#burnt
Weighing down, guilt is measured in time—
eating away at your soul the way a scarab penetrates and consumes skin.
Spreading like an infection, you feel heat and grime—
endlessly feasting, the sun has arisen.
Seems even the sky is burning to the flames of the sun. Its rays find unseeable kindles in nothing but air as it melts you from the inside out.
Falling and crawling, wasting into a corpsified mess of rot—
the hourglass strips granules of slipping time; granulated scuffs.
Of all the men of Hassan, nature beckons travelers to the land they sought—
only once they've traveled through Hell; flesh and bones by fiery sand, sloughed.
Wasted and taken are the men in the desert in el qayla; scorched and molted to nothing but detritus. Burnt to a blackened crisp of lifeless, smoldering mass like a half-incinerated carcass.
The sand scuffs to the end as it hits the bottom of its hourglass… reset to return the guilt.
7h ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 1:08 PM UTC
Tears will never put it out! My very being—an onslaught daily as the fire gets bigger. More water! More! Please, I beg of you! Either put it out or let me burn to ashes! I cannot hold on any longer! Losing my breath; somehow drowning in this unbearable, scorching heat! Is there anyone I can trust? Anyone? Perhaps I should consider that this fire ends just a few steps away. Then I shall move on and see where new paths take me! Just please, as I step forward, don't let the fire spread! I cannot endure lest I can trust someone! Someone to pull me out! Don't let me burn in this ineradicable flame!
Apr 29
Apr 29, 2026 at 2:53 PM UTC
feather clouds broken by rays of light
the perpetual buzz of the fireflies
nature writes to me, poems of love
i didn’t hear the first whisper
i didn’t feel the first flicker
but once i recognized, i revitalized
revive me and crown me
disrespected and drowning
align me and define me
i am burnt blue narrowing
Mar 28
Mar 28, 2026 at 9:10 AM UTC
Burning something on the stove,
She doesn’t quite know what-
but She knows that what’s burnt will put Her in a rut.
She needs to turn off the stove,
to pour the burnt something out-
but what good will it do if Her brain doesn’t process Her trying to get it out?
The burnt something is in the sink,
though it’s not washed down the drain.
She doesn’t know if the burn will ever, actually, go away.
Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 3:04 AM UTC
Eyelid goes up as the sun dawn,
The pupil shrinks as the moon has gone,
Golden brown sun lying beyond the york,
It gives warm as the charm is long.
Have a pit my steller,
As the moon has it too,
Breath the utopian blue,
Oh my eden, my blissful.
Soften the lips gets me a look,
Of the thrist of passion,
And the desire of burnt hook.
Cresent would be the smile of yours,
And the swarg made by your soul.
Let the Eclipse form, my eros.
Feb 24
Feb 24, 2026 at 10:16 AM UTC
Love is a fire,
Where the ones seeking warmth
Get burnt.
Jan 6
Jan 6, 2026 at 11:53 PM UTC
I can’t eat undercooked eggs with runny yolks,
Maybe that’s why I always end up frying them a little too much.
I can’t give only a little of myself to someone,
Maybe that’s why I end up losing all of myself to failed relationships.
But I can always learn.
To like runny yolks and give only as much as I get.
~Gunnika
Aug 25, 2025
Aug 25, 2025 at 9:47 AM UTC
it takes a village but
what happens when
yours goes up in flames?
And what if I'm the
one holding the match?
I didn't mean to burn this bridge.
Jul 24, 2025
Jul 24, 2025 at 8:42 AM UTC
Something needs to be said,
For this suspicion I have in my head,
Something here is amiss.
I don't believe we're still fighting,
For the same battle I inspired,
I don't believe that your mascot is real,
For you treat them like an effigy.
May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 1:14 PM UTC
he's getting old now, but still young enough
to buy self-help books he’ll read
only to stay on the treadmill
next to the other suburbanauts.
uses a fortune cookie slip as a bookmark
that just says run.
he's getting old now, but still young enough
to think he "found" someone—
someone as boring as he is,
and they swore to her readymade god
"to have and to hold" each other's
credit card debt and tangled mess of neuroses
‘til death of one kind or another comes.
he’s getting old now, but still young enough
to pretend it’s not happening.
cleans the gutters. trims the lawn.
drags his boat to the river every summer
to drink beer and lie in the heat—
like the sun will burn the years off.
he’s getting old now, but still young enough
to break down in the grocery store,
somewhere between the potato chips
and the popcorn,
crying onto the linoleum,
wiping his nose on his sleeve—
a quiet little implosion
under fluorescent lights.
he’s getting old now, but still young enough
to think he’s missing something.
like a dog still searching for the ball
that was never thrown.
like a flickering motel sign that just says
no vacan, no vacan, no vacan
he’s getting old now, but still young enough
to feel like a frozen dinner in the microwave—
burnt to hell on the outside,
ice-cold in the middle.
Feb 17, 2025
Feb 17, 2025 at 9:19 AM UTC
They done killed the working man
And wrote an album about them,
Wiped out all them Cheddar heads-
Milk men's dead.
Somewhere a queen is weeping,
Somewhere a king has no wife;
Something called Neanderthalis
As another word for a human, a person.
These, members of my family as relatives,
Who are bonded to us in blood
Both in the veins of our hands
As much as they stain them.
But to that bond,
There is a responsibility to honor
And a duty to you entrusted.
That is,
The depth to it is much more than this
Lest you be the least of us.
In paying respect to those come before
And bringing up those now born,
In endeavoring to do more & be more.
Whatever facet, whatever role;
Be kind and civil,
Stand up to injustice.
Protect the weak
As an advocate made strong
By virtue & wisdom.
Turn on, tune in, turn up, awaken;
There is nothing wrong with your television set,
Have you checked the programming?
As timeless as infinity,
In the middle-ground between
Light and shadow -
Between science and superstition.
Through holes in canvases
Of freshly painted things,
Strange & otherworldly,
Aching to be discovered
And dying to be seen.
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 6:10 AM UTC
made,
can’t seem to get that grasp,
of the continuity needed,
the
regular maintenance schedule
good loving
requires
oh hell, part lazy, the origin of most of-my
manifest manifold
m a s c u l i n e mistakes, permitting
a dario daily “i love you” to get rust covered
by routinization, poor pronouns and missy pronunciation.,
forgetting that
we us and ours
are the foundational
cornerstones of the best love theorems
that were poetic uncovered in Ancient Persia,
or were writ in sanskrit
certainly borrowed by the Bard,
and will this
not be numbered in their
midst
gonna reread some Hafiz tonight
when she asks what do you want
to watch tonight, and maybe if
I am feeling gracious I will reannoint
myself a Reader
as well as a
writer of only love poetry
meanwhile accept this scrap as a sacrificial
offering, to be a burnt offering, consumed
entirely after just one reading
with luck
I will be posting
of flood conditions
tonight
a bio hazard
to be relished
or in the guy
parlance
oh yeah!
Aug 5, 2024
Aug 5, 2024 at 3:11 PM UTC
The blisters formed and bubbled, Your skin began to burn,
Desperately trying to extinguish all light,
While feigning such concern.
Smothering out the flame, cutting off the air,
the charring smell is making me sick.
No, It's pretending that you care.
Your hands once so soft, have now grown callus,
harden from the "home" you built around me,
Each brick tainted with malice.
Gasping tightly around my ever failing, feeble form,
Looking around frantically,
only to be met with your cloudy eyes filled with scorn.
I lay there in the ashes, the remnants of me,
Darkened sky of smoke surrounding my vision,
All thats left is seared debris
**And that is where you left me.
But that's where I refuse to stay.**
~
Apr 23, 2024
Apr 23, 2024 at 11:48 AM UTC
I can feel every eye roll
And all I did was pour out what was left of my soul
Looks like I might be the only one to see it from that angle
Like it's painful
I brush it off and project as being humble
Really I'm only diminishing what makes me emotional
It's just standard business as usual
A series of unfortunate events themed carousel
The victim blaming has become so casual
That I somehow become the spectacle
Put a screen between us and then I bet they'd care though
Convinced themselves I'm some kind of animal
Chomping at the bit, waiting to say "I told you so"
Waiting for said moment from the get go
Was it always the plan to poke at the volcano?
The saying only mentions a bear, though the volcano makes it more...what's the word...I don't know, disasterful...
That's not a word but that's what came to mind cause the mind isn't always rational
Whatever, anyway, on a long enough timeline you're bound to get burnt, we're all flammable
A majority of us are expendable
Not essential even if dependable
Reluctantly invited to the annual shiit show
The HUD flashes on arrival
"WARNING WARNING, CONDITION CRITICAL!"
But we've been lied to before, for example
Take a look at religion and the political
What's actual?
What's factual?
And what's just another game by Hasbro?
What are you looking at me for? I don't fuuckin' know
Try tying it to a white flag and running it up the flagpole
©2024
Mar 2, 2024
Mar 2, 2024 at 7:18 PM UTC
the generation of knowledge
a task an event a time period
birthed in ignorance
no future thought just now
over and over creation here
the window of memory closed
on the thousands who first
built fire understanding nothing
except burnt fingers smokey eyes
Feb 18, 2024
Feb 18, 2024 at 7:08 PM UTC
But I know…
this blending of a warped (time) continuum,
the future resting on shaky table legs,
errors of habitual inconsistency,
one on top of a prior, on top of…
we pursue regrets, misdeeds, theorizing
that we can fix the wobbly mess we instigated,
that can we smooth the ruckus that
the unknown in surety is bonded to be
surly serve up buffet style,
we help ourselves to troubles so attractive,
like rice thrown at a wedding, dead seeds of
messes yet to come
*old regrets freshly regretted, for we waste
not even
what we wanted then
even now!
for we do not proper value the passing of each momentary,
but weep and mourn the entirety of years corrupted by
wrong-headed mish-mash of longings,
swift stupid inexcusable acts of impulsive weaknesses permitted,
so that we dust
the dust encasing artificial flowers,
that are so faded that the dust mispermits one
to fool themselves
that they were once ,
burnt orange vibrant,*
like the optimism of a sunny day gone and hoped for
just once more
yes, I know why…
<><> <>
**Burnt Norton by T.S.Eliot
**
“Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past.
All time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.
My words echo
,
Thus, in your mind.
But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.
<><><><>>
postscript
the rushing to my ever nearer demise
the dust suffocates,
the regrettables
have no half life,
and I dust,
I know
if I do not,
I choke…
Dec 30, 2023
Dec 30, 2023 at 8:39 AM UTC
Savor these hard times,
Cherish every drop,
For one day they'll be
far past and behind.
Joy is warm and sweet,
Anger burns the tongue,
Sadness makes its case,
Dressed in smoky char.
Let the others eat
portions meant for kings;
I am far too well
With the bits I find.
May 16, 2022
May 16, 2022 at 1:09 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, have a great July!
goodness is virtue
rage is essence when realization is new
hearts entrenched
them those called sensations melted a bench
memories tainted in dark
reminiscent somewhere in the background park
violins ached for the winter sky
on a hope it would just snow the ghosted July
their flesh burnt
mercurial whispers churned a hurt
dilapidates already fallen
feels of away returned from the stolen
wise in me I confess
to not believe a belong is a bless
visions confuse
perplexed deprived of a twinkle muse
my pen writes
then paper welcomes once and thrice
orchestra chimes
in time to spill the wine
------ravenfeels
Jul 1, 2021
Jul 1, 2021 at 10:31 AM UTC
Circumstances crushed hopes and new hopes rose from the ashes of burnt desires.
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 10:24 AM UTC
An irreverent force
armed in localised wars
Flames of rage displayed in waves
Some strings attached
to bring about more force
Shattered glass and burnt bricks
won't fix what a voice is worth
But irrelevance when oppressed
blinded with contempt seeks to vent
So many mistakes are blamed to
create what is made of the states
Powers that be have a responsibility
to assist those in need without them bending the knee
Jun 4, 2020
Jun 4, 2020 at 6:33 AM UTC
Were the pancakes,
and corona
is the syrup
lets spread it like
we eating out..
And were lungs are burnt...
I'll never eat out...
But ill wash my hands
every time your
cough pops up...
May 22, 2020
May 22, 2020 at 6:07 PM UTC