Salvoes poems on Hello Poetry

Samuel Bass May 2013

Driving off onto the 101 rush hour concrete jungle, there are no exits,
only obligations to stay stuck in my mobile cubicle moving at the speed of slow.
Hidden flowers on the hillside bloom away mocking my insanity,
they cheer me on to see beyond these gray prison bevels.
Gray blocks hollow until they're filled with my humanity,
making me take the choices reaped with devils.

I feel like I've lived a day in one hour, it's so early it could be midnight.
Twisting and turning in my brain, the sun suddenly ridicules, feeding me a fresh case of insane.
I'm at a point of sorrow, sorrow of an exceptional quality, Grade A-farm raised, take two tomorrow.
The raven croaked nevermore, Juliet is the sun, dangren-burang1.
We have to go. I'm almost happy here2. Complacency rots insides, then refills with fear.
So - Listen to them - children of the night. What music they make3. Clamoring for sight.
There's no flesh or blood within this cloak to ****. There's only an idea. Ideas are bulletproof4. Filled with truths, synapse salvoes, loves, and drugs. We love what we eat and eat who we are. GERManic germs looking for psychological thrills. You work the guns, I'll rattle the hills.

Smoking cannabis to an over-extent, hope lost, old kung-fu and 80's movies won, I eat smoke for breakfast.
This sun is still mocking me, “Start your day, be productive, make a baby, then expiry.”
Stepping into society, I'm a satanic leaf-tailed gecko wanting freedom, abdicate, and let go your kingdom.
Halfheartedly half washed dishes in my sink; this entropy roller-coaster of highs and lows drives me to drink and think, then drink and smoke, making life one strange syrupy green swirl of mammarys and calamities filled with brevity’s of rarities.

5,000 images, 2 comedies, and a numb right arm later I've turned into dark matter, invisibly pulling all that matters together into a forever stretched infinitely, literally making synergies out of life-energies.

1) Yield to nobody when one is doing what is right. 2) Ender's Game, Ender Wiggin 3) Bram Stoker's Dracula 4) V For Vendetta

Ammar Sep 2018

Stars

Seeking refuge from the deafening salvoes,
Apathy, anger, anxiety overran the haven created,
The haven constructed for the remnants,
The remnants of joy, excitement, and gratitude.

As the last bit of hope begins to diminish,
A sudden silence looms in the air,
When that anxiety, that anger, that apathy is clear within view,
The obsoleted notion of their danger becomes clear as day,
Destructive they are not; but desperate,
Desperate to be acknowledged and accepted.

The danger that once besets the haven,
Was an extreme measure of desperation,
Only when silence is imposed,
Only when they have gained the attention they seek so direly,
Only then will the feud for the psyche ends,
And a common ground can be found.

All it took was silence and understanding;
That spectacular quiet.

Happy Thursday.

#empathy #guide #light #understanding

matthew scott harris Jul 2022

Though amply rested, I still yawn

And feel energized after
light exercise doth spawn
break through viz mental impasse,
where endeavor to coax
germinating ideas to sprout
about as successful as
buzzfeeding, jump/kick starting
rooting brown lawn
to whether drought.

Long fostering literary creativity
analogous to prying open
figurative curtain drawn
shut tight within
thy noggin unresponsive
even when brute force
strongly applied, but still...
no progress (for aging Pilgrim)
made come crack of dawn,
thus I temporarily abandon intent.

An effort to craft satisfactory poem or prose,
(which coveted, kindled, unexpected...
futile endeavor deluges me when
least able to jot down eureka,
whereby brainstorm burst adrip
saturating yours truly head to toes
dribbling out nostrils,
asper my porpoise size bottle nose,
hence this feeble effort to appease.

No expected attaboy, kudos, bravoes...
discerning metaphorical whaling expedition
beseeching, imploring, soaking...
mine mindscape with
profuse voluminous wisdom
sans anonymous followers
waiting for me to compose
usual meaningless gibberish or
rare profound nugget of wisdom to disclose.

While thrashing within cyber sea,
possibly abandoning ambition to compose
superbly laced, ginned, coined...
poetic adage gee oh
into magnum opus masterpiece
eye catchingly exotic creation
exquisite as silk negligee pantyhose
(yea...perhaps yours truly
will also send near **** selfie,
a worse fate than death

cab for cutie)
and chuck stock inhibition
brokering favorable frescoes
tattooed across flesh
accentuating anatomical contours of flab
wharf flexing muscles simulates geckoes,
(albeit selling progressive insurance)
appearing to slither across body electric
predictably ******* Freudian peccadillos,
now bolt upright - ******* awakened,
no longer sleepy,

but dwarfed by giant spuds,
no small potatoes
eh...yar right to deem this poker face
eccentric - born (free) this way,
how Elsa to explain (without lion)
rambling riotous rumination
one among many bumptious desperadoes,
and oh...mooch *** gracias reading poem
bumbling, degenerating, fizzling...
into lobbying primal salvoes.

matthew scott harris May 2019

Though Amply Rested, I Still Yawn

And feel energized after
light exercise doth spawn
an mental impasse,
where endeavor to coax
literary creativity analogous
to a figurative curtain drawn

shut tight within
thy noggin unresponsive
even when brute force
strongly applied, but still...
no progress made come crack of dawn,
thus temporarily abandon intent

to craft satisfactory poem or prose,
which coveted brainstorm burst adrip
saturating yours truly head to toes
dribbling out nostrils,
asper my porpoise size nose,
hence this feeble effort to appease

with no expected attaboy, kudos, bravoes...
discerning whaling imploring be
sea ching, sans anonymous followers
waiting for me to compose
meaningless gibberish or
profound nugget of wisdom to disclose

while thrashing within cyber sea,
possibly abandoning ambition to compose
superbly coined adage
eye catchingly exotic
as silk negligee pantyhose
(yea...perhaps send near **** selfie)

or chuck stocking favoring frescoes
tattooed across flesh
accentuating anatomical contours
wharf flexing muscles simulates geckoes
(albeit selling progressive insurance)
appearing to slither across body electric

predictably ******* Freudian peccadillos,
now bolt upright awake, no longer sleepy,
but dwarfed by giant spuds, no small potatoes
eh...yar right to deem this poker face
one among many bumptious desperadoes,
and mooch *** gracias reading poem
bumbling, degenerating, fizzling...
into lobbying primal salvoes.

— The End —