Long Strangler Poems
Long Strangler Poems. Below are the most popular long Strangler by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Strangler poems by poem length and keyword.
Jack Sprat and wife Mary, lived in a glory of lemony, chiffon days;
Like maroon birds keep on singing, until the sunset, orange phase.
They were comfy and happy, like a picnic in lavish, emerald grass;
And had a black dog and a calico cat, like red Mars making a pass.
While Jack was a large man, his beloved wife, contrarily, was tiny.
They gardened after church on Sundays, as sweet time went slyly.
At the mauve hour of dinner, they enjoyed each other's company,
As well as a single glass of wine, while the animals played clumsily.
February fawned over early flowers, smiling fondly into sun's face;
As friends came in feathered hats and finery, through jaded grace.
Floating fuchsia clouds were frilly, in futuristic times of red sunset;
And family visited the fun hours. Moon pearls were not falling yet!
They lived in the house of amenity, like living with ones most loved;
And a fireside welcomed evenings, under skies with dyes smudged.
Swift, strawberry seasons were somewhat surprising, and sudden,
On their street of purple sage. Redbirds visited by striking dozens.
Noteworthy navy blue twilights brought nearby neighbors, laughing;
And new night was bejeweled with stars, that were forever flashing.
Frolicksome freesias were in full boom, in pretty, prismatic colors,
In dusky days of dandelion delight, when sun rays crept in shutters.
Rainbow eucalyptus trees enchanted, as if glossing skies had fallen;
When 'strangler figs' wreaked crime after crime, noted by red robin.
Jack Sprat and Mary received bad news, within months of each other!
The doctor placed Jack on a strict diet, so his health would not suffer.
And Mary, who was undernourished, was told to eat more, and often!
She and Jack vowed to obey doctor's orders, like tonic rains of Austin.
Jack began to eat less and lose weight, and Mary made tasty meals;
And gained weight and hale vigor, like when purple sun's colors peel.
'Jack Sprat could eat no fat.
His wife could eat no lean.
And so between them both, you see,
They licked the platter clean.'
Coastline of the peat swamp is obscuring.
In addition, the shadow of a lone angler.
Water lilies turn purple as the sun is setting.
Avoid being stung by sedge and strangler.
I'm up to my knees in murky shallow.
In addition, the shadow of a lone angler.
Trout floated through echoes as a sharp arrow.
A crisp unsettle overlaid by blurring sunshine.
I'm up to my knees in murky, shallow.
Midnight sheep are hollering in the whine.
With the lowing of a cow from a distance.
A crisp unsettle overlaid by blurring sunshine.
Being on the verge of calamity is intense.
The space among us and our world.
With the lowing of a cow from a distance.
The delay has harmed our minuscule pride.
Coastline of the peat swamp is obscuring.
The space among us and our world.
Water lilies turn purple as the sun is setting.
Written: October 17, 2021
The song of the soul is not jazz
Lowliness crumbles beneath the bruised conscience
Its a new day but the world is still the same
Pajamas can create a riot when they are not washed
Dirt and disorderliness of the furniture can be really peaceful
But who would know that?
The unexplained-ness of the haywire life
one leads teaches the weary soul of the need
Of noise, more than harmony
Its like the unraveling of obscurity
When the whole world doesn't understand you,
You feel victorious
The destructive novelty blended with the
Stupendous childishness of ideas
Alienate...
Increasing the loneliness but helps in shaping up the mind:
Its like a strangler
Choking is pleasure when in an adventurous mood
And the zeal in discovering whats beyond logic
Puts imagination before facts
Yes, I'm dying
This time
I like it more than ever.
All around, smoke ribboned from ashtrays
and mushroomed on the stained ceiling.
There, in the corner, F. Lee Bailey glared,
like a father watching his ill behaved children,
but, as children do, they ignored him.
Irving Kanarek leaned on the far end of the bar.
He was equally ignored,
as barristers sought their pecking order
in a gaggle of egos.
Over the bar a sign hung, "The Bench",
where ironically, the bartender, in jest,
would be asked to "judge" the winner of some petty spat.
Conversation was tediously interrupted as night progressed,
"Objection your honor,l he's badgering the witness"!
"Objection sustained" would ring out from behind the bar,
but amidst all the pseudo legalese, a pall hung ~
draping down the walls like smoke.
They must laugh for sanity but
the killer set free, who would kill again
became the dragon in the room
that would follow them home...
Note: F. Lee Bailey defended the Boston Strangler. OJ Simpson and others
and Irving Kanarek defended Charles Manson
They once met upon a poetry site,
shared romantic words by computer light.
His poems of rose pedals and floating doves,
her verses of broken hearts and jilted love.
Those touching comments soon lit a fire,
innocent flirting now burning desire.
Their public secrets fanned the embers
and played out before all the members.
Alas unable to contain their lust,
to finally embrace became a must.
Soon they soupmailed their secret plot,
to meet in the nearest Wal-Mart lot.
What happened next no one can fix,
for her light was turned off at Motel Six.
It seems her tall dark poetic stranger,
turned out to be the "Trailer Park Strangler".
1/4/19
Here I go again
Dancing the Monster’s fancy
Until the curtain
Final curtain call
Chancing all my sanity
Final curtain fall
I went off my meds
Let the Monster out instead
To control my head
Daemon’s back as well
He tells me drinking is swell
As far as I’ll tell
“Five o’clock somewhere”
Daemon whispers in my ear
I unchain him there
Inside this old box
This rude cube contains my brains
Chained and bound with locks
I know not myself
This thing becoming again
I’m damned; I’m in hell
Feeds on what it needs
The killer; the strangler
Of good thoughts and deeds
The mind re-succumbs
Becomes the Doppelganger
Bereft of life, numb
Zombie I've become
Again, like the living dead
Acting, not thinking
All willpower’s lost
Price paid, but greater the cost
Wind swept; tempest tossed
Back on the dread-mill
Mind rerunning the race lost…
Can’t keep my head still
The revisiting
Monster back on the attack
Nothing kills this thing
Daemon’s there as well
Rejoining the dance macabre
Going back to hell
Sinister turning
Echoes the words, “We are back”
Can’t stop returning…
I had run out of it i'm out of it
mind you my mind that ran away
first by feet then by train
paxil was her name a rotundish
hard skinned pink pill of a pimp
so sleeping a tossing flipping
dreaming dream i witnessed a mess
messing up a dream:
this slot of sliced land jutting
with clapboard housing a shouting
with roaches a toasting the best
of a meal they boasted
the strangest of stranglets in
a land of strangler piglets;
two step eddie backed up to a window
owned by a rider, says he with
back to a drive-thru widow, 'take
this shotgun, won't need it, take
this broad sword too, and take this
forty-four again won't need it,
i'll keep this grenade cause it
needs me more -- see that man there
, snagged my lawn cutting his own
, watch me walk over there.
Two-step walks over there and pulls
the pin and once again they do like
they do the owner of that window
was a copy-cop over 44 and says
to eddie, 'don't pull that pin you
sons of guns, sons of burning suns!"
Pin pulled, trigger pressed two slugs
in the valley of the deepest cracks
of two buns and all is done.
And the female dog under the oak
toking-tree says to her male friend,
'your banging will wake up the
recently dead if you don't stop
banging and start more slapping instead;
no-step eddie tells the devil he
needs to brush his tooth but forgot
his teeth brush under the bush.
Never cold turkey Paroxetine
and slip to sleep on a Monday.
:: 06-26-2018 ::
„hurry up! bring the holy water
or I’ll scratch myself out of existence“
sincerely
your gentle strangler...
...that’s the end of this ecstatic story
about the seasick captain
about the Laplace’s demon
caught in a bigot whirlpool
THE END in black capital letters
a true descent into vanity
but there are still bills to pay
and pills to take
while you still don’t want to get old
vanishing with the rising vapors
of dotted tea-pot each day
mourning over the Laika’s last journey
in a dampness of the cold bakery
and the weakness is getting stronger
by the creaky roadside hut
where the fearful sand witch dwells
cursing the dolphins and their mothers
with her osseous lexicon
and sapphire ravines in her eyes
but hey, we’re still sinking
still orbiting the godhead
and that’s all
Bloody shores of fear and ice, seldom seen
To be the stringent strangler borne of leaden blight
The barred bastard, whore of the night
Seen so the lowly leers led to fear the fall of life
Stitch of mind, sown to soiled sickly ails
Hie thee, and hail, to the tale of mind, in
Bloodily bodied names, satin faced for the dame
Paled in pallor, for the witch’s wicked hour
Within Buoyant bliss, sweetness slashed by sharpened kiss
Miss of missives, begotten the barbed sir,
“for who shall see, for who shall impede”
“th’seed’d blight o’birth shall receive, to be…”
The bane burdened to birth, borne blade bade,
Shameless flesh on whitened plane, loss of gain,
Pain of vanity, forlorn on sanity, to be,
Morose and emancipated, of eldered youth, to see,
Flesh of forborne fantasy, lay'n upon foreskin of fantasised fallacy
Blackened and drowned the breast in mulled mirage
Befallen the besotted and kissed the tendered brow
Love to leave, the missus to be missed, to the
Bow of mutilated man, and to feel
The warmth of human disease.
(is to see what is meant to be seen)
To be loved within livid leers
To be kissed within saddened tears
To fight the fall of the detestable
To fight the hind of the unmissable
To let fate take upon the shores of snow,
Is to know the end of fear, and the enticement of ice and foe.
2//4//2025
The Frog Strangler
(Idiom for a torrential rain)
Miracle Man
5/2/2022
With little variant, rain came straight down,
winds whisper was so faint it couldn’t be heard.
Bar ditches, now so full of water a frog could drown,
but by this rain my spirit remains undeterred.
Though frogs are amphibians much unlike a toad,
the old story has it that they do often strangle.
Yet I find no remains where high water has flowed,
just another mystery for my mind to untangle.
In our 2 acre yard, low spots, “like ponds” stand full,
when will someone be able to cut the grass once more.
Our rain gauge now appears to be nearing brimful,
thoughts exit strangling frogs for a mowing chore.