Could this even be labeled as poetry?
The inside of my head is screaming
So here we speak ever so fluently, a little broken because my eyes are defective
Body perspective, is to happens to be the same
Painful painful, lonely games.

It is hard to speak with rivers creating waterfalls
Blurred lines of letters, I'm not drunk I swear.
I am just swerving through these lines of paint
Give me a canvas to portray my hate
That was false.

when two people are meant to be
we call that chemistry

and a single kiss
will leave them breathlessly

but some times in a laboratory
there is another story

so when two people are meant to be
they can also be like poison
there might be an explosion

so be careful when a kiss is breathtaking
your heart might still be aching.

- gio, 01.05.2020

Lucifer, to the Enola Gay
by Michael R. Burch

Go then,
and give them my meaning
so that their teeming
streets
become my city.

Bring back a pretty
flower—
a chrysanthemum,
perhaps, to bloom
if but an hour,
within a certain room
of mine
where
the sun does not rise or fall,
and the moon,
although it is content to shine,
helps nothing at all.

There,
if I hear the wistful call
of their voices
regretting choices
made
or perhaps not made
in time,
I can look back upon it and recall,
in all
its pale forms sublime,
still
Death will never be holy again.

Published by Romantics Quarterly, Penny Dreadful and Poetry Life & Times. Keywords/Tags: Hiroshima, Enola Gay, atomic bomb, explosion, mushroom cloud, death, Lucifer, Satan, Devil, chrysanthemum, sun, moon, voices, choices

His smirk erupts into a robust guffaw.
I hear a laugh that could save the world,
a catalyst for an astounding explosion within me.
My heart gushes with a kind of pleasure
that few have ever known.
My cheeks, feeling as if they’ve caught fire,
turn rosy and inflate to their fullest.
As my smile extends from ear to ear,
my entire body radiates endless warmth,
emanating what can only be described
as the purest love,
unconditional and eternal,
throughout the Universe and spreading across all space and time.

The stardust I came from
is no match for the explosion
in the universe that I'll create.

you’re the mentos to my coke
you make me all bubbly
and open me up
but boy you can make me explode

I heard that love would be a kind of a date,
a chemical one,
between me and you.
I heard that love would be a kind of an explosion,
an atomically one,
in which our elements,
are intertwining,
are changing everything,
deep,
are destroying the cages and the chains
of our minds,
are creating joy,
are provoking re-freshness
and are giving hope.
If from this amalgamation
of heterogeneous elements
results... life,
then,
only then,
our hearts start to beat at the same pace.
What did you hear about love?

Magma, molten, amorphous.
My blood is red hot
And searing, bursting
Out of its confines.
My heart is caustic,
Compulsive, incongruent.
I erupt over and over,
I wonder
When I will run out of earth to chew up and spit out.

Evening downtown,
listening carefully to a poem
read aloud in a coffee house -
sounds like an atom bomb.
     The world isn't ready.