Long Stoned Poems
Long Stoned Poems. Below are the most popular long Stoned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stoned poems by poem length and keyword.
Far off the beaten track and trail
on quest for music’s Holy Grail
led pilgrims on biblical scale
more than can be counted.
With midsummer sun on our cheek
in tents to shelter we did seek
and pitched them at its highest peak
on a hilltop mounted
As we climbed the lean of the hill
my beer I would try not to spill
and sat with the great unwashed till
olé and adios.
It was I, El Skeet, amigo,
in my poncho and sombrero
half-cut like a loco gringo
who waved “vaya con dios!”
We lit yet another hash bong
all up in smoke like Cheech & Chong
and passed it to each one along
under the cop radars.
Till late as wasted brain cells flag
with every mind trip headfu-ck drag
I tucked in to my sleeping bag
on the hill ‘neath the stars
As music and mayhem did rage
back in next summer’s youthful age
we camped closer to the big stage
by a shallow hollow.
I’d sit and watch the crowds go by
in the hot sun and dust and dry
under a big Waikato sky
from our camp on tent row
And as I ripped in with the guys
to our grog trailer of supplies
we made a hanging chain of ties
with every pull tab rent.
Waiting for Cold Chisel that night
with a superdoob glowing bright
I was fuc-kin’ high as a kite
and lurched back to my tent
The next day I woke in a daze
and walked off my drunken malaise
when I heard singing songs of praise
in some weird sh-it I saw.
Tambourine hippies, punks and geeks
and chanting Hari Krishna freaks
burnt incense in clay painted cheeks
so I got high some more
Yet in a hot wet and wild hour
stoned in the unisex shower
I gazed many a sweet flower
in their naked splendour.
We bathed too in waters that flowed
down where the lazy river bowed
lest my head spontaneous explode
on my three day bender
That night by the stars we were led
as above a smoky sky bled
when out The Enz rocked “I See Red”
and fired a burning flare.
In the spirit of Sweetwaters
we lived among at close quarters
sons of Bacchus and his daughters
and I so revelled there
Written: November 2009
Sweetwaters was an annual three
day music festival back in 1980s.
I fell asleep in my chair
I awoke and a room full of smiling women
Looked at me
With Death’s Stare
I asked myself
Am I dreaming?
What are these women scheming?
I fear my mind these women soon will be reaming
What made me dream this way?
My boss yelled at me today
Too much work stress
My brain abscess
Heart and soul in distress
I heard on TV there are more men than women
Women dying and killed in record numbers
Female Final Slumber
Male Violence
Men creating
Female Silence
I looked back at the Cabal of Ladies
I fear I have a room at
The Hotel Hades
Their smiles gone
The room suddenly burst into flames
The women screamed out in pain
Their anguished cries driving me insane
I fell to my knees
I begged them for a Quick Death
They said after I listen to how they all died
Maybe then I could take my last breath
One was stoned
One was beheaded
One was strangled
One was burnt alive
One was led to a cliff and forced to dive
She did not survive
There is no Honor in killing
All the women committed the same sin
Wanting to be free
Male driven Female Genocide for centuries
Still going on
Way too long
All the men swore to love and protect these women
Fathers, Husbands, Brothers, Sons, Friends and Lovers all lied
Allah Cried
Love Denied
Evil dark music filled the room
Flames Rising
Tribal Trance Treat
Tantric Drum Beat
The women danced
I was entranced
Satan and Jesus
Came in the room
They approached the women
And both told The Flock they are
The One
Follow me to Eternal Fun
All the women laughed and turned away
From their Saviour
These women no longer crave
Male Behaviour
Then out of the Flames
I was approached by
The Head Dame
My Dead Mother aflame
Smoldering in front of me
My Beloved Mother said to me
Son you don’t have much time
It’s true you never committed female crime
You never got out of line
Why don’t you write a rhyme
Tell all men of future women yet to come
They need to be free
And will not be Men’s Property
These unborn women will demand to experience life
Free from Male Strife
And be warned
If Male Violence continues against women
And Men refuse to change
Then one day all the women will be gone
They will refuse to be born
Men will no longer be turned on
This will signal
Man’s Final Dawn
A Saturday morning in June on a sunny day,
three hundred villagers were in the town square today.
For two hours, all the children, each man and his wife,
made a choice amongst themselves to sacrifice a life
While the grass was growing green with the flowers in bloom,
one person in town would soon be encountering doom.
Some big piles of stones were gathered up by every boy;
Bobby Martin, the Jones boys, and Dickie Delacroy.
As mixed conversations percolated all around,
Mr. Summers and the black box were soon to be found.
This object was very old and showed much splintering,
after being used many years for this offering
Mr. Summers asked the town for a new edition.
They turned him down, not wanting to break with tradition.
With much of the ritual forgotten and not clear,
little slips of paper were placed in the box each year
Old Man Warner, the senior citizen living here
said to Mr. Adams who was standing very near:
“Seventy-seven years I’ve been participating
in this lottery for which everyone is waiting!
I tell you there’s no other way; it’s needed in June.
We sacrifice life for the corn to be heavy soon”.
Mr. Summers called by name, heads of each family;
all in alphabetical order from A to Z.
Every head of household chose individually;
beginning with Adams, and ending with Zanini.
When every man had a slip of paper in his hand,
“Open up” said Mr. Summers with modest demand.
“The paper with a black pencil mark will indicate
its holder is the sacrifice we all designate”
Along came Bill Hutchinson’s wife Tessie running late;
shocked to see her husband holding the paper of fate.
Mr. Summers asked “How many in the family?
Bill replied “Five. Three children, my wife Tessie, and me.”
Mr. Summers took the slip and put in four blanks more;
back into the black box after opening its door.
Then each of the Hutchinsons was told to reach inside.
The one holding the paper with the mark would decide.
Mr. Summers checked the papers and said with his voice:
“We have our sacrifice! Tessie Hutchinson’s our choice!”
“It isn’t fair!” Yelled Tessie, crying loud and frantic.
The people grabbed stones with Tessie running in panic.
They all caught up with her in the middle of a field,
and stoned her to death without any apparent yield!
Based on the short story "The Lottery" by the late Shirley Jackson
~Survive~
I want to tell you a story about a lady I knew
And some things in life she had to go through
Trying to survive in a world that can be cold
So I’m making sure that her Journey is told
As a child she grew up in a broken home
Spending most her youth feeling so alone
As a young teen she was sexually abused
Leaving her physically and mentally confused
Then she married a man at a very early age
From a different country so her mom was enraged
But they were in love so she didn’t really care
Not knowing in time this would be her nightmare
There were 3 children born into this family
They looked normal as far as the eye could see
Yet her husband began to constantly drink
Until his mind could no longer reasonably think
This became a daily ordeal that kept repeating
Then she eventually discovered he was cheating
But the alcohol made him show no remorse
So before long they separated and got a divorce
Soon her kids grew up and the grandchildren came
And it made her happy grandma was her new name
But at times her past made her depressed and sad
So some days were good and some days were bad
Then there came a day that I won’t ever forget
When a disease called cancer gave her a hard hit
She lost her job and everything that she owned
And her body felt like it was pummeled and stoned
Less than a year of this fight had taken its toll
But a light began shining from within her soul
For she found the strength of completely knowing
When this battle was over where she was going
Now all wars finally end and Shirley passed away
But lessons she gave us live in our hearts yet today
So I pass on this message she eternally planted
Be grateful for this life we each have been granted
************************************
My Mother-In-Law Shirley Cordova lost her battle with Cancer 6 years ago today on Nov 4, 2004. As I thought about her this morning, it really hit me just how much that woman helped us over the years she was still alive.
This is a poem I’d wrote dedicated to her memory. It is her life story and is included in my 8th book of poetry The Journey~Following Maps to Evermore.
She didn’t have an easy life yet fought for each precious breath until the last.
Shirley, We Love and Miss Ya BUT we also know you still visit us sometimes.
So I wanted to Thank You For Simply Being YOU- Jimmy
I'm Heavier than the walls of a writers block
Hotter than a favelas summers clock
I'm Rougher than sand paper, hanging on a carpenters sock
Distanced like lands separated at sea
step in these 11 and a half's , so i can show you what it takes to be free.
You once said it still hurt! I was dead!
You once said love, and i ****ed up.
I wish you would of read,
Me , as cool and empty as my breathe and lungs.
I should have woke up when your love rung.
I shouldn't lose, but it feels right to fail.
In war and love their is no mercy in this jail.
For us id move the gun for the canine to score,
yet, I've never met a person id try losing for.
"I got the blues ladies and gentlemen.
A round of an applause for our fine men playing tonight.
I have a love story to tell you about.
Its a bout a fine man, who was no different from you.
Yet, this man was a whole lot different."
He was strong, with a vision holding his nuts and nothing mattered.
So even the liquid couldn't get to his bladder
Maybe a brother, maybe a son, maybe a close friend,
it doesn't matter who or what only when it ends.
There comes a time in a mans life, where he is living and not looking.
It is then where he feels free and forgets about her first cooking.
In you i have faith my god, my mother and father.
It isnt much to say,
its just doesn't feel right to still feel love in 100 shades of gray
Im lifting the writers walls and cooling the sun with the moons clouds.
Ill pray i never lose this much.
Life is good, but shell never answer to tell me why she was so out of touch
No time, nor dimension,
can show what hes feeling,
another day it may be easier to take a break from this grieving.
Good night ladies and gentlemen,
i just pray you show her this note tonight.
Giving me a breathe, gazing into this uneasy nyc sight.
Ive learned to live without air and only with my memories of the world ,
you were so beautiful and pure on the first date as u smiled and twirled
"By then the young man turned into a gray angry man,
no tear could he drop,
Its then the girl played the music of love and he finally let his ego drop"
The heavens opened up and gave the young man reason to live,
she was back again, and he was stoned and passive.
Trying to catch his mental, he grabbed her tight, he lost his mind for one more time
to never forget her smell on that Bronx night.
Form:
John 8:7
“So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.”
Sipping herbal tea, my mind goes back
to the time when you said to me…
… let him without sin, cast the first stone…
The memory trembles in me, a reflection
of a promise that awaits, a seed
planted by the love that You provided
when you saved me from the worst grief
when you saved me from the darkest fear
when you saved me from the unending hell
where I’d never know what it means to feel
the love that is beyond description…
love this alive – it’s convincing, convicting
allows me to see into the meaning
You silenced the disparaging – the critics
those who might have stoned me
with their silence, their condemnation,
all the reasons for hurling that first rock –
a rock of reproach, blame, denunciation…
sipping my tea, my mind reminds me
from where I have come –
the fear, the doubt, the angry shouts
of those who would convince me I’m unworthy
and – I agree…
I’m unworthy of all You’ve been to me –
my Savior, my Friend, my Light in the darkness
the reason I believe, whatever comes, whatever battles
I must face, I can still hear Your voice, the grace
dissolving all my tears, all my fears, all those years
of doubt and disillusion, utter confusion…
As I sip my herbal tea, the beauty of Your light
reflected in me as I breathe…
through the silent tear, through the breathless fear
assurance that You’re always here, always near
and I know Your forgiveness outweighs all my worries
Your love overshadows the shadow of doubt
Your grace makes a way through the shame
Your light is always offering me second chances,
A second chance, a chance to see
beneath the bitter, to the wonder, the gentle, the sweetness
of a love that will never leave me or forsake me,
a love that always makes a way for me,
a love that I’ve always prayed for,
a love that is Your gift to me
a love that is endless
a love that so tremendous
that I never stop praising –
because God, You’re so amazing!!!
I sip my herbal tea
and, between you and me
I see that there will always be
a hope that brings such sweet peace
a hope that is beyond reason
a hope that is brighter than the sun
it reveals just how love has assuredly won!
Deliberately inching its way toward break of day,
The morning sun begins to emblazon the barley field.
Relaxing and watching the orb find its way,
The lady of the house waits for night to yield.
Like every morning, she is seated there,
Enjoying the dew scented breeze on her veranda.
Feeling its coolness on her scalp while combing her hair,
And the warmth of the rising sun becoming grander.
Her mind wanders back to the city of her birth,
Just over the rise, beyond the barley field’s treasure,
Lies the city with the most famous name on earth,
Where, in her youth, she was a lady of pleasure.
To Rachab went all of Jericho’s possession,
By decree of God, for which Achan was stoned.
For this soldier could not control his obsession,
Though aware the city’s riches were God’s own.
With God’s grace, Rachab’s wisdom grew,
And she made the city’s outskirts her spread.
Her land into a field of grain did accrue,
A breadbasket from which hordes were fed.
Her hires were the finest laborers in the land
And were busy harvesting barley all spring.
She paid the very best wage to every man,
Cause her crop was the best early rains could bring.
The fields and glades, that gave her pasture form,
Seemed sensuous in every contour and rise.
At daybreak, contrasting tones were the norm,
Painted artfully by the brightening skies.
Mounds appeared convexly round breasts,
Lovingly sculpted over a span of human girth,
Whose beauty was able to put the heart to a test,
As the machinery of memory rotates the earth.
Babbling brooks flowed from shady nooks,
Giving refreshment to denizens of land and sky,
Producing a scene of green worthy of picture books,
That not one skilled artist would dare deny.
Gingerly she rose the doorway torch to quench,
Watching the shrinking darkness become shadows.
Rachab calmly returns to her veranda bench,
To observe butterflies dance above the meadows.
In her dreams, she envisions a more golden age,
When royalty would be attributed to her seed.
A zephyr flows over her mind turning the page,
But she still aspires the prospect of the throne to accede.
What a lovely story to behold just beginning to dawn,
Rising out yonder, just beyond the horizon of time.
How we yearn to see that age return, now long forgone,
So our hearts may once again be joyous and sublime.
ALERT: A carpenter's son is loose in the Temple
Birds flutter, animals hustle, merchants scream.
The zeal for Jesus' Father's house consumes Him
As the place for foreigners to pray had become a zoo.
ALERT: A prophet is setting up for a Baal battle.
Baal's priests even cut themselves yet no fire.
After taunting, Elijah fills his altar with water.
Calling on God, fire consumes and people bow.
ALERT: An old man is building a huge boat ship.
Without a cloud in the sky and only son's to help.
When finished the animals come on call to board.
Rain starts, doors close – 8 saved by holy passion.
ALERT: Jesus is telling a tax collector he'll join him for dinner.
Heedless of the Pharisees despising and the crowd's surprise.
Zacchaeus totally changes – offering to multiply stolen money.
A single sinner saved multiplies even more this holy passion.
ALERT: Peter plus are preaching in the Temple again.
After being imprisoned for just that, now rearrested.
Whipped by the authorities, the disciples rejoice -
For they've been counted worthy to suffer with Christ.
ALERT: Daniel's praying openly even after it's become illegal.
The royal advisers gleefully have the king throw him to the lions.
Strangely they don't seem hungry till after Daniel is pulled out.
So the king openly praises Daniel's God for this amazing miracle.
DOUBLE ALERT: Jesus is talking to a Samaritan woman!!!!
Breaking cultural barriers to share the message of salvation
To her who has been married 5 times and is living with the 6th.
She believes he's the Messiah and brings the town to Christ!
ALERT: Paul's going back into the same town that stoned him.
He's preaching again after shipwreck, jail, beatings, and such.
Persecution seems to encourage Paul that he's doing the right.
Passionately following the Savior who turned Him 180 degrees.
ALERT: Bible translators burned at the stake for God's Word.
Missionaries avoid death and disease long enough to share life.
Stirring Holy Passion in receptive people who repeat the cycle.
Changing cultures in bondage into those sharing Jesus' love.
ALERT: What passion has the Lord put on your heart? Mine?
Can we pray to see His will find its way in our everyday lives
So the lost shall see, hear, find Christ and grow to share Him?
Eternity is forever, this life is not. Fill us Lord with holy passion.
HE SPOKE OF HER AS A GODESS
THEY MARVELED AT HER WAYS OF
KEEPING HIM AT BAY: IT'S SAID SHE
ONCE TOUCHED THE WATERS OF
A CREEK IN CRETE AND THE
WATER FROZE AT HER COMAND !
HE STOOD IN THE WATERS OF HETRA
AND THE WOMAN OF CRETE, WERE
ENSLAVED TO HIM.
THE STORY SPEAKS OF WORDS
SPOKEN TO SEPERATE A PERSON
WHO WISHED FROM BEGGER, TO LOVER
SHE STOOD IN THE WATERS OF CRETE
AND CURSED HIM, AND THAN
SHE CURSED THE WATER GODS OF CRETE
AND LL WHO HEARD HER
BECAME LOVERS OF HIM.
THE WATERS FROZE BENEATH HIM.
" THESE SALTED FISHY WATERS
FROZE BENEATH ME!"
IT'S SAID THEY ATE THIS VERY MEAL !
PASTRY SHEETS
BUTTER
1/2 CUP OF OLIVE OIL
2 MEDIUM ONIONS
1 POUND OF SPINACH (BLANCED, DRINED AND CHOPPED)
4 CLOVES OF CRUSHED GARLIC
1/2 CUP OF SHREDDED CARROTS
3 t CONACGE
1/2 CUP ITALIAN COUSCOUS
1 LBS. GROUND BEEF
1 3/4 PLAIN YOGURT
1 T MACE
CAYEENE PEPPER
IN A SKILLET
1 TEASPOON OF PAPRIKA
2 CUPS OF SLICED MUSHROOM
IN A SKILLET, HEAT OIL, SPINACH, MUSHROOMS,GARLIC, ADD ONIONS AND CARROTS, SAUTE, UNTIL ONIONS ARE TRANSLUCENT., REMOVE FROM THE SKILLET.
ADD GROUND BEEF, COOK UNTIL BROWN, ADD SPICES AND SAUTEED VEGGIES, ADD COGNAC AND YOGURT, ALLOW TO COOL AND TASTE, ADD SALT AND PEPER IF NEEDED.
PREHEAT THE OVEN, ROOL OUT PASTRY SHEETS, LAYERING THEM AND COATING EACH LAYER WITH BUTTER. (FIVE LAYERS) IN THE CENTER OF A COOKIE SHEET, LAYER THE SHEET OF FILLO DOUGH, ADD MEAT AND CREATE A BEAUTIFUL WRAPPING FOR THE MIXTURE. BAKE UNTIL DONE.
THE WOMAN IN THE STORY IS SAID TO CURSED THE EDGES OF THE FOREST, WHILE GATHERING WOOD WITH HER SERVANT, SHE SPOKE TO HIM IN A FOREIGN LAUGAGE, AND BECAME PREGANT, AND DARED HER HUSBAND TO LEAVE HER. HER HUSBAND , STAYED, AND TWO YEARS LATER MADE HER SISTER POREGANT WITH TRIPLETTES, TWO BOYS AND A GIRL, AT THE AGE OF TEN ONE OF THE BOYS, TOOK A STONED EDGED MALLET AND BEAT A FULL GROWN BULL, HE ORDERED THE SEVANTS TO COOK THE BULL BEFORE HIS PARENTS CAME HOME FROM ROME. THEY DID AND NEVER TOLD, BUT THEY TOOK THE HIDE OF THE BULL AND MADE A RODE FOR THE MYTHIC GOD NATAL, AND CASTED A SPELL ON THE BOY. AT THE AGE OF TWENTY HE BECAME A SOCEROR IN THE PALCAE OF CASEAR, HE, HIS BROTHER AND HIS TRIPLETTE SISTER, SUDUCES CASEARS SOLDIERS AND MAIDS MAKING PREGANT AND HAVING TWENTY THREE CHILDREN. ONE IS SAID TO HAVE BEEN A cASEAR OF rOME!
You got it in your head it’s okay to make up excuses
you’re only letting me down proving yourself to be useless
continuously lie until your lie is accepted
left feeling uncomfortable when your lie is rejected
every year on my birthday you do exactly the same
building up to it coming but on the day it’ll change
a last second situation will arise just the same
and you won’t be coming because you’re busy again
when really you’re selfish and fear honesty
making out that you’re helpless always lying to me
so I don’t invite you that way you cannot drop out
still you say you are coming and there isn’t a doubt
but then on the day the unseen comes about
expect me to waste time hearing lies out your mouth
even though I ain’t asked you and never I cared
you start telling me lies I thought I would be spared
it bothers I’m nonchalant to the story you’ve shared
like you need me believe you the reasons why you won’t be there
so you follow me around and keep repeating the lie
as I say I don’t care before saying goodbye
so you can get on with what you need to tonight
but you reappear many times through the night
when you’re supposed to be busy you appear in my sight
so you’re here to tell me why you cannot be here
and as it’s my birthday I’ve no desire to hear
but you’re annoyed at the effort that this lie is creating
I don’t seem to accept it as I say you are faking
insanity is when you expect a different result
but you carry on lying each time’s an insult
I’m in a club at this point you appear at the door
demand I come outside to hear you lying once more
but I don’t come quickly it’s my birthday I’m sure
when I go outside you’re angry at me to the core
because I took too long and it’s me you’re here for
I’m wasting your time as you say the same as before
all of your focus is on me believing your lie
until it’s achieved you can’t go home satisfied
and get stoned out your face the true reason that you lie
annoyed that I don’t believe you and that I never asked why
think you’re my best mate and can do what you like
making it clear you’re only selfish inside
treating me worthless as you repeatedly lie
but you weren’t invited and have harassed me all night
you only think about you I want you out of my life