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André Morrison Jan 2017
Dropping bombs on your homes, make them catacombs
But maybe to some, that would make them feel right at home
But baby you ache, for a dose of that catamol
So I know you're awake, but I know you haven't got a soul
Craving that shake to your system
You say you don't miss him, but the world saw you kiss him
Got a ghastly way of thinking, a broken ism
The look in your eyes is eternally dim
Have you lost your favorite toy?
She failed you, disappoint you?
So now you stare.
So, now you don't care.
Hurt travels through tears like bombs,
Ruptures the landscape of loss.
Loss of trust,
Loss of dreams,
Loss like books in the Bible
You are tossed,
Across a Sea of Galilee,
A direction home.
Dry the well of deserved tears
Til they choke on brambles in the hills.
Murdered by descent.
Murdered by laments.
Ground to dust
They muddy
In the quick fire up there
As it slow burns your life
Down here.
****!
Like milkweed in the breeze
Gone.
So many personal metaphors, excuse my indulgence...loss like books in the Bible, missing chapters but also from The Pretenders song title escapes me she says like a break in the battle. I heard either book in the Bible or brick in the Bible and before internet info I sang those words for years, for pay lol. Brambles from another song i sing Bramble and the Rose.  Quick fire up there from my Appalachian lover who demonstrated mountain speak as thar's a fur up thar...and how they all disappear in the wind...
Àŧùl Dec 2016
The beach should be so special,
I want to go to a beach with you.
I want us to go to a private beach,
And give you an Australian greeting.
My missile will touch your bombs,
And then make way to your silo,
The Australian greeting is ****.
HP Poem #1288
©Atul Kaushal
Stanley Wilkin Nov 2016
He intimately coaxed the bomb like a lascivious lover
Passionate for death-
Carefully balancing out the ingredients,
Fixing the charge,
His soft-palmed hands caressing each part,
Beneath his unsettling gaze.

In paradise he’d spend his eternity-
Having killed his way towards god.

The crowds gathered in the boulevard
Arm in arm, laughing, relaxed.
He drove past them noting their joy-
Loathing their happiness,
An offence against his desire for death.
Turning his car sharply around
He slowly drove past them again.

In that brief moment, the wind
Gently rocking, his thumb pressed down.

The bomb blew, shredding the air,
Grinding his grinning soul into dust.
The blast ripped screams from each chest:
A world suddenly full of unbearable pain,
Blood crawling along the pavement,
Limbs in the gutter, leaking tears.

His road to heaven cost a hundred lives-
Cracked bodies, fragmented souls-
The squalid suffering of children.
Rivers of milk and honey
Thickened with blood.
Chloe Chapman Sep 2016
I was wrong before,
when I said  I was in love.
I had not fully understood,
I thought it was just a warm feeling,
and a smile when they walk into the room.
But now,
Now I know.
Love is a relentless tide,
A storm in my body,
A tornado in my heart.
It rips apart my reality,
And does not care for the wreckage it leaves in its wake.
My mind a war zone.

Love is not butterflies, it is bombs,
It is not fleeting, it is not kind.
It is not compassionate, it is a mighty force that takes control of me, and will not leave.
Matt Hews Aug 2014
the bombs and rockets are above us;
but they have forgotten that God is above them
they shall pay
Julie Grenness Aug 2016
Bombs in the Bibliotheque!
What is meant by that, by heck!
On each line, it's like a college,
Every word a weapon of knowledge,
A library is a lucky dip,
Read new authors, that's the tip,
A good book is a trove of treasure,
Reading is a mine of pleasure,
So, off to the library, let's cheer,
For learned bombs in the Bibliotheque!
Feedback welcome.
Homunculus Jul 2016
A few days ago, North Korea said that the imposition of sanctions by the United States amounted to an open "declaration of war" and went on to state that in response to military exercises to be carried out by the US and South Korean armies, that they are "fully ready to cope with them with nuclear weapons any time,” Okay. Let me just make one thing abundantly clear: these jokers have been talking this game for the last four decades, and it has all amounted to precisely nil

As regards Kim Jong-Un, I will ask that I be excused by my reader for the brief detour into contemporary African-American Vernacular English that this piece will now take. (crack knuckles, clear throat, hawk phlegm, adjust junk) Dear Kim: You ain't ****. *******, and your little ***** *** on some old *******. You ain't ****, you ain't never gon' be ****, and you never was ****. Furthermore, you ain't standin' on **** but a failed state and a fast-fading personality cult. All we hear is talk, talk, talk, talk, every year from you and your decrepit, syphilis riddled father before you; and quite frankly, it's getting old. Boring, even.

Do it, we dare you. See what happens, you glorified, overfed man-baby. You blurry greyscale xerox of Mao's bloated corpse. You, who have mistook a flimsy house of cards for an ironclad fortress. You naked emperor. You, whose very 'empire' is the deformed and emaciated plant which reluctantly sprang from a salted and desolate earth. You, whose 'hermit kingdom' constantly shrinks toward zero while the entire world watches, laughing!

We rest assured of the emptiness your threats. We can topple your house of cards at the flick of a wrist. In one fell swoop, our elite tactical urban forces will subvert and destroy your poorly trained, weakly organized, and honestly pitiful excuse for a nation. Why, if we wanted it, you'd be gone in a New York minute. And don't even try to come at us with tough talk about nukes. *****, we been had nukes, and here's the thing: ours are bigger, better, and more numerous than yours. You push that button, and we bomb your sorry little ***** back into the stone. You EMP us, our allies bomb you for us. Bearing all these considerations in mind, I once again reiterate:

WE AIN'T SCARED OF YOU. COME TEST US!

(drop mic, walk away)
But in all seriousness: There's just something deep down in the collective consciousness of this country, perhaps even humanity generally, that secretly yearns, that requires, desires, and *pines away* for the glorious spectacle of the theater of war, isn't there? Something in us seems, beneath a surface layer of fear, to ask, nay to *implore* with all the swaggering braggadocio of a drunken frat boy: "Fight me. I dare you. See what happens." That subconscious, primal need to attain brute superiority in outward, tribalistic displays of dominance projects itself onto the global stage: But how, then, are we to understand this mechanism, and what are some of its consequences? Upon closer inspection, we will find the practical consequences of this act to be twofold. On the one hand: By generating this spectacle, the media are able to use it as a tool for maintaining within the public a mixture of frenzy at one pole and detached complacency at the other. By giving them a violent conflict to participate in vicariously, the war at once (a) creates for them an abstract, nationalistic identity, (b) sublimates their violent impulses, and (c) distracts their attention away from the material conditions of life in the country where the spectacle is being broadcast; effectively stifling the imperative to rebel against those conditions where they might otherwise have been taken as unjust. War pacifies, war stupefies, and above all war unifies. On the other hand, the previously mentioned tendency to outwardly display dominance serves as an effective means for geopolitical elites and those striving to be such, to affirm reaffirm their hegemony on the world stage by making ****** examples of those that would presume to cross them. In this regard, there is perhaps no greater or more apt an example than the twin bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in the second world war.

There is much more to be said about these matters in seriousness, but for the sake of brevity, I leave it here.
Macy Opsima Jul 2016
how kind is the planet
that it continues to
rotate around its orbit,
giving us both warm and cold
despite the bombs we explode
in its scalp?
how kind is the planet
that it continues to sprout
leaves and fruits
to fulfill our empty, needing stomachs
yet we cut of its green hair
and cover the brown & green with grey?
how kind is the planet
that it continues to force away
humongous space rocks from colliding with us
regardless of the hatred
that walks around it's crust?
one day the planet will get so tired
of pushing space rocks
like how tired we get from
pushing our own kind away
and one day, our memories
will turn to dust that will
float in the deep, unmeasurable universe.
but the ashes of earth
will find it's way back into our bones.
Julie Grenness May 2016
"What are toxic time bombs?
I wonder, with no aplomb,
Old garbage and refuse tips,
Legacy landfills, full of blip,
Damaging environmentally,
So much for sustainability,
All the overflow of society,
How do we correct such wrongs?
All these toxic time bombs..........
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