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#exploding
My head hurts It's gonna explode Why you ask If I only knew I'd share with you For you see It's to many things it could be It could be the stress It could be the headache It could be my overthinking So could you please stand back I wish to not explode with anybody to close The mess it will make So please don't stand to close my head Is ex..plo..ding ... © Jennifer L DeLong 🦏 4/26/2021
0
Apr 26, 2021
Apr 26, 2021 at 5:17 AM UTC
Head Hurts
as she sits her thoughts exploding one after another some + others - she thinks: maybe if I dig deeper people won't question, "are you ok?"
0
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 12:53 PM UTC
Sitting Thoughts
I got a couple of things to say That I feel would clear All that fog that hangs Inside my head and makes it so hard to think. But if I open my mouth All the mist will Come out And I won't see the truth.
0
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
Brine
Things blow up People throw up And then walk on A land mine When they talk on A landline I try to enjoy myself But enjoyment has stealth And eludes Which secludes Happiness hides Behind sentinel shrapnel That makes us abide The rules of this flat Hell There are frequent explosions in my mind They are sequenced implosions through time I have poor explanations For my inflammations My hands fumble My brain crumbles Progress is lost That's the cost Frustration cooks From holy books And constitutions That can't be changed Or rearranged So we're gridlocked in an explosion In Hell's fruitless fire we are frozen Explosions dot the planet like acne Humanity has no choice except to get older Sharing information is our main asset yet we grow colder We must evolve together We're doomed to be tethered So we must gel To avoid Hell There are monsters in our midst In our mind is where they sit We must expel them together Or we'll be exploding forever
0
Oct 22, 2017
Oct 22, 2017 at 11:08 PM UTC
Exploding
There is a light, it's flickering a pale white blue. The carpet is rough on my face, silence permeates the house. I should get up. I should pull myself into personhood. My hands tremor, I let my finger tips find the end of the carpet. Skimming the floor boards shaking fingers beginning to tap tap tap out the only sound. I used to drink the restlessness away, now I am left a craving in its place. Tap tap tap say the fingers. Violent imagery flashes across my mind, car crashes,  rending metal, glass breaking, bones snapping there are sharp falls and hit and runs and stabbing on the sidewalk,  knife sliding into my flesh. Leaping into oncoming traffic, my heart skipping beats and laughter always my laughter. The final moment of freedom replayed over an over.  I can't tell you why it makes me smile, I don't know why myself. Tap tap tap tap tap irrattic finger tips might be getting angry. Have your limbs been angry at you before? Rolling over the popcorn ceiling swirls, I realized a while back if I pay attention to the patterns they shift, I hallucinate mildly on most days. I think I might miss it if I were being honest. I focus on my skin, the way the air touches it, the way cold feels, if I savour this enough I almost feel high, high is almost always on the other side of sensation. I might always be a touch high compared to how the average Joe feels. This is not a desirable state, but if you talk to me tomorrow I might say it's a gift. I slowly stand, my knees cracking fingertips tap tap tapping up the wall. Giving up drinking was like giving up one of my last connections to my dearly  departed. Gin and alcoholism kept a part of him close to me. Medication and therapy take me further and further away from the person who knew him. I walk barefoot, the texture of the floor boards underfoot, stepping into the kitchen I pull a wine glass from the cupboard. I want to hear it sing, I flick the glass, I hold the opening of the glass near my ear. I can feel the sound touching my ear. Soft ringing until it's quiet again, I've tried to savour the experience by listening in to the sounds of my world. Listening to the slow crunch of a crisp apple, the sound of the city, the bubbling of the fish tank. Perfect beautiful sounds ripe with happening. You can hear the happening of what is at all times if you choose to. There are other ways to savour, I think it helps to be here and now, the savouring it I mean. By "it" I mean everything your senses allow you to perceive, the everything that is your sensory image of the world around you. Your brain built the image of the world, it's a reflection of you. The world is a mirror to your mind. Often the reflection is not something I'm proud of, other times I'm exploding with pride. I wish I could share what I've found with him, but I wasn't fast enough, I wasn't paying attention. Attention to here and now has been the key I keep dropping and picking up.
0
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 8:51 PM UTC
The experience
There is a light, it's flickering a pale white blue. The carpet is rough on my face, silence permeates the house. I should get up. I should pull myself into personhood. My hands tremor, I let my finger tips find the end of the carpet. Skimming the floor boards shaking fingers beginning to tap tap tap out the only sound. I used to drink the restlessness away, now I am left a craving in its place. Tap tap tap say the fingers. Violent imagery flashes across my mind, car crashes,  rending metal, glass breaking, bones snapping there are sharp falls and hit and runs and stabbing on the sidewalk,  knife sliding into my flesh. Leaping into oncoming traffic, my heart skipping beats and laughter always my laughter. The final moment of freedom replayed over an over.  I can't tell you why it makes me smile, I don't know why myself. Tap tap tap tap tap irrattic finger tips might be getting angry. Have your limbs been angry at you before? Rolling over the popcorn ceiling swirls, I realized a while back if I pay attention to the patterns they shift, I hallucinate mildly on most days. I think I might miss it if I were being honest. I focus on my skin, the way the air touches it, the way cold feels, if I savour this enough I almost feel high, high is almost always on the other side of sensation. I might always be a touch high compared to how the average Joe feels. This is not a desirable state, but if you talk to me tomorrow I might say it's a gift. I slowly stand, my knees cracking fingertips tap tap tapping up the wall. Giving up drinking was like giving up one of my last connections to my dearly  departed. Gin and alcoholism kept a part of him close to me. Medication and therapy take me further and further away from the person who knew him. I walk barefoot, the texture of the floor boards underfoot, stepping into the kitchen I pull a wine glass from the cupboard. I want to hear it sing, I flick the glass, I hold the opening of the glass near my ear. I can feel the sound touching my ear. Soft ringing until it's quiet again, I've tried to savour the experience by listening in to the sounds of my world. Listening to the slow crunch of a crisp apple, the sound of the city, the bubbling of the fish tank. Perfect beautiful sounds ripe with happening. You can hear the happening of what is at all times if you choose to. There are other ways to savour, I think it helps to be here and now, the savouring it I mean. By "it" I mean everything your senses allow you to perceive, the everything that is your sensory image of the world around you. Your brain built the image of the world, it's a reflection of you. The world is a mirror to your mind. Often the reflection is not something I'm proud of, other times I'm exploding with pride. I wish I could share what I've found with him, but I wasn't fast enough, I wasn't paying attention. Attention to here and now has been the key I keep dropping and picking up.
Continue reading...
17
I knew it was coming, I was settling into a groove Thing's where going a little to smooth I felt a first a small quaking The universe's desire to **** ME OVER was awaking Then life explode AGAIN on me,  all over the place Now I'm standing here with the universe's **** on my face
0
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC
***
She had been at sea for three decades her first voyage at age eighteen a week after her marriage in the year of our Lord 1883 She married a sailing man captain of his own ship handsome, bearded and tall a fine commander of his men as they searched the sea for whales She loved life at sea and could imagine no other the motion of the ship the sounds of the rigging and the sails the quiet companionship with her husband every evening She was beloved by her husband’s men whom she mothered well having had no sons of her own but nurtured and healed patched and sewed bloodied and broken hearts and men Often she came out on deck for she knew when they would find them and though she was in the stern and the lookout was high in the crow's nest she saw many whales they missed She thrilled each time she saw them awed by their sheer size marveling at their strength humbled by their beauty careful to hide her feelings Sometimes she could feel when a whale would blow and she would call to the first mate so the men looked at her as the whale passed unseen Most times she silently prayed willing the lookout to search the wrong spot of ocean and felt again the pang of disloyalty to her husband for he commanded a whaling ship But then the lookout's call came "Thar she blows!" and the men sprang to action taking after the whale in longboats while she escaped below She had seen before the killing she would not watch again too many whales succumbed to exploding harpoons and a death horrifyingly cruel And she wondered what would happen if only whales could scream . . .
0
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 6:49 AM UTC
The Whaling Captain's Wife
She had been at sea for three decades her first voyage at age eighteen a week after her marriage in the year of our Lord 1883 She married a sailing man captain of his own ship handsome, bearded and tall a fine commander of his men as they searched the sea for whales She loved life at sea and could imagine no other the motion of the ship the sounds of the rigging and the sails the quiet companionship with her husband every evening She was beloved by her husband’s men whom she mothered well having had no sons of her own but nurtured and healed patched and sewed bloodied and broken hearts and men Often she came out on deck for she knew when they would find them and though she was in the stern and the lookout was high in the crow's nest she saw many whales they missed She thrilled each time she saw them awed by their sheer size marveling at their strength humbled by their beauty careful to hide her feelings Sometimes she could feel when a whale would blow and she would call to the first mate so the men looked at her as the whale passed unseen Most times she silently prayed willing the lookout to search the wrong spot of ocean and felt again the pang of disloyalty to her husband for he commanded a whaling ship But then the lookout's call came "Thar she blows!" and the men sprang to action taking after the whale in longboats while she escaped below She had seen before the killing she would not watch again too many whales succumbed to exploding harpoons and a death horrifyingly cruel And she wondered what would happen if only whales could scream . . .
Continue reading...
55
*Sweet and serene, alone but complete. Deep thinking, sinking into the music of my soul.* My love stays away it's sad, but i'm okay. We do what we must for a cause, so trust. again, We do what we must for a cause.. I pause. Could it be that we live in reverse? As an effect in search for a cause. Should it not be that we live to effect the lives around us the earth and all of nature positively? Perhaps this is what is wrong with our Western society, our obscure perception of this corrupt projection. This Western culture, our political vultures. The awakening of their deadened prey is nothing short of forthcoming. We'll become Illuminated, educated, Enlightened. This shell which imprisons us is bound to break. So pay attention, Your life, Their lives, This World are all at stake.
0
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 12:48 PM UTC
Free Verse Spirit; a question of cause and effect
Its beauty unravels as in bursts in the night sky, multiple colors unleashed and free, exploding with awe. Fire in the sky as some call it, the rays of color and shape amaze, as always I watch intensively. I watch as the flowers spark, as the blooms buzz, and as the sparklers sizzle. Amazed at the beauty and happiness these small simple things bring, to all who watch. To be a part of such... is much more than lighting a fuse, it brings people closer.
0
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
Fire in the Sky
the burning, blinding sun is slowly hiding behind the green mountains, with a touch of white snow, and I admire the monotony of the sun, its energy to repeat everything, day after day, until it completely burns and all its energy it's gone, and has no more to continue, so it does what's best for it - it kills everybody, by being a grenade and exploding.
0
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
sunset