Long Warped Poems
Long Warped Poems. Below are the most popular long Warped by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Warped poems by poem length and keyword.
I was really angry at God,
many folks are and many don’t know it.
Maybe you have to fall out with a lover
before you know you can live with them.
My father and mother were angry all of the time,
they lived in a slow simmer of loathing.
I and all my friends were angry,
nor could we explain why,
but the things we did and did not do
all arose as a hidden anger.
The anger came out as pimples, boils,
and blackheads.
Skin is a window for emotions.
Rumi said:
“Polish the mirror of your soul
that it might better reflect God.”
I have an antique hand mirror,
the leaded glass is warped,
its wooden and carved frame cracked,
and yet I keep it polished
for one day I hope to see
what has always been there
in front of my face.
I'm lost hurt and angry
Why did you take his life
I want, No I need to know
Tell me, Tell me why
I deserve to know
Haven't you done enough to him
What'd he ever do to you
He suffered his whole life
Suffered more than anyone deserved
Tell me, Tell me why you did it
I have a right to know
Why'd you let him born to them
Born to worthless parents
Parents who didn't care
They threw him away like garbage
Pawned him off on someone else
Tell me, Tell me why
Explain how you could do that
You gave him Polio
You let others treat him like disease
You took away the full use of his legs
You warped his hand and foot
Tell me, Explain to me why
I deserve to know
You let others think he was crazy
You let it go on for over year
You didn't stop it, Why
Tell me, Give me your reason
Answer me God, Help me to understand
You go and make matters worse
You gave him Cancer
You didn't give him a chance to fight back
You just jerked him away from us
Tell me, Tell me how
How could you be so cruel
How can others not question you
When others do it, It's murder
But when it's by your hand
It's your will, Their fate
Tell me, What makes you so different
Your no better than the demons knocking at the door
You heard me beg and plead
You know I'm not afraid to die
I was willing to carry it all for him
I was willing to take my Daddy's place
You didn't even let me say Goodbye
Tell me, Tell me why I couldn't take his place
Answer me God, you owe me that much
Spiritual
Is the word “fart” a naughty word
Hope not... I find it cute and giggly
But don't go by me, my mind is a little warped
Words are just words with letters strung together
Strange how any mention of our private parts
Should never be said in public
“Uvula” sounds really naughty
But the dictionary describes it as
“a fleshy extension at the back of the soft palate
That hangs above the throat”
Now if that doesn't sound naughty, I'll eat my shorts!
Here's an old English expression... “bollocks”
Of German origin... related to BALL
And how about “tit”
Again the old dictionary says
“refers to a small New Zealand bird called a “tit”
How can just three innocent letters strung together
Cause little old ladies to titter!
Last but not least we have “dong”
Sounds like a gong as in a bell
So I guess that's where the old expression comes from
“I sure rang his bell!
In closing, I'd like to say this
I had a freaking good time writing this one
But we all know what “freaking” is
It's a sort of polite way of saying
The granddaddy of all swear words
Just seven letters starting with an “f”
It's “farting” of course, what were YOU thinking?
© Jack Ellison 2014
We live a life buried alive, mentally,
burdened by guilt and circumstances.
We live in our own angular box,
oxygen depleting, but dare not kick out
at the sides, imbibing clean, fresh air.
Kick the walls encasing you!
Pull the plug on your programmed
brainwashed heads! Why live life by,
mental restrictions, ancient beliefs,
cultural and social mores, especially,
the warped opinions of your
well-meant meathead friends,
happy to drag along their own balls and chains.
You'd think feeling intense despair,
would cause a knee-jerk reaction, and
kick those damn barriers down!
The thing is, there is no bloody box
just limited thinking. Break the invisible,
flaps open, escape the room of doom and gloom!
Open your mind to all possibilities
Who knows! The potentials and possibilities
could be so rewarding, realizing,
what you’ve been taught to believe
is one big fat juicy lie!?
Trains run alight terminate on time like clockwork
never ending endless procession of precision conductors
the conducted walk down the line warped tracks of
cynically divided isles dead ends of ‘labour making free’
Evil strips uniformed confluence stripes and leather
Coated terrified collection production of space soap
horror lampshades shearing shorn haired tattoos the
undivided divide of power abomination horrid abnormal
‘normality’ represses guilt projected trans-re-and aggression
Evil does other in the guise of completed concentration
Concerted action blisters scorches screams cacophonies
children on father’s lap blue eyed dancing and laughing
kisses of love adoration cuddly dolls miniature life’s train
sets model schema roles toys games memories distraction
Evil giggles corporates shapes what past and future holds
Mothers craft homes happy families embrace posterity apple
pies devotion roast cinnamon cranberry turkeys tarts in ovens
pious allegiance compassion progress contrast splitting off piano
forte harmonious singing rejoicing at mantelpiece and altar
Evil mocks smouldering torches paradise’s apple deprivation
Juvenile followers of fashion compose indoctrinate compost
hail philosophy’s trampled ideology void of virtue meaning
distorted communion bread wine blind vision blind-sight vortex
trailing inscribing engraving present history timeless repetition
Evil tracks moribund humanity dignity degeneration and disgust
Unless we reflect examine investigate inside and around
us the smokescreens stacked ember ashes individual ‘Self’
universal pursuit of righteousness flames of denial denigrating
potential illuminate conscience honesty fallibilities blue prints
for darkness and unless we act and fight stand up and even then
Ubiquitous evil at this very moment will cast its seeds and shadows
will unbalanced fires raise their ugly head and minds and shoulders gas
and bullets terror grenades rockets mines warfare starving emaciation
lest we forget the prototypes the moulds automated conveyor belts evil
we can not abdicate responsibility for blatant murder of the human race
Auschwitz is everywhere and there is no hierarchy of evil
July 1st Independence Day (Canada)
When And Why
Concepts of right and wrong
White and black without the shades of grey
Where did those ideas come from?
Whose warped mind divided the world into two?
Murder is murder unless it is done on a battlefield?
Killing an unborn child is ok but only until it is born
It is okay for people to starve
But it isn’t legal to steal a love of bread to feed a family
Pets are left to waste away on the sides of the road
Or take them to a shelter and have them kill it for you
After all…it is painless to die
Animals can die for sport as long as they die running
It is okay as long as they don’t fight
People can be crippled for sport
It brings in the money
But we are told that it is not right to inflict injury
As long as the owners count their millions
It is alright to be a man until a woman wants your job
It is alright to be a woman until a foreigner takes your job
When did the world become so segmented?
So indecisive about what is right and wrong
When did we screw it all up?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The neon hums like a dying wasp~
flickers Roy Orbison in wounded pink,
while the gulf wind tongues
the screen door’s loose hinge.
A quarter rolls from my palm,
kisses the chrome throat
of a machine that remembers
Patsy Cline, but not my name.
Some nights, the bartender lets it play
the same cracked track~
Crazy—on loop till dawn,
while shrimp boats cough diesel
into the salt-thick dark.
I press B-17. The gears grind,
spit out a melody warped
by hurricane sweat,
by the weight of all the songs
it swallowed and never digested.
When the power fails,
the jukebox still glows~
a ghost lit by its own stubborn heat,
singing to the empty stools,
to the tide’s slow retreat.
Classical infusion, Beethoven’s “ode to joy”
playing on blaring audiophile speakers annoy
purposely looped to destroy vagrants with electronic music
blends of subversive elements and anxious acoustic
the solution to loitering the bodega doo dropping
spicy Shiitake broth smelling pissy store front,
jaded daily stunt, at midnight wino corks popping
abruptly segway into a film from one music scene
to a melting hallway, a lipstick alley with animate occupants
disconnected unmoored, appearing eerie and dormant
fluorescent lights unleashing a hum buzz in duress
hissing sizzling hornets’ nest of unsettling unrest
illogical levels of unease, an iniquitous den
such madcap absurdity is beyond my ken
not a shack, mall, nor a Holiday Inn,
a queasy Quasi-Moto mood which lies within
backrooms filled in with discarded filets
of fishy maceral that have no place,
frolicking pixella's in a glossy abyss of liminal space
plump puce brushed lips affixed
swollen browns and purple mixed
deep maroon and dusky rose,
make-up art is what they pose
I wish I may I wish away what is unreal with blinky eyes
I pray not to awaken one more inky surreal surprise
Crescent shaped moon portions mounted in pseudo walls
mounted upon the glare in unpleasing patterned halls
side by side quagmired half discs dawning a contorted face
in a half dazed-half-moon crest loon’s invisible phase
not unconscious but in some in-between state
bored while in transition and abandoned as they await
whimsical moldings who see me try not to take a peek
an exit to this madness is what I and they seek
maybe re-evaluate my sleep number, for gravity defying rest
What insight imports this encounter and what test?
what it means for a doomed generation Xer or baby boomer,
tacked in stucco, Silly Putty it seems, in a warped sense of humor
I wish I may I wish away what is unreal with blinky eyes
I pray not to awaken one more inky surreal surprise
A man of few words, my father taught by example.
The best thing he showed me
was to set my standards high
and to be my own judge -
always modest never defiant or arrogant.
If something needed doing
I should do it without expecting praise -
self-satisfaction being the ultimate goal.
He taught me to set my sights high
and to be my own boss
no matter the circumstances –
to be fiercely independent
not count on anyone.
I learned to go about my business and be self-sufficient.
I did not do well in teams – like a bull in a china shop
I had my objectives and went at them as a loner.
I never saw it exactly that way
but I did get good at it to a fault.
One day, it was a rude awakening when
it dawned on me how I was doing things for people
and they were consistently ungrateful.
I knew the problem couldn’t completely be with them
My so-called modesty had become self-fulfilling servitude.
It finally registered that if people didn’t have to ask,
they didn’t have to say ‘thanks’.
And that never mattered to me until
I realized that they were in fact not thankful
And THAT was a whole different ball game.
I literally spent days if not weeks
stubbornly trying to unlearn and reprogram myself.
Tried to get it through my skull that
if people ASK for something,
or at least ADMIT they would appreciate something,
that’s when they might actually appreciate it
How cheap can people be -
what a warped world we live in.
For me, it was a hard lesson in human nature -
I was actually an enabler encouraging people
to take me for granted.
People really do like games
even the ones who say they hate them.
Admittedly it was late in life I learned this lesson
And I admit I often still choose to do things
without getting people to actually ask.
But at least I’m cognizant of my ways.
And admittedly when I do pause
and play the ‘asking’ game, it does pay off.
But I’m so unbelievably stubborn I don’t always
want to pay the price for their gratitude
so to this day, if I feel something needs to be done
I’ll just get it done.
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
within the oscillation of melting clocks,
our poltergeists of times long expired…still reverberate~
tainted ticking echoing
in an everlasting tug of war,
pushing and pulling,
throwing barbs at bleeding hearts
oh, how the echoes distort reality,
haunting perfect illusions~
remnants of misunderstood souls
caught in constant conflict…
what was once a beacon of love~
transmuted inhospitable confusion
words, warped by borderline delusions,
each syllable twisted and contorted,
blind rationality,
unraveling the ties that bind,
wrapping them around suffocating throats,
choking on harsh accusations~
until we became irrelevant
irretrievable phantoms~
perpetually confined
within stupefied misapprehension…..