Long Repulsion Poems
Long Repulsion Poems. Below are the most popular long Repulsion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Repulsion poems by poem length and keyword.
The wheel of time churns the disarray dust,
settling on the unstable shelf of my lonesome life.
In the maiming moments of painful perturbation,
truth crumbles in the cauldron of confusion chaos.
My detached mind learns to emotionally disconnect,
cultivates the aspirant ability to evade attachment.
Repulsion frees me from the bond of attraction,
acerbic aversion forms within me a citadel of apathy.
As hard times strikes my private space
the boundless walls of the castle, seemingly impassable,
foil the foray of the outer world to my inner sanctum,
a cocoon of imposed isolation in blissful insulation.
I become a lone prisoner of my making,
captive behind the sensual walls of volatile pride,
find people disappear like mist beyond the horizon,
snap the unseen interaction cords of understanding.
When time comes to travel to the twilight zone,
the instinct of self-preservation dwindles in debris,
the walls collapse with the shattered senile senses,
getting buried in the wreckage of the broken antenna.
Days and nights, he spent running
To collect a Rose for his inner room
Nicely Roses smell, and gorgeous they are.
On the one he wanted to pick, he fell
At a peek, its sharp prickles stung him
Such repulsion, he kept inside his heart.
To another he found striking, he moved
But cos of worms, its petals had decayed;
And in his right hand, all faded hopelessly.
Twice, the selection has demotivated him
To no one the truth he could openly reveal
And desperately seek for a Lily or a Jacintha.
He loved Roses, but always failed to get them.
As it’s evening time, the sun is already setting.
No Rose he got, but had to return back home.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
Even before the arrival of the first snows, so brilliantly candid,
we climbed mounts less dangerous than the Alps's;
and we proudly chalked it up to our experience.
Now the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders,
have lost their captious and so beatific image,
and quite too often we got pinched by burdock,
distracted by the robins chattering on a coarse descent;
I champed on crisp strawberries, while he challenged his strength.
My buddy never castigated me for my bizarre behavior,
and I admired him for displaying humor without repulsion,
or retort, and with chisel and hammer we engraved faces of historic men
on the smoothest rocks which were replete with their handsomeness.
Those adventurous afternoons are repealed when we look up,
and recreate them through our Male Chauvinism, cheery not dumb;
we felt like cave men making rudimentary drawings of their hunted animals,
while their women picked wild chicory for an early dinner.
Chums we were, resembling cowboys with wide hats in a chiaroscuro,
drinking in a bar filled with fashionable ladies frolicking and saying hello;
and chili con carne we ate, and plenty of beers to wash it down.
After our money was all squandered, our pockets were empty and we felt alone,
dazed...wobbling with fear, afraid to face our witless wives at home;
we were two idiots wooing empathy and some undeserving love.
And didn't they seem two witches ready for vengeance in their frown,
trying to squeeze the truth out of our silent and pretentious mouths too fulsome?
Frost will bring winter soon, and the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders will be covered,
our hair have turned almost white to match the bright color of the deep snows,
as this river is freezing up, to become a sheet of ice, where no boats or barges pass;
and we play chess, the intramural game of a confined life, without those clandestine affairs.
Our darlings approve with sweet intonation, intensifying their affection so amorous;
and we embrace them with that tenderness that they have long desired...
staring at the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders that these two climbers made their own,
remembering the cold and the shivering...coming down to a valley of comfort and domain.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Q: How does film actress Meryl get censored on Jimmy Kimmel?
A: With a Streep bleep.
Q: What are Russian citizens doing to show approval for President Vladimir?
A: They're rootin' for Putin.
Q: What flower is named for a missing legendary aviation pioneer?
A: The Amelia Camelia.
Q: What would the French knight do when he started flirting with Guinevere?
A: Lancelot would glance a lot.
Q: What do you call a ghoul on crutches?
A: A hobblin' goblin.
Q: What does comic actor Ricky have when he is ill?
A: Gervais malaise.
Q: What is a king who is also a lawyer?
A: A regal legal eagle.
Q: What issue does a psychiatrist and his obsessive patient work on?
A: Compulsion repulsion.
Q: What is an internet scammer's attempt to get account information?
A: A phishin' expedition.
Q: What is Lord Grantham considering for Downton Abbey?
A: Mansion expansion.
Form:
alternately titled: 207th leap year since 1582
the year Pope Gregory XIII world leader
(i.e. essentially paterfamilias among
Roman Catholic flock)
timely maneuvered around calendrical rock
and hard space implementing
viable system tracking years ad hoc
out of sync and lock
step by one day
with astronomical calendar,
slated more'n acceptable tick tock
off kilter around the year of 4818
after common era making mock
re: regarding mankind organizing and
witnessing global chockablock
Democratic celebratory anniversary party
millenniums after Republican dynastic deadlock
thoroughly walled imponderable gridlock
worse fate than quaffing hemlock
practically snuffing out lock, stock
and barrel constitutional birthrights
thirteen original American
founding fathers ghosts experiencing shock
how initial inalienable rights
activists sacrificing life and limb
united with linkedin armlock
said freedom fighters shackled
within crowded jail moldering cinderblock
cold upon hemorrhoid riddle buttock
diehard libertarians unified, pilloried, denounced
legion with repulsion as Shylock
purported, reputed, touted playwright
(William Shakespeare's sited anti semite
The Merchant Of Venice) doth mock
Judaism in vogue four hundred plus years ago,
smoldering think white supremacists i.e. skinheads
violently aiming to knock
non Caucasians upside the head
courtesy pistol whip,
and/or emptying gunstock
into human flesh disenfranchise scaring up
one after another racial and/or ethnic aftershock
aforementioned celebrated bard unwittingly
strictly opinion of me:silly poet -
despite hashtagged as laughingstock,
(plus vitriolic objection taken)
voiced by Shakespearean expert defenders,
yours truly reckons mine thought provoking
regarding storied, lauded, and feted Globe theater
literary King my interpretations not crock.
16.7
“As long as there is desire--
which is the absence of discrimination--
there will be attachment and non-attachment
This is the cause of the world”
16.8
“Indulgence creates attachment
Aversion creates abstinence
Like a child, the sage is free of both
and thus lives on as a child”
Desire being a pull
But why shoot the messenger
Yearning to be full
Becomes the quest of the seeker
Everything vibration
Incessant play in motion
Consciousness choosing resonation
With vibrations enabling elation
Not desire then but indulgence therein
Cause of stagnation
For consciousness detached & sanguine
Unfettered attention becomes meditation
Flowing in the stream without resistance
In the timeless now continuum
Our presence in blissful innocence
Is devoid of egoic residuum
(21-August-2019)
~~~~~~~~~~
Verses 16.7 - 16.8 revisited on 07-December-2021
Desire, the cause of manifestation
Aversion, the opposing force of repulsion
Oscillation between the two, cause of suffering
Unless we vaporise seeking God in a burning yearning
The mindful eye cognises flickers of aversion and desire
Head melds with heart, then God is all we aspire
We entwine with universal consciousness
In a continuum of blissful stillness
Subject-object merge to become one
Boundless love and light of the spiritual sun
As indivisible God essence, our soul luminescent
Transmutes in permanence into its native divine element
Likening the world to a lucid dream, from which we awake
Liberated while alive, the sage lives for love’s sake
In but not of the world, like the vibrant void
Moment to moment, by God buoyed
Sudan 1993 and an ugly famine reaps its prey
malnourished bodies make it difficult to believe
that women were created from the rib of men
it is the most vulnerable who carry the weight
if you pardon the cynical pun on the grotesque
the lens is open and a vulture remains on guard
carrion in the making seems to die on the right
side of the frame and the wrong side of history
a little bird like face hands buried in minute hands
a grunting beak not afar as if smacking hungry lips
vultures have a serious problem with their reputation
but this particular images reaches down much further
into gut wrenching emotion of insatiable repulsion
for the record it is not the grim raptor who was ringed
but the little girl who wears a UN feeding station band
in all honesty the predator is not as close as it seems
a nearby manure heap serves its overfed companions
but the photo fails to escape the onlooker’s discomfort
however they wish it would fly away on prayer or wings
one vulture a Pulitzer Prize and millions of birdwatchers
although Kevin Carter the award winning photojournalist
followed all rules and was forbidden to touch anybody
for fear of spread of disease like cholera or meningitis
he was pilloried for only taking the shot and despairing
instead of well what exactly should the bird have told him
we are not privy to the fate of the iconic avian marauder
do not know what we would have done in such situation
maybe niggling bird song made us contribute to charity
but the other protagonist died in a red pickup truck with a
hosepipe and the girl’s parents told the press she’d survived
11th July 2020
A whisper of wonder entered my heart
I tried to not show repulsion, it was a start
We are all God’s children, the homeless and lepers too
I am not better than him, her, your mom or those two.
The man was panhandling, which usually irritates me
But God spoke to my heart, so I pulled one glove free
I offered him a bit of money to buy a meal or two
He was grateful and said this to me “May God bless you!”
With a joyful heart I left that place, feeling better now.
It was a small gesture, but it made a difference somehow.
I decided to listen for Jesus’ voice a bit harder the next time I see...
A person who needs a helping hand or a smile from little old me.
Ambivalence amends itself
when ambition challenges the amoral freedom
like the ambrosia we partook of,
something prohibited to humans...
that only the mythological gods
had the pleasure to enjoy;
and we adorn our heads with narcissus,
defying our worthless repulsion...
until we suffer the first defeat with dismay:
and as ambiguity leads to anguish,
there's little left that we can relish!
What if shame made us anonymous,
and all the senseless living done: were bleak existence,
cursing torment persistently to absolve every fault...
nipping the nocturnal stillness
with its fulsome, invariable obscurity?
We'll irrupt our consciousness,
make an invidious invocation to nothingness,
inviting helplessness irascibly:
and as ambiguity leads to anguish,
we have no choice but to invent excuses,
making up words to invert another unsound thought!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
Contemplations For Joanna
Propulsion forward through the entropy toward the finish line
Expulsion toward nothingness from a population in decline
Repulsion formed at courts of corruption by the degradation of mankind
Convulsions inward turning as we strive for the refine
Emblematic overtures containing muse inspired compositions
Hippocratic underscores as medics train the next physician
Beaurocratic paper wars that only perpetuate division
Problematic pain forewarned as they complicate decisions
Bereft alone defiant and cold am I a mirror of the times?
The heft of clones insurgent and bold shimmer and blur the lines
Of scientific ethics and progress’s path toward whatever is redefined
I can’t bemoan the young or old of their right to choose not to heed the signs
Retrospective consideration for what cannot now be changed
Circumspective commiseration for the broken, poor and maimed
Introspective observation for those left out in the philosophical rain
Irrespective of their willingness to endure the tough topographical terrain
Mandatory monuments erected in effigy’s of history’s celebrated men
Placatory compliments detected as they try to mass converge and then defend
Allegory statements rejected as he crucifies his friend
Laboratory engagements infected by the genomes final end
Abrasive conversation that hurts the sensitive of soul and sound
Pervasive consternations that work their way through the mind then come back around
Evasive rules of aberration as they put me in the ground
Invasive tools of interrogation remove the wise from the profound
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz 2025