#steam
I just want to vent
My postitve era
Just up and went
My heart mind and soul
was sent
Away to another
happy day
Because
the negative
has stepped in
but
I guarantee you
IT WILL NOT WIN!!!!
JUST BLOWING OFF STEAM
I'M NOT TRYING TO BE MEAN
I JUST NEED TO LET IT GO!!!
COS,
LIKE A BLOW FISH
I WILL BLOWWWW!!!!
DON'T WORRY ABOUT ME,
JUST GIVING OUT HINTS,
TO BLOW CAUTION
TO THE WIND JUST
ALLOW ME TO VENT!!!!!
B.R.
Date: 4/27/2026
Apr 27
Apr 27, 2026 at 4:57 PM UTC
the gushing fountain
from the depths-
of a hidden ocean.
Apr 12
Apr 12, 2026 at 10:10 AM UTC
Around this time of day, a blank
conceptual space engulfs my whole
truth I swore to tell without sweetening,
the innocense of St. Paddy's day, no pinch,
I got a dollar pinned to my collar, green back out.
And I got this mean as a junkyard dog, sneer, I am
Mad as Hell and I ain't gonna cry out loud no more,
see, what I remember is learning late in life, truths
about Dennis Conti, who is one Bacon away from me,
on thousands of post Vietnam threads, every Mar. 17,
when the hungry ghosts from My Khe and My Lai,
seem to thank me when I say I remember how it happened.
But that was just yesterday, 58 years ago. Now, I recall
the day before I landed in Bien Hoa, and marked off Day one.
Forever linked to the truth's history holds regarding worth of war.
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 9:12 PM UTC
A nuclear war is as dumb as a bad dream
Nobody will live to see the fatal effect of such a steam
War is criminal. War is inhumane and deadly
And rich nations will be as poor as dead shells in the sea
Everyone agrees that war is suicidal
Everyone agrees that war brings mortar, anger
Hunger, pain, suffering, death, horror and terror
But a nuclear war is deadlier, nastier and bloodier
More painful, more criminal, more diabolical
More devastating, more witless and more evil
Human being was born to put things together
To build, not to annihilate and not to ******
God created humans to make the world better
Not to destroy, not to burn or to shatter
A nuclear war would be a total disaster
No human is really dumb to have such a war
Let's swear not to have a **** one. We can roar
Like lions to scare off the tigers. We can fistfight
All we want. The best way to test our might
Is to dialogue, to talk to each other like humans
To avoid the ruins and to find lasting solutions
A nuclear was is a universal nightmare
War does not solve anything in the deep stratosphere
Frankly, a nuclear war is absolutely unnecessary
Wake up people to smell and inhale the coffee.
Copyright © February 2016 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 12:44 AM UTC
I am throwing up straight gasoline.
Steam is dripping down my eyes.
I work twice as hard as that man.
I earn five times less awards.
My body is deteriorating.
I am tripping over the wires at my feet.
I am falling ill; I keep working.
That man will pay
But you know what they say
You can’t take it with you.
Apr 30, 2025
Apr 30, 2025 at 12:10 AM UTC
#
*Within the stability
Of a late-night bed,
thighs part fully
from words given..
Words, sent
Hands on curved hips;
******* to bare chest..
As the daughter of Light
is lifted up
there is an Entering
In Seed-splashed egg
a New Beginning;
Chains of steel
falling free
within the warmth
of each new Pulsing
(there is the sound of Ecstacy
on the inside of the door;
on the other side of it--
the forever-harsh clank,
of judgement)*
#
Aug 17, 2023
Aug 17, 2023 at 11:42 AM UTC
We got those 1800s vibes
Men with moustaches
Women with moustaches
You ready to Hunt for your lives?
Get ready cos the Showdown's begun
Men, Women, lock 'n' load up your guns
Snub nose for up close, it's a must
Duck low take it slow, keep mouths shut
Wear you out
'Til your absorbed by the mud
Extract with a bounty, that's how it's won
Countin' up our rewards, no need to respawn
We've still air in our lungs.
It's that time again, we close to sittin' pretty
Lord I pray for courage, so light that soul fire in me
Stacks of crucifixes, so we don't run out quickly
Hang it loosely round my neck should it get dark and dingy
Ward off the devils spirits, or beasts made from three sixes
Martini firepower, and no I don't mean drinkin'
Sometimes be something sicker, for demons I be killing
I'm off to hell and back, to stop em from existing...
Get ready cos the Showdown's begun
Men, Women, lock 'n' load up your guns
Snub nose for up close, it's a must
Duck low take it slow, keep mouths shut
Wear you out
'Til your absorbed by the mud
Extract with a bounty, that's how it's won
Countin' up our rewards, no need to respawn
We've still air in our lungs.
Guess its our turn now, y'all ready for a feud
Ain't no stopping this crowd, we're simply too imbued
That cross around your neck, its just a waste of fuel
The venom flowing in us means conditions won't improve
We'll just keep on marching, until you're twice removed
This is our land you're farming, the boss is not amused
The biggest baddest of us here, do this **** just for fun
You'll never take us all something wicked this way comes
Get ready cos the Showdown's begun
Men, Women, lock 'n' load up your guns
Snub nose for up close, it's a must
Duck low take it slow, keep mouths shut
Wear you out
'Til your absorbed by the mud
Extract with a bounty, that's how it's won
Countin' up our rewards, no need to respawn
We've still air in our lungs.
Get ready cos the Showdown's begun
Men, Women, lock and load what you want
Get ready cos the Showdown's begun
Men, Women, lock and load what you want
Get ready cos the Showdown's begun
Men, Women, lock and load what you want
Apr 18, 2022
Apr 18, 2022 at 6:11 AM UTC
Crystal flows on a ghost lake
sun is reflecting
and spreads through steamy souls lake
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 8:10 AM UTC
streamy nights here
your heart beats so fast
we sweat
it doesn't matter when it's us
so much for you
the pulse of me
life in me defined
can be felt inside from within
i can finally see clearly here together
take me when i'm with you
and come with me wherever you'll go
here we lay down in the dark
moonlight cleanses our love
what i would do for our son
Apr 29, 2021
Apr 29, 2021 at 11:00 PM UTC
Beginning like a little egg, soon to hatch into a butterfly
we search for the way of the butterfly,
starting from the lowest phase slowly reaching the skies.
Butterflies are like us, they cannot see the elegance in their wings,
but everyone else sees their glorious emergence
in the likeness of winter to spring.
Like a bridge connecting two energies,
one is water and the other is fire.
Both form a steam,
two in one are gathered to roam around,
with the sun above drowning them in a stream of unity.
Rainbow arises, butterflies absorb its colors
spreading its waves across in every life,
foaming the surface in flowers.
We search for the way of the butterfly
that reaches the dawn of another day.
Mar 2, 2021
Mar 2, 2021 at 4:56 AM UTC
She sang with a beauty that made the sun shine brighter with every tune that floated up to the sky.
But one day she stopped singing.
A strange little boy told her, that no one gave a single **** about her little ditties.
She didn't cry.
She simply stopped singing, and went on about her life.
She kept to herself and the world began to wonder why everything seemed so quiet.
Then the sun stopped shining.
He couldn't go on, making the world a brighter place, if she couldn't sing her songs to him each day.
One night, the moon visited the girl.
"My child, you know that the Sun longs to hear your voice again. Do not worry what little boys tell you, they cannot make the music that you can. This night will last for many years if you do not raise your voice. Go on, summon the Sun."
Reluctantly, she stepped outside, and with a rusty voice, she sang as loudly and as honestly as she could.
And as tears rolled down her cheeks, the Sun rose in the east, with tears that evaporated into steam as quickly as they came.
And the strange boy fell in love with the way she looked
to him when she sang to the sky.
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 1:10 AM UTC
it is time to stand
it is time to let off steam
make time for yourself
Brian Hill - 2020 # 272
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 10:07 AM UTC
mysterious curiosity of the runaway train
it has no direction, just a need to maintain
around all the corners, up all the hills
down through the valley creating more thrills
what does one do with a runaway train
how do you stop it from achieving more gain
do you leave it running till it runs out of track
do you try to derail it with a full-on attack
it's quite the conundrum, that runaway train
decisions, decisions, are straining the brain
really not sure, what to do with this dream
I think I'll just let it, run out of steam...
Brian Hill - 2020 # 96
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 10:28 AM UTC
the steam of the shower holds your face
like a pillow.
pushing out the smog, clutter in your head
billowing around you and thawing out
the raw thoughts that you try to freeze over.
the endless patter of hot rain that
cleanses, but also
hurts
in that it's one of the only
honest sounds you'll ever hear
(outside of love.)
the moment you step out into the humid, mediated
atmosphere of a cooling room
the water dripping off your arms,
your hair,
your face,
making you anew.
but as everyone does, you wipe the mirror clear
to see your face, and know that despite life,
it's still you.
it changes you, yet proves your you-ness more than anything else.
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 12:50 AM UTC
I suppose we never are.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLVII)
As steam wafts up in whitish tendrils' pale
Dance, likeas figures which cavort from hence
In ghostly silence til the ether thence
Half swallows them--as spirits in betrayl
Taen into heaven ist? Look past, t'avail
Me of the world beyond this window, whence
See how fir boughs nod to chill breaths for sense
While lo, the Maple's naked yet, calm frail.
This first cup black, we're being good Swedes I'm sure,
And savour all the more what Daddy'd brew
Upon that note. Remember too as twere
My sister'n'law who'd drink joe like I knew
Old seasoned captains would: black. And in poor
Still voiceless naught, the radio chatters too.
09Mar19a
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 10:16 PM UTC
On days where salty tears lick my cheeks,
or they hide just behind the cages of my eyelids,
I feel full, not hollow.
Preferable, perhaps, to the emptiness found
in staring blankly at life and seeing
the still run down like paint and the moving brake like cars
all around, helpless to stop it
as a mind crumbles into broken acceptance.
But a cup can only hold so much.
A *** can rumble angrily on the stove for only
so long before its contents spill out,
slipping and darkening down the sides
before dying away against the heat below.
Sure, we're contained, maybe like tea kettles. But
all of us have holes that whistle,
a call to what stirs inside, and I
am no different.
Every day,
my small heart shivers and shakes,
petrified by even the idea of my own steam escaping.
It rattles at the threat of an exponential scream
of evaporated failures and aborted thought
wrapping itself around my tongue and teeth
before spilling out to float in the present air,
only to hang itself
like a fog over everyone's perceptions.
I guess that's the difference between us and tea kettles,
or cups or pots.
Water moves forever in its cycle,
falling down as rain, or snow, or sleet, or hail, or
rising up into the air to mesh with it seamlessly,
adapting beautifully to the pressures of its natural peers.
But water is not sentient. It does not remember its past,
does not consider its present or future.
Water speaks a language of unquestioned togetherness and
a blissful absence of mind.
Maybe our folly is memory.
Our puffs of commentary marinate on the brains of others,
and, maybe for the worse,
ourselves.
They float around in a haze of the brain,
eroding at our integrities,
some fogs never cycling out until we rattle
for the last time.
Unlike steam, unlike water, we ponder our past forms
and our personal sins sometimes forever
until we sizzle against time's heat,
burning out at the mercy of nature
and our own kettled minds.
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 8:18 PM UTC
Glaring light
and white
bathtubs.
Steam and
high pitched
melodies.
Running water
spreading warmth
spreading legs.
Silky cloths
for the freshly
bathed human.
Confusion and
worried faces
all washed away
by lukewarm
bathtub water.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 8:28 AM UTC
Nose below the water
Steam clouds my view
Before my eyes
my hands find you
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 1:58 AM UTC
Impatiently sitting on the bench ahead
Cup stares at me as if wanting to be fed
So I grab Cup and find a boiling kettle
Fill Cup with water hoping it will settle
But Cup begins to steam and nag
So I search the cupboard for a tea bag
Choosing one from the others, I quickly drop it in
The water changing colours, makes me throw it in the bin
I think the dark stuff is something bad
And Cup seems to look pretty sad
So I try to swallow the black stuff away
But my method seems to make Cup dismay
Before I begin, something hot hurts my lip
I didn’t realise that Cup could nip
So I hurry towards the kitchen sink
Tip Cup upside down, before I can think
Cup throws up, being upside down
I forgot Cup got sick when moved around
So I put Cup back where he was
I can see that Cup feels better because
Cup is no longer steaming or spewing any more
Come to think of it, I don’t know why I touched Cup at all!
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 5:18 AM UTC
Consequence is the Heart of Belief.
Whether a Truth .
Whether a Falsehood.
Whether Virtuous.
Whether Vice.
Conviction alters Reality.
Human existence is a stream of consequence.
Flowing through ebbs of Right and Wrong.
Of Heavy currents of deceit, which overflow the banks.
And pools of Stillness, in stagnant paradigms.
This Race of Fact and Fiction rampages.
The Powerful and the Hungry.
The Weak and the Proud.
All caught in the Tides of Creed.
An Undertow which swallows all.
Indiscriminate in its Finality.
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 7:32 AM UTC
You’re so lovely,
you warm me up like a kettle,
so don’t be surprised
when I look at you and whistle.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
Steam rushes up
from the steam train
at the station.
It twirls up and along
the roof like
a released demon.
You watch it with
your young boy's eyes.
People rush past
to get on the train.
You sit watching
wondering where
they are destined.
You smell it.
The train smell.
The sounds of steam
and power.
Like a dragon.
Porters walk past
with wagons of luggage.
You dream of being
an engine driver.
To the seaside.
That time with your
grandparents
a year back.
Big steam train
dark black.
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 5:05 AM UTC
Once again the bullets fly
Once again the chldren die
Once again the parents cry
Once again we wonder why
When will we all stand and say
The problem is the NRA
And all the congressmen they pay
To turn their heads the other way.
We need to all stand up and shout
All together we’ll have clout
We need to organize a rout
And vote the slimy ******** out
ljm
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
Who are you? …by Jessie 4/05
I met a man this morning I didn’t really like
I looked into his eyes and saw the darkness of night
The feeling I got was empty, I’m doubt we even spoke
The staring just continued, connection never broke
Some how he looked familiar, his face I could not place
The way he continued looking at me, the scowl upon his face
Then it’s as if a fog rolled in, the image began to fade
So I wiped the mirror one more time, exposing the reflection of my face
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC