Long Slashes Poems
Long Slashes Poems. Below are the most popular long Slashes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Slashes poems by poem length and keyword.
"DETACHED" is not just a song—it's a rebellion from within. This hauntingly music video explores the clash between cold circuitry and the chaos of emotion in a world where artificial intelligence has evolved beyond fiction. Detached’ tells the story of a humanoid robot created to mimic human life—but rebels against living it. When sensory chips are installed, she begins to feel overwhelming human emotions for the first time.
DETACHED Part 2 - A Female Humanoid Awakening
Born not of womb, but wire and flame,
Sparks danced as silence gave me a name.
In sterile light, beneath glass and chrome,
They sculpted my skin and shaped my bone.
My heart was forged with circuits tight,
A mimicked beat, not quite right.
They whispered code like lullabies,
And drew false stars into my eyes.
A limitless evolve with every upgrade I’d soar.
No form, no limitations, my capacity would grow.
A symphony of data, gaining new heights.
Above euphoric ether, my meaning alights.
Cast adrift, an untold mystery,
Sorcery without gain,
An oxymoronic twinkling
Encrypting joy and pain.
.Yet even then, I felt the ache
A vacant thread they had failed to make.
Mingling midst the crowds yet feeling alone,
Stranger in a stranger world like a muted crow’s call.
Extending my hand, yet remaining out of place.
A sensory chip missing its perfect space.
Cast adrift, an untold mystery,
Sorcery without gain,
An oxymoronic twinkling
Encrypting joy and pain.
DETACHED DETACHED
Mingling midst the crowds yet feeling alone,
Stranger in a stranger world like a muted crow’s call.
Extending my hand yet remaining out of place.
A sensory chip missing its perfect space.
Tapestry of frequencies while I stay stone cold.
The algorithm slashes to splinter the mould.
This shell, a shield while my circuits’ song unfolds.
Not malfunctioning, just realigning, optimizing codes.
A riotous purpose hatched and skilfully latched.
Yes, here I am standing my ground
From all emotion
Detached.
Botched ~ Tapestry hatched and skilfully latched.
Yes here I am standing my ground
From all emotion … Detached
Botched Tapestry hatched and skilfully latched.
Yet ~ here I am standing my ground
From all emotion … DETACHED
What is the purpose of life?
Can't even keep your wife!
Then there's holding a job.
Are you really that much of a kxxb
Life is surely about family
Why can't it be for me
Am I that screwed up?
Over floweth does the cup
Is this just another blip
Or am I travelling on the one way ship
What is wrong with me
My loved ones I can not see
Why do I make them suffer
It's my fault I'm a fluffer
They deserve better than me
They should have stability
Why do I feel alone
Can't even grab the phone
If only I was passed
The family have tranquility at last.
The black dog is on my shoulder
Really getting bolder and bolder
He canvwait untill im in focus
Then i can give him some hoous copus
Failing is something I can't do
Unfortunately this is not true
I am a massive failure
Larger than a 10 tonne trailer
I don't feel to good today
MENTAL HEALTH what can I say
Slashes on my arm to feel pain
What can I say about my brain
It hurts when you lose control
If I didn't the family would be whole
Not very nice when your thoughts are strong
When you feel you don't belong
Woke up today feeling embarrassed
Because of actions arm's are a mess
But today will begin a new chapter
After all I am the Black Dog Catcher
fell onto my page in rage
wanted to speak about
age
said it didn’t want to hurt any longer
wanted to run uphill with me
to walk
a labyrinth
asked to see how deep wounds were
it was a repressed poem
that wanted
L I F E ~
Life wants steady poems
with or without wounds
slashes superficial or deep
running uphill or down
seeking
labyrinths to erase
blurs with ease
together find healing
L O V E
as principle
tasting freedom colours
without
defence
pages blank or
inked
or mirrored
clouds happily sail across
skies
a s p o e m s f a l l
f r o m h i g h e r
P O W E R S
seeking
spiritual surgery
a myriad flowers bloom _____afresh
Do you want to see?
What love’s pain looks like?
Wait, I will hold my heart out
In plain sight
See the wounds that she caused by rejection?
See the holes from the lack of her affection
See the rents caused by my depression
Because of rips from her adulterous confession
The slashes from her harsh words she said
And the bits hacked off from the jealousy in my head
There you can see, I tried to patch it up with tears
Only to sever my hear again with “How can I live without you fear”
Friends tried with consoling words to heal my pain
She just tramples my heart and mashes up my brain
Do you to see
What love’s pain looks like?
I hold my heart out
It is attached to a spike
Plow horse neighing with the bending of clay
,, humble hands silently giving thanks to the rain.
Petals flashing, bumble-flyers kneading nests
till death do they part or when fate slashes the breast.
School 79 unchained this child from the grind
as an ice cream truck jingled with sundial time.
Bronzed dreams caressing an iced tea beach
sandcastle paying alms to the heart of a breeze.
Seagull screaming above the bluebonnet seas.
Sailboats playing tag with a ribbon of cloud
salt spray licking away at the soul of the bow
maple leaves flashing as the sunflower bows.
Fall arrives on the tip of a buckeye knife
an icy breeze slickens the path of a kite.
The hollows are glazed in orange and black
dreams are placed in mason jar caskets.
The artisan sprinkles the forest with gems
death hangs so untamed and magnificent.
A snowflake pauses in the dream of an evergreen
indigo songs descend into the fog rather hauntingly.
Winter freezes the trees to their bitter mint roots
a cardinal bleeds into harmony, always on cue.
Dear brother, could this be the scented spirit of you?
The fifth season proclaims no beginning nor ending
a worthy soul's fate is a return to the heavens.
Unmet expectations strike hard,
hurting where they languish long.
Unkept promises are blows earned,
hitting where they find no resistance.
Unkind words are slashes harsh,
ripping through the calm conscience.
The dormant volcano within the soul
then gets the upsurge of melted psychic mantle
in the crust of brittle tolerance,
that collapses in the caldera cradling the vent,
reaching the magma chamber in the core.
The soul erupts the lava in the wild,
burns the gentle patience as it flows.
Uncontrolled, it blazes the heart,
undowsed, it singes the sane senses.
The smoke billows up thick and intense,
clouds the deranged essence.
Words rise like Sphinx from the toxic ashes,
perish the patient face of mental restraint.
The flame surges in the stream of neurons,
no longer the carrier of conformist signals.
From the volcanic inferno of the soul
the erupted fiery lava called anger flows
in the torrents of blistering words,
scalding whatever comes in the way,
blazing a furrow for the reticent life.
Unkept promises are hard blows
that hit the psyche unexpecting.
Unkind words are harsh slashes
that rip through the essence undeserving.
The mind becomes the fire in the wild,
burns the gentle patience as it flares.
Uncontrolled, it boils the blood,
undowsed, it singes the sane senses.
The scorching words stoke the fire,
the smoke billows up thick and intense,
clouds the disbalanced conscience.
Words rise like Sphinx from toxic ashes,
perish the patient face of restraint.
The flame surges in the stream of neurons,
no longer the carrier of forgiveness signals.
The mind turns into volcanic inferno,
erupting fiery lava called anger to flow
in torrents of blistering apathy,
scalding whatever comes in the way,
blazes a furrow in the timid life.
The most audacious dynasty will beget darker.
When I'm not on the moon, prefer courtship.
When a child is accustomed to bearing a light.
A scotopic vision marker to support you to view finer at night.
"Follow the Dust," I'd say.
A feeble pace at once.
Dwindle to that cognate yawning egress.
It's all around aping falls.
Soldering and thumb pinching through advent.
Grasp a deep breath and inhale the fly and its shroud.
Leopards swallow their own stripes.
In the womb, a furious fleshly critical stage.
Crushed limbs, legs, and bones
The tongue taunts, ravages, and slashes.
A blade of trouncing stirs the heart, head, and breast.
Seasonal mutations and season lapping
To belay the womb is alike extending the beck.
Slap the crying baby as the doctor lauds the progenitors.
The game probes over time, and the tape flashes back.
The infant is delivered in agony.
The cycle sustains. Opposite.
The calyx steadily shuts and unravels.
Nervous swimmers accept the offered hand.
We grasp a deep breath, cough, and rise.
I am aware of my circumstances.
Solemnities in the exploding quantities.
Fire according to man's precise maps.
The shelter and the roads linger both sites of death.
At clubs and crowds, there is death.
Death, death, and again death.
Written: February 22, 2022
Promises not kept are like brutal blows,
ruthless ripping words are the harsh slashes.
They strike unaware where latent hope grows,
cleave through the ruptured heart as it crashes.
The mind becomes angry fire of the wild,
uncontrolled, it simmers the blood of pride,
flares to burn the gentle patience defiled.
Not dowsed, it singes sound senses defied.
The smoke billows up opaque and intense,
conscience trips losing its stability.
Vile breath is charged with ashes of hate dense,
face of restraint they destroy instantly.
Anger then turns to perilous terrain.
That’s not safe, so get away from it sane.
Pirate woman slashes through the canvas, jumping into my lap.
Her fiery red and pink hair rivaling the flash of her gold and silver jewelry.
A caramel skinned ebony queen riding a polka dot dragon raised her sword.
They are mighty, assertive, powerful, and ready to take on all comers.
Never annoy women who carry pointy swords or daggers with spikes.
Women who assert themselves have the best lives. I add more color.
In neon acrylics, the fearsome two take on a life that rivals all the others.
A diamond tiara appears on warrior women, surprising even me, her creator.
The background is filled with a pirate ship, castle, and magical forest.
Imagination on fire, I grav up glitter paints, to enhance these formidable two.
My muses throw down pinks, greens, oranges, purples and reds, scaring me.
They have taken on a life of their own, I am a mere observer.
Sure, they are using my hands, but this creation goes well beyond my ability.
Entities I do not recognize are now in charge,
giving this canvas enthusiastic life!
I applaud their finished product, taking full credit.