Long Slitting Poems
Long Slitting Poems. Below are the most popular long Slitting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Slitting poems by poem length and keyword.
Elvania queen of the warrior elves entered the jungle
As a cat, with glowing eyes, hypervigilant and aware.
Her keen senses smelled Barley Root, a sure sign of the Slothers.
They had been here, and recently. Her nose picked up their scent.
With every pore, she listened, hearing another’s breath.
There was something close by; animal or Slother, she knew not.
Her bow and arrows were ready. She felt them twitching for a battle.
A tiny Hemancer came out to get a drink from the pond.
She did not release her hold on her knife, listening.
The elves were about to crucify the Slothers, and they were aware.
A scared Slother was a dangerous Slother. Her senses intensified.
So many sights and sounds in the jungle, but she was ready.
The Hemancer gave her a snort and paraded back into the tall grass.
No idea how capable she was of slitting his throat in seconds.
Her comrades joined her. Any sign of the Slothers?
Take a whiff, she said. The battle was about to commence.
I was asked why I always
Give kids on my streets few shillings
Even though
The street has no memory
It will kill me when it needs
It is really selfish
I answered
They have held it together
That’s better than I would
I recognise I am a day away
One bad day away from
Waking up covering my face going to a bank and robbing you
One bad day away from
strapping up and blowing myself in a mall
One bad day away from
buying a gun and shooting the whole lot of you
One bad day away from
Removing your eyes because I did not like how you looked at me
One bad day away from
Slitting your throat at night because I feel like you took from me
One bad away
From becoming a monster used to scare kids to be good
To keep it short
The compassion is to keep me safe
Maybe this street kid is one day away
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go . . . "
ee Cummings
I carry your essence with me
In the fire of hope that has been lit
In the very depths of my heart
I carry your eyes in the radiance of mine own,
At least,
They are there on those days that mine are not puffy,
Red and sore, after having cried the night away,
Lamenting at your silence and your coldness!
I carry your kindness with me
Even if it feels like a sword slitting through my body
As I wonder if you do feel for me,
At least, even, a tiny little bit!
I carry your breath in me
I live because you do
I shall perish the day you shall cease to be
I am already dying,
A little bit at a time,
As you steadily and firmly keep
Putting me back into my place,
Reminding me
That maybe,
The fire of hope that burns in my heart
Is nothing else but a fragment
Of my own imagination
And that dreams, in real life,
Never do come true!
Still, amidst all of this blurry haze of hurt
I carry you in my heart
Hiding my tear stricken eyes behind glamorous smiles
And perfect make up
Going on my way
With the broken pieces of my heart
Stuck to each other
Lighting up the world with enough zeal in my gaze
As to make the rest of humanity
Want to follow me!
But I am living solely for you
I shall cease to be
The day you would snatch your heart off my grip
And tell me
Go on your way,
As our roads differ!
I shall cease to be
Drowned in the flood of my tears
Buried in the tomb of my own pain
Burnt in the pyre of my own madness
Remembered as the one living for that impossible love
As it had been willed by the skies!
Written on 3 November 2019
Writing Challenge, November- Some Kind of Love
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
The Dreamless
Now that he had freed himself of the past looking forward
to think thoughts not hampered by dreams of childhood and
the embarrassment of teenage years and sexual clumsiness
falling in love with the most unsuitable and undesirable person possible because she made hot waffles with blueberry jam and sometime strawberry; he still thinks of his horror when his mother thought that woman was a suitable bride for
him mainly because she was stupid and malleable.
It was that beginning that in the end made him break with his past and declare families and danger for civilization, a dagger
in the heart of the future, that must be free of sentimentality.
He liked to sit in bars drinking gin&tonic and watching people before walking to his nearby hotel. Yes, he lived at a hotel because it saved him of the domesticity of paying bills
and fretting about the price of potatoes.
He thought of the German/American writer who said he liked his own company, if that was true how did he know, being drunk most of the time, Not like him who enjoyed his leisure
while waiting to write an earth shattering Novel.
Not to forget the sainted EH, who wrote like a simpleton and
won a Nobel Prize. His contempt for him was endless.
Walking to his hotel in the old part of the town, a boisterous
pig on a balcony fell off and nearly hit him.
The owners of the pig, seeing the animal was mortally wounded, quickly killed the pig by slitting its throat, before it died proper, this to avoid eating a self-dead animal.
This was a shock if the pig had fallen on him he might have ended up in hospital, worse, not being able to walk again
Since he had disowned his family, he had to change his plans.
He would marry an old tart, that had lost her attraction, rent her a flat, give her money for nice dresses, visit her once a week and tell neighbors he was a traveling businessman.
When down with the flu, she could take care of him as it was in her best interest to keep him alive.
Happy now that his future was sorted out, he went to bed and
slept, a night void of dreams.
Cobblestones hold silent steps on damp reflections
Boots echo soft with lightning strikes ahead
A hidden knife in jacket comes to life
Still pillowed under fog to crack the night wide open
Gray silhouettes set into dim imaginings of action
There where the sleeping ships sink into comas
Someone comes out from under shadows back
Up from behind a buildings mold ridden bricks
To overcome the unsuspecting victim by the river
No time to scream in agony in pain or prayer
Escape is now impossible under muffled sounds
Slitting throats must stay a secret bleeding out
Floods are expected according to reports
The weather is less predictable by the docks
Commingling crimson in cold waters is odd
A dingy takes the criminal away to safety
A getaway planned in advance for this occasion
Well before the weather report came out
To forecast the condition red in place of rain
He slips the noose around her slender neck
Cloaked and masked with heavy breath
He can't help but be obsessed
All the dolls hangin' around - pretty little lies that make not a sound
The poison of passion is imagined as they are undressed.
The dead in their eyes is magnificent
Ivory skin - chill to win
Realm of the dark, lips apart, he just has to do it - again and again
The equinox of evil with the essence of sin
Is it vanity or insanity - his dressing up to lure them in
Disquiet Devilry and a sip of gin and the perplexity of the evil twin.
The morbid beauty of death and dying
The lovelies I have twirling in the twilight
Death has changed my life - the quiet peace holds the ladies and - I tight
The divinity of debauchery - death is not treachery
It's like an estuary of decadent innocence.
Dainty damsels dangling Breathless but fabulous
Envisioning slitting their throats as if they were flowers
Heinous and horrific the macabre abounds
A carousel of corpses, a ballet of cadavers, a symphony of death
Dazzling
The eloquence of the end-of-life - exquisite and eternal
His masterpiece just hang'in around.....
During the Second World War, people were panicking everywhere in the world. And of all continents, Asia was one of the most devastated in the history of wars.
So many people in Asia were victims of slavery. Most of them are women. They were victims of molestation and rape. The worst of all, slitting them in their necks or being stabbed so deep between their breasts after being disrespected.
The story of the loaf of bread started not in China or anywhere else in the North, but in the Far East -- the place called "Pearl Of The Orient." Pearl of the East, as it is sometimes called, is situated north of Borneo and south of Japan, east by the Pacific ocean and west by the China sea. The map itself shows a shape of a human form.
Many people who have lived in the Pearl country had a hard time during the Second War. One loaf of bread is equivalent to one family's meal of six, or even ten. The scarcity of bread during those times is not caused by the insufficiency of flour or yeast. Salt, as an ingredient, is not supposed to be the problem too. Only that salt was used for other purposes.
One loaf of bread is the prize of winning the lives of one whole family in hunger and danger. In different ordeals that almost all captured families were going through back then, if you don't have a loaf of bread then you have to earn it. Otherwise, every single member of the family dies. Many times a loaf of bread is placed on top of the head of the man of the family for shooting. And sometimes a loaf of bread is used for marinating human flesh. If you don't know the exact number of slices in the loaf of bread that you are holding, your life is in danger too.
The loaf of bread is the story of a country's downfall for defending its land from invaders. The loaf of bread is not just food, but life for a loaf of freedom and justice.
O’friend who lurked in your path to undress you?
And bound your hands with threads of sorrow anew.
To shatter hopes with sickening lies that blends,
A dreadful cloak that flails the joy your life tends.
Who can find rest when goodness is shoved away,
Replaced by sadness settling with a heavy sway.
We all are victims, dare to face your fears trailing,
Lest would rend your hopes with spears, wailing.
Have you ever been thrust your nerves in the night,
Alone on that bed, sleepless and immersed in plight,
Doubt and pain heavier like it’s a tide we all feel,
And before you budge in despair, to God appeal.
For every lie that sought slitting our hearts apart,
Shall fall as truth begin mending the wounded part.
Copyright 2023
He slips the noose around her slender neck
Cloaked and masked with heavy breath
He can't help but be obsessed
All the dolls hangin' around - pretty little lies that make not a sound
The poison of passion imagined as they are undressed.
The dead in their eyes is magnificent
Ivory skin - chill to win
Realm of the dark, lips apart, he just has to do it - again and again
The equinox of evil with the essence of sin
Is it vanity or insanity - his dressing up to lure them in
Disquiet Devilry and a sip of gin and the perplexity of the evil twin.
The morbid beauty of death and dying
The lovelies I have twirling in the twilight
Death has changed my life - the quiet peace holds the ladies and - I tight
The divinity of debauchery - death is not treachery
It's like an estuary of decadent innocence.
Dainty damsels dangling Breathless but fabulous
Envisioning slitting their throats as if they were flowers
Heinous and horrific the macabre abounds
A carousel of corpses, a ballet of cadavers, a symphony of death
Dazzling
The eloquence of the end-of-life - exquisite and eternal
His masterpiece just hang'in around.....
My sad, deplorable glory is a nightmare for another
This knowing is sickening to the bone
The need for anothers' pain is like a virus
Slitting the veins of truth and delirious want of false
Watching the bile flow through
I emptied a full, sorrowful glass for you
Without even a moment’s glance
Your parched lips opened to drink
But like poison the sustainable exhalation surrounded your body
I shrank at the shrieks of your disquietude
Not knowing what to do
Expression died with the loss of flow
I couldn’t flourish in the bleak winters of your loss
I couldn’t grow
All happiness in a flash of susceptibility
Turned to woe
I gave into thinking it was all an unworthy dream
But the answers, the symbolism was never clear
The loss of your very soul is what I fear
I never meant to poison you in what I take as nourishment
And here now you rot
At the expense of these sad, empty tunes
They must mean close to nothing to you
Pain
Pain
Why do I revolve around the pain?
The empty glass of your spirits remains stained
With the insides of all things true
Torn away
Smothered in a ghostly, ghastly gore
I couldn’t see you could not take it
The sorrow I meant to erase to fake it
But instead make it
The reason I live is to sing for you
To disintegrate the swelling blue
But instead I crawled into your only space
Leaving only disgrace
The gore splattering in jewels across your face
I’ll tell you what
All my achievements are naught
They are only fakes
I am nothing without God’s grace
I spurt with illegitimate words and tunes
That you can never face!
As if by the heaven I inspired
I am drunken with your bile
Of pride risen above the mile
What is this sadness—
This anger, this madness?
Show me what to do
Show me what to say
I’ll dispose of all vagaries I dared to feel today
And replace it with pain
Replace it with pain
Discordance from another is my nightmare smothered
And this the majority crave
The need—the desire for acknowledgement
We will take it to the grave
I never wanted heartless fame
A poison in a cup
I never wanted anything
Only to fill you up
I poured the glass and there it came
Just sad, tired air
Nothing left to give you
Not even the sentiment of a stare
The truth is I am scared
The truth is I am scared
I guess, at times we are all. . .
Not there
7/13/13