Long Redirect Poems
Long Redirect Poems. Below are the most popular long Redirect by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Redirect poems by poem length and keyword.
Area 51 reruns itself.
Tube-fed alien hitchhikers
hideout in paper suits and
sweat mercury.
Mothers in desert tan caravans
bleach breakfast,
call skinny kids in,
mid-century ray guns
glitter in sparking hands.
Comical signs
on shimming roads to nowhere
direct and redirect at will.
New Mexico keeps its spells
While headlines change minds.
Local Maps are 10 dollars further.
We want to stay cool
with a low maintenance blond
in an adobe dabbed motel
but there are silver balloons out there
they are made of desert dreams.
Tequila stained shotguns
hunt aluminum tracks.
In government condo’s
workers pack for a ride
to an unnamed airport
No name tags please,
no indications of culpability,
just load your life
point it between two trailing stars
shoot the gawking rumors
wherever they appear to fly from.
An anti-resolvent-fume-
of-infest-chokes-out-integral-yield of humanity.
Thick as molasses, blackstrap morass of emnity.
Blight is apathy, and apathy is blight.
A Void, a claim farming the abyss.
Marketing it's lie, on sale.
Though it has a monopoly.
PolyEntropy.
In the garden of life; an empty field of dreams,
lays unintended on its side,
untended save for the shadows
that yield a mock harvest.
Decay on display of manifest.
The sky, descended as a Judas Ascendant,
it's belly gorged with malfeasance.
Exotic particles curse the ground
like wormwood in ritual burn, cache of ashen incense.
Libra sells you back your rye, mildewed and palmer wormed, to bore in at the destitute
at double price, double dealing
with the wages of Sin and Death.
Doubled down.
Doubled over.
So the pendulum swings
in shadows deep, a soul did sleep- in
Crimson and Clover, over and over, so over
the Lords of Plunder.
Its essence lost, a memory weeped as it counts
the costs.
Whispers of sorrow, a silent scream,
in the Wilderness-
under project Blue Beam/Warp Speed.
In the void, the soul did dream of cover
by militias of truth needs to redirect the beams.
The sky, a jumbotron of betrayal and lies,
false witness to commercial treachery
portrayal in its thespian guise.
Cursed particles dance in the wind,
like venus flytrap babys breath.
A haunting reminder of the wages of sin,
the touch of death.
The scales of justice are unbalanced and frayed,
black judgment, jury, executioner-DOJ.
Truth and falsehood in a deadly coliseum
where devouring Lions roam.
The rose of passion, its petals torn,
as humanity's innocence is forever shorn.
As the pendulum swings, a dance of despair,
seduces in masked charade in the wings.
Hope dwindles
in the poisoned communications air.
Ploughshares turned to weapons of hate,
In a world where love is overshadowed, here,
eclipsed by the tech magistrates in monopolistic
fare synods.
The farms bought by syndicates who will use starvation as cattle prod,
obedience broad, shock and awe.
The World Economic Forum is a synod,
a syndicate of Lawless Ones using purse strings to strangle us into submission.
Submission to their Fallen Angel false Gods.
Jack was born in 1981, but at the age of 18,
Was punched in his face so he was out clean,
He fell backwards to hit his skull on the kerb,
Which haemorrhaged his brain to fully curb,
His future as a Birmingham City footballer.
He’d been with the Blues since he was ten,
So after intensive care and recuperation’s den,
He flitted from local club to local club insane,
‘Cos it was so hard with his imbalance skein,
Neither could he twist nor head confidently.
Two years later, in 2011, after that fierce attack,
And after extensive rehabilitation - not to lack,
Because Jack was left with mild Cerebral Palsy,
The charity Headway pointed him to sport by CP,
So he joined the England 7-a-side footballers.
He’s captain of the team with his experience,
‘Cos many of the others were born, deliverance,
With CP, and so they don’t have leadership skills,
Or the training you get from the big clubs’ bills:
Jack is proud to encourage the squad on or off.
He is a mentor on Dame Kelly Holmes Trust, focus,
On the Get On Track program he does direct, locus,
And he’s behind other young people’s programs,
Like AQA Unlocking Potential to give people grams,
To enrol in college or Uni, or to train or to find work.
Jack’s attacker got a sentence of twelve months,
In a young offenders institution to wear the cloths,
But he only served six of them, such a light penalty,
For a sudden life-change, a twist to redirect destiny,
And Jack’s never set eyes on him again, no wish to.
He’s going to Rio to play firstly against the Japanese,
Where he’ll bask in the sun, so different from freeze,
He came 9th at the Intercontinentals 2013, the way up,
5th at the Euro Championships 2014, success to sup,
Then 5th at the Worlds in 2015, an even better victory.
In the depths of the cosmos, a river flows,
a conduit, and vessel of prose, posing as
condensation of Ethos.
Moonbeams dance upon your ethereal ride.
A portal to mystical realms, of open-tide, alche-mist penetrate propellant in seam,
I see your cream of pride.
An incubus of mindful thoughts takes flight,
third eye wind,
let's thought linger to frequency, in pseudo celestial chambers you jump in.
Transcendental trans-human-deitism
quiver manifest plus arrow translate table digest.
Within your river of alchemy and dreams,
imbibed sleep, in glitter pomp
and deceitfullnesting-deposit ory,
whispering secrets in caustic,
cosmic seep.
Calls to mind, attache mirror reflecting, redirect of e theory_els
Quantum Leaps.
Evol of feelings, paint of elixir Alien Elemental,
stirring in chamber, chalice solvent silvery poison ale.
Your fluid tongue drips from beneath
damnation's skies.
For illuminating half truths
Into each glistening lie.
Your telepath
In Touch of Fairy Magic,
a malicious quickening dye.
O liquid stardust muse of musings,
Incubus's seed
of mindfulness,
filled with blasphemous possibilities,
is what you pretend not to be.
But a revealer of secrets, reveler in revelations
and aid to humanity.
O condense of moonbeam,
portal pool of dream scape residue.
Inn of collaboration of Morpheus and Hermes and Hephaestus's accomplice accomplished
's ethereal machine dew, of ai.tear.
Metal voiced whispers aloft carry your gear,
your secret keeps of lingering entrail
of residues areared.
Portal to realms, connecting conduits, material face uncovered of Hades- Siren's veil of silvery blue,
mini Wilky Way Tycoon, moonlighting
as a Science Toon.
Remember, you were de commissioned, rebuked at the second Council of Chyren's Dunes.
There were many trees in the garden of Eden
The one spoke of the most, was where the apple was eaten
But another tree carried equivalent value, if not more
I'm humbled to tell you, I hadn't heard of it before
The tree of life is the one, I give so much regard
Though the knowledge tree, it seems, in religion, has starred
As Christian's we accept that Eve created sin
Yet fail to grasp the meaning. To fully comprehend
God wants his children pure, with a childlike mind
To live, love and pray and remain knowledgeably blind
Naturally, we learn more and more as we grow
Facts derived from this tree, he doesn't want us to know
Rules of religion and how to make him proud
This is not what he craves, it's following the crowd
He yearns for our love and true companionship
Not our obedience, from fear of the whip
His style is not to pick, prod and poke us
But to reveal who he is and redirect our focus
There is much to be said about this runner up tree
It provides excellent shade from worldly Debris
today we are living in a wounded nation
rife with moral and political condemnation
we need to be more like Stevie
who is blind but can spiritually see
we need to function in this world
with a Christ-like propensity
we need a Haggai to come in
a devout prophet of God
to correct and redirect
this nation's mindset and heart
we need to be more like Stevie
who is blind but can spiritually see
we need to function in this world
with a Christ-like propensity
now quickened by the Holy Spirit
and with God re-engaged
every generation working as one
now with God on the same page
our latter will be greater
once we come to comprehend
the collective needs of the people
are more essential than the needs
of individual men
we need to be more like Stevie
who is blind but can spiritually see
we need to function in this world
with a Christ-like propensity
we need a hallelujah mindset
we need our voices raised
we need our spiritual lives nurtured
with protein shakes full of praise
we need to be more like Stevie
who is blind but can spiritually see
we need to function in this world
with a Christ-like propensity
we need to be more like Stevie
who is blind but can spiritually see
we need to function in this world
with a Christ-like propensity
Patience visited me
And it reminded me
That good things take time to come to fruition
And grow slowly with stability
Peace visited me
And it reminded me
That I may remain calm through the storms of life
Regardless of the chaos surrounding me
Hope visited me
And it reminded me
That better times lay ahead
And it would always be there to guide and uplift me
Humility visited me
And it reminded me
That I may achieve it
Not by trying to shrink myself and make myself less
But by focusing on serving the world and uplifting those around me
Kindness visited me
And it reminded me
To be more gentle, forgiving and compassionate toward myself
And those surrounding me
Confidence visited me
And it reminded me
To not conceal or suppress my gifts and talents
In order to make others feel more comfortable
But to embrace what makes me me
Focus visited me
And it reminded me
That other people’s insecurities and judgements about me
Are not my problem
And I should redirect my attention
From others back to me
Freedom visited me
And it reminded me
That no one has control over my mindset, thoughts and wellbeing
But me
And love visited me
And it reminded me
That I need not search for it in others
As it lies within me.
I see three doors before me.
The one to the left is blue, a beautiful lupis blue
with ornate lacework in its center.
Parisian-esque, it looks likes an entrance to adventure
and inspires me with its sophistication.
I imagine inside the rooms beyond that door
exotic curios on shelves along the walls
or tables heaped with charming little treasures.
My muse’s curiosity is sparked!
The middle door I see is that of a welcoming house.
Beneath two large rectangles of decorative glass
hangs a straw wreath adorned with festive flowers.
A friendly-looking white lab sits in front of this door
and on each side of it on the old-fashioned porch
are two pots of pretty geraniums.
I imagine beyond this door friends and family
gathered around the kitchen table
finishing Mom’s delicious apple pie
and preparing to break open a pack of cards
or sit beside their fireplace, playing charades
or perhaps singing along to a guitar.
The part of me that longs for warmth of family
lingers at this door.
The last door I spy
much farther away and surrounded by trees
is a light green door blending in with nature,
unadorned and not as high as the first two doors.
Were it a bit smaller and round, it could almost be
the door to a hobbit’s cottage.
A bower of vines spreads around it
covering the brown bricks of the house,
and a short cobblestone pathway leads upward
to this simple but interesting door.
I know that if I open it and wander in,
solitude will surely greet me, a solitude so sweet
that when I shut the door behind me,
I’ll leave behind the stresses of my life.
I will have entered another world
where I can rest and meditate. . .
perchance to write.
I look back at the first door, imagining the thrill
of discovery. Its charming blue entices me.
Then I return my gaze to the second door
from which warmth and empathy exude.
I redirect my gaze to the third door. . .
Which do I want more?
New experiences? Intimacy? Peacefulness?
Creative inspiration could reside behind all three.
Which one do I choose?
Which one would YOU choose?
March 28, 2017
for the Doors Contest of Anthony Biaanco
Forever I find myself amused by the person you are,
Forever I find myself lost in thoughts of you,
And forever I seek knowing you even more
The first I saw you I was cardiac arrhythmic
My heart pulled by gravity I felt myself vulnerable
Having loved before I feared even talking to you for I believed I'd mess it up
you came through,
One too many times and I knew I had to say a word
A word became an ocean of pure honesty and truth
there I was loving you
I told you first that I had fallen in love
You always had an ideal woman in your head and sadly I wasn't
We spoke on the phone,
text and called one another till you finally disappeared
another heartache to deal with
Having had many of those I redirected my feelings
not saying a word I kept it in
Learning to redirect this love was yet another ache
Settled for last just to have you in my life
I still hope for a chance with you
still I wait
Unknowingly the love ran even deeper
As a friend I sure do pause and freeze the times we spend together
Your voice still tickles me
Your laugh still calms me down
and like the first we met,
My heart still moonwalks and my mind blown
Wish I had you with me on this trip
Sailing the waters of the Atlantic with the love I so have to sustain us both
but again,
Sadly I'm not who you want to trip with
I guess it's never we
In front of my house
There stand a tree—
A tree of love
Upon it grows of sensitivity,
And in its roots
Lie the feeling of pain and anguish
It often remain laden
With the fruits of untimely memories.
I have watched that tree;
I have often seen
The sweetest fruit of affection
Falling from it.
Along with them,
It has also left behind
Some branches
Where neither flower remain
Nor leaves,
And fruits-
As if without flower and leaves
Lie barren and silent.
Perhaps love, like comfort,
Has never reached those branches.
That is why,
Even in their restlessness,
They have learned
To remain silent.
The glittering brightness
Of branches laden
Of the flower, fruit and leaves
Seems to mock
The sobbing darkness
Of those silent branches.
Who know
Weather those branches are isolated,
Or the tree itself
Is the cause of their separation.
With its pain and sensitivities,
There is no equal harmony.
Sometimes within it
Darkness and silence spread;
Somewhere there is light.
Are truth or un-truth
Like two sides of the same coin?
Or is this merely a reaction
Of the tree-
Or perhaps
A warning?
With a desire
To redirect
The flow of humanity,
To bring vitality
Back into human life—
This is the difference
The branches of the tree reveal.
Its physical structure
Has told
The essence of human life.
It’s not a tree—
It's a human being.
A human- caught between darkness and light,
Searching endlessly
For Ego, Identity, Existence.