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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..........
FEEDBACK WELCOME.
Anne B Jul 2014
Who are they killing?
These human beings running away from themselves
and away from those we love;
and away from those who leave us;
By choice we choose to love
and hate at the same time
For no love is so great it can strangle flames;
For no human being is so great he can change the world;
But it is quite so possible to bomb away,
anyway
At great heights,
we push buttons and exterminate millions
And it wasn’t our fault,
but the machine
The machine is our great deceiver and the machine
is what we feed with black gold
Black gold, at the bottom of oceans and
mixed with
blood
on battlefields

Who do they keep killing?
For their love of people, they ****
They **** reflections of their own families and friends
The cruel game of war
We love and hate
and we love to hate
and we
hate distances
but we create so much distance as if
the machine; air planes; bombs and knives
could destroy our bodies
At the end
we dread those distances
Those distances are ways to death and ways to die
We hated those distances
in the end;
we regret the moments of breath we didn’t
share
in fear of being rejected
When we run away from each other
We hate each other
And we love to play the game of
forgiveness and pain

Open up and love people
even when they are rejecting you
Because that’s just our
nature
Because war is in our nature
Because we should see the flickers of right and wrong
Because we should stop
before we start
killing one another
like small soldiers
Falling,
and never
coming back to us
Read the last lines backwards
That could be us

**07.07.14
Oh. It's two in the morning. Again.
Beau Scorgie Apr 2016
The bombs already drop
in rhythmic succession,
brewing but little
condemnation.
Millions bleed the colour of soil -
impoverished by
rich mans toil.
But not a tear,
not a song is shed - unless,
they bleed the colour of
the dollar bill.
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