Long Ultra Poems
Long Ultra Poems. Below are the most popular long Ultra by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ultra poems by poem length and keyword.
songer.co/song/r8btoho3abg0psszqle86vkb
[Verse 1]
Girl, I’m caught between the thrill and the fall,
Your shadow’s tracing cracks across my wall.
Electric hum beneath my skin,
Addicted to the mess I’m in.
[Pre-Chorus]
Whispers call me higher, but I grip the rail,
Chasing sparks that flicker — I can’t bail.
Every heartbeat’s a quiet fight,
Lost inside your soft, electric light.
[Chorus]
Acrophobia, yet I’m chasing the highs,
Hands shake — I cross your flashing warning signs.
You lift me like a fading light,
One more sip, but you’re still not mine.
No parachute, no soft landing hand,
Your love’s a wave I don’t understand.
Floating fast, breath held, knuckles white,
Acrophobia — still climbing tonight.
[Verse 2]
Late nights fade into the blue,
Scrolling through the silence, thinking of you.
Caught your new song on some late-night stream,
Is that me in the video, or just a dream.
[Pre-Chorus]
Whispers call me higher, but I grip the rail,
Chasing sparks that flicker — I can’t bail.
Every heartbeat’s a quiet fight,
Lost inside your soft, electric light.
[Chorus]
Acrophobia, yet I’m chasing the highs,
Hands shake — I cross your flashing warning signs.
You lift me like a fading light,
One more sip, but you’re still not mine.
No parachute, no soft landing hand,
Your love’s a wave I don’t understand.
Floating fast, breath held, knuckles white,
Acrophobia — still climbing tonight.
[Bridge]
No twelve-step for this kind of sky,
Cold sweats can’t make me say goodbye.
You’re the rush I fear, the fall I crave,
The steepest climb — still I misbehave.
[Chorus]
Acrophobia, yet I’m chasing the highs,
Hands shake — I cross your flashing warning signs.
You lift me like a fading light,
One more sip, but you’re still not mine.
No parachute, no soft landing hand,
Your love’s a wave I don’t understand.
Floating fast, breath held, knuckles white,
Acrophobia — still climbing tonight.
[Outro]
The higher I go, the harder I fall,
Your electric touch is my favorite thrall.
Caught in this loop, I won’t say no,
I’m high on the fear, so let’s go.
Note: This song is an echo to the ultra popular “Expresso” hit, from the guy’s point of view.
Rituals
are sacred
when they reconnect
what LeftBrain dominant
straight white privileged man
has transcendently and monotheistically
disconnected secular nature
from sacred polytheistic spirits
Earthly nature
divorced from Heavenly spirit,
power
from light,
empowerment
from enlightenment,
autonomous theological identity
from interdependent ecological experience,
personal health
from transcendent joy
Like segregating
sexual health rituals
from sensory wealth of regenerative spirituals
sacredly enriching both Yang LiberalLovers
and more mundanely conserving
Yintegral every day
red-blooded green conservation
PolyCultural rituals
of resonant positive is not negative,
resilient health is not pathological
cancerous wealth
Lives fulfilling YangYin in-between
balancing rituals
reforming divinely sacred empowerment
and profanely prolific ecosystemic
enlightened health/wealth
co-passionate care
Rituals,
sexual and sacred
are ultra-nonviolent sacramental
celebrating EarthMother's sacred
holy
holonic non-zero zen womb
of Yintegrity double-binary
ProGenitive balance
with Yangish LeftBrain
patriarchal EitherTop/OrBottom
conservative reaction
to protect healthy/safe conserving EarthTribe
through co-empathic therapeutic wounds
of historic win/lose zero-sum thinking
Unaware of positive
socio-eco-psycho-bio-theological flow
panentheistically co-operative
intersectionally co-invested
dipolar co-arising
bipartisan health-wealthing Left/Right
PolyPathic = Not(NotPolyVagal)
P=N(NP) strategic win/win
ritualistic systems
for resilient/resonant
global justice/peace restoring outcomes
Rituals
both naturally enlightened
and spiritually empowering
for health/wealthy EarthTribe,
cooperatively DNA-enscripted
organic mindbodies
formed and reformed
by co-passionate neuro-sensory systems
Seeking pleasing
pleasure playful rituals,
like making slow-grown
universally uniting
engaging
engorging love.
Under the mistletoe
With a kindling smile
Reflect by the candle halo
Her flirtatious attitude
Solo dancing the tango
Enticing to come over
Then going on her tiptoe
Letting her hunger go
Moving to the backside
The motion of the tide
From the garnet chalice
The freshness, the sweetness
The cleanness, the softness
Leaving the world breathless
The gentle sea breeze
Doing as she please
Hands moving down the thigh
The original scent is high
Garb sliding to the knees
Off by the flick of the toe
Taking it slow
Moving as a guide, her eyes are wide
Putting inside and starting the ride
Ultra-efficiency liquid
Beatitude, pulchritude so vivid
Bona fide, the ride of the tide
Happily, blissful angel
Oh, by the way, this is a commercial
Updated 5/14/2019
Form:
Wembley Park
Modern life. Modern place. This life
This is a perfect and futuristic design
Modern life
Modefn life
In Wembley
In Wembley
Wembley Park
Wembley Park
My life lives here
My lifer lives here
The style
Oh, I love this part of this district
Extremely ultramodern, ultra-modern
This is life. The life. Super top. Yes. High
This is the goal. The new and better lifestyle
The new civilisation, the latest dream of life, is mapped
The new power. The new condition.
Open this mind—this life. Blue style
Can you walk? Can you do? This life
Walk, walk with me. In this feeling. In this life
In this life
Be the mine
The, the, the
Desire
Desire
Just feel
Just feel
My
My
Life
In
This
Modern
Time. Time
I am alone
In my modern time
Suffering a lot
A lot. A lot. My life
In Wembley Park
But I love, I love
But no love, no love
In Wembley. In Wembley Park
Glittering in this great atmosphere
But my soul
My soul is alone
Full of pain
Suffering
Suffering
Yes. A lot
It's Opposite Game day
says JayJay
to on-screen enthusiastic friends.
I have no adult time or patience
to see or hear
right as not not opposition wrong
Right, like left,
only appositionally spaced
like I have timeless time
for western this nor eastern that.
If God or Goddess is inside everywhere
with us on our voyage stuckness outside nowhere,
both here and there
then yet not just there
nor merely here.
Just as the opposite of empty secular time
is no sacred time and, yes, eternal timelessness
I wonder why whitened black
appears greyscale to daytime me
while blackened white feels ultra-violet bright
at night.
Something could not be right
about left experience of love as life
inexperienced
as dusty death.
All Earth feels full with resonant music
and sky voided silent empty resilience
brittle as a frozen drum
without a ballistic stick
of thunder opposing lightning
It might be true
opposites of dance
are static non-moments
for sterile decay
stagnant non-being
remaining lifeless,
abandoned by courageous hope
to dance once more
And yet I wonder
why opposite of no yes
says "not yet"
while tension between yes no
waits for a double-binding second "no"
to also produce relentless ambiguity
of not not yet.
The opposite of yet
what and whom and why could past become
if we could just get
not not yet
as a sure bet
for outside climate health
and not inside bitter weathered pathology?
From left against right
day recovering night
not not wrong
silence predicting not not adventurous theme songs
oppositionally inappropriate
for Jay Jay's dancing apposition daze.
turning to you
yielding in hesitation
watching you in private
wishing things were different
a big ole jug of water
a stockpile of those small, extra thick towels
the dryer is now broken like my spirit's hymen
turning to you
yielding in hesitation
watching you in private
wishing things were different
a certain sinful website in front of my eyes
a stockpile of those ultra absorbent washcloths
there is no more hot water left to be used
turning to you
yielding in hesitation
watching you in private
wishing things were different
respectful enough to not take it there
smart enough to know YOU and know better
i think i will stick with being your friend
therefore, i avoid paying unnecessary prices and prevent unwise abusable triggers
"Novitiate"
Wading through
turgid mainstream
Novitiate makes her
way to the bottom rungs
of the Clean Team
Where dreams are
captured a.m. p.m. .
on the run with
weeping neutered minds
zero sublime
same old, same old
Asks herself,
“Where’s the substance?
Am I gormless too?”
rewards are Molasses,
Sugar Plums and
Glory, if that's you
It’s like dipping your spoon
in Alphabet Soup
re-arranging letters.
Shirley Temples with
no flaming
Bombe Alaska clue
pour the brandy,
light the flame.
Ignite something,
heart, mind or soul
covert intelligence
wonderful electric
minds pollinating
intellectual beehives,
"where's all the dripping
honey?"
Novitiate dreams
Go punch a hole in the sky
block all emotional rissoles
it’s not a question of
do or die
the Game is called
take-the-ride, at all times
avoid blood-sucking Vampires
Strict insects in an
ultra strict machine
watching their wings
flutter pretty, all beat
in time bang against
a silent wall
koutou three times
It aint about numbers baby
nor who’s who in the Zoo
it’s about writing your story
lock, stock and smoking barrel
keeping it true
Cover all mirrors
old is dead
born is new
Mornings rise with Sun
Fold your cards,
Hearts are trumps
Win-Win
what's done is done
time to de-robe and run, run, run
You're a novitiate skating
daily in your black
Nun's habit, it's way way
tragique, it's all a bit,
"La députée a raconté
une histoire très tragique",
find a new Boo.
Passports,
TRANSIT LOUNGE
Airport
Escape the Zoo.
Time to Do-the-Do
Novitiate throw
off your Black habit
Perfume
Rouge lipstick
New shoes
Yeah, put on your
Kavorka
New You
Double Deluxe Choc Chip
take the double cream
and cherry too.
Escaping the Zoo
True Romance.
OUR STORY
Me and You
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)
"Temple of Love"/Johnny Hollow
https://youtu.be/p64wbdRBzjk
"My Daughter My Nation"
The climate of Georgia
is diverse,
considering the nation’s
small size.
She walks with her head
held high,
ultra dignified
My daughter,
whom I love “Most".
I am her Black Sea,
her West Coast.
Familiar, yet -
uncharted territory
a foreign country drowned,
a mysterious
unconquered frontier.
Always close,
my tides touch her shore,
then recede.
She dips her toes,
considers which boat
to launch off in,
which adventure to seize.
Waves of a Mother -
calm then stormy seas,
low tides, high tides,
cool deep waters,
then LOVE's blistering
burning breeze.
In water’s introspection
A natural evolution
from station to station,
perfect reflection, an observation -
“TAKE LIFE!”, Ocean calls
to her Nation,
without hesitation.
Courage of Child-no-longer.
Independent, clever
Woman now, she’s “BECOMING” -
Stronger and stronger.
Familiar, yet -
Uncharted territory
a foreign country
a mysterious,
unconquered frontier,
that's My Daughter,
My Nation.
Georgia.
No maps required,
straight to the HEART -
Simple, pure magic vibration,
this my celebration,
My Daughter
Queen of your own
Evolving, Stronghold Nation,
GEORGIA.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)
1.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6wc41N-GYY
2.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSJfOLLE0Fk
A man of blood, and gore and grief.' Maybe a puppet.? Certainly a thief.' With minions of dark demonic spawn, no hint of compassion, suchlike would have plaited
The thorns, in that crown of horror, with malice and brawn, lovers of bribery and power of lies, upon a relief
flotilla they've just metastacized.' High on drugs.? On hate and
Pain..The regurgitation of victimhood, is
More than plain.' They'll have a celebration
Right at gommorha its all so strange' ultra liberal values.' And many letters, as they lecture the world on how they
are so; its betters.? Just again and again..In a morbid
Refrian
Maybe because most countries; are
merely now debtors.?
art deco was considered ultra-modern in the nineteen twenties
fashions were outrageously risqué, women were slim, flappers wore fringe
I would have been a flapper if I had been born then,
after I escaped the cave of my parents and their rules
If I had known about Berkeley, I would have gone there in the seventies
If I had known about Woodstock, I would have stayed away though.
I detest crowds.
But art deco, that is something I can embrace.
In some ways I wish I had been born in the twenties,
then I would have gone to the otherworld before my mother
who was not born until 1931.
Another reason to be a flapper.