Long Suffocating Poems
Long Suffocating Poems. Below are the most popular long Suffocating by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Suffocating poems by poem length and keyword.
I remember
Your anger
The way your neck muscles
Stood out
As you cursed my name
You showed up
Uninvited
with your pants
Lower than your hips
Yet
You somehow paced with self assurance
You circled
The parking garage
Chain smoking
Making the concrete ground
Your ashtray
Your heavy clothes
In summer’s heat
Made it easy
To hide
a closed fist
As I allege
The broken headlight
With your name
in the same sentence
From my heart beat
My jaw popping
My hazard lights clicking
Your rap music blasting
through my speakers
I can’t remember
what noise
Stopped first
Or why
You held me close
In your arms
Afterwards
But I drove you home
quietly reaching out to you
To hold your hand
Desperately
Wanting
your warmth
your affection
Instead of suffocating
The thoughts
Of you 2 nights before
Shivering under my sheets
Against my body
As the drugs wore off
But I stayed awake
To make sure
You fell asleep
And also admire
How much I loved
Your company
After I dropped you off
I stared at your house
While multiple friend’s advice
Playing in the background
Their advice caused
My brain
And my heart to argue
For hours that night
And I kinda miss
That part
Cause when I
think of you now
I feel the effects of my insomnia
Creeping in
From consistent phone calls
Every night
At 3am
Taunting
Like you’re constantly poking
At my wounds
With a dull knife
I keep my blinds shut
And my lights off
After work
So you think I’m not home
It gives me time
To try to
fall asleep early
So I’m not startled
As you call
From an unknown number
I get ready for work
The night before now
That way I am prepared
To sprint through
the parking garage
To my car
Every day
And once I catch my breath
And lock the doors
I close my eyes
Turn my headlights on
And hope you won’t be there
I had glorious plans for my life.
Warm ink transforming blank pages,
destined to be a best seller!
I felt specially bound.
Printing press cranked out
a glossy-colored cover,
my name plastered
in bold black letters for all to see.
Signed inside by my creator
I only rested on the bookstore shelf
for three bitter hours
before someone adopted me.
Held gingerly each night by gentle fingers,
eagerly offering my very soul
until snores dropped me
on soft, disheveled blankets.
Word by word and line by line,
page by page, and chapter by chapter.
Night after night, I was dynamite
till shut tight.
Is that all there is?
I've slept for ten years now... in a box,
in a cobwebbed corner of a cluttered closet,
dressed up and no place to go.
I'm suffocating!
the vice cannot squeeze any tighter
bolts crushed under the benchmark
gather dust with nuts and lost screws
a DIY manual mocks arrested craft
I cannot hold it together much longer
limbo has me instead in its firm grip
machine oil lubricant is frozen despite
heated exchanges with my inner Self
short circuited when the fuse box stalled
the battery leaked current in the seizure
a few flickering brain waves remind me
that the power tool work shed is empty
a dark hound rests on my sunken shoulder
quite happy that I am the one on the leash
a personal dog leather collar with spikes
commands me to halt all resistance as it
only cuts deeper into my lacerated neck
while crows pick far too close to my eyes
I try to smile in the face of this peril but
the grimace does not even reach my face
a lonely tear dangles in suspense at the
lowest end of a beaten brow and evaporates
teased out with no meaning other than fear
an out of joint limbo dancer in slow motion
a pantomime of hell plays out in my soul
epitaphs scribed in smeared heart blood
clotted the thrombus waiting for a final kill
while an embolus of nothingness fights
for instant release on its way to my brain
life support fidgets with receding resolve
infused with darkness and charcoal ink
I try to light what resembles some tinder
and ever so slowly an induced coma melts
fraught with ashes and suffocating ember
but an anthracite embrace is the only option
to clamp the vice into limbo rather than myself
21st December 2020
Dennis Cummings
1844-1920
To my friends of the 41st Infantry!
My men, my brave brothers from Wisconsin, are invited!
Invited RSVP to my domesticated, but dignified digs
On south Milton Street in Whittier town,
There, above the tracks of the Southern Pacific
There, surrounded by my better half’s tulips and pumpkins
There, surrounded by unequivocal respect and love
Of my loyal and nagging better half, Ellen, and
Of my dutiful and loyal son, Lee Roy.
There is a window upstairs facing north,
North to the rising green hills of Whittier town,
North even to the Stars and Stripes
Of my Wisconsin brothers
Of my fellow Wisconsin freedom fighters!
Nightly there, I light a candle for my friends.
My intrepid men, my brave brothers!
Those charging advancing storming souls
Those rampaging, death-staring warriors of the 41st!
Like the fiercely flowing rapids of the Tennessee
There in Chattanooga, and thereabouts,
My brothers and my friends braved the bullets,
Faced the fusillade of fire, the unspeakable violence, and
Even found glorious sacrifice,
Found glorious death in battle,
In the suffocating smoke and sulfur
Of fifty thousand muskets.
Yes, you are invited my brothers! My friends!
Come to my humble home here on South Milton Street
And look to the upstairs window.
There is a candle burning there for you.
Burning with respectful gratitude.
Burning with a proud silence
For my brave brothers,
The storming rampaging men of the 41st.
I divorced the cirrus heat
that once laced the sky with fire,
carrying searing sins of
the scorching sun ~
burning the soft bronze of my melanin;
an unabated rage,
a labyrinth of blooming lilac,
an assortment of angst,
a library of healing lullabies
homed beneath the glass-skin silence
of my quivering chest~
like wind through cathedral clusters,
a poison to my psyche,
too bright for the darkness that dwells.
But perhaps it is in eclipsed spheres
I thrive in comfort~
attain nirvana
through sketched peace lilies
drawn in stillness.
Now I’ve found inner
nectarine ingredients~
a recipe for resilience
to pollinate my passion,
to compose myself,
to uncloud storms
by marrying the
moon in my conscience~
painting citrine and topaz
on the pillows where I weep,
in seclusion and solitude.
Here, stars of solace ~ I do breathe~
a self-consolation that needs
no granular words scratching
the inner walls of the throat chakra.
O beloved, forgive my need
to see through the haze
that has been fogging
the fluorescence of your aurora horizon.
My woe ~ a broken vow,
my ache ~ a bleeding wound,
my grief ~ your scar~
a suffocating scarf,
a burden I relieve you of with severed ties,
letting go amidst the love
that still flutters in Luna sparkles…
You were a hallucinatory
hymn of dawn ~ beautiful, yet bruised,
and I am silver thread
tied to the oblivion of diamond dusk,
basking in the raining remedies,
seeking floriated meadows,
lost in the breeze of
sea-kissed azure~
an awakening: to trade venom for vigor,
like the unfurling of sakura
in the warmth of spring’s splendor,
brushing away crystals
of mulberry-black ice
when cold are the conversations
left unread and dried
between misinterpreted metaphors...
Sometimes, farewells are healing,
moving on ~ a contemplative prayer,
the spiritual pilgrimage
toward embracing clarity and zen.
For there, in the vintage
forest of forsaken violets,
wilted petals are watered
with tears and roseate radiance,
and, in the ruins of
pixelated promises,
we will learn to linger in
the luminous reveries of love ~ evermore...
I stitched your names into the seams of sleep,
Where shadows whisper secrets I can’t keep.
The night became a chapel of your breath,
A sacred, suffocating hymn to death.
I lit my thoughts like candles in your name,
Each flicker feeding softly on the flame;
Anaphora of longing—you, you, you—
A prayer that burned the world until it’s through.
My heart, a drowning clock that will not cease,
Ticks tidal rhythms, begging you for peace.
But peace is foreign where your ghost resides—
A storm that blooms beneath my ribcage tides.
If to love you, I must drown—I cried,
And drank the depths where all my reason died.
A hyperbolic ocean filled my chest,
Where sanity sank slowly with the rest.
Your absence claws like ivy through my veins,
An anthropomorphic ache that grows with pains;
Each pulse a petal poisoned by your hue,
Each breath a borrowed moment spent on you.
I loved you louder than the world could bear,
A fleeting breath—no oxygen, just air
That never reached me, hollow, thin, and bleak,
A love so vast it made my spirit weak.
I carved your memory into every dawn,
‘Till even time forgot to travel on.
Obsession wore your face and called it fate,
And I—its willing martyr—learned too late.
Drained of opaque innocence
Perfected by your toxicity,
I was laid bare beneath the narcissistic sun,
Searing deep within dehydrated pupils,
Stripping my soul of all humanity,
until your sinister tongue was all I could hear.
Your empty promises clothed these bones;
running was no longer an option,
as hiding became nearly impossible within your shadows.
Voices, eating through my cerebral cortex,
tainted even the demons that resided within my mind.
Minuscule reminders of my life before became particles of dust,
floating through suffocating air,
choking the little oxygen you let me breathe,
until the poison became too much to take.
Falling to my knees, vomiting your vile lies,
my life flashed like motion pictures before my eyes.
A choice was given:
either purge—rip the cursed, stinging nettle from my veins,
or die under your cruelty.
I will not rot for an insignificant monster;
a cleansing is long overdue.
Buried Alive
These walls....
they laugh at me but no one else hears
They steal the very breath of me
...but no one seems to notice
They blare a suffocating silence
Leave invisible abrasions from unseen restraints
These walls I once called home
These walls have become my coffin
~FJ Thomas
Most of us run through varying emotions at times. It helps to jot them down and get them out ;) These walls can be emotional or very literal. Usually the one causes the other to collapse in along with it.
The important thing is to remember that there are others who very much understand how you feel; you are not alone. So never give up!
Genie
Feral Child
A victim of severe abuse, neglect
Left alone in social isolation
Subjugated in darkness to reflect
Suffocating ultimate frustration
Internal anguish, no consolation
Father, shamed of my subnormality
Kept me locked away from reality
Thirteen years, strapped into a child’s toilet
Or bound in my crib from humanity
Forbid anyone near and to forget
5/14/2016
for the contest :Sad Dizain
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genie_(feral_child)
Don't make me promises of riches,
or expose me to false visions;
I live with meager means,
to surpass the wisdom of kings:
and as long as my music lives...
there won't be struggle or need!
As a youngster,I dreamed without illusion,
knowing which dreams were lasting and real:
discarding those causing deprivation,
not to be deceived by their vivid feel!
Notes of unwritten symphonies battered
this head...'till they quietly entered,
and at night-time at the same hour,I used
to hear their harmony as they sweetly played;
was that a gift I should have pursued,
or let it go to waste as if it never existed?
Until tomorrow shone
with the splendor of the eternal sun,
nothing I kept for myself or
expected hand-outs without deserving them;
this honesty was part of my integrity...
and everyone saw it and was amazed!
I swam through those rough waters of an inclement river,
suffocating,and not saying a word;
and finally my frustration found an outlet of relief...
my calm ocean awaited me at the end of my journey;
and as long as my music lives,
so will this undaunted spirit!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci