Short Prop Up Poems
Short Prop Up Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Prop Up by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Prop Up by length and keyword.
Prosthetic language can never fix
a Poems broken joints
Only inspiration can set
the break for sure
Crutches and canes to prop up verse
severely disappoint
Perception falling on its face
—a crippled lost poseur
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)
Lean not on gurus, for God search
Why prop up middleman
Sitting on high and mighty perch
Our credit card they scan
God within intimate
Here now immediate
Go in now, do not wait
Power, they abuse
Lean not on gurus
01-December-2021
Quietus
I lie on the ground, faceless
Unbroken but undone
You walk away, proud
While you chant and praise yourself
So I sigh, in defeat, and I cry for release
And I beg for the agony to seize
I screech please!
Drunkenly prop up to my knees
As they buckle from the pain within my mind
And my teeth I grind
Revenge you will find
And your ass will be mine
You, resting on the bed
There are tired wrinkles
In your yellow suit
And the day’s dust
On your face
I prop up my feet
Next to your arm
And wait
The walls of the room
Make a box of
The red-gold evening
Sun light
Your hand near my foot
Curls in and out
An evening bird
Lights on the ledge
Outside our window
Folding his wings
And we smile.
The rest of us
caught here
in the web
of a foreign arachnid
We prop up
his appendages
and force feed
his proboscis
Those of us
blinded here
by his pure
dark whiteness
Grope and slash
in the excrement
of his dying
putrefaction
In a world
good for others
they concentrate
us in harm
And our children
play in the backyard
of beyond
forever like
the rest of us
BLACK CLOUD
Mourvédre* cluster overhead
weight of Everest
capped on nerves
suppresses colors
squeezes eyeballs
behind dark sunglasses
lightening drills through temples
attempts to prop up
one’s globular head
with isometric fingers
grape stains on cheeks
relieve pitch of crystal
shattering the oppression
kaleidoscopic relief
10/15/2017
*Mourvédre - (mohr-ved-ra) - dark red grapes
love
at start,
like a flame,
bright and shiny
burns hot, emits warmth
like the hearth in winter.
when souls cuddle close and merge
what an overwhelming feeling.
the lovers swim in joy, reel on toes.
but like tides wane, the first feel recedes
charm of life gets stolen away
drudgery slowly sets in.
hot arguments prop up
conflicts arise soon
coldness creeps in
hate intrudes
and love
wanes
So said the marionette, that gaslighters sow madness and chaos in your life, and when you become obstreperous, they blameshift it, so like the curling pokes of the apothecary's in plague-ridden Europe, that like the weapon goes elsewhere, so too does the wherewithal. Like gilded streams forsaken for brighter skies that unravel ever so slightly as the marionette sighs, and lamped up the glow of the sun, to prop up the firmament for one last gungho.
"Respect" is a word many people use
"Respect" is a word many people abuse
Most people spend their life to learn it
Most people spend their life to earn it.
So they can all say "look up to me"
and prop up their false identity
But respect doesn't come by achievement or funds
or looks, or houses, or car type or chums.
You find "respect" hanging on a cross
not by the gains but by one's loss
You find "respect" between sky and land
with a different crown on a crucified man.