, I reached the end, the North
In the "hundred-mile wilderness" we chatted, but it finally spit us forth
We camped in Baxter Park, ten miles from Katahdin’s floor
At 5:00 AM we rose, headlamps on, eager for more.
The climb began easy, but boulders got large.
We grabbed rebar to haul ourselves, still pumped for the charge
Hills were tinged with gray and pink, a rising sun showing:
summits of gold, a world silent and glowing.
Walked onto the tableland, then to the last rise
There was the wooden sign, the goal and the prize.
I hugged the sign, then a cold wind drove us past.
Wherever life takes me, the memory will last.
Back in the city, strangers pass like ships in the night
Who knows what memories keep their spirits alight.
Some live epics, some live tales half-spun
If you pursue the far horizon life will be more fun.
The company wishes to research an idea.
Creating slotted aluminium frames that
Would be 18 inches thick centered between
Two areas.the external area would be double
slotted to house a poly thermal fiberboard which
Is housed behind a weather sealed plyboard. Which would be tightened
A sealed with weather resistant sealant.
The interior would be a weather sealed
the fiberboard internal plyboard would be to
exposed to create an interior wall. The idea also is designed
To use rough untreated lumber both interior and
External. With in the 18 inch cavity sand, cob, concrete
Or strawbales could be used to create the complete
Wall. An aluminium frame using the same dynamics
Would make the roof creating a pocket to be filled
With dirt, rammed earth, or cob to create a roof which
Could use external roofing to complete the project.
The structure would sii on footings and a concrete
Slab would be poured internal to create a floor.
Using rebar in both wall and ceiling is make uniform
Structurally sound walls to protect you from the elements.
Over lapped roofs to rid water run off.
Door and window kits designed to create a designers appeal
The structure to be priced under $10,000; with connection
Packages to create the mansionary roommate of your personal desire. Wealth determinational appendicitis dwellings. Using earthy materials to lessen the price of
Construction, allowing the aluminium and wood to create the
Desired look. Stain and shellac the plyboard. Scorn and oil
The untreated lumber. Create the perfect look.
Research and development.
Idea two...
Use untreated lumber to create 16 inch agaped boxes of fill
With a mixture of dirt and cement with rebar; of make the boxes with plyboard exterior attach rebar,fill two inches of cement fill with straw and.mud and cement mixture cap the top with cement.first you have to drill holes for bolts to attach new sections of the same material. Use plyboard to cover the area. This walling process can be used with a tracoring plan to allow the walls to be site receivable once cured.
Or creation of an aluminium frame with fiber walls walls
With poly insulation boards agaped and filled with earthen matrails priced under $10,000 to be attached to a trailers chassis.
Mostly it's just gluing bones together
ones found in a well furrowed field
a scattering of empty joints,
undetectable until tripped over.
An iron-age rebar
can be dug for
it will girder one socket to another.
The framework reconstructs itself
emptiness becomes whole
yet still see through.
There are sharp edges and blunt sounds,
they will clang like cowbells if not polished
into a ringing voice.
Sneak up on yourself,
rattle an echoing skull until teeth chatter
in a free-floating mind.
Whatever tumbles out of that
will be a loosely connected osseous process -
dead on arrival of course.
Pull the invisible strings - make it dance.
your bag of bones just nailed it
but what is it?
tension between
this singular male offspring and me dad
proved more ineradicable
then tensile strengthened steel rebar
which wall veritably, unequivocally,
terribly outlived purposefulness, egad
yet remained intact
even after this son left off
way after being a lad
din viz Harris heir,
withstood the test of time,
sans supremely
wrought impenetrable barrier
(hermetically sealing off
my pre and post pubescent self)
against mad as a red bull, who coped
by escaping to bedroom pad
wherein emotional wounds got nursed
finding me both angry and sad
forsooth wishful thinking,
where disappearance powers
increased by exponential magnitudes
by the sluggish passing hours
envisioning thyself,
absorbed by bedspread flowers
quilted manually, oh so inviting bowers
which idyllic dreamy state
shattered as heavy footsteps
up the staircase found me ire rate
what chutzpah!
No matter ma mama and papa
(two time tested battering rams) aye he quate
attempted without success
to demolish invisible, inimitable,
and impregnable fortress blockade
solely existed in my pate,
and reinforced with obelisks of iron,
when I got tubby late
into my second decade of life stricken
with a woebegone miserable fate.
Form:
Redding Poem 4
“Flying Down Interstate 5”
We departed Redding at 3:45,
In the dead of an October night.
Those tumultuous streets were morgues then,
As we raced to the deserted Interstate 5,
Zooming across the snoozing Sacramento River,
Going at a constant speed of 85,
Passing the snoring cities of Red Bluff, Chico and Yuba City,
Slicing through the darkness of early morning,
With the tule fog scratching over the countryside,
Shrouding the distant lights like blinders on a roan.
One city after another, my speeding treads arriving
In dark sleepy Sacramento in two hours.
With the sun not waking yet, but stirring,
The internal beast passed Stockton as a blur in time,
With other speeding drivers merging onboard,
As insistent captains of their own landlocked ships.
Then looming before us, the San Joaquin canvass;
A devouring flatness five hundred miles long,
Of faraway farmlands sleeping overtime,
The majestic surreal banality of Central California,
Magnetizing us, hypnotizing us to the hastening flow,
Of southern currents and windy traipsings;
This caravan of one, this golden fueled protrusion,
Of the nomadic heartbeat; the inertly-moving soul search;
This final journey to the rapids of my youth,
Where undead ghost boys still climb the rebar rungs,
Atop the old tower on the water’s edge,
Still spit into the blue, slow-paced river below.
A LITTLE LAUGHTER FIVE
Betty bring venom
Curly bimbo lemon thigh
Rogue queen Jacky Denim
Vague swoon droll, droll, untie
Ninja gnome Rebar watch
Makes ramen bacon olive sushi pizza
Spoon vying maple onion grass gumbo-bauch
Jimmy heard Kathy cryin meets munch
Liter laugh fived break bread
Quick syrup cocoa sweet drink
Betty think droll vying slide lauch dariN girls
Jacky, Kathy party broil eatin twist candy stink
Water crush years later heart dance
Eatin drink party piece gnome release
Every vague swoon droll human unite
Ninja gnome,Jimmy, Betty, Jacky, Kathy, Rebar watch
Liter laugh fived break bread
2/19/18 2018©
FOR CONTEST: A LITTLE LAUGHER FIVE
SPONSORED BY: Edward McCall