Long Thoughtless Poems
Long Thoughtless Poems. Below are the most popular long Thoughtless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thoughtless poems by poem length and keyword.
I am in awe of Mrs C K
Who writes ten poems every day
That is too big an ask for any poet
Quite a task
A Task indeed, when all I need
At this time, is any rhyme
Amusing or sublime
My mind is blank no think tank
Could be as thoughtless as mine
Ten poems every day
Hip Hip Hooray!
I should like to write one line
Mrs C K writes about her muses
She has more than one
I wish that she could loan me Trixie
So my pen could have some fun
If I ever had a muse
I think he/she must have died
He/she got old and wrinkled
All shrivelled up inside
He/she dried up all my pens
And threw my ideas away
I don't think she died
He/she dwells in Mrs C K
Dry river mystery
The river in the domestic landscape was not as big
as it used to be, for years, the rain upland fell sparsely
when the hot summer came, the river dried up.
The river bed was eerily white with a massive overhang
spikey plants as a scar of lumpy skin after heart surgery.
Of the farmer’s four children, three liked to play
in this mysterious scenery of skull-like rocks, when lifted
had pockets of water like there was a hidden stream
under the bed, the fourth child had an instinctive fear
of the dry river’s strangeness and kept away.
When the summer was over, rain of epic proportion
came to the mountain where the river’s nascent began.
Suddenly a wall of water ran faster than a train
drowning all in its rouse to meet the sea.
The farmer whose wife had died when giving birth
to the fourth child was devasted, those will lose
tongues blamed him for being thoughtless.
Of the surviving child, nothing is known, fading away
as never born.
Take it away
Right now—see here…look here
Run into the light where one shadow casts an intent, lowly eye
Into the very heart of the storm, the words fall with might
You see a word and take sail as doubt and understanding foretell
A heartfelt message meant to destroy all that behold
Look here!
Crush the thoughts that bind you
The past that releases shards….murders of ravens
Pecking infidelity into your weakened visions
Forcing you to turn the other way and not listen
NOT listen
To the sounds of vibrant declaration driven from the blood of the lost
To the taste of defeat lathered in pride for the slowly dying sun
To the pinch of the skin upon the tethered limbs
Squeezing the wrists holding the ink
Releasing…releasing
The very blood that drives it!
That mind—how burdensome to the mass!
Crawling about for purpose
Searching—the best for last!
Firing squad!
Gone—
Sniveling snobs of insipient tact—obsessed with some artillery pact
Marveling at what sophisticated solidity can do to drive down a life
Move a herd of scared animals across a wasteland desired
Bile like the water source held back for the more important
Sniveling sad, chauvinist snouts tracing the secular age of rot
Eating everything they got
Wishing for what the sad ones hold on to
The only thing that keeps that eye dry
Take it away and words go awry
In chaotic monotony
Barging in matrimony
Forcing the impaired to repair
Kindling a fire already put out by your thoughtless glare
Curse this burdensome mind of the masses!
Curse the unpainted lines that omit from my very lips!
As I read every scourging fire bolt out
All one sees is the words protruding out
From a heart so bitter by bitter alone
Trusting in the meter, the rhyme, the tone!
I left the earth too far to return!
Fresh! Lowly, but fresh!
Immanent in high regard TO THE OPPRESSED
Take it away
Right now—see here…look here
Run into the light where one shadow casts an intent, lowly eye
Into the very heart of the storm, the words fall with might
A burdened firing squad faced a mirror
And shot blindly
Through fear
i imagined finding a bottle in the desert sea
all encased with jewels it mystified me
i open up the bottle
and out comes a puff of smoke
it swirled all around
but did not make me choke
then out of no where
a form began to appear
it was you, my jennie
popped up from nowhere
you are my magic jennie
with power to grant my every wish
you wait for my command
but truly i am thoughtless
you are my wish
and nothing else would do
when it comes to wishing
i have no more to do
you and nothing else would satisfy me
you and nothing else would compleat my dream
you and nothing else would i write into this scene
you and nothing else would i make my queen
thoughtless yet am i
to all material things
your presence is my answer
to my sweetest dreams
your beauty is my treasure
such a wonderous thing
your spirit is my light
to you i'll always cling
so here to you i'll say
and lets be on our way
you don't have to be a jennie
just be mine everyday
How many times must we amend
The gruesome news of death again?
What venue will Fate next abase,
some hapless, unsuspecting place?
Such acts still shake us to the core -
These senseless slaughters some ignore.
We're told that guns bought "legally"
Are nothing to condemn, you see.
Just guiltless children lying dead,
A tragic scene - their parents' dread.
While in the rooms with blood-stained walls
Lay books unread, deprived from all.
One answer was a thoughtless call:
Guns unrestrained with guns for all!
This stance - such unimagined gall -
Suggests the price is protocol.
Coffin for one - coffins for all;
Of no concern - this awful pall?
What's caused a Right we've held so long
To become tarnished by these wrongs?
Without true insight to reflect,
Without true foresight to correct,
Without true courage to stand tall
Elected "leaders" shift and stall.
Playing the odds in their careers
Have they now closed their eyes and ears?
For "pols" who acquiesce this mess
Their "jobs" should pass to someone else.
The case for change is nothing new -
Will common sense and reason do?
If change won't come then who's to blame?
Ourselves - for sure - and that's the shame.
Now, silenced victims must be heard -
Yes, they should have the final word!
Your thoughtless talking
Got me running and walking
Our reflection of cyber-sensation is not genuine
You're playing with my feelings and head now...that's mean...
Where have you been?
I have lost you...once again...
How can I forgive you, boo,
When we can't see face to face?
Searching all over for you too
Am I just this overwhelming disgrace?
Oh, What now?
Ah, now what?
You have taken me on levels of frustration...I weep sleep in awake agitation
Watching the process of abuse over the years
Shallow swimmer, shadows out if the closet of velvet hesitation
You and I together drives me in bittersweet tears
In instant return,
I get your rejection reflection
I internally burn
Not involved in your life of successful intervention....
Oh no, not anymore...
Hurt alone to the core...
I shed my blood of hate for our love on my own
And, in your eyes, I'm a pitiful fool and the aftershocks of your actions had made it known and let it be shown...I don't care, I'd rather bleed in the inside alone...
Alone, I will probably be...
Not alone, you're so free...
Your senseless subjection
Of my submissive affection
It astonishes me...
Mmmmm
Wholeheartedly
Mmmmm
It vanishes vainly...
Ahhhhhh
Unfortunately...
Ahhhhhh
Yet, fortunately...
Ah, oh so wistfully
It is incredibly of envy...
I have lived to witness momentarily...
Fair or not, I love who I want to...sorry, but not sorry
Suffocated by the overwhelming elevation you sent me from miles away
You're dominant to my passion-whelmed mind's eye I can't deny or even mutter a lie
Underrated and hated by the society that wants beauty without flaws, but I'm not that sun-shining day in California some even think or say
You're recessive to my heart's main focus and its target is what's truly in your heart of sticks and stones...is it of vibrant skies or of underground goodbye's, wrapped on in ribbons of why-do-I-even-try?
I'm not here to impress,
I'm here to, well, express
What's in my young heart
I know it's not a perfect masterpiece from the start
But I tried my best
To pass life's test
Here I am today, trying to tell the rest
That a cute poet, like a headstrong athlete, needs a good night's rest
Our love is like east to west...
Sorry, friend, but I won't detest
You and all you do for me
I am a land of captivity and you the sea of Liberty
You, unfeeling creatures
Who call yourselves human,
You, fleeting bubbles of reason,
Accidental parasites of time,
You, filthy microbes of cancer,
Ephemera of invincible eternity,
You, who try to fill your vanity
With abominable crimes,
You, insensible butchers of animals,
Notorious destroyers of pastures,
You, contaminators of oceans,
Deleterious polluters of rivers,
You, menacing beings of harmony,
Transgressors of universal laws,
You,
Who have deliberately put me through
The tormenting agony of dying
By
Strewing your treacherous dark web of
Your unworthy ambitions, all over my face,
Shadowing my generous fertility and
Rendering me sterile,
Behold,
For the time has come for you
To feel my wrath and my fury
Boiling lava over you
To flow every day,
Kneel,
Your tiny mortal beings
In front of the immortal cosmos,
For the shiny heavy sword of
Universal justice,
Avenger of transgressions, guardians of
The eternal laws,
Over your thoughtless heads to fall
With vengeance and rage
Decapitating most of you and
Those who would survive
Shall feel the torturing pain in
Their hearts
For
Uncountable years!*
© Demetrios Trifiatis
20 March 2020
* This poem I wrote in 1985 in Montreal, Canada, when, as a co-founder of a peace movement, I was making efforts to raise consciousness to save Mother Earth. "THE MOURNING OF MOTHER EARTH." THIS IS A STERN WARNING TO ALL OF US WHO DESTROY HER: REMEMBER, NOT MUCH TIME IS LEFT TO SAVE OUR PLANET AND OURSELVES!
I listen because Sound is not dead, but living.
I listen because I hear life through a variety of sounds. Sounds shout, cry, sing, soothe, provoke, and sometimes even pause.
I don’t listen when sound is compromised, influenced, beaten, killed (to crush silence), overwhelming or even artificial. Sound is meant to be pure; it is meant to be thoughtless.
I listen to sounds that are powerful, but are inherently ignored.
I listen for those who don’t know how to listen. I listen for those who were taught to take pride in their work, that they forget to leave time to take pride in their world. Sound speaks to everybody, but very few listen. We are told to focus; focus on our work, ourselves, and on others. We are distracted by this ambient truth.
I listen to sounds in silence.
I listen because of Mother Nature’s cooing, soft sounds guiding my mind to wander and to be set free. Her pure, natural voice is a comfort for all those who take the time to listen. She is the creator of all natural sounds, residing in every living thing. She whispers and yells; she cries and laughs; she never stops speaking. Mother nature is found is silence.
I listen to sounds that are unaffected by us; the sound of an infant’s heartbeat; the sound of a mourning dove’s song; the sound of a river rushing. Pure sounds are everywhere, but are clouded by us.
I listen, but not always succeed. I am conquered by the artificial, industrial world. My mind is blurred by construction, the radio, buzzing lights, television, and all things that are fabricated by us. It is unnaturally natural to do so, and we can’t take the whole blame. The world has been transitioned into artificial headphones, muting the natural world, and barricading our ears. However, if we detach ourselves, we can listen, listen to pure sounds.
I listen because I heard the truth, and the truth has spoken to me.
Because sounds never stop; they never stop crying; they never stop laughing; they never stop speaking.
Sound will never die.
What are you doing?
You are backing up the floods
Of those that need to break the most
You leave the best of me in the dust
My potential is but putty
That you shape in your thoughtless hands
Before you, I am a statue of Doubt and not Divine
Mold yourself in the birthplace of lies,
Take all of my favorite lines,
Make them yours
Toxify,
Let the worthy in it die
I haven’t the sense to drop you
I haven’t the courage to speak
I haven’t the life left to breathe
So what are you doing?
Making even less of me?
I am a stolen glory
Used, abused
I am a stolen glory
Doubt and not Divine
Why can’t I be bored?
Simply not having a need to do anything
Lucid or dreamy without a thought
Simply a thoughtless mind with nothing
Yet... what has nothing to do got to do with boredom?
I have things I need to do that I’m bored with always...
With so much interchanging lives remixing in random
Perhaps nothing to do did boredom strays...
When we do have nothing to do...
We do imagine and conjure a wonderment?
With so much need for time to kill
We are we ourselves our unknown torment
That of things we have had constantly done
Did boredom only arise from that need to do
To be the maker of our own boredom we cannot outrun
It becomes hard isn’t it?... to rethink what we knew
We cannot obtain the need to be bored
We have to have the constant motion in repeat
Did you even want to have the abstained thought?
Yet... it becomes that of which I now seek...