Long Scotched Poems
Long Scotched Poems. Below are the most popular long Scotched by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scotched poems by poem length and keyword.
The Lost Art Of Composition
too often my thoughts and the ability to express them
are taken hostage without a clue to the cause
this is an affliction familiar to many a writer
as if madness wasn't enough
it proves to be immune to every method I've used
to relieve my minds constipation
it enslaves your ideas and duct tapes the mouth of your soul
binds your fingers and hands so you are unable to write
I Whiskeyed and Scotched it self medicated with drugs
the addiction that resulted I thought could be bribed
held a knife at its throat threatened, bullied and beat it
poked and scratched at the eyes
Kicked it in the balls
pleaded and begged even got on my knees and prayed
all my efforts were ineffective
it only pissed it off more and tightened the grip
around my Muse's neck
I had exhausted my resolve to this disease that consumed me
there was no other option but to surrender
I decided to give up , knuckle under call it quits
not answer the bell for the next round
I disconnected my computer and turned off my cellphone
the typewriter on my desk just for show
I've had since college every once in a while I have at it
so I stashed in the closet with books by Sexton, Wolfe and Burroughs
Cisneros, Bukowski and Gonzo
I turned down the lights and lit some candles
sat at my desk to prepare my suicide note
what happened when the ballpoint touched the papers surface
was the key opening the front door lock to home
an energy manifested that I had known long ago
before Technology had deadened it's nerves
it sparked the transfer of thought into a word
forming the shape of a sentence
this cosmic electricity flowed into my hand holding the pen
then designed a paragraph the child of chapter
I touched every noun felt each verb envisioned the adjectives description
heard every "ly" in the adverbs reply and ignored the rules of punctuation
I had discovered the remedy to restore my inspiration
the cure I possessed all along
The lost art of composition was my salvation
my own prescription is what I wrote
the poet is an artist that paints in the darkness
a poems words the colors that create light
a writer is blessed with all of the answers
cursed in the search for what questions to ask
Judge Burdon
Pursuit for elusive prey
teases yours truly
into treacherous catacombs
dangerous mentally
challenging pitfalls,
sets small hairs of back
on camp creeks edge
of night, where dark shadows
evoke outer limits
of twilight zone
prompting me constantly questioning
purposefulness, qua hair raising pursuit
embarking these modern roman times
all for naught,
nonetheless I chide self
failing to heed
emotional, mental, psychological...fallout
in sum re: springing Jack in the box reflex
to sally forth and earn kudos,
asper potential Prince Valiant.
Thus situated with blank computer screen
capacious external Lenovo for myopia
(and incessant squiggly floaters to boat),
this literary glutton for punishment
feverishly fixates to plumb depths
measuring mor'n 10,000
leagues under the see
ming lee impossible mission
to ensnare nearly extinct
fluttering, lyfting, shutterflying...
smarts to outwit unsuspecting
beak henning quest
tendering, tasting uber victory
quivering crossbow
targeting yawping
zoological discovery - channeling
primed with taut fletched arrow
on high alert for stool pigeon
cautiously optimistic kickstarting
another futile attempt dagnabbit
experiencing prestige,
oh...and by the way...,
no animal harmed
regarding made for video poem
gamely capturing quarry scotched,
nor gruesome scene
synonymous quasi abattoir
representative bird den sum
bloodless coup deeming
endeavor par excellence.
Fingers madly scramble
to poach skittering idea
fry day most ideal
omelette ya know,
aye feel yolked to defeatism,
one after another faux
promising brainstorm egging
quickly flitting inaccessible
potential flash in frying pan
just as fast dashing
into bajillion pieces
shell shocked scrivener
scribbling lame as duck
goose laying golden egg...
dropping immediately out of sight,
maybe best resigning forlorn
inchoate never albumen,
albeit quite linguistic stretch for
(all be human success story)
prospects beyond reach
ova this wretch
New York Times
bestseller author jinxed
forever dooming yours truly
grinding poverty my ill fate.
Pursuit for elusive prey
teases yours truly
into treacherous catacombs
dangerous mentally
challenging pitfalls,
sets small hairs of back
on camp creeks edge
of night, where dark shadows
evoke outer limits
of twilight zone
prompting me constantly questioning
purposefulness, qua hair raising pursuit
embarking these modern roman times
all for naught,
nonetheless I chide self
failing to heed
emotional, mental, psychological...fallout
in sum re: springing Jack in the box reflex
to sally forth and earn kudos,
asper potential Prince Valiant.
Thus situated with blank computer screen
capacious external Lenovo for myopia
(and incessant squiggly floaters to boat),
this literary glutton for punishment
feverishly fixates to plumb depths
measuring morin 10,000
leagues under the see
ming lee impossible mission
to ensnare nearly extinct
fluttering, lyfting, shutterflying...
smarts to outwit unsuspecting
beak henning quest
tendering, tasting uber victory
quivering crossbow
targeting yawping
zoological discovery - channeling
primed with taut fletched arrow
on high alert for stool pigeon
cautiously optimistic kickstarting
another futile attempt dagnabbit
experiencing prestige,
oh...and by the way...,
no animal harmed
regarding made for video poem
gamely capturing quarry scotched,
nor gruesome scene
synonymous quasi abattoir
representative bird den sum
bloodless coup deeming
endeavor par excellence.
Fingers madly scramble
to poach skittering idea
fry day most ideal
omelette ya know,
aye feel yolked to defeatism,
one after another faux
promising brainstorm egging
quickly flitting inaccessible
potential flash in frying pan
just as fast dashing
into bajillion pieces
shell shocked scrivener
scribbling lame as duck
goose laying golden egg...
dropping immediately out of sight,
maybe best resigning forlorn
inchoate never albumen,
albeit quite linguistic stretch for
(all be human success story)
prospects beyond reach
ova this wretch
New York Times
bestseller author jinxed
forever dooming yours truly
grinding poverty my ill fate.
Radical planet friendly measures
equals earning kudos as unsung hero
(think environmental/carbon footprint)
nearly absolute zero
while global population quarantine
suspension of civil rights
would never fly with trumpeting pharaoh.
Since United States economically crippled
(as well rest of world wide web)
courtesy coronavirus fallout rippled
analogous, whereby Mother Earth
(Gaia's) motley crew psyches stippled.
Golden nugget opportunity whence
twenty first century man/womankind
can make figurative about face
humanity undergoes tense
fossil fuel powered civilization
intricate tapestry doth unwind
(COVID-19) wreaking havoc
among flu fighting village people
constituting human race
shifting radical paradigm
toward renewable resources
alas me dogmatic karma credit
thinks green new deal
(Paine fully) common sense
to any doubting Thomas
since global governments
currently flattened, gutted,
hobbled, immobilized, jackknifed
martial law restricts
impugns verity capitalistic
(re: cannibalistic planetary exploitation)
acquiescing higglety pigglety
free for all
(Alfred E. Neuman wannabes) madcap
(spy versus spy chase
explicit green lighting
global (fiery red) desecration rents
linkedin multitude innocent
flora and fauna violently asunder
ethos predicated upon
vandalistic, monopolistic, capitalistic...
manifest destiny codas enshrined
no matter indigenous tribes genocide
horrifically did erase
place names benign injustice
underestimates true value
native peoples legacy
impossible mission feebly
conjuring bloody events
sacred treaties scotched, revoked, quashed...
accentuating death sentence signed
obliterating rightful heirs amazing grace
storied proud nations traduced
as agents provocateur
cruelly prodded to adopt
offense and/or defense
inevitably pushed off their sacred lands
today their abysmal existential nihilistic crisis
crushing, damning, punishing... poverty
testament how third eye blind
turned away s as to avoid witnessing
tears for fears etching staind face.
Shucking Evil In Favor Of Good...
(courtesy of tasseled colonel corny maise aye aire)
Challenge more difficult than threading
camel thru eye of needle, hence catchy title
scotched, and I aim to endeavor and steer
away from task surpassing
defying gravity clear,
nonetheless (sorry), I still hotly air
glomming pablum attesting ill
success while sitting
in this wooden hard backed chair
oft times a means to leap bajillion
miles, cuz yours truly doth despair
one composite primate being forged care
fully vis a vis from carbon based life
je ne sais quoi essence Earthenware
composed, whether flora or fauna,
one species, sans latter, whose fanfare
of self importance don, trumpet
white out blinding search lights glare
ring essentially making grist for mockery,
parody travesty, etc shady spectacle
buzzfeeding nothing of pinterest to hear
blabbering blaring blather most teeny
tiny in utero homunculus hazardous heir
to the porcelain throne
faulty genes impair
ability to reign reduced
to basket of deplorable
what, particularly as
one benighted longhair
pencil necked geek refused treatment,
(cuz preexisting condition) by medicare
not covered, thus accursed
imp of the pervert
resigned to toss in hat
unsuspecting nightmare,
and run for political office
touting offering nuclear
weapon to every man,
woman and child
additionally larding couture
to design outerwear
housing protective
missile deflecting capacity,
which article designed by
Penn students, yes a bit
elaborate what with
doodads, thingymajigs,
and whatchamacallits
they (especially Eden)
did amazingly overengineer,
but, what the hey, now
the prophesied armageddon
answered courtesy
oven entrepreneurial pair
two peas in a pod, which
success stories ain't *****,
where Ivy League University
flush with funds to bolster
any promising idea, yea
even full body pod suited rainwear.
I saw her a milky complexion and a voluptuous frame , she had a name but no surname noone gave her a surname .
I found her similar less incommon a saree she had draped in an impious commotion to look like what she had to look like .
Little choice did she had to hide the wonders of her skin which were not wonders to her , the brightness of her smile nd her cleavage were unholy to them to her , it was mere piece of flesh scotched and held tight without any pocession she was never touched with admiration but only exploitation.
They scorn at her as she is relegated but forget to question her origin before grabbing her , forgot which caste did she uphold because for them she was not a piece of art but a Harlot , her beauty was perhaps sold .
Her feminsm staked for the pleasure of a night nd she cried , she cried not of the pain it gave her but about every remark of unholy and stained sexuality which slapped in her nightmares of open eyes maybe she too complained but her complaints sucked in by mouths of holy men .
But wait , last night she too saw a dream of all holy men where she was also one of them no less was she revered wearing a saree washed with dignity this time .
Her speech as a monologue of her aspirations and not melancholy of compulsory sex . Her lips now echoing the eulogy of her power , they stained her skin but couldn't reach her heart .
Maybe she wants to be a doctor , an actor , a choreographer a singer or a poet but no one asked her . Her demeanour no more sluggish say hello to the newborn priggish her prefix is not just a prostitute , her life is much more than bodily servitude .
No less than a pandit she is a sensational prelude so the next time you see a prostitute just smile at her not for her stained sexuality but for her soul’s individuality because her soul remains
Unstained .
By : Ridhi bhutani ( herfingerwings)
Chinks of light filter
thru pitchblack emotional prison
vestigial shadow figure hunkers,
an atrophied, mortified, petrified old man
implacable self destructive nemesis
birthed in league pitiful human shambles,
his abysmally forlorn existence
scotched, sabotaged, severely short changed
agonizing depression tortures psyche
family abandoned nsync,
entrenched self cannibalization
devastating vicious feedback loop
exhaustedly drained kith and kin
unconditional, unbridled, unalloyed... love,
no longer spouts, issues, gushes... profusely
familial fountainhead ceased functioning
dry as lovely bones
analogous to fossilized remains
once robust sibling affections,
in toto once dogged sisterly doting
twisted beyond recognition
ditto daughterly acclamation,
adoration, affection, appreciation...
on par with courtly
majestic Fontainebleau
once regaling Francis I (16th century king),
nothing but absolute zero bondage
shackled to solitary confinement
imprisoned impenetrable fortress invisible,
yet...ineradicable as
strongest Earthly material
isolation wrought since...
yours truly begat life in utero
punctuated when obstetrician
pronounced "it's a boy!"
Unbeknownst to very
short lived carefree being
neurological, mental, libidinal... flaws
would spell disaster
spanning scores of years
majority of existence (mine)
participation buzzfeeding livingsocial
shuttered within inaccessible dungeon
surrounded by deepest known moat,
within which flourished fearsome beasts
turned rogue, and conspired
assassination (not yet successful),
whereby one poker face
(born that way)
wretched soul condemned
to psychological abomination
forbidden to terminate
said despicable mortality,
thus suffers life sentence of
yawping, writhing, unnerving... tumult.
Happiness does be a choice
Why, life is meant not, to be by itself, a thing to rejoice
Life is meant to be harsh, life is crude
Life is to all of us, so rude
See, life does have an ebbing temper
Nothing about it lasts forever
Nothing, not even happiness
Not even the solace of feeling blessed
But happiness can be found in little things
In things which make life worth living
In things which give life its meaning
Little things which do cause our soul to be smiling
For me, my happiness does be derived from the being of my family
A nice meal shared at dinner does be so comfy
A good support given to each other in times of hardships
Does keep a smile scotched to my lips
My happiness does be derived in all my free time
Time which I do use to pen down a strong rhyme
A rhyme about life, another about love, still
Another about the promise of the celestial thrill
Yes, happiness does be in my art, but happiness does also be in my duty
Wonderful does it be when appreciated is my labor
Feel I then fulfilled, certainly not guilty
For my duty does be that which allows me to serve humanity
Happiness does be in giving kindness and in receiving same
Why, kindness does be God's other name
So always make I of it a must to be respectful, polite
Even when dealing with those who believe their egos are so right
Happiness does be in valuing those who be to me, so dear
Happiness is making sure to them I do always be so sincere
For life does last for a while
And none can predict what shall happen to him at the next mile!
Happiness does be for me, in relishing that which I do have
So that someday, when looking back, I shall certainly not grieve
Rather, on looking back, I shall smile fondly
And bear no regrets, none at all, thankfully!
At times, the feel of the sun on my whole body is delicious
How warm, how comforting, how addicting
Of the sun's rays I shall never have enough
Why, amidst life's harsh darting arrows
The warmth of the sun is like a protective umbrella!
At other times, the caress of the wind is arousing
It tends to guide me towards adventure
It tends to bid me to listen to its call
To imagine that somewhere, on high grounds
It can take the form of hot air balloons and just swipe me away!
More, each time, the touch of the rain feels soothing
The flames that inhabit my body die out
And cooled off, I can shake my toils away
And smile at life
As if I were its own queen!
And of course, the wet and cold grass is inviting
On it, I do feel like reclining
For as long as my free time shall allow me to
Grass, smelling like the paths of the other worlds
Bid me to smile, at nothing and no one in particular!
Pray, to enjoy the display of nature
I have chosen to remain unattached
And carefree
Unburdened, even if this implies
That I shall have to be penniless!
Yes, there, scotched on the mountain side, I get to dream
Of flying like birds
Of flying without wings
Of swimming in torrid waters
Of touching the moon, while keeping my feet on Earth!
Pray, I shall not get home tonight
I shall sit and wait on the mountains for the moon to show up
Who knows, I might turn into a werewolf
Or meet a romantic vampire
Who knows where my nature-bent imagination shall take me?
Perdition Be Damned!
Body electric zapped
lower gastrointestinal tract
wracked with wretchedness
pitted, rocked, and tortured
severe muscle spasms cramp
deathly hallowed deliverance
beseech divine creator to exorcise relief
any panacea trumpeted vetoed
pestilential nausea diarrhea
wreaks relentless havoc
horrid ordeal twists insides
lack strength to live
breathing a laborious effort
bedrest temporarily alleviates
generally healthy ironclad junket
weatherbeaten rickety ship of state
restorative sought trouncing unwell
corporeal self against torture
assailing, castrating,
and drubbing existence
avocations ordinarily promulgating
resplendent joie de vivre
squelched, scotched, and sabotaged,
courtesy minuscule mailer daemons
emotions unlikely culprit,
though times gone by anxiety
tindered, pitched, and kindled
abominable irritable bowel syndrome
prescription medication tempered
badgering, crippling, and debilitating
panic attacks plagued this primate
manifesting feeble endeavor
to experience poignant satiation,
asper simple pleasures nonexotic
endeavors merely passively living
as one organic carbon based
human being finding fulfillment
meditating, reading, and writing,
now fleeced, deprived, and blitzed
suspicious disagreeable provender
perhaps lactose intolerance
after enjoying pizza birthday
fours days prior
celebrating chronological centenary,
sans one frail resident here,
Highland Manor Apartments
suddenly, I feel chill o' rigor mortis!