#grenade
My heart was a hand grenade
that never stopped exploding.
The things I'd say
lonely exploring,
adventurer on solo journeys,
swearing honesty, truly.
Fighting to prove our love,
drowning in flowers
grown from far above.
Connected in the most ill of ways
sickened by the thought of you,
stuck like a fly in glue.
You vanquished me.
I resurrected,
swore an oath
your heart, I'd protect it.
Feb 25
Feb 25, 2026 at 11:50 AM UTC
I was just a boy,
12 years old
A grenade in my hand
And I'm ready to throw
May there be mercy,
May there be peace
We are under our leaders,
Under a leash
We were forced to be here, no doubt
We were meant to go out, hear screams and shouts
But I'd rather be at home, in my bed
Thinking of the things my mates in the war said
"Banzai."
Jan 17, 2025
Jan 17, 2025 at 1:32 PM UTC
When you feel like you're about to explode,
that's when you start pushing people away,
but somehow at any point,
sharpnels reach them anyway.
Jan 15, 2020
Jan 15, 2020 at 11:29 PM UTC
i was brought up to
read books and play the
violin
i am from the heart of the
world you
know
a place among thieves
a place among business aspirations
a place among the pines
actually like a
postcard however
someday a clan of
gory
icy
determined
men came into town
men who took up
residence
between pines and a business park
buildings were built by the
men of the clan:
golden paint
giant offices
porsches
lambos
maybachs
gory
icy
determined
men had come into town
yelling in strange terms:
brate
hajde
jebi se
unexpected assassinations
executions of local mobsters
****** threats on judges
jebi se!
brate hajde
old methods
new turf
a war began
clan against mob
murderer against murderer
man against man
this place where i
lived
this place among
pines
turned into a war zone
year 2019
corners packed with hordes
willing to die
armed with
machetes
pump actions
rocket launchers
tanks
this place where i
lived
this place among
pines
turned into a war zone
year 2019
Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 4:55 PM UTC
I knew that the zipper over my mouth was the safety pin in the grenade,
but I pulled that out when I said, in so many minced words,
"I love you."
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 10:26 PM UTC
And though you feel like
you have been handed a grenade
with the pin pulled out,
you don’t know that I plan to jump on it
and take all the shrapnel and metal for you
so there is no need to worry, darling,
I am already
over you.
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 4:00 PM UTC
there is no need
to throw grenades
at me; when I am
already a living,
ticking timebomb
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
Though the heyday and stellar popularity didst long since wane, I still enjoy listening to select song titles (to many for listing here along this virtual boulevard of broken dream) of this iconic Punk Rock band unique rapid fire machine gun punctuated trademark style still induces goosebumps IF only because my eldest daughter (Eden Liat) used to be a rabid fan.
She even voluntarily recruited this papa (and asked me in her coy, diminutive, earnestly irresistible purring kitty cat demeanor if yours truly could taxi herself, and one or more best buddies, (whom she keeps in regular communication to this green day) to the the theatrical performance “American Idiot” being shown on Broadway.
Unsure at the present status of this three (?) member all male musician troupe (with a moderate sized following at the zenith of their renown i.e. with quite a motley crue of groupies to boot), nonetheless at the height of fame and fortune experienced by said trio, a spurious whim spurred this middle aged chap to jot down his feelings of unbridled affinity toward said talented three person creative young men within a poetic format (left unmodified only if there appeared a typographical error, or an ambiguous awkward outdated word arrangement) will be appended below.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Billie Joe Armstrong,
Mike Dirnt, and Tre Cool
which trio known (the world wide web over)
as the band Green Day
composed lyrics and melodies
this listener did imbibe
analogous to downing musical fuel
no matter the lead singer
supposedly never graduated from high school,
yet raw bits of primal utterance
approximated talent galore,
which excessive indulgence
with amber liquids of the dogs
or flagrant downing
consciousness expanding material
filled the airwaves of soundstage and/or studio
with snapping, popping, and crackling
rhythmic synchronicity evoking images
of warm from a Yule tide burning log.
I (a common, easy going, generic kid)
spent childhood years
practicing the piano,
which tickling the ivory (way before
realization brought to my attention,
how elephants illegally poached and slaughtered),
for shear sporting whim
pounded the keys with vigor and vim
speculated at how dissimilar mine fate,
would possibly be if dedication sustained
to be a self driven task master
while mollycoddling the baby grand,
perchance me billfold and financial accounts
would not be extremely paltry and slim
reflected then and now, on one of those “what if...could a,
should a would a...” hypothetical queries
and wonders if Robert Frost enshrined and rim
mem bored viz signature ruminating
about “The Road Not Taken”
might fancy himself joining a seminary
(rather peculiar though from an atheist)
obeying behavioral edicts
(with no discipline required
from “religious fathers”proper and prim,
hence baring the habit as a nun
in a convent chances negligible to him
i.e. me, yet...all those mewing kitties
will more closely match my anthem
but un-natural suppression sans animal,
carnal, feral...predilections
finds thoughts quickly being
dismissed cuz of such restrained celibacy codas,
and even preferring to be dangling
(literally), and holding on for dear life
from a rather straggly limb
even clinging with diminishing strength
resorting to contriving a rip public kin battle Hymn
knowing likelihood for immediate salvation grim
er ring, and fading outlook Whatsapp eared dim
getting anxious, and minimally cautiously optimistic
that When September Ends piercing
me flesh with pellets of cold rain
grip upon the slippery bark will induce
greater anguish emotional pain
unsure if mine demise will be a cometh,
as grim reaper doth gain
another mortal, whose life cut short
will induce a gaping hole within thy family chain.
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 10:05 PM UTC
when you wish an earthquake would pave way for rubble to make you a cradle until the gravestone can be placed,
when you wish an airplane would crash into your window and pin your heart and heaviness away,
when youre breathing to hang on to life, yet want to give it away
when you can hear your lungs fill and deflate, making you feel like youre going to cave in
when you feel the noise around you is slowly going to pluck every braincell out of your head and not let them regenerate
when the music next to your bed is the only thing keeping you sane when footsteps make your heart race when clawing at your legs keeps the screams at bay when making another mark of metal seems too far away
when youre just yelling for the sun to go away because the sun makes people stay awake with noise grenades flying here and there it’s chaotic and a vortex of despair
am i being selfish
because noise grenades are borne by people trying to live another day while im here in my bed under blankets
cursing them away
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 2:14 AM UTC
Loving you was like pulling the pin out of a hand grenade then dropping it, and expecting it to not blow up in your face.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
Moments pass.
Fleeing into the darkness that is our concept of time.
Fleeting moments.
The passing of time.
I love you, she says.
She speaks with certainty.
A certainty laced with darkness and ice.
A chill against her ribs.
She's not enough.
I need reasons, he says.
He speaks with a need for understanding.
Needing to understand how she could be so cold.
He fears she'll change her mind.
She blinks back the tears.
The words freeze in her throat.
Thousands of hornets in her brain.
He stares at her face.
Wondering what she's thinking.
Something he just can't figure out.
She tries to articulate reasons.
Trying to describe her certainty.
He fights to stay calm.
Surrounded by her destruction.
She believes in logic.
Meanings.
Choices.
He believes in numbers.
Reason.
Fate.
She squeezes her thoughts into simple sentences that she cannot get past her teeth.
Choose your moments.
Choose your meanings.
Nothing is certain unless you choose for it to be certain.
This time she has the easiest choice.
She feels it in her gut.
Deep in her bones.
He is her future.
He is her greatest desire.
She's overthinking.
Searching for pretty words.
Floral sentences.
She will choose him.
Every time she will choose him.
A thousand times over.
Without the blink of an eye.
She will always choose him.
She knows this.
She's made her choice.
She is certain.
She sees her future with him.
Children with dark hair and honey eyes.
Soft grass beneath their bare feet as they dance around in endless summer.
She burns with the desire to take his name.
He didn't leave her.
He decided to stay.
He chose her.
She left a wake of destruction.
A minefield of betrayal.
He stayed out of his love.
She can't imagine someone loving her that much.
Enough to stay through her explosions.
To love her in the wreckage.
She never believed that someone could make her want to breathe.
That someone could make her want to wake up in the morning.
He is her reason for keeping the blood within the confines of her veins.
She knows that he is the one who will stand beside her for always.
She trusts him.
She doesn't show it.
But she's learning.
Trying.
She's fighting for it.
She will learn to let him in.
She will learn to let him truly love her.
She will learn how to be part of a whole.
With him by her side, she can conquer.
They will conquer.
Together.
As one.
He is still waiting.
Patiently.
Waiting for an answer to depart from her lungs.
She loves his patience.
She values his time.
She writes this in silence.
In hopes that he will soon understand her reasons.
Her choices.
She will keep trying.
Until there's nothing left to be said.
Until her vocabulary is exhausted.
She will continue to prove this love she has for him.
He is her home.
He is her future.
The father of her children.
The husband she waits for.
He is her heart
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
We don't know where we are going to land
Whose arms we find ourselves in
When the fuse finishes with a puff of smoke
It's not over.
This is the best part of it
Whose arms we find ourselves in.
Brace for impact
Be ready
Catch the broken pieces we can't hold together
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
The human being is an inherently contentious creature.
Seven billion rock-wall eyes;
Eyes staring belligerently down seven billion sharp noses;
Noses affixed to seven billion faces;
Faces covered in creases and scars,
Framed in unruly hair
And outlined in stark exactness
By the flames cowering in bipedal shadows.
Into the human heart is chiseled "inexorable".
We are an incongruence:
We row up the rapids,
Scale the waterfall
And taunt the oily heavens from atop Devil's Tower.
We will always get what we want,
Whether it involves killing the albatross
Or playing Gondorff's chess.
Whether we wrest it from Gaia's grasp
Or that of our more miserly peers.
Robert C. crystalised our resolve.
The riot gear-clad Blue and Green with timers in their throats
Stand abreast.
Chanting "Listen to Mother. Mother knows best.",
They begin the forward press.
When an impish grenade leaps our way,
We fling it back between mouthfuls of chips.
The barricades erected
By Mother and ourselves alike
Are many and implacable and incessant,
But they will be broken and overtaken.
They will be broken and overtaken by us,
The humans,
Because we are.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
I hate to break it to you but,
This isn't just a rut.
Your best friend is a grenade,
Yeah it is a bit clichéd.
But I'm a ticking time bomb,
That's slowly coming undone.
He said he was queer,
You laughed like I wasn't here.
Truth is I'm a little gay,
That's a lie I'm rainbows all the way.
Now if only you knew,
But that'd never cross your view.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 4:01 AM UTC
I was your Hazel Grace
Because I thought I was a grenade
I was in my final year in high school when I started liking you
And soon I would leave the same school we were into
I, and the people around us
We became dependent of your actions
And you made us believe that you liked me, too
So much depends upon this boy I really liked
behind his eye glasses were his eyes that had
always been sending me love letters
that I always wanted to reciprocate
his stunning smile made him look grand every time
So much depends upon this rebel heart
that I was ironically obedient to
Because not granting what this heart wanted
would **** me a hundred times
Until the day came that I needed to leave you
I thought leaving would hurt harder than a heart break
But you were the one who left
And that was when I started believing
that I was not the grenade I once thought I would be
but it was you
You left me wounded
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC
But I tried to tell him he was a star
He IS a star.
A dying star
In need of a shock wave of air.
I could be that air.
I keep saying that,
But it's a lie.
For he's a grenade.
Destroying everything in his path.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
You threw a bomb at me in a war zone I didn't know existed my heart
Beat
Was meant to be a haven of peace but you detonate and I flutter to the ground
In a heart
Beat
The world spun out of its axis
My body was not ready for the aftermath
Of the effect of your soul on my soul
I can hear a pin
D
R
O
P
Every time someone says your name in a conversation I
Freeze
And in the space of a breath I can see, hear, smell and touch you
I can almost touch your love with my fingertips
Like holding a heart
Beat
Oprgan transplant to give a new life I wear a mask and observe my heart
Beat
As it quivers for you, longing to feel your breath on my lips
The overload of senses is too much on my fragile heart
Beat
The devastation is unlike anything I ever witnessed
My home is a pill of dust and I don't feel safe
Walking around the ruins
I stay tucked under the stars I never close my eyes anymore
Behind my eyelids the world is ruined
And my blood boils with anger you
Exploded in my rib cage and destroyed everything in a heart
Beat
You threw a grenade and hid back in your own universe
Copper is seeping through my hands and the smell makes me nauseous
I hold my insides together with my own ten fingers
If only you were here to see
The desolation in my deserted heart
Beat
*You were a soldier and I understood too late
Who was the enemy*
(It was me, wasn't it?)
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
There are blurry holes in the words that I am reading, just like you.
An image with these holes that doesn't make sense.
I don't understand why I still think of you in this way.
It's not much thinking, maybe more wondering.
I wonder and wander up a swirling spiral staircase that sways and creeps beneath my feet.
I reach the corner of the empty old room.
My nervous quivering fingers feel the pin on the dusty grenade.
The one that lies in the highest corner of my mind.
So simple would it be to pull it
but once it is out,
it could never be put back in.
It wouldn't be a grenade any longer.
Would there be an aftermath following the explosion of every emotion
running wild in my brain?
Or would the corner be empty, waiting, to be filled with something new?
A flower could grow from the rubble,
that's the positive thing to say.
It would most likely be worse than a grenade.
An atomic bomb built for pain.
But if you just told me the reason why, you could get out of my head.
You are a body with a grenade attached at the neck
in place of your head.
A surreal image, of course I would pick that.
Of course, that's what you would tell me.
I wouldn't say a word.
Just let my hands touch the weapon,
feel the cold metal of the pin in my palm.
It could be so quick to pull.
So tempting.
Then the reason comes in
and tells me it's best to
let you sit and collect dust.
Enough little gray particles to cover your entirety.
So that I will forget you.
There will always be a time when I'm vulnerable.
I will dust you off a bit to see what you are.
The thoughts will flood back quickly My hand will reach for the split second mass destruction.
Reason will grab my hand
I will crumble into him again.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:23 AM UTC
I'm like a grenade.
I just launch myself into other peoples lives and ****** explode and ****** them emotionally until they're nothing or until I break into a million pieces and disappear.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC