"aerosols" poems
while chewing on the sandwich i was given
i failed to notice the ruffage and the soil of my glamour
only the ludicrous measure of my apathy and passion.
only the girl of my memes and the maladaptive gnomes
of my moveable feast.
i saw through the aerosols and the Hindi.
i ate nothing but net.
i slept with a barstool and a comet.
and asked you " Why? ".
and said, Less.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 9:26 PM UTC
Mercury drips
from cold fingertips
Into cracked teacups
arrayed on a child's play table
"Where is my Alice?"
Chuckling bends the edge of the silence
Chemical cocktails sprayed
Weaponized aerosols
designed to cloud minds
bring dark knights crashing to their knees
Short sickly man
with a blood red head of hair
Stares oh so sweetly
at his darling sweetie
********* the straight edge
concealed in his pocket
Wonderland gang strikes
devices devised for controlling minds
activated
chips in cowls, linked to size eleven hats
Denigration of children's tales
although Lewis Carrol was a ********* they say
either way there is no avoiding
the madness of the hatter.
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 5:15 PM UTC
An empty drinking glass is pressed against a wall; amplifying the voices on the other side. My ear is pressed to the words, ”outside is a secret key” - I can honestly say, “I hear…" Your words, idealizations, sentiments, selected scrawls of graffiti-type promise and viewpoints echo through the wall. Over and over. Championing outsiders…
Are there WALLS WITHIN WALLS? Can we walk through them? ARE THE WALLS ERASABLE? Will the walls tumble down? Will the walls polarize? WHAT ABOUT CRACKS IN THE WALLS? Can they hear? Can we leap over them?
DO WE build them where everything and anything follows and flows?
DO WE build them where something's nothingness tethers vapors with souls?
DO WE build them so molecular melodies of light and dark can collide unopposed?
Are these word walls of dust? Can we move them? Can you angle between these walls? Will the walls speak a wealth of quiet surprises, poems, and meditations? Do walls give birth to improvisation?
Now some of these walls, in their moment are with no rules, self-constructed, circling dramatically, and might prove more resistant to erosion. These are often troubling walls, no voice, no strength of decency, no laughter, which place freedom at stake. That and survival. One can be easily manipulated or yanked by an image of the truth swirling in the brick blackness of the wall. Discomforts relish now. Walls such as these are very deep-rooted and passed on for generations. Yet even those barriers eventually give way once we read the super fine print etched into the wall - a word salad of B.S., idiocy and hypocrisy.
Reach for spray-paint and enlarge your wall… maybe it enhances your world now with colored aerosols of wall portraiture's that capture rebellion and mirth. So many Walls, AND SO MANY QUERIES…
I heard a poem say, “Step out from behind one (wall) and FIND YOUR REAL SELF” – or maybe it whispered “jus walk through that door in the wall.”
Your tightly strung trampoline of words has provided a springboard for me to bounce freely over the many walls we build around ourselves.
by "ooznozz"
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 9:06 PM UTC
Time is a movement that we cannot escape
It surrounds the Universe in its vastness day by day
And with time its particulars are all attached
DNA to a drop of rain, it all comes as one big batch
Everything changes on a second by second basis
From the dinosaur to the bird in the sky,
Music from minstrels then onto blur and Oasis
Our skin becomes decrepit as we live within our souls
We build, we knock down, we start again to help out those in need
Builders help build, a life now easy, just ask Nick Knowles
But lets think of the future and how we guide Earths ship
We live, we learn, already ruined our surrounding layer of ozone
Ditch the aerosols, drain the diesel's as one Ice-Age was just a little tip
The same as all relationships, hiccups happen as is life
A stumble, a small trip, pick yourself up as this is it
Another chance ain't gonna happen, believe what you will
A sweep up, a quick clean, start again so it is all gone
The Gods of time sometimes get bored, lets stir things up
There is only so much you can watch until,
Things Move On
JJB
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 11:03 AM UTC
The water trickles over my face
A blank stare is all that greets it
Eyes glazed like donuts in a window
The donuts that you pained for as a child
Face as cold as the bitterwinds of an
Antarctic shadownight
Air is warm and moist
Like the air of an equatorial city bar
Or the warm afterglow of a barrage of
Artillery fire in the west of France
the air is dense
like the heavy breathing of a polar bear
desperately hunting the only seal for miles
or how you figure the air in Hell must feel
heavy from the gravity
Mental overload, it's a good name for it
Like the sound of nothing after a large storm
or the feeling you get when you cram a text book
into your ear then release it hours later
the water trickles over my face
rain is what clears the air of aerosols
any small particles of matter in the air
I am a small particle
floating on aimlessly
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 6:39 AM UTC
I do not know
what this cloud
is made of.
Mind-made aerosols? Speech-bubble nonsense? Filthy-dust particles?
Who gives a ****
This cloud is
a flying kite.
The shape
the size
I cut
to fit
my
s
i
g
h.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 9:16 PM UTC
_White nights, grey days,
Phosphorus and gin;
Graffiti-laden pavements,
Diamond rain and paraffin.
Chalk dust reveries,
Aerosols and spit;
Zero-hour freeways,
Magnetic parapets.
City high, city low,
Monoliths in drag;
Silent spaces, dwelling places,
A hoody and a bag.
Freestyle evangelists,
Salvation strikes a pose;
Train tracks, kitchen hacks,
The rapture and the snow._
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 2:52 PM UTC
you hung
suspended.
i watched you sail
led only by
gusts of wind
and car exhaust
i imagined you were a kite
or a song
imagined pushing you
with my thoughts towards the water
greedily
i watched you
hang
while
amplifying the sunset.
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 10:42 AM UTC
The sun will burn a hole right through
your parasols
The clouds so sick they've split in two
from aerosols
The air will fill your lungs with fists
for ev'ry breath
'til future days when life exists
to mirror death
So you're wondering why
They put heaven on high
Why the gods don't visit us anymore
And you lift your eye
To the deep blue sky:
The only way out is up
And so you hire a bird to sing your songs
And you buy her a tree to start things off
And you wire the words through lines of leaves
And you hope that she shows when comes the sun
She may never sing
She may never show
But you don't know
The lake, the sea: the tireless gloves
where nature's hand
Still holds her sceptre far above
her ******* man
The shore where centuries of sand
through waves have raced
Invites a swim, but think where man
deposits waste
So you're wondering why
They put heaven on high
Why the angels tolerate pillowy floors
As you lift your eye
To the birth of blue sky:
The only way out is up
And so you hire a bird to sing your songs
And you buy her a tree to start things off
And you wire the words through lines of leaves
And you hope that she shows when comes the sun
She may never sing
She may never show
But you don't know
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 7:00 AM UTC
You fill me with a sense of completeness like a drug, filling my nostrils like aerosols.
You're in me deeper than trichinosis, and like a soldier, I'm at your beck and call.
You're on my mind like my helmet is, and in my heart like shrapnel. You're on my body like wet clothes, and held tight as if a grapple.
You're a sweet candy like you're sugar-born, and a kiss that leaves me speachless.
You're so tender as if breaded and battered, and I'm a sucker for you like leeches.
You are my drug, my personal addiction, and I love you like bad habits.
Your form is a taunt, your personality a want, baby girl, you're nowhere near average.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
When you say this, you speak as if you reduced your own mental capacity to an ape sitting naked on the grass looking up on the sky marveling at the coming and going of the seasons.
Granted that you are somewhat stupid, but you aren't an ape. You heard this phrase from someone, and you have no idea how dangerous that person is. You parroted this phrase over and over again, and I could not give you a sufficient answer at the time.
You argue that climate science cannot predict the future, but at the same time you eat all fruits of the industrial revolution and science.
I have bad news for you.
Climate science cannot only predict the future. It can predict the future with brutally exact precision.
The climate is driven by four factors:
1. Insulation. This is the sun, the earth orbit around the sun, the configuration of the continents, etc.
2. Greenhouse gasses. Water vapor, Carbon Dioxide, and Methane.
3. Particles and aerosols. Pollutions etc.
4. Amplifications. The runaway climate change.
This is it. It is proven. You do not need to sit naked on that grass tortured by the sun. You do not need to look upon the sky marveling of the coming and going of the seasons and feel the smell of the approaching wildfire.
You can stop insinuate that you are an ape because you are no ape. You are a living person, and you have an unnecessary huge carbon footprint. For that, you should be ashamed.
Inform yourself. Learn about the changes ahead. Make use of your intelligence that you actually have. Go to YouTube and view all the videos of Potholer54, especially video five in the playlist "climate change explained, and the myths debunked".
You can be a right winger or leftist. It does not matter. You can be poor or rich. You can be afraid of Islam or terrorists. Brexit can fill you with fear. All that is meaningless. All refugees from Syria and all suffering of humanity up until now is meaningless small compared to the future predicted by science.
Embrace science.
When that is done, then we can talk about the climate again.
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 9:43 PM UTC
another morning
another chemical coating
another narcissistic lathering
soaping my hair, face, body
antiperspirant, lotion
sunscreen, hair gel, eye drops
toothpaste, mouthwash
there’s nothing real about me
I am fake, head to toe
plastics, aerosols, fragrances
trying to preserve the real real
or mask it or hide it or fix it
as the mirror snickers at me
in 2d flat-screen mockery
I’m a stranger, a hitchhiker in
a borrowed body, a rogue
uncovered, this facade
bared down to its natural
stench and style
is something unpublishable,
something never in vogue
May 23, 2021
May 23, 2021 at 8:15 AM UTC