#pompeii
The flowers inside my head eating away
at the decaying thoughts.
I hear them when it’s just quiet enough –
gorging.
Oh Mother, I’m fixing your mistakes.
You and me – made from the same two pillars:
dependency and suffering.
I tear them down
softly, slowly –
shedding what I have seen,
like a snake peeling its skin.
Everything I have ever known,
collapsing around me,
leaving things I have loved covered in ash –
my own Pompeii.
But I’ll make my own way out of
these rotten bricks.
That is my promise to you –
and myself.
Feb 17, 2025
Feb 17, 2025 at 4:39 PM UTC
I give you my virtues
You gave me a son
I devote my life to you both
Forever I will protect
Nothing can separate us in faith or love
Keep Gianpaolo close to our gods
Teach him compassion and serenity
I will train him to stand up for integrity
Protect him with your life’s milk
Take these grapes as enticing as your passion
This wine flows like the ardour of your heart
Feel the gods tremble before your beauty
Light of day is turning crimson before my eyes
The air is heavy with a hot and heavy fragrance
Hold me tight with gods’ precious gift
We are strongest together
Winds of heaven take them to a higher place
Peace is immortal
On earth now for eternity
Thither was Pompeii
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 6:07 PM UTC
Maybe the darkest things are the truest things,
Death, the redoubtable lover of all, the atom bomb
Burns beneath cherry blossoms of closed eyelids,
A magnolia grove of forever fasting lips of the dead,
Pompeii and Hiroshima, twin lovers of rupture,
Graves of the wind now, keepers of nothing and all.
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 8:47 PM UTC
The earthquake wove ripples of terror in the minds of my Pompeii...
Trembling I looked towards the great Vesuvius of my emotions still offering me a hint of the bad days to come...
Yet I chose to belittle... And went on bottling my concern within the four walls of the city of my mind...
So one fine day... When I saw a layman hitting stones to see a spark...
The Vesuvius of my emotions erupted... Without a warn
And engulfed my Pompeii in a great ocean of long suppressed lava leaving only in some places a hint of some hardened souls...
...
Thus... The regret of catching the hint of Vesuvius about the unexpected exodus of my emotions... Only remained a prisoner of the past!
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 8:48 AM UTC
We were none the wiser, I shopped the stalls,
for bread, for father was treating us to a
luxury.
He'd been offered overtime, and we didn't have it
very often. But he knew we were down, and hungry.
Feeling the earth move, the gods were either hungry,
like our empty stomachs.
Or they were punishing us for not giving enough praise
for there gestures of kindness..
We heard the rumbling of Vesuvius, like an empty belly
rumbling for worth.
Then we heard the screams, as the mountain spat its
anger towards us, we had no where to run.
To hide from the mountains anger was futile.
We huddled together,
praying to our gods
for salvation..
But our plea's were unheard,
had we put our faith in the wrong god!!!
Hearing the dark snow fall like pebbles and then the
ash of concealment.
Suffocating in our prays, we huddled tighter than
life's last breath... and then we
were like statues
frozen in a moment of futility...
A once flourishing moment, buried in times
concealment.
We were found, shells of our former selves,
huddled in eternity a love.
Fossilised in a last moment,
telling the future we died together,
a moment of love shown through the ages...
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 3:48 PM UTC
The light from the end of eternity
Comes in through the window glass
Sits on the sill with the red Anthurium
In the stenciled orange Waterford vase
Centuries.down.and.Decades.done.
From the grassy light of the Lyceum.
If the sun were to choose where to die,
It would falter over Pompeii,
And lie like a broken godhead
Or lava poured into the pottery cups of
The open-skied houses.
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 1:48 PM UTC
I never asked
for my hands to be caked in ash,
fists full of powdered, smothered memories
weigh me down like cages;
if you were to see my body,
cut apart, missing, coated
and preserved as a martyr,
like a body in Pompeii
trying to fight back the smoke.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 12:51 AM UTC
Vesuvius has a long historical
and literary tradition. It was considered
a deity of the genius type at the time
of the explosion in the year 79:
it appears under the registered name
of Vesuvius as a snake in the ornamental
frescoes of many residential sanctuaries
or dwellings that survive Pompeii.
An inscription from Capua to IOVI
VESVVIO shows that it was worshiped
as the power of Zeus. That is, Zeus Vesuvius.
Mount Vesuvius / vɪsuːviəs /; Italian:
Mount Vesuvio [monte vezuːvjo];
Napolitano: Vesuvius? Latin: Mons Vesuvius
[mõːs wɛsʊwɪ.ʊs]; Also Vesevus or Vesaevus
in some Roman sources is a somma-
stratovolcano located in the Bay of Naples
in Campania, about 9 kilometers
east of Naples and a short distance
from the coast. It is one of the many
volcanoes that make up the campanian
volcano. Vesuvius consists of a large cone
partially surrounded by the steep crest
of a boiler peak caused by the collapse
of a previous structure and initially
much higher. Mount Vesuvius is known
for its eruption in 79 AD. which led
to the burial and destruction
of the Roman cities of Pompeii,
Herculaneum, Orlando and Stabia,
as well as many other settlements.
The explosion threw a cloud of stones,
ash and volcanic gases at a height of 33 miles
(21 km), throwing molten rock and pulverized
pumice at a speed of 6 x 105 cubic meters
of 7.8 x 105 hm per second, finally
releasing one hundred thousand times
the thermal energy released by the Hiroshima-
Nagasaki bombing. More than 1,000 people
died in the explosion, but the exact numbers
are unknown. The only witness to the event,
who survived, are two letters from Pliny
the youngest to the historic Tacitus.
Vesuvius has closed many times
since then and is the only volcano
on the European continent that erupted
in the last hundred years. Today,
it is considered one of the most
dangerous volcanoes in the world due
to the population of 3,000,000 inhabitants
living nearby, which makes it the most
densely populated volcanic region
in the world and its tendency to violent
explosions of the Plinian type. . . The Romans
considered that Vesuvius was dedicated
to Hercules. The historian Diodorus Siculus
refers to the tradition that Hercules,
in carrying out his work, passed
from the country of nearby Cumae
on his way to Sicily and found there
a place called "Plain of Flegaria",
Field of Flegrasien, "Plain of Fire",
from a hill that initially drowned fire. . .
now it's called Vesuvius. "They were inhabited by thieves,"
the children of the Earth, "who were giants,
who with the help of the gods pacified
the region and continued the events
behind the tradition, if there are any,
remaining known as in the name of the city
Herculaneum. An inscription by the poet
Martial in AD 88 suggests that both Aphrodite
as the protector of Pompeii and Hercules
were worshiped in the area that was destroyed by its eruption.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 10:52 PM UTC
Rumblings shaking the earth
Names cried out, long lost
Blame the gods, or us
Who forgot to pray?
Buildings collapsing
“Ubi est mater?”,
Children cry
Who forgot to pray?
Ash everywhere
Miles and miles of dust
This is it,
Goodbye Pompeii.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 6:49 PM UTC
Shoulder to shoulder
Finger to finger
Thirst of love
Filled with love
Overflowing love
City lights in Eden
Caresses somewhere hidden
Streetlight kisses
Walking beside the blue river
Lured by the old architect
Under the lost city of Pompeii
French kisses in the quiet palace
Sinless pleasure
Singing beside asphalt
Down to the town
Of dazzle diamonds
Lovely dinner
Fulfilled the hunger
Ends at the train station
With no kisses
& heavy feeling.
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 2:54 AM UTC
i watched the smoke loom into the sky.
you and i, we don't pay it any mind.
the blood is rushing to my face—
vesuvius who?
a.d. sixty-two: an earthquake shook the ground.
that was seventeen years ago, and we are twenty now.
four days ago the shakes started again
but i don't mind the sound.
i close my eyes and i am gone
the room is full of heat
volcanic ash and tephra and gas—
forever, we're asleep.
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 7:52 PM UTC
She is made of the fires of Pompeii,
The waters of the Mediterranean,
The leaves of Tir na Nog.
She is the eye in my storming skies,
The confused time between dark and dawn,
Violet, calm, navy, bright and ordinary.
She is my Lorelei, my forest fairy.
Her voice paints my glasses in green and gold,
Hues of sunsets and city lights
Dance across the horizon.
Only I can see them.
The ocean is full of stars in direct sunlight,
And so too am I under her gaze.
She is the fires of Pompeii,
The waters of every ocean,
The whole forest of Tir na Nog.
To her,
I am a rusting penny,
A grain of rice sitting in the cupboard.
She is my Bridge of Sighs, she is La Seine,
And I am her bright red pen marking suggestions,
Never corrections.
She is my Lorelei, and I her nothing.
Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 4:57 PM UTC
The sidewalk ends, with a solid solemn note
the purpose has no walls, but has a perfect moat
Birds in the eaves and overhangs, raccoons in the hall
imagination as it flows, or does not flow at all
Dwelling on the the bitter absence of simple electrical thought
some things cannot be purchased, sold, or ever bought
A daydream or a nightmare, solidified by pure control
molding what's at hand, as diamonds, made from coal
String the pearls of all things grasped, and so upheld
as are good dialogues, leading too, a quintessential spell
Hone the blades of heroes, bending edicts and all rules
using words as barriers, against the bravery of fools
I never thought to hold the strings, of all the prose that I have lost
divining a newer better phrase, running up a dire financial cost
Give me back all the discarded pangs, I've left there in my past
conjoining in deliverance, as broken bones in graves, been cast
It's like the final days of great Pompeii. or greater Rome
Nero on his lyre, Pompeii's burned within their homes
Draw the dipped quill across, what is and is not so
gleanings of similar minds, inspiring as it goes
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 10:14 AM UTC
If the Sacred Fire of Vesta went out, it meant one of two things:
meant
1. Rome was in danger;
meant
2. A Vestal ****** a guardian of the flame, was having ***
Chastity and fire
are two attributes that are directly correlated. If one is lost,
the other will follow. Trust me. This is fact:
only ****** women
can be celebrated.
The ****** Mary,
the ****** goddesses,
the way **** was seen as a crime
against the father, not the daughter:
women
must
remain
pure.
Do not eat the pomegranate seeds,
do not touch the fruit of knowledge. A
statue of a young boy
holding an apple
does not hold
the same connotation
as a woman holding an apple. Offering it to a man who
could have refused. Getting blamed for the fall from Eden.
A woman
with a snake draped around her body is not Eve,
is Lilith, but it’s close enough. They are both to blame for
all the evils of the world, so what does it really matter anyway? Women
are more susceptible to wavering in their faith in God,
to worshipping the devil, to practicing witchcraft—
The flames are out. Rome is not safe. A ****** is buried
alive for her sin. Lilith is slaughtering women in childbirth.
Babies are dying. A man is celebrated for his multiple
lovers. **** shaming in 79 AD. The beds in Pompeii
brothels are made of stone. St. Cecilia is face down in the
dirt. Women on the same level as slaves, if not lower. The
goddess Vesta as a housewife.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 10:47 AM UTC
There is nothing darker than the putrid soul of your heart
Crusted by burnt desires and pyroclastic ash
Tortured by your existence, dipped into the hells of mankind
Bubbling skin and singed mercy embrace me whole
Turn up flames and burn me alive
Hear my screams ****** your mind
Cast me out of the dead, for I am not leaving
Laid in a forever coma then awakened
Pompeii is dead, Pompeii is dead, Pompeii is dead
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
my fury is vesuvius
and the heat will spill over
and destroy your light
light of pompeii
pompeii of the old
old darkness rises anew
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
Entire world heats up . . .
No shows on saving humans,
. . . Reality TV.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
i listen to "pompeii"
as it burns itself to pieces on the radio
and rises like a phoenix (with no beginning) from the ashes when i repeat the lyrics to myself over and over again
"where do we begin
the rubble
or our sins?"
where did i (the phoenix) begin
in the rubble or
my sins?
are we taken from dust and returned to dust ("how am i gonna be an optimist about this?")
or are we taken from the ashes and redeemed
am i the city everybody loved whose "walls kept tumbling down"
if i was "left to my own devices"
would i even begin?
or would i "close my eyes"
"bringing darkness from above"
but
if a "great cloud rolled over the hill"
could my sins be forgiven
could my sins be forgiven
yet?
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
Let the molecules charge and crack
and rip the world right open
around me.
Let the closet under the stairs
smoke and fry and cook,
let the tangled wires melt
into each other like they'll
never let go,
their flashing shadows
welded arm in arm like a
Pompeii puppet show.
Let the air's discontent
rumble softly and
let the rattling house rock me to
sleep.
To sleep, perchance to dream—
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC
If you felt the fires of love,
mule-driver,
you would make more haste to see Venus.
I love a charming boy;
I ask you,
goad the mules;
let’s go.
Take me to Pompeii,
where love is sweet.
You are mine…
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
We all have flaws, and we know it. No one is perfect, and perfect shouldn’t even be a word in the dictionary, because what use does it have? Perfect body? What makes some of us think it’s perfect? Oh yeah, that’s right, the ******* media. Trying to tell us our flaws won’t be accepted in the real world so we must change ourselves to look like the ‘perfect’ celebrity. The lyrics are saying that he didn’t accept his flaws, and kept them hidden. But the person being addressed to accepted their flaws and is trying to help the singer accept them too. ‘We’ll see that we need them to be who we are…’ We must all accept them. We are scared of being different because it’s not ‘normal.’ If we were all the same, there would be nothing special about us. The internal struggle of not accepting who we are is normal. We are struggling to hide ourselves, because we are ashamed of whom we really are. We single out our flaws and try to ‘fix’ them and try to be perfect. But in the end, we’re not.
a.a.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC