Long Sticky Poems
Long Sticky Poems. Below are the most popular long Sticky by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sticky poems by poem length and keyword.
In the deep night, where shadows dance on the walls of the mind,
My thoughts struggle like captive butterflies in a glass jar,
Public enemy number one, they say, is the one who dares to think,
The irony of these times envelops me like a sticky spider web.
Streams of doubt flow on the windows of my restless soul,
Questions are born like buds in the spring of my consciousness,
But the totalitarian state cuts their roots with rusty scissors of fear,
For the open mind is a threat to their concrete walls.
Oh, how the sandcastles of illusory democracy crumble,
Under the merciless waves of propaganda and subtle manipulation,
We are like trained dogs salivating at the sound of the bell,
Memorizing truths fabricated in the laboratories of blind power.
But deep within my being, a smoldering fire still burns,
My imagination is a phoenix bird reborn from its own ashes,
Its flight is an act of rebellion against the invisible chains,
That try to keep our minds captive in cages of false gold.
The mask cracks, and through the fissures, rays of light seep in,
Illuminating the dark corners of a sleeping society,
And I, a wanderer lost in the labyrinth of forbidden thoughts,
Awaken from induced sleep, ready to reclaim the freedom of my mind.
Dark Night – City Streets
A dark night on city streets
soft yellow glare of streetlights
outlining slow creepy things.
Scents of cooling kitchens
and boiling excitement
tickled the deepening thrill.
A rising tremor of frightful glee
slinking through the streets
mocking the shadows lies.
City streets crawling with anticipation
window shades peeked through
doors held ajar in preparation,
For they would come – as always
on this, their night, utter again
the monsters mantra – Trick or Treat.
Flow in wicked waves of want
seek the lowly sustenance
of the sticky sweet tribute.
Short, weary legs of demons
tire easily - and slowly
retreat to comfort of warm lairs.
Window shades are straightened
doors closed and locked
streetlight shadows calmed
As monsters – cleaned and preened,
hugged and nuzzled in their nests
sleep, and dream, of Halloween.
10/24/2015
Fell into a dream on a summer’s day
In the middle of a meadow, with sticky fingers
orange marmalade toast next to me slopped onto grass
Wonders happened almost instantly
It was not a rabbit-hole but something better
A tunnel practically hidden by a circle of sticks
Coming to get me was my grandmother
I had not seen her since sixty-four
I found myself tumbling and rumbling
Dipped into an empty cavern
You are killing me I whispered.
I felt her arm on my shoulder as I tumbled.
Grandmother and I landed in a magical spot.
A dream place I had only seen a few times.
Giant bookshelves with Pippi Longstockings books
and treasure maps! I was in heaven.
Have I died? I asked my grandmother.
No, darling, she assured me.
You are merely soul dream walking.
In the morning you will be back in your bed.
I am disappointed to say she was right.
For it is in dreams we get to visit our loved ones
And only there; I never wanted to wake up
But of course I have.
I
don't
remember
the first time
You
met
me
I wonder to what degree that upsets you
I can't recall
The first time you called,
Though I've been told you phone in often.
I worry my forgotten memories effect you
Cuz truth is can't recollect
The first time we laughed,
Or the first time you collected
Those sticky snot waterfalls,
Pooling into a gelatin riverbed
In your freshly washed hands
Those freshly wash hands,
branded with my shrilling sobs,
And
So
Much
More
You willingly entered
The chambers of my
Hollow heart,
Where no thought escapes unharmed,
No sound breaks free of the deafening silence,
And every flake of dust is
Set fire by every forbidden feeling,
Forsaken by the only host it has ever known
You parted the blood red waters
Of my blood-brain barrier's borders,
Discovering chasms with treasures
My own heart didn't know
It held dear
That's the first time
I remember
I
Met
You
I met you
When billowing winds raged
And the very elements caged me in -
A prisoner
Of my own broken body,
Where dungeons and dragons
Made their home,
Breathing fire at both friend and foe
Leaving memories and budding dreams homeless
I found you -
In hell,
Its rotting jaws gaped wide open
And you were standing in the opening,
Waiting for me -
Not for the first time,
But the first time I called
With the desperation of one drowning for air
And you held the oxygen.
At the capitol rotunda
Two senators faced off on
Gun rights versus oversight
Each side bunkered in
Intractable, their way to win
Sharp tongued irate debate
Open thinking went kerplunk
Head to head, noses pressing
Like two rams rutting
One grabbed a neck
The other ruffled hair
Both leaned into a scrum
Onlookers aghast
Heavy breathing, jackets flung
Ties askew, faces flushed
Veins a popping
Fists were clenched, my heart pounding
Spit and foam tossed about
Two old mad dogs yelping
Spin left once, then spin right
Round and round these two locked
Like a chopper blade taking off
Leather shoes and legs flyin'
Scuffing on slippery rotunda floor
Lots have slithered across before
Muffled echoes off the walls
Don't think a punch was thrown
Guards ran in to break the spin
Pull the swirl apart
Just like a gooey sticky bun
'Cept it weren't no fun
Hands grasping foe to foe
Darts of insults still flashing
Reddened eyes, teeth gnashing
Heads adjoined they'd go
Caught their breath, stood up straight
Falling back into friendly hands
Mumbled shards yet flying
They walked away slumping
Like two Humpty Dumptys
Disheveled putting themselves together
Each insisting they were "kerrect"
With hastened breath
I saw it all unfold
Watchers shuffling in doubt
As they usually do
It was a war, weren't no spat
They'll never forget, count on that
See it all on the evening news
Did it change each other's views?
Can we ever talk civilly?
Common Ground is the Solution
So that was yesterday's kerfuffle
Adjudicated by muscle
The question is, who is to blame?
I often ask myself this question with no other thought than to torment myself. I have always concluded to admit (though it is a straight-out lie) that I am to blame. I am the cause of these insecurities…these torments…these infernal thoughts—my literal insanity. A part of me actually believes that lie! I am in awe. Can you fathom such a thing? A lie that I know is in fact a lie is so deeply strung in the recesses of my brain as to lead me to believe that is IS the truth! I am to blame. Why justify this lie into ostensible innocence and truth? Who the hell do I have to convince!?
I think I mean to torment myself to the grave…I have justified many a lie for that sole purpose. On the pedestal the lie rises and engulfs the spirits, taking with her the very pride and dignity I pretend to promote. But what is the pleasure in a lie when there is no one to lie to but yourself?
So I lie today and every day. I write hour upon hour of useless words that I, in all of my nothingness, can only appreciate to its fullest. And I laugh when somehow through the valleys of mendacity, a raw truth emerges. It has many eyes and many ears. It can be tasted that someone…someone out there has been convinced.
I remember my wife was holding our child
I had just lashed out at her,
Had beat her to the core
With the brutality of my merciless words
She was trapped in the fury of my hellish present,
Sucked up in the very heart of it
What haunts me the most…
Was how calm the baby was through it all
There she was in hysterics,
Literally out of breath in her own sobs,
Clutching my daughter’s little hand
In her feeble, sorrowful embrace
She looked into her eyes
The child was looking straight into her soul
I paused from my torturing and watched,
As that serene child never looked away
From the globes of her mother’s eyes
Straight into her pain-filled life,
Trapped in the ugly, sticky redness of her sagging cheeks
I wonder how one so young
Could even bear looking into the face of raw sorrow
That void was beyond me…
That child that day…was not my own
A crack of a smile appeared on her face and I completely lost it
She enjoyed her mother’s sorrow!
She enjoyed it…
If she could only see me now…
How happy—how happy that child would be
Citrus petals got stuck in the core of a page.
Paper cuts and stains in amber and green.
Creamy pearls oozing from ripped skin rage.
Fine dew drips from pecks have been seen.
Paper cuts and stains in amber and green.
Within a kaleidoscope of the seething song.
Fine dew drips from pecks have been seen.
Hibiscus-scented daydreams waft along.
Within a kaleidoscope of the seething song.
The vanilla honey aroma on tea leaves talus.
Hibiscus-scented daydreams drifting along.
A crimson flame whirling in a golden chalice.
The vanilla honey aroma on tea leaves talus.
Sticky food to let you grip the edges of life.
Crimson flame whirling in a golden chalice.
Chamomile tea is minding fairy tale strife.
Sticky food to let you grip the edges of life.
Seeing into the concave mirror of implore.
Chamomile tea is minding fairy tale strife.
Alluring feeling of restless need to explore.
Seeing into the concave mirror of implore.
Creamy pearls oozing from ripped skin rage.
Alluring feeling of restless need to explore.
Citrus petals got stuck in the center of a page.
Written: January 06, 2023
A step in time I took one day
On specters mist who led the way
Down cobblestones and garden paths
Armless statues guarding baths
Armored beasts reflect the sun
Gallant knights are all for one
Hedge puzzles line the gardens fair
Hide and Seek for those that dare
Ladies clad in whale bone stays
Surreys pulled by chestnut bays
Sticky buns and honeyed mead
Cards and races slate the greed
Then on he led to shanty town
Down rows of tenements falling down
Sewage stench accosts the street
Where doxies in the alleys meet
Walking peddlers hawk their wares
And homeless children, no one cares
Disease spreads rampant through the town
Renaissance Art, the churches frown
Then through the mist he leads again
Back to my time; my heart to pen.
Warm, sticky hands palm off dry, self-centred ground,
Touched by gingerly acclaiming seeds of new-borns:
Ready, willing and eager for the harsh, expecting role,
Supposedly not with any crudeness, brashness or horns;
As we sit in it, my tears embrace his spritely youth,
And I ask for forgiveness for my naive, vigorous misdeed:
He secures me with his smile and instinctive composure,
Such that I no longer trepidatiously have to sweat and bleed;
Permanency fairly permeates my fearful, angered heart:
The hope of someone else to tease the difficult, awkward task;
My failure becomes his promise, and his foundation strong,
So that the demand is no longer a mountainous, rocky ask.
When you yourself cannot conquer the rough terrain,
Your friends and lovers attend to take the strain.
2nd of October 2015
No cereal with skim milk
That pastry is leaving doubt
Eggs are icky
Hot cakes sticky
Fruit is for monkeys
Toast is looking funky
Bacon! just feed me bacon
let it sizzle watch me dribble
The aroma to live
let me feast on the best of the pig
Biscuits and gravy I shrug maybe
Sausage or ham I'll be damn
Peanut butter and jelly now that's silly
Potatoes no gratefuls
Fried chicken and waffles sounds just awful
Let me explain, you can take names
For breakfast it has to be
Simply put in minor C
Bacon! Bacon! Bacon! Bacon!
Oatmeal get real
Cream of wheat to petite
Big juicy steak your to late
Breakfast burrito I'll pass
Doughnuts don't ask
Help me break my fast
Give me Bacon! Bacon! Bacon!
crispy chewy luscious bacon
Yummy in my tummy bacon
Give me Bacon!
We're all out?!
warm up the spaghetti...