Long Self immolation Poems
Long Self immolation Poems. Below are the most popular long Self immolation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Self immolation poems by poem length and keyword.
calling all mistreated jugglers
and wretches of condemned madhouses
bewitched by fingers of freak fame
the spindly fingers of trickster twins
that open the floodgates to occult caverns
unleashing the brusque wraiths
the brittle symmetry of her glacial eyes
cast down from the empyrean skies
as a sanctified abyss from ancient past
eyes as candlelit rectory windows
shining bright like voluptuous pyre
and ferryman’s lantern on turbid nights
calling all gritty peyote coyotes
gargoyles of noxious mind germination
whistling by the graves of stars
in the form of ravenous black holes
so vexed by the self-immolation of lovers
the musicality of their hearty asphyxia
tantalized through thick and thin
falling in cascade down the wailing well
how do we always end up vampirized
singing the longeval sardonic litanies
outliving the meteoric tremors
as monuments of the past tumble down
calling all incorporeal beasts
to swing the fate’s pendulum in effigie
and mourn the motheaten grandeur
of lofty and aged Victorian ancestry
within the reach of eternity’s gate
disemburdened and lost to the ether
melting at last in the muse’s embrace
eclipsed by the fading night gyrations
there’s no excuse not to leave in rapture
one last rainy walk by the derelict wharf
ready to fall down the fissures en masse
into the ruptures of our narcotic glossary
In the beginning there was a lonely word but soon after
there was no room at the meagre hostel for the saviour
Sanguine hopes flash-flooded the sanctuary of hearts
sacrificial blood of Christ awaited to be spilt in vain
Spelt out the message of rusty nails corroding on cross
bones mounted the flesh ready for vanishing memories
Lest we forget Christmas it amounts to summits of wrappers
luxurious gifts opulent indigestion after a vainglorious feast
Reindeer and global delivery services occlude the notion that
taking stock is not about counting presents but reducing the cost
Jesus flashes from i-pads I this and I that please give me more
extra goods additional abundance mince pies and stuffing
Belching and flatulent Tim reaches for his heartburn medication
tastes uppers and downers sniffs white powder on bank cards
His wife smears the makeup she grabbed from under the tree
her new perfume a bountiful offering of disguised scented myrrh
No sense for frank frankinsence as she sniffs expensive fragrances
from benefaction bottle’s decadence and reduces benediction to myth
Gift wrap explodes from the fireplace in the mix of unopened packets
just after Father Christmas has made a lucky escape from the scene
Arson of gluttony self-inflicted suffering self-immolation of sorts
sorts out this unholy communion followed by smouldering mourning
The insurance company refuses to pay as they insist that the couple
had backed the wrong course of action in vile contempt of true faith
They however donate a beautiful bible of careful calligraphy
with gilded ornamentation bound in leather and lather of time
There are no walls standing for wailing when Tim and his spouse
and it remains to be seen whether they might find a mangled manger
To resume business as usual or take refuge in meaning and truth
when the word in the beginning had become a sorry blank canvas
18th November 2018
Contest Christmas Mourning
Sponsor P.S. AWTRY
Definition: programmed cell death/cellular suicide
in an attempt to remedy damaged components,
neatly shrinking and dismantling damaged parts.
A cognitive dissonant conscious
exists at a crossroads.
My mind fractures at the mere thought
of going back into the closet of deferred romantic pursuits,
even if hiding can ensure survival.
My dilemma encapsulates the quintessential concept of coming out.
Taking a step out of closeted comfortability
opens up the avenue for external toxicity,
while retreating into latent potential is
unintentional self-immolation.
it must be near the forest beds -
near! oh, near the forbidden beds
of ancient pigeons and sacred doves
that flock’d along the lofty niger beds -
and came she – sudden and sullen
came she with throat song-swollen
like some sands of fast and fluty men
singing like some sword-beak'd hen
that flock’d along some weird river beds -
and well-wrap’d were her strange signals!
and came she – a sinister creature wild
of baboons and monkeys - a like-mind
who must twist-blew in the wild songs!
who must sing and dance baboon songs!
and father thot a monkey could sing
drumming on the native ancestral drums
and mother thot a baboon could sing
dancing to the native ancestral drums
and death came, oh! young death came
wearing a cloak of fiery ferry of primates
oh, the stretch of lands under this tame
plung’d into the great wisdom of primates
and this death welds a sledge hammer
each son and each father along this niger!
some harsh bombs in a hand-shake
with my forests chas’d rest out of town
and in turn the baboon’s good estate
took such a lifeless state of a leaf-brown
where baboons and monkeys drench’d
in soft-humour of bloody strife
where whole villages lie fully sack'd
from ancestral lands by a new lord of strife!
and father a-jok’d of such a lifeless figure
and mother smil’d at such a lifeless figure
but the harsh bombs of lifeless bombardments
brought a silent vacuum in the forests!
oh, stubborn lords of my cut-throat gentr’y
my niger beds a-crop the sly seedlings of beauty
tho’ baboons and monkeys a-swim like the swine
in blood of self-immolation, a-crying … crime!
Form:
Fire flies : Glow worms in warm glow
Glistening Glowing Glittering
Sparkling shining twinkling blinking
Slipping on dense bushes, upon mass of mossy grass
Flickering ! Fantastic spectacular show at night :
Amazing awesome unique scene.
Marvellous Miraculous non parallel dancing display
in own specific whimsical fashionable approach in dazzling design
An Ecstatic Etherial scenario on preparation
of sacred funeral of cluster of d lovely fireflies
in sublime solitude : Self immolation
to divinity : Bright lifestyle of fireflies
The clowns danced the band played what a flamboyant sight and sound they made.
Luscious lady's parading their amble wears ambivalent to the men's stares.
A clown got a bit to tactile and swiftly received a clout round the ear.
An arcane organ then plays a bittersweet tune and a clown sits down to cry.
He clasps his hands in prayer an intercessor between man and god.
But it seems god was quiescent and proves quintessence he not of this realm.
My faith broken I commit self immolation and pass into the light
and then I wake, I really should stop taking drugs.
comp entry 02/11/2016 ten word challenge
The pale faced young damsel
By evening turned into a blushing bride
Her cheeks made red with rouge
And her lips glossed in cherry red
But the makeup artist, before
Seeing the magic of his deft touch
By some sudden mental derailment
In a bid at self immolation,
Set fire to himself
Badly burned by the inferno
He plunged into the waters below
One more attempt at suicide?
Or a frantic attempt to save himself,
From an act, he impulsively rushed into?
Yet another question remains
‘Can flames turn him to ashes?’
Or water, drown his resilience?
July. 15.2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Poetry Contest
The Evolution of Love
by Michael R. Burch
Love among the infinitesimal
flotillas of amoebas is a dance
of transient appendages, wild sails
that gather in warm brine and then express
one headstream as two small, divergent wakes.
Minuscule voyage, love! Upon false feet,
the pseudopods of uprightness, we creep
toward self-immolation: two nee one.
We cannot photosynthesize the sun,
and so we love in darkness, till we come
at last to understand: man’s spineless heart
is alien to any land. We part
to single cells; we rise on buoyant tears,
amoeba-light, to breathe new atmospheres ...
and still we sink.
The night is full of stars
we cannot grasp, though all the World is ours.
Have we such cells within us, bent on love
to ever-changingness, so that to part
is not to be the same, or even one?
Is love our evolution, or a scream
against the thought of separateness: a cry
of strangled recognition? Love, or die,
or love and die a little. Hopeful death!
Come scale these cliffs, lie changing, share this breath.
Keywords/Tags: love, love and life, evolution, voyage, sex, sexuality, sensual, lust, cells, chemistry, electricity, biology, darkness, sea, night, stars, photosynthesis, shared breath, microscopic, amoebas, pseudopods, microbes, extended metaphor, creation
I once dreamed of you.
I remember the sun shining on your beautiful face smiling at me.
As you walked away.
It seems like the world stopped living and everything in it died alone.
I felt loneliness and unhappiness since that day, you vanished away from me.
I fell into despaired and recentful, you not known, my true love for you.
The days and nights go by tremendously vastly.
Enormously I drifted insanely mad over your absentee.
Exceedingly I cried dreaming of you in someone else arms.
I self-immolation into the cold crystal emerald ocean, dreaming of the time I perceived you with my eyes.
he was sick of the racing stripes on his automobiles
a modern-day Buddha in his garage full of himself
and vintage cars of classical acclaim and chrome
had become nauseous at the mere site of his Lotus
decided to live like the monk who sold his Ferrari
ascetic instead he would attempt to move mountains
traded his bicycle for begging bowl and orange robe
roamed the streets like a vagrant off his or her trolley
eventually sold his puncture kit for a can full of petrol
and considered his enlightenment by self-immolation
the service station attendant had other plans however
a beautiful woman with olive tanned skin and a bindi
‘you don’t have to emulate Siddhartha to find the path of
the third way between all or nothing greed and starvation’
she whispered and gave him a lotus flower from her heart
29th December 2020
Nelumbo nucifera is the botanical name of the lotus