Long Wracking Poems
Long Wracking Poems. Below are the most popular long Wracking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wracking poems by poem length and keyword.
how you've hurt me
you'll never know
the scars only now
are beginning to show
how you've hurt me
you'll never see
it happened alone
the undoing of me
How you've hurt me
you'll never taste
the sweetness of dreams
now lying in waste
how you've hurt me
you'll never feel
the wracking of pain
the torture so real
how you've hurt me
one day you will know
the poem potion
the horror will show
how you've hurt me
will one day display
the state of your heart
the mean games you play
how you've hurt me
will come back to haunt
when down in the grave
this rhyme will still taunt
how you've hurt me
is beyond your repair
the damage is done
my soul's naked and bare
eileen
In fields beneath a burning sun,
behind horses smelling foul,
we hacked the ground so seeds could grow,
walked hard miles behind the plow,
trying to feed all our families
out of the hardpacks, sand, and loam,
wiping off sweat, looking forward
to being able to go home.
Deep within tunnels beneath earth,
coal black dust destroyed our lungs,
we blasted out a country’s fuel,
ever fearful that the next one
could bring roofs down and trap us here,
in graves unmarked and unknown;
hauling out ore ’till closing time,
when we finally could go home.
Out in the sun on the highway,
each passing car a mortal threat,
building a road so normal folks
can to their workplaces get.
Feeling nerves every single time
we hear those big truck brakes moan,
unable to draw easy breaths
until we’re let loose to go home.
Surrounded by a factory
where red-hot steel is freely poured,
accidents are not unheard of,
we all know there will be more.
You can’t ever be truly safe
working metal so hot it flows,
we build the country at great risk,
then we can thankfully go home.
Perched high above a gotham town,
manipulating big I-beams,
raising up a great structure that
one day with glass panes will gleam,
hoping that harnesses will work
so we don’t plunge screaming below,
watching each step so cautiously
to be sure that we can go home.
Trudging hard in desert mountains,
hunting down the terrorist scum,
breaking evil that knows no law
but that enforced by our big guns,
killing them before they can go
rig out houses and stores to blow,
counting the days left in our tour,
until we can leave and go home.
Walking into those homes, at last,
Ii has been one nerve-wracking day,
but there’s no peace, for we must hear
our wives and our girlfriends say:
Ugh, your masculinity is so toxic! What is it even good for? You need to learn more from feminism or you’ll just be a violent brute and a threat to society!
….?
….!
Are you effing kidding me?
Virtual trophies (wife for I)...
offered, husbanded, and collected
when winning solitaire
Nothing beats that exaltant rush of adrenaline
watching the computer generated cards
automatically routed
to their respective suite (spot)
(after they get turned face value up)
generates countenance to evince a grin.
This heart felt diamond in the rough
gamboling ace of a man
learned to call a spade a spade
soon after joining the culture club.
Within an alternate universe
another Matthew Scott Harris
destiny manifested beckoned uber lyft,
his militant doppelganger
(created entirely of antimatter
since birth of universe)
decked out in camouflage fatigues,
dead set on collision course
to annihilate each other
if and/or when we inevitably meet.
No place exists for yours truly
to run and hide
especially hermetically sealing
(while waxing poetic) himself
with booking selfsame mortal
within a read (reed) out hideaway,
hence impossible mission
to ward off sealed fate
lest (markedly) both of us
(even if reaching out
to bridge reconciliation)
blown to smithereens
methinks I and mine nemesis
would be wiped out
(cue the Surfaris song titled wipe out)
as if Thanos snapped.
The aforementioned scenario
far more horrifying than
livingsocial within human zoo
where *****sapiens primates,
an aggregate of many
a cruel genealogical yahoo
outliers rowdy unlearned without xue,
an essential constituent
of the body electric kool aid acid test
smartass who spout colorful retorts
analogous to up the wazoo,
but much more explicit,
therefore audiological
viewer discretion advised
unless one feels confident
to cast a magic spell using voodoo
ideally invoking debilitating, horrifying,
lustrating newt trill eye zing
permanent state of danger
or threat accursed
trumpeting lout can never undo
especially when joker is wild
whereat apparatus tricked out
fastening pollexes courtesy thumbscrews
perchance re-evaluating my person
when crafting image
conveying torturous schlock
after ye did pleasantly review
other writings of mine that did skews
toward humanitarian connectedness
painstakingly minding my peas and queues
wracking my brain
regarding creativity to peruse.
Initially, an attempt
sought regarding Das scribe,
yours truly donning checkerboarded rawhide
collared, cuffed oversize raiment, pride
and prejudice obscured
courtesy hand-me-downs
couture also decking out
alley oop trapeze artist bride
of Frankenstein grooming in attendance
with her bonafide
circus motley crew, a veritable
monster mish mashup
happenstance didst decide
unlike traditional feted newlyweds
swingers airborne did only abide.
The law of gravity aerial
pas de deux bodies airborne
aloft pledging their respective troths sworn
fleeting suspended animation while shorn
infinitesimally of Earth's pull
only expert can playfully scorn
accomplishment courtesy no greenhorne
neophytes in utero umbilical cord,
taking root as metaphorical acorn,
thus unbridled and groomed skill inborn
burst out the womb like heated popcorn
snapped up since birth well worn
genes Ringling Brothers and
Barnum & Bailey circus practiced morn
till night stunts became second nature
encore performance no matters bodies outworn.
Curtain Call now doth close
unrehearsed poetic gambit,
cuz yours truly tuckered out I suppose
ready to take his doze
zee dough into dreamland, expose
zing oft times confused
with dark shadow of outer limits
of twilight zone, where me lovely bones froze
where sudden night mare arose
gripping courtesy rigor mortis head to toes
daunting wordsmith champion
manifestation of daily woes.
Suddenly me clutched
by melancholic despair
somnambulantly where
countless tomb morrows tramp
scarcely undifferentiated from yesterday's care
wracking psyche with wrath plus fear
at accursed purposelessness near
faux sing myself regarding pas
city to emulate good cheer.
An iron gaff impales my tongue,
a barbed and rusted length of steel;
where putrid, swollen lungs once hung,
the black brine rots all that is left to feel.
The tempest split my ribcage wide
to anchor horror in my gut;
I drank the writhing, bloated tide,
through each raw and gangrened cut.
This quiet earth now snaps my spine,
a suffocating, heavy vice;
it crushes down this form of mine,
a maggot-eaten sacrifice.
I spew up bile and jagged bone,
my sea legs torn, a bloodied pit;
the silence screams against the stone
where flies and festered sores now sit.
The phantom deck begins to split,
my tendons tearing to match the deep;
I rip my own wet flesh to fit
this horror that I cannot keep.
I crawl through dirt, a severed head,
a corpse that vomits back the gale;
the sea-bound rot is all that’s bred
to haunt the wreckage of the sail.
This peace is acid in my veins,
a sickening and stagnant hell;
my body yearns for wracking pains
to break this suffocating spell.
Deep in a wood both dark and dreary,
I stumbled on til beyond weary,
Seeking the path that brought me in,
Finding it not my hope grew thin.
When before me burst into sight,
A mystery in the fading light,
Arising from the forest floor,
Out of place even more,
Than the silence and the still,
Though summer held I felt a chill,
For a heartbeat chimed a bell,
Reckoning what I could not tell.
And there before my very eyes,
A flighted staircase did arise,
Reaching full through the canopy,
It’s finality I could not see.
Through leafy detritus I drew near,
Faltering steps betrayed my fear,
The stair before me beckoned my tread,
Consumed was I by an eerie dread,
And stood my ground with silent scream,
And begged remission from this dream,
Cast away in in this woodland fey,
With dark of night overtaking day.
Turning aside and stumbling apart,
Desperate to escape with pounding heart,
Through branches and brambles grasping,
The breath in my throat wracking and rasping.
Then through a denser thicket I burst,
Only to see what couldn’t be worse,
There before me stood the stairs,
My lips mumbled near forgotten prayers,
For descending from accursed height,
Came a nightmare’s gibbering fright,
With eyeless void to steal one’s soul,
Trod closer yet closer this demon ghoul.
Turning I ran inspired by my terror,
Blindly I fled and such was my error,
Again I fell then getting up to see
The stairway again in front of me.
They are void--
On empty- without
Emotions or compassion...
We keep feeding them with ours-
They take greedily-slurping
The foam off the tops
Of life's abundance.
Pretending;To feel something.
They interrupt your life with
An emergency-
Always exaggerating...
This or that-
Grand-standing then
withering
Like a Christmas flower -
Nerve wracking.
Get you all caught up-
Like a fire spitting dragon
They have nowhere for
Their souls to reside.
So they often change
Bandwagons
Like a concerned
Mother cat they drop
Their problems off instinctively-
To the ones whom appear to be
vulnerable and underexposed.
He assigns his burdens
Out like kittens-
With a reverse
entitlement
As we are to be
Grateful we were
Chosen to adopt
One of his problems
He is programmed to
Say "mam"--- A lot, as if
This makes-the deal
Official
like some
Overpaid C.E.O
Executive who
Has no intention
On solving problems
Or reimbursing
Your stolen money.
So void -so empty -
So pitiable are
These empty souls.
Today I am not
Feeling charitable
Please find someone else
To adopt your kittens.
And your wayward soul.
Written: April 28, 2024, For Constance la France Contest
"One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life. The word is love.
Sophocles, Greek Poet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One word cures all life's queries and distress,
While we indulge in our quest toward bliss.
Pure, lush love imparts delight and success,
Amidst life's winding path, may run amiss.
Love protects us from dread and disarray,
Serve awful time, lead us across the storm.
Love allows us to face fear and dismay,
Merry love is merely drawn in free form.
Embrace who allows us to tame our fears,
The fleeting light of our souls burns all time.
And foster kinship, swipe nerve-wracking tears,
We cry such babies, dull for bliss, sublime.
We descry solace in qualm and sadness,
While we sink in state of auric aptness.
Jabbering Ignominious Hypocrite Gabbles - against the backdrop of gross unbridled viscous wracking zealotry bruiting extinguishing inherent national trust...
Poetic Introduction:
I wax and wane rhapsodic
plus prosaically politic
aware severe erosion
of American democracy
over run by narcissistic
over stuffed ego-freezer,
whose vocabulary
extremely laconic
foe swash buckling braggadocio
commander in chief
not gun shy
to brandish (hugely
bully like) jingoistic
tirade unleashing horrific
banshees more'n 10, 000
foo fighting maniacs
(nemesis of liberty) fatalistic
to sanctity of
United States democracy
throw back at him bigly,
his woeful treachery,
quasi xenophobic, tragic,
and lunatic bred anarchy!
Each ticking second of every single day, the pensive, doughy face execrably debased “dunderhead” criminal commander in chief (trumpeting acrimonious, calumnious, egregious...yakking), while donned in gay apparel) trumpeting lunatic, jingoistic, ideology imbues heretic catalysts.
Thou art unduly seething, quaking, and oozing mercurial kindling ideological glommed ethos of mine. These atrocious blaspheming, castigating, denigrating, excoriating, fulminating gross humiliations imply jerkiness, kookiness, lunacy.
No! Not for one more term can this acidulous, indecorous Mandates need outspoken politicians quickly removing this utterly vile wicked Xerses.
Thus spoke Zarathustra (without blandishment) to me, a gluten and monosodiumglutinate free, NON-GMO non-alarmist, nonestablishmentarian, nor ham aye a nihilist.
I once had an office job sitting next to Miss Sunshine day in and day out. She and her 7th Day Adventist Jesus were always so positive and jolly about everything, it was hard not to smack her.
One day with syrupy sweet intonation she asked why I was so cynical and wasn't I an unhappy person.
I said, "Only a sociopath could be happy about the truth of things, but I'm just a realistic observer not hiding behind cheerful nonsense; there's no correlation to happy or unhappy. Look at you for instance. You are smiling and upbeat all the time. And I don't believe I've ever met an unhappier person."
She was stunned, momentarily silent, mouth hanging open. Then she burst into terrible wracking sobs of anguish.