Long Time bomb Poems
Long Time bomb Poems. Below are the most popular long Time bomb by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Time bomb poems by poem length and keyword.
you never told my other mother anything
id be looking
for the real thing
you never told my other brother
we would be confused by reality
and the fairytailes
would lead us
to a destiny
unwinding the hands of tick tick ticking hands
hello time bomb
whats happening
did they notice the words i never held in my head
the sorry of the cold heart
you blew away
no substitute
for the gold
in the afterlife
you keep hunting after
substutute for the immortality
sickness of immotality
humbled pie actually
mutually gratified
and i thought
i thought
thought we were in love
thought we were in love
thought we were in love
everything you said
was nothing to the darkness insidfe the light
i held to the hollow
the hollow pitying myself
consequnce of the substitute
for the pleasure you recieved
see subsection fourteen
paragraph four
nevermind what it was you saw in the movies
that was a master of illusions
there will be more left for you
stand behind me satan
theres a real disaster
coming for me
real propoganda
real destitute
endless tears
endless prayers
no fears of their bottomless
you never told my other father id ever catch on
to the drama
of what he was
the charde of all that stuff
the solitude of never enough
never thought id ever give up
but i did
i did
i sold myself out
cashed in
bought myself a wild card
to hide from you
a starshine
a patronising shiner
something to fall into
but you wouldnt ever stop
begging your neighbor
i wanted it for me
you should be happy
its your sow
all yours
the greed of what i would have kept for myself
you have for you
the nothing it is
the worthlessnes
of pointlesness
i couldnt sell it
and now neither can you
waste your time too
wwaste your time too
string you along to come unglued
fool by fool
never twice shy
just once to be true
you never told me
the cops were never going to be on the look out for
the missing children
when they grew up
and went looking for their resal parents
even if they had memories of their other mother
their other father
couldnt get away
couldnt get away
locked in my room all day
\soory for the dirty laundry mom and dad
scream and cry all day
the police just told me no one would be looking for me
you got away with it
the perfect crime
no ones looking for me
im a lost boy
“The Big Blues and Baptismal Alice”
In the land of the dirty politician
Steely resolve was borne bidding
farewell to thinly veiled conceit and division
that particular brand of milk had long in the tooth turned sour
in her red-hot mamma kitchen
A racing Greyhound on the Going Nowhere Road
forever chasing the White Rabbit named Godot
counts time from its pocketful of ticking time bomb clocks
watching Pterodactyl hormones fly in formation
eating low lying ducks in a row
while the young Velociraptor sitting in her room drawing blood viper tongue fast,
has gone all Poe
The Greyhound turns tales around
and heads back towards Emerald City
flying fast away from a plague of Bubonic Black Crows
She says adieu to those dealing cards that were never real pretty
sitting at the Tea Party Table pulling Voodoo dreams
out of the Lyrebird’s duplicity
Departure
New journey
Two tokens
One kept aside for the Love
that’s steadfast and outspoken
the other for Bee Queen standing stellar
left-field not broken
The Buzzer claims the Chance Card
and moves way out past “GO”,
The Usurper Spell is now fully broken and blown
There on the open road destiny is cumulus now known
Face turned towards Big Blue Sky and Sunshine
a new life tapestry is sewn
Mystery mist whispering over Mountains of Blue
where angels set secret prayers
on the wings of swans who only speak home truth
soaring high upon Heaven’s stairs
singing loud and clear
new dreams do bloom
through cool clean white cotton clouds
face to the sun
feet on the ground
a new day has arrived
strong magic is found
Black ink words swallowed
charcoal spits out a burnt offering
through bitterful and twisted blisters
A New journey forward -
Home is calling her to the
Forest of the Three Sisters
There ensconced in her bucolic benevolent black heath of a palace
Born again in the Big Blues sings the bushfire burning in Baptismal Alice
(Lovejoy-Burton, August 2018)
"She's Leaving Home" / The Beatles
https://youtu.be/VaBPY78D88g
"Sky Above the Clouds", Georgia O'Keeffe 1962
Influences of Magritte, Bosch
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_(chess)
Curse you, curse you forgiving and patient heart
you would receive a thousand papercuts
before admitting a person's fault
I don't know why
Why are you so dead-set on letting me embrace, witness
the brutally honest elegantness dwelling inside...her, Anastasia
Why do you keep her tangled within
intermingling hues of my personality
Why can't you aid in my campaign to let her go
(sigh) I forfeit, I just want to let her go
let her go and recover, forget this dreadful haze
...I love her...no, we've been through this before
It just couldn't be, just leave me to believe in the folly
I realize I was willing to fight for her but I'd fight for anyone
I just didn't expect her to leave
I guess someone had to if I wouldn't
Yes, I was willing to fight but my prize
a thousand reasons to wave the white flag of surrender
I've seen all of this before but I swallow the pain down every time
like people in the circus swallow swords
It's written down in ancient history
I was taken down by the knife which killed me
In the face of truth, I denied fate to forge my own broadsword
which took off the head of the wielder (sigh) me
I kept our union alive long enough for her to stab me
and return to her king, her petty reasons I'll never grasp
but I despise them both for implanting this time bomb inside me
or was it really the seed of jealousy sprouting dangerously
I lied, claimed the feeling comfortable
while simultaneously because the spawn of the demon of anger
relatively close to the fate of Nero, part of the bloodline of Rome
To all these demanding questions, I don't know is your fatal answer
Curse you heart, why do you find joy in aiding the enemy
in slowly worming it's way back into me
I honestly thought, believed I banished her...
although I kept the door open in hopes of her return...
but she only came in to steal you again
On her way out, a punch she threw my way
and I stood there, a statue, still in sheer defiance
taking the force
and I stood still in a quiet storm
between enraged and hopeless
The tears raining down from the thunderstorm of my eyes
made me aware; I'm still me somewhere below the surface
...so why do I sit here in silence...
...feeling like I'm nothing...nothing...
...nothing at...all...
I hate robocalls!
Inxs of recorded messages
transmitted automatically
to my telephone number
by automatic dialing device.
I turn off damn ringer,
and disassemble (carefully
as disabling a time bomb)
internal workings nevertheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
(minus the green eggs)
oh... yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
contributes to conspiracy theory
linkedin with ghost calls
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams
on a green day.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living person
asked courteously by his name
of the human league,
I police tell the caller
purely coincidental!
Your sands sieve through my fingers
The luxury is mine
You watch me around the clock
A perfect circle
Your all seeing eye.
I exist in your omnipresence
Hypnotised by your chime
You pave my thoughts
I trail your steps.
Suspended in time
I’m but a paratrooper
Eavesdropping,
Perhaps intruding even
Every molecule in me is your synchronisation
I was born, I live, and surely I shall die,
An you will keep going to face another day
Uninterrupted movements
An unconstrained flow, forwards, upwards
Towards where?
I pray you never get there!
Because who would be powerful enough to stop your watch?
I would split the seconds if I could
Until I arrive at an infinitesimal, unquantifiable figure
Until the smallest amount, the least of them all stood
Would that be you?
How do you catch something that never stops moving?
Something that comes from all directions,
And goes in all directions?
It exists in the present, the past and forever
And has no starting point and no end.
I’m just trying to understand what has been given to me
My presence
A gift is it?
It is said we’re living on borrowed time
Why not just be generous and give it away
When there's so much of it seemingly with no end?
You are just too magnanimous
Too illusive
But I’m still not satisfied, I know there’s more to you
The fast-forward, the rewind, the pause!
You’re just playing tricks on us aren't you?
How do you stay fresh, moment to moment anew?
Man personified you into a clock to give you a face
To make you seem a bit more familiar,
But you are horror, a ticking time bomb
Attacking the future
Encouraging change through decay
Forging ahead of yesterday without delay
Charging forward to tomorrow,
Breaking the now
Bridging numerous dimensions into infinity
To wash us anew with your fabric
My existence hanging on this timeline
My time zone
Winding down to the deadline
To the cut-off time
The countdown without a glitch
And face the countless forevers still to come
An infinite memory bank of rich histories
A threshold of possibilities still unimagined
This is my time,
My first and last
But you didn’t even flinch
Punctual, you are
I’m timed out
You flip the hourglass
blindfolded he came close to the edge of the cliff
that he was sure of because vertigo taunted him
decision time sprung open like a grandfather watch
on his knees he felt the spray of a thunderous sea
swirling foam covered his soaked quest for direction
but all side of escape seemed to be covered in spindrift
the journey so far had been kind yet now he was helpless
a flock of puffins shouted ‘move at your perilous fancy’
they mocked the traveller now for past transgressions
‘if only I had taken a different route’ he roared in despair
‘should have stayed closer to the confines of my home’
he regretted that he exposed himself for adventure
he nestled the silver chain that suspended the time piece
prayer beads on his lost mind and clouds with no lining
puppet strings attached to every conceivable move
one wrong step and he would free fall and instantly crash
shatter into reckoning under the impact of judgement
join the underworld without reprieve and atonement
a beacon of meaning in waiting he felt thorns of wild gorse
it smelled like coconut sun lotion on a beach of no return
maybe he could hold on to the scratched withering soil
in the thicket of memories and tribulations he was not aware
that his corrosion had positioned him on a stacked rock
surrounded by the ocean beyond measure of safety
he listened to the ticking time bomb in his scorched hand
resolved to accept the verdict with no leave to appeal
surrender and throw caution to an all knowing wind
just then a tornado lifted him up into a sky full of pressure
defied gravity as an appropriate response to lost choices
wondered whether he joined seagulls or the call of a dolphin
eternity transcendence and levitation ensued in split seconds
of fragmented solutions of high waters and heavenly respite
maybe he had lived his whole life for this moment of bliss
turbulence and commotion tore away the camouflaged mask
revealed his true persona as feet touched the very same spot
sleepwalking had taught him another lesson of letting go
19th May 2020
It’s a therapeutic journey
I didn’t wanna take right now
The shoe dropped
And now it's time to pull the knife out of my throat
And hear me scream for sympathy
The shoe dropped
And it created a ripple in time and space
So you can be here only when you wanna be
And I don't buy it, I never did
You're not reserved,
A restaurant table is
You just don't care to learn about me or engage like I deserve
And now it's time to pull the plug
Unless you're not brave enough to end this
It's about the time
To self incriminate for a lower sentence
But are you prepared to admit that you're broken in order to mend things?
Or will you shoot past skin and watch it burn the best part of me?
I couldn't get out of bed
My alarms a ticking time bomb aimed to make me lose my mind instead
My life meter is blinking
But I was too busy playing dead to pacify
And I was too busy crying to see myself in your eyes
Through a watery blur I saw a decades worth of let downs
And a hundred promises you were prepared to break
like glass at a jewish wedding
Now I’m welded beneath this bedding
Where you left me weak, weary, and waist deep
In my fire truck sheets
Don't threaten me with a lack of rest!
Like I needed another reason to undress
Hanging my head low,
Imitating the sly seduction of a rope
While the truth serum beckons me to confess,
Like I needed another reason to undress
But how is this all in my head when I can feel you on my finger tips?
Oh no
I’ve lost any reason to find you
Oh no
I’ve lost a good reason to go find you
You told me you’re not strong enough to fight this
You’re not a lightbulb
Find the energy to handle it
And then we’ll get back to this
Go ahead and worship your pride
Before I eat mine for the last time
Oh no
I’ve lost any reason to find you
Oh no
I’ve lost a genuine reason to reach out to you
To anyone else,
These are flashing alarms pointing to the nearest exit
But for me,
It’s only validation for a poisoned chalice infatuation
But am I just a fool for reliving it, knowing what it really is?
But how could this all be in my head
If I can feel you on my finger tips?
The simplicity of yearning. It burns softly, like a hand grazing over a candle. A mouth full of sweet nothings to be spilled onto the damp from your tears pillow, alone. To be alone feels so excruciatingly bittersweet, for who doesn’t love their own space. The house empty, discarded of ghosts and all spirits and souls. The backing track playing whatever melody inspires you this month, falling asleep to the buzzing static sound of the late-night television show with guests you’d never heard of.
Beaming orange light travels through the open curtains, sunrise comes to you like a gentle kiss on your forehead. When you’re with him, the bottles shatter to the floor, you watch them drop in slow motion. Lay yourself down on the shards and taste the earth, the soil of a graveyard for you believe you will be reborn.
Strands of hair dancing over face, pull them aside as the morning calls for you. The alarm clock is a ticking time bomb, waiting for the absence of sleep to drive you further into an eternity of rest.
You replace caresses with a hand clamped around your throat. A sweet teenage dream of desire, virginity intact, a cherry uneaten. Bruised wrists you wear like accessories, secrets dripped into your ears like poison. But I am still infatuated, more so when you show me the seventh wonder of the world. There’s pleasure in pain, even if I had never felt it.
Conflate our bodies in the early hours, hidden from the sun but the moon sees our dalliance. Deceive your morals for what is an urge not a right. I am the spider, stalking you like prey until you plunge into the spiral of my gossamer. Struck by the innocent ideation of what it means to be a woman, gentle and delicate. I am a force, and you quiver in phobia, beads of sweat dampen my grasp. Pulled apart by heat, run. Sprint from consequences.
The half shadow of your silhouette haunts the minimal memories I have. Breathe in your gasps for air, I swallow your desperation. She is eternal, and who am I to compare? Architype of an angel, the treasure you seek.
Pain ripples through me, a tidal wave of yearning. For there is nothing simplistic about the ache, a longing for passion.
And as he was walking down the path of life
He was overcome by darkness and the blade of a knife,
The shadow that once followed behind him had become his very form,
And the heart that once beat inside him was torn,
He was driven by hate, yet longed for the love of another,
He wasn’t sane but deep under cover.
He knew what had happened but chose to conceal it,
He knew it would hurt him but chose not to feel it,
What had happened was a sudden change in direction,
He lost his meaning and followed his reflection,
Eventually his life was lost and he lived in a dream,
A dream of a life that was anything but his own,
A dream that one day he wouldn’t be alone,
He never did explain his pain,
He didn’t have to, we saw his life drain,
He once was a boy that loved to be living,
If he wasn’t playing he was giving,
Giving his love and giving a reason,
A reason to live and…
Well, isn’t that enough.
It must have been rough,
To live life so happy then suddenly fall,
To fall deep in a hole, and come out so small,
He had a life but wished he could leave it,
“Its just another dream, I don’t think I need it,”
Some people cried and some of them stared,
Some were destroyed but all were scared,
A lot of them said they weren’t prepared,
But how can you prepare for something so tragic,
Something beyond life and all of its magic,
How do you plan for the loss of a friend,
The only plans you had were to be there to the end,
This boy was a time bomb, just waiting to blow,
What went through his mind, we wish we could know,
He wasn’t crazy, nor was he sane,
He simply had his own ways to deal with the pain,
He would smile at those who gave him the time,
And was always excited to write down a rhyme,
He loved through his heart, and was loved through his words,
He talked to himself and sang with the birds,
Everyone loved him that’s why no one knows,
“Why would he do this, there’s nothing that shows.”
The truth is he lived life to see its bitter end,
He lived through those years as his own best friend,
Now he is dreaming in a world far away,
Maybe he’ll return, maybe someday.
What a year – Tim was just a little boy of 25 – naïve and
Lost in ‘innocence’ a critical time bomb waiting to happen
Blue-eyed he listened to Nena’s 99 Red Balloons flying high
While Band Aid wondered whether They Know it’s Christmas
Sticking plaster for an ignorant conscience
Plasters cast for broken souls and hunger
Summer Olympics in Los Angeles the world disunited
As the Soviet Union boycotted the Festival of Youth
Hollywood and Universal Studios Footloose competed
With The Killing Fields for consumption and Oscars
Dancing in full view of the Apocalypse
Khmer Rouge and Holding Out for a Hero
Miner’s Strike in Great Britain with Margaret Thatcher’s
Heavy handbag crushing legitimate opposition’s pickets
Reagan became ‘acting’ president and Space Shuttle discovered
That we have only have one lonely planet so we must muck it up
Cold War awaited nuclear freeze and
Hiroshima was declared a minor aberration
Metallica roared Blitzkrieg inferno and Armageddon
Iraq fought Iran and guess who was supporting whom
The US supplied Saddam Hussein with poison gas while
In Afghanistan they supported Taliban and Mujahedeen
‘The enemy of our foe is our good friend’
Coalitions must change freely in axes of evil
George Orwell comes to mind with Eurasia Oceania and
Eastasia altering alliances but then history must be forbidden
It can mislead young minds and wars have to be waged
For the sake of gory glory and self-righteous delight
Who reads books anyway and why and for what
They might seduce us to hail love and compassion
In 1984 Tim longed for flowers in hair scribbled Peace signs
On flare bottom jeans 20 years past The Sound of Silence
Had not mustered the courage yet to challenge the inevitable
Collusion of his inactivity with happy murder for money and oil
Slowly though he finds his belligerent voice and
Concludes that the 80’s offer more than nostalgia