Long Serial Poems
Long Serial Poems. Below are the most popular long Serial by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Serial poems by poem length and keyword.
Bare skull and cross bones
existence on the peripheral
outskirts of poker flats
lives a slip of a man,
whereat he never felt deserving
accolades linkedin
with appeasement,
sans pat on back congrats,
asper bringing peace,
and tranquility to the
kingdom taken over
by trumpeting democrats,
without any armed
populace resorting,
(nor police present)
affecting a coup d'etat
(carried out
by military expats),
no...amazingly enough,
non violent government
takeover won by votes
during midterm elections,
who rendered
the equivalent outcome
(actually a stunt
more difficult)
than analogously bringing
rabbits out of hats,
which predominant number
of socially progressive winners
shared the sir name "Katz"
ironic since such
ethical congressional
"Freshman" hoped to scare
out all the corrupt rats
and, thus hit upon,
(or one newly elected
acolyte dreamt) master bait,
which involved one participant
to experience potentially
a stormy Dane yell'n date,
thus unnamed
wizard (specializing
in far out, and groovy
grandiose high jinks fate
hood did don an outfit
resembling the Great
Tony the Tiger, no matter,
he reputedly happened
tubby a serial killer,
yet said Grand
Poobah did integrate
each puzzle piece
of his Khanate
with a combination of
bluster, gimcrackery
cheap tricks deceit,
"FAKE" hate
as to snatch the checkered mate,
(essentially a hie
bred Matted Scottish
tartan Harris tweed
couture rib banned jester,
who didst orchestrate)
so much tom foolery, his
basic winning technique
quite antic quate
head, nonetheless
far more ingenious than
latest technological state
of the art revolutionary
trappings, thus never
outmoded ways underrate!
– Dream from the past, I see a lady, she is smiling, young, kind, sparkling eyes, love –
I am far, very far, I disappear into infinity, farther, and farther, the lady is a mist away
– The receding world narrows, and the lady’s face disappears into the distance; illusion–
– Passing kindness by receding distance, she died thousands of years ago; loved love –
I remember this existence from my always-passing life, accusatory lady, serial vision
– A criminatory memorial to a woman from my forgotten past life, I loved her, but I live far away –
– Dreams from the past following moments of the lost moments of life, painful to my heart –
Yes, memories from the illusions are so missing feeling, and the radiation of these honest lines
– A dead remembering from life, death enjoying his past life to be a memorial stone –
– Of a life to a life for a life, by the Life, ruler of life and lives; the death is going to be the life –
Just the moment of dying is a question of death, and life always arises from death
–Life always wants to find a way to the gate of the loved death to get a lovely life again to death –
– I love you, oh my kind and magnetic gate to way to the forever living death to get love by us –
The lady is dead, already. never seen a creature before, a disgusting phenomenon on the train
– A discarded abomination, totally used tool, worn chassis, used flap, adornment of street corners –
No problem, my love will get you there
The illusion of our death will be realised there
Does death exist?
Does life exist?
Does love exist?
Does our existence exist?
No
Everything is just part of a dream.
Does the dream exist?
Illusion of death
Reality
Of Life
Hating all noise and inane tv violence,
a young man sits home cringing and weeps.
Talk of a serial killer pervades the news:
how one finger of his victims he keeps.
Looking for peace, the young man goes to fish.
So glad that he finally has gotten away,
he sets up his tent to camp in the woods,
till a stranger then comes and ruins his day.
The old burly guy has a barking dog,
and he’s endlessly pounding in stakes.
The young guy tells him: Please quiet your dog.
How much more of your noise must I take?
The bothersome man refuses to budge,
so the younger man finds a new site
but finds the old man won’t leave him alone
and has camped right nearby him that night.
By dawn, the man's dog lies dead on the ground.
How the sobs of that older man linger. . .
Last straw for the young man! As he drives away,
on his seat lies a new bloody finger.
Written 5/29/13
for Roy Jerden's Enter the Poems to keep you awake at night Poetry Contest
The visions get worse when you're
not around, crying, screaming,
torturous visions of death on
purpose, hatred and violence.
How easy it is to kill creeps
in, sweeping away common
sense and calm. Overtaken
by dark views of normal
children, smashed down,
torn from parents, swept
away by torents.
Nowhere to turn but you,
nothing calms me more, keeps
my thoughts clear. Am I
more than one, am I
someone else when you're
not here, who will save
me when you're gone, if I
can't save myself.
The visions get worse when night
comes around, bleeding, cursing,
clear as day thoughts of how
to cause harm, death, violence.
How easy it would be to just
pull the trigger, push off
the edge. Overtaken by
thoughts drumming my mind
in a beat faster and faster,
no way to stop the pain.
Nowhere to run but to you,
into your arms, into peace,
am I one who has no
control, one who needs
your boundaries to keep
me under control?
Will I ever know the real me?
Don't worry, I am fine, written for a writing assignment where my character assignment was a dual personality with one as a serial killer.
There's an angry, confused and sad man - I see it in his eyes
Putting up a synthetic smile and front - his primary disguise
He's choking and suffering in his pointless mundane life
So the anger, rage, and hatred course thru his veins - he cuts himself w/ a knife
He tries to hang himself - killing what he believes is a reincarnated life
Yet yearning and craving the normalcy of children and a wife
His backwards "love" he attempts to display
Will never fix what's still wrong with us today and yesterday
He doesn't comprehend what healthy love entails today
Instead he's stuck in our distant past of yesterdays
A working companionship consists of a tight-knit positivity of a team
But for us ever attempting to work again - it's just become a pipe dream
The self-centered selfishness of violent and unpredictable hate
From me every ounce of my energy it will take
Seldom do we follow what both you and I know we need to do
But it confuses this process when I'm truly me and you're not truly you
It will never be balanced 'cause you've always gotta win
While I'm left trapped in your itty-bitty corner - alone by myself I'll defend
Like an idealistic symbol of a Luciferian Templar Knight
I become lost within your hypnotizing infinite blight
Dizzying and dirtying my robotic mind
You've become the junior of the serial killer - 'cause you'll torture, kill, and bind
Like an Old God with a soul who's lost the entirety of his shine
Turning over and churning the possibilities in your mentally sick mind
Overnighting in a haunted cemetery - coated with your gas-like bliss
But lost in your madness of a world - succumbed to your poisonous kiss
Tumbling down into your rabbit hole of your echoing and murderous pit of Hell
Where all you jaded and twisted angels landed and ultimately fell
Oh but you?! You're different! You're the King of 'em all
Exhausted and desperately - I concoct and build my bulletproof wall
I watch in utter horror as you jackhammer all of them down
I'm waking dazed and confused in your Hell's Pit - trapped w/ you underground
The Vote
The lights are out, the night is still,
The window’s ajar, there’s a sudden chill.
Goosepimples multiply all over my skin,
I know what I’ve done is a terrible sin.
The demons are singing deep inside my head,
I might not sleep when I do turn in for bed.
First, I’ll sit by the fire and put up my feet,
I hasten to move from this very seat.
The same demons shout “Why? Why? What you’ve done is insane,
I hope you realise you’ve caused insurmountable pain.
You had the easy choice, but you cocked up instead,
And now we’ll have more times of living in dread.
I can’t believe myself, I thought I knew who to vote,
And now I feel like a scrawny little scroat.
I now see it was my single vote that put those fools in power,
I really deserve to be locked up inside the tower.
Getting better
I am sure that you have been told
Stop in bed when you have a cold
Pinch your nose if you get a bleed
Press it hard and it stops at a greater speed
Car
There’s nothing worse I think by far
Than needing the loo whilst in the car.
You’re miles away from the nearest stop
I wish I hadn’t drank all of that pop.
There’s nothing else that you can do
When in the car and needing the loo.
And eventually there’s no feeling better
As when your trouser leg starts getting wetter.
Graveyard shift
Come work for us, the interviewer said,
I didn’t realise I’d be digging graves for the dead.
Come work for us and you’ll soon have it made,
We’ll even give you your very own spade.
Work hard for your bonus – show everyone your worth
Now It’s 3am and I’m left digging all the earth.
Once the funeral is over and everyone’s at the wake,
It’s time to re-fill as my back begins to ache.
For each burial we do we’ll get a bonus for our prize,
If only they knew I’m the serial killer in disguise.
Where does one find humour?
Everywhere one looks... at least I do
Others may not see it like me
But maybe I'm just built differently
I was blessed with an oversized giggle gene
It's certainly not a bad thing I guess
Could have turned out to be a serial killer
Often thought I may have missed my calling
But I guess I'm a wee bit old to be starting a new career
So I'm really sorry, youse guys are just going to have to suffer
"Did you hear the one about the... "
Sorry! I promise to make them more sophisticated
And post only hoity toity type humour like
"Didst thou hearest the most recent humorous episode chronicling..."
Holy crap! That's really snotty!!!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Dexter has a dark uncontrollable need to take human life.
He's a serial killer psycho path most certified,
but innocents need not fear dark dreaming Dexter.
He satisfies his bloodlust by only killing other killers.
He channels his darkness where he believes it will do the most good,
eliminating predators who victimize innocents in his neighborhood.
He's not trying to be a hero vigilante or protector of the public.
He hasn't any delusions of being a superhero. No evidence of a God complex.
Quite frankly, feelings of conscience, remorse or any feelings at all
are quite alien for Dexter, but he must fake them all.
The only time Dexter truly feels anything
is when Dexter stalks and kills his next victim
and he must satisfy his craving again and again.
He kills only killers who like he haven't any feelings at all
because Dexter believes that's his best option at never getting caught.
Dexter is a Showtime TV series,
and despite it's darkness, it's also at times very funny.
http://billythekidsters-antisocialclub.ning.com/forum/topics/billythekidsters-dexter-page
Many know the tale of humpty Dumpty
But nobody knew that he was a dummy
Who was he, why he sat on a wall and
do you really believe that he did fall?
Your whole life was a lie, coz humpty was a spy
He was not an egg, but a very clever guy
He was a serial killer who's plan was to kill the king
And to achieve this goal, he could do anything
Everyday dressed as an egg, he would climb the wall
Making a plan to kill the king and waiting for his partner's call
Little did he know was that secret service
was also searching him through the hall
They were aware of everything and
waiting for a chance to kill him
The special force got a hint and they started to follow him
Reaching his headquarters they found the plan good
To dress up in an egg, with sniper in hand,
Kill the king and ran as fast as he could
That day everything was set,
the sniper, the plan,the wreck
As he aimed for the king, another bullet hit him,
right through the head, It was bullet of special force,
his so called plan was dissolved
People didn't know anything but they saw an egg fall
That day they made a lie, portray humpty as an egg
So that people shouldn't have fear of death
Everyone was told a lie, even the king except for the force
Humpty was never an egg,nor a food but simply a spy
An assassin trying to kill king while masquerading as an egg
You have always been told a lie
coz humpty was not a egg but spy
This is My example for the contest "the mystery of Humpty Dumpty "
And of course I want you people to write a better poem
"They Say Mushrooms Grow Best in the Dark"
Winter
arrived after
The Darkness
blew in
with its boiling
black clouds.
they say mushrooms
grow best in the dark.
we hid underground.
eventually
we crawled out
from the cracks
like bugs
to ash, the fallen
bones of dust.
we breathed
in the
blow back.
strange angels,
aliens to us, wandered
like monsters
in the starkness
of a different war,
covered in black ooze
and demon masks.
there was
no eclipse,
there was no Sun.
3 days
of scorching fire,
blood shed, and the
stabbing nails
of judgement, and its
horrible crucifixions.
such terrible carnage.
there was much worse
than this, to come.
for the few who survived,
the fumes burnt our skin
the air burnt our lungs.
the iodine
capsules
were useless.
our innocence
perished
many children, taken,
the true meaning
of our lives,
dissolved, gone.
we were blind.
comfortable in
our complacency.
we weren’t prepared
when the truth
of it all,
like parables from old,
blew in
on the clouds.
the ancient stories
we considered
pages of nothing,
we thought fiction,
in long forgotten books,
from our childhood
presented itself
with its meaning
and our inclusion.
when Dominion,
arrived in full force,
it was unwelcome.
they say,
mushrooms
grow best in the dark.
eventually
we crawled out
from the cracks
like bugs;
to ash, the fallen
bones of dust.
strange angels,
aliens to us, wandered
like monsters
in the starkness
of a different war,
covered in black ooze
and demon masks.
the sleeve of armour
on the dead angel
buried under burnt wings,
that the wheels
of battle had driven over
and busted in,
read:
18th Tiberius
25.03/03.04/07.04/AD
Sons of …
well,
we can only
surmise
it was the soldier’s
rank and serial,
his regiment title,
where he
once
belonged,
the rest
was charred
18th Tiberius
25.03/03.04/07.04/AD
Sons of ...
there was
no eclipse,
there was no Sun.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)