Long Spitted Poems
Long Spitted Poems. Below are the most popular long Spitted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spitted poems by poem length and keyword.
Whoa is me, don't have many friends
Except those here on the Soup
Maybe because I show only my best side
You don't know the real scoop
Nasty to children and push old people down
Whenever I get the chance
It's my right after living for eighty years
Still adorable after a lifelong dance
Well what did you expect, some Casanova
No way, been through life's mill
Got spitted out quite unceremoniously
A hardened “lifer” if you will
Putting you on, been a charmer since birth
Ladies all flock to my door
Just wanting a piece of my virile “young” body
The word “old” I absolutely abhor
Well enough about me, a Hollywood hunk
Quite unassuming, shy and sweet
If any of you want to know this guy better
Number's 1-800-TWEET TWEET TWEET
© Jack Ellison 2015
There's no sharper pain than being
a crucified Christ who screams while long nails
pierce his palms and people mock him with laughter;
any human being, including me, is too weak to bear
what He suffered to redeem Mankind...
take His place, look down and find no pity.
There's much contradiction to his death,
who were his enemies the idolatrous Romans
or Caiapha the High Priest? Was jealousy the cause of all?
One can point to only one as it was recorded
by the apostle John and others who felt the same agony.
Today some religions don't use soldiers
to put the despised ones on crosses to die,
but persecute them with the help of authorities
who seem fair and free of blame, beware followers of Christ!
Sometimes, I feel like a crucified Christ
whipped, spitted on and ridiculed by the enraged crowds
that are blinded by ignorance and hatred...
instead of welcoming me as their friend, they fear me
and plot against me not knowing that my silence is astuteness.
Whoa is me, don't have many friends
Except those here on the Soup
Maybe because I show only my best side
You don't really know the scoop
Nasty to children push old people down
Whenever I get the chance
It's my right after living for eighty-six years
Still adorable after a lifelong dance
Well what did you expect, some Casanova
No way, been through life's mill
Got spitted out quite unceremoniously
A hardened “lifer” if you will
Putting you on, been a charmer since birth
Ladies all flock to my door
Just wanting a piece of my virile body
The word “old” I absolutely abhor
Well enough about me, a Hollywood hunk
Quite unassuming, shy and sweet
If any of you want to know this guy better
Number's 1-800-SWEET-SWEET-SWEET
Glorious voices in praises
From the oral of beautiful faces.
Angels flew to and fro
In a delight void of sorrow.
The God seated upon the throne
In a mysterious glory shone.
Pondering a rise to the man
Who fell at the flat flaws of the woman.
A divine friendship project
An heavenly submitted subject.
And there was the need to send
So for an ending enmity end.
The sacrifice for the closed gap
For men to draw and grace tap.
The Son had such great love
For His abode is love above.
For He chose to be made
And lower than the angels was he made.
In a virgin grace He was breathed
And in the manger at birth held.
Joy broke loose at His arrival
In the streets of men for the come revival.
In heaven was gladness
Such that angels chorused in a depth of goodness
The mother's eyes lighted with an unscathed glittering
And father's hands patted the divine offspring.
Grew and waxed strong
And to fulfil He held not too long.
For yet in flesh yet compassionate
Loved still though flanked by hate.
Of suffering He brought comfort
And to sinners He stretched come forth.
A servant to all yet led
For man His blood shed.
Bruised, spitted upon and beaten
As it was written.
The valley of skulls erected His hanged
After the bitter cries of each nail banged.
A silence broke into heaven
And a heat arose as of the oven.
The sins were melted
And the gap was mended.
He rose to ascend into glory
For the change of our wretched story.
The pathway of the saving grace
To draw and see the Father's face.
And man was made friend with
At a reconciliation sincerely lent.
The reason for this season
His birth, death and risen.
2025.05.18
Today, I had a morning started quite roughly.
I almost missed the bus,
Then actually missed the stop at the train station,
That costed me one hour moving and waiting around.
Finally, I reached my destination.
I climbed up hill of the Malmsbury Reservoir,
Followed the walking trails
Walked along the Coliban River,
Got closer to the arched brick bridge,
Near Ellesmere Place Malmsbury Viaduct.
I finally found the Malmsbury Botanical gardens.
There was this interesting wooden bridge,
paved its curved path took me to a small island,
Where I was surrounded by lot of water birds.
Leisurely peddled on the pond water.
I fed them with my banana and mandarins,
But they cleverly spitted out the skins.
I then arrived at the station,
In time to jump on the train to Bendigo.
It came late by ten minutes,
But it worked out perfectly for me,
I wanted to visit the Sacred Heart Catheral.
When arrived, I missed the bus number 5,
But the female driver of bus # 50,
She was kind to take me
All the way up to the hill,
That allowed me just walking across and down,
Visited the closed holy church.
I walked down hill all the way to Bendigo station.
I was exhausted and tired.
I plonked into one of the seat.
Finally getting off and arrive home before seven o'clock.
I rushed home to watch "The Piano" series,
At 19:30: for the next four Sunday.
Vaguely the morning descends on my head's heavy boulder,
stabbing the night away, like a rude intruder, and
vaguely, I stare in the mirror at the stranger staring at me.
You were once a familiar face and we shall have friendly chat again,
whenever you feel lonely and depressed. Of the noise outside,
I have no clue, there's probably a preacher pretending we're civilized.
I would be late for work now if I had a job and worried about the next pay check.
Vaguely I remember the good old days, when we burnt half those checks in happy hours, and the handsome tips I left behind. Now I live on memory alone.
Vaguely I shake my head for a nod to life and being here now without despair.
I am vaguely aware of death lurking outside the window, counting my days ahead, like a patient highway patrol bored with inaction. Crap, move to the side and show me your double, need someone to talk straight, without an accent, a certified copy. And where is the damn matches to light this cigarette? I must do something meaningful with my life, without any delay, before it is too late, for what? Vaguely I ask myself, knowing time is not on my side, only under my feet, like a suffocating crocodile that once groped my jaw and then spitted me away as too tasteless.
I'm a slave so I got slave traits
brought with a price, brought to America
and got bidded on, slapped, whipped
worked cotton fields and of course been spitted on
you see I then did a bid caught probation and
to be on these streets again I'm scared
probation or parole
don't mean you free it's just another way
for this country to keep you in check
now you might get some respect from ya homies
but tell me whats that, truth is I'm just a slave wit benefits
so times ain't really changed from then till now
cause we were slaves then and we still are now
when you see a slave what you hear shhh! not a sound
we was lost and then found or rather already found
just taken, robbed, and raped given a clean slate
wit a new name thats kind of the reason
I could never wear bracelets and chains
so I'm still locked up in my own mind frame.
This is what I am or rather who I am
a servant of the great I AM
and I am every man & woman who fought & died for freedom
I am every Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Harriet Tubman
that chose to lead em, I am every Nelson Mandela,
Rodney King and Jesus Christ thats eternally bleeding
I am the truth, way, light & every righteous reason
every preacher, evangelist, poet, public speaker, & deacon
that believes some people are only in ya life for seasons
and as a young adult to my young brothers & sisters
I been sanctified to lyrically feed em that everybody
walks their own path but only you know who you
should believe in.
t
/ \
/` I ;\
/.built ;\
/a castle; \
/. In the sky \
/ out of ; :\
/, ; _ _ _ __ :\
[, concrete ,]
[ [ ] blocks ;]
[ [ ] ;]
l”l l“’l l”’l l”’l [ l”l l“’l l”’l l”’l l
[ Pinnacle ;] [ [ stained ;]
[ Crowns ;] [and [glass windows ;]
\ - ..__. .:--- / [ \..______ ..:/
[-----------]_l”l l“’l l”’l l”’l l”l l“’l l”’l l”’l _ l”’ [ ---=---=-]
[ [ ] .;] to live a life that pleases God . [ *-* ;]
[ * = * .[] Centered in an entranced island of [verdant.: ]
[ l l . ] green /### \ garden, hues of [ colour .: ]
[ l _ l .: ]blossoms ll ll vanishing under [ glowing.: ]
[ = .: ] heaven ll ll Fireplace spitted [ to life .: ]
[ .: ] torch ll ll lights flicker [ reflecting ]
[ __, .: ] in the ll ll tower walls as [ lace veils ]
[ .: ] hang of ll ll the ceiling casting[ shadows ]
[ _ .: ]------------>======== < ------ --(____ ____)
( * -- .: )----- / Prayers for // ----------------------
~ ~ / Strength // ~`` ~
~ .. / Peace // `` ~ ..
~ / Hope // ~ ~ 11/21/2016
Off to bed with no love in my head,
of all the places my saviour should be,
out, with her mother is not it.
She should be here, to protect from neglect.
When the teeth snapped and the belt came off,
where were you?
I was four,
or five,
you should be here,
by my side,
not out drinking,
not out not thinking about my tanned hide.
I was only playing, laughing at most.
Then down it came with a crack,
a stunning numbness shook my five year old core.
There stood the beast, eyes furrowed, frowned.
I jump,
he's faster,
i'm pinned,
i'm down.
Through clenched, gritted, spitted teeth "why won't YOU go to sleep?"
But...
...where is my story, my bath, my hug?
Why is it cigarettes and whiskey you love?
Where is my saviour, she does not exist.
Roles are reversed when you are at work,
Through gritted, pitted, smoke stained teeth she growls.
And I cry for you, as I cried for her...
Form:
I'm buried with child
As I am the only child left behind
With no forthcoming
Or night shadows
My pillows are soaked with prayers
As my knees are pale of beliefs
The strategy of enlightenment
Gets to be grasped by the thin layers of faith
I am still becoming
With nothing in hand
But
A sharp narrative to blend while speaking in tongues
Luring the little thoughts of time
I never had a voice before
But my light of gratitude gravitated slowly towards the sand bars and touched my bare feet
I now know what lies ahead, as my visions forwardly spotted the faith
I now believe solely I am incredible
Not in a mythical manner
In a spiritual spitted comfort
Ashleigh Ngoqo