"arsonist" poems
death mourns a life
that succumbs to suicide...
classical lawless-ness?
calls the jyst...
a thieving;
a stolen death,
a suicide....
bride riddled to a bridge...
baking...
left half awake and half baked...
you count with the number of
blinding equations...
your 80+ segments?
i want nothing to be part of,
whether polymath,
bilingual, or polymath...
you resd yourself into "it"....
fuck you, and...
**** off...
in terms of .gif ***** files...
no... the part where
we don't parrot?
for no worthwhile surprise!
death is alal b & w...
memory?
all invigorating sepia...
life?
the blooming of color...
you take shrooms,
to invigorate the colors?!
oh look...
you're as loony as me...
and why would i
give a **** about your
tall-tales of subversive religiosity?!
you're right!
like you have been with me
to begin with...
there aren't any!
now?!
suffer!
you're in good hands...
turns out?!
i'm a sadist...
i somehow tested the pain on myself...
i enjoy...
the pain, of others,
having, prior, teased the pain
on, myself!
i forgot teasing the pain...
i taste it...
i welcome it...
i've become welcoming
in allowing it,
a stature abbreviating a transcendence
of victim-hood!
i need pain,
to craft an erasure of ever having
the capacity to instruct
a modus operandi for pleasure!
death contra suicide...
a fact contra a premature contest
of pleasure...
suicide is what
death calls thief...
there is no moral artifact
of a "question"...
suicide is the thief,
when death is the executioner...
what moral question is
to be entertained?
non!
i can't blame the mortality
arsonist...
less Tartarus and more Gehenna...
less S.S. and more khaki
S.A. night of the broken windows
and less...
hyper-Hindu
reincarnation,
hue hue grey...
woo woo the ashen pillage...
no... i'm not here for the
cinder and the ********
it's enough that i drink
the sort of excuse,
that sober people could hardly make
excuses about...
and that's enough...
and enough, is, where i'll stick to.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 10:22 PM UTC
From day one he was trouble
His parents knew on sight
Their bundle of pure joy and bliss
Was somehow, just not right
It wasn't in his nature
To be part of a gang
He like to be off by himself
He liked things that went bang
He was troubled in his school years
Never getting real good marks
He didn't get along with other
He was burning caps and making sparks
But when this boy found fire
Well, then....his world became real small
Never mind the big explosions
He would go and burn them all
Small fires set in dumpsters
Behind the shops, by where he ran
He'd set fire to the garbages
While he trapped a cat inside the can
He progressed on up to buildings
Made that jump, in one big way
He torched a crack house, all abandoned
Buy using gas and old, dry hay
But, the thrill was not a keeper
It wore off as fast as it arrived
He had to extend the feeling
That made his body feel alive
He knew to see his fires
He would have to volunteer
First he would go set them
Then, help put them out...I fear
It was a stroke of pyro genius
He'd set them and he'd put them out
He'd learn what gave them trouble
And he'd give them more without a doubt
He never killed another
Never burnt a persons home
He always set his fires
Where buildings always stood alone
They caught him late September
He'd burned a building late one night
It was supposed to be abandoned
But, was full of squatters, out of sight
The picture, it was famous
A hippie shaking someone's hand
It was on the front page of the paper
And it was shown through out the land
A fingerprint was lifted
A switch, that burned, not like it should
And from there, it was no problem
To lock this boy away for good
He was sent away to prison
He was gonna die there, bet on that
And on his first day in that prison
He saw an old man, who just sat
Sitting in the corner
by himself, no one around
Sat a man, all old and wrinkled
Lips were moving, but no sound
Came forth from this man's mouth,
his lips all cracked and dry,
You could stand right there and listen
And hear nothing if you tried...
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 4:39 PM UTC
ants lean left more than right
it's true, it must be
i read it in Fox News
especially the red ones
that wear berets
like Che
the impertinent invertebrate
arsonist fire ants
who tend to get stepped on
by the man
who exterminates
according to anthropologists.
:)
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 8:19 AM UTC
you draw your self hatred out like a kid draws out small pictures
and play double dutch with the hands on a clock, knowing how
unsafe it is out there, flirting with death and flicking me off when
i wrote out the reasons why you should stay, that this autumn fallout
is only a misconstruction of your mind's witching hour, that dystopia
won't linger and utopia will be home soon, it will blossom into your lungs
and turn the simplicity of your broken soul into something completely
quintessential and complex, like an origami rabbit, i fold my sharp edges
and twist myself to be malleable and secure for you, maybe i'm not too certain
of myself or you, but i'm not too certain on a lot of subjects, i'm worried
of being thrown into the arsonist world you started, covering up the sky with
black dense fog, the type of fog that would happen only in dangerous wildfires
i'm a controlled wildfire, but i let my fire spread just to help control your fire
- kra
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 5:23 AM UTC
But the arsonist in a world of carpenters.
I’ve got matches at the salute,
wired blazoned between my every ashened knuckle,
heart beat furious
I’ll be this worlds iron furnace.
Their flames dance and sprawl
through flaunted finger
and slide of hand,
I’m the psychopath
and these flames children to command.
I dwindle fractured beaten to broken
hardly live to bless lips with breath.
I’ve but one choice,
to torch this world to a forever neverness
or stumble shadeless,
a shadow to brush past life to exist to view.
Always wishing to make a difference, to move, to make new.
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:18 AM UTC
so i guess this is it,
the end of forever;
no one could've seen this coming.
the separation of past, present, and future.
past:
a smile from you
could spawn
a kaleidoscope of monarchs
in the pit of my stomach.
i fell in love
with the way you rested your chin
upon my head,
we were invincible.
i could have laid in your arms
for years.
i would have.
i had enough hope to feed a village.
present:
you tell me
this was long overdue,
that we're past our prime,
but there's no expiration date
on the sound of your laughter.
how do i explain to you
there are parts of my life
that move slower
without you in them?
today i am a quiet shade of blue.
future:
people will ask me
what was loving him like?
and i will smile and say
***it was as if
the sadness had never swept me
under the rug***.
i will tell them
how i felt whole,
how you gave me something
to look forward to.
i will tell them
how you lit a fire in my chest
and evacuated only yourself.
no words,
no warning,
not even the butterflies
made it out alive.
i should have known this was coming
by the way you always reeked of smoke
and bad intentions.
you see,
i confused you for someone
who would hold my hand
when things got dark.
i just wish i had some closure.
j.c.
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 10:27 PM UTC
Yep.
They're out there.
Pens ablaze.
Out to startle
and amaze.
Quite adept at
turn of phrase.
Leaving people
in a daze.
Set the fire.
Smoke's a haze.
The arsonist's
pernicious ways.
Before you know it
reps are razed.
Even tho my
flank is grazed
I won't worry.
I'm unfazed.
Don't base my worth
upon your praise.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
Mad Hatter's getting narcissistic without his tea
That's how I feel when I can't burn things
but you can't spell "arsonist" without A-R-T
Maybe I'm crazy but honestly it's therapy
Bolt the door to the party and listen to them scream
Oceans of commotion won't extinguish my latest masterpiece
So kick back, fire up a cig
Get that influx of carcinogens
Conducive to my sick mind
Twisted nihilist
Got a pack of matches
Now I'm dreaming in a pipe
Erupt into flames
Sit back and look at all the pretty lights
The way they dance in the wind
Such an alluring sight
It's really just poetry in motion
As I watch through kaleidoscopic eyes
I'll smoke to that.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
‘Your voice,
I feel sedated whenever I hear
its dark caress
Yet it invigorates me enough
for it to be my work song
You took me from Eden
to the church that is
you
I entered its ancient confines-
to meet another you,
someone new
and Wilson you said:
*“Be my Jackie,
let’s steal a child from creation
for I don’t want to be alone
like real people do
who run into the woods somewhere ne'er to return to humanity"*
I wallowed in the heat of your
Auburn cathedral
and got seared by the heat of your *****
and I hear your voice
as sweet
as cherry wine
And as I hear the trickling of fire
I realized that it is the arsonist’s lullaby.‘
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 2:04 AM UTC
At sunrise
I awake from
A violent comatose
I welcome the fiery rain
Soak my flesh from the faucet
Taking deep breathes in stride
With an arsonist anthem playing
Eyes closed and heart racing
The immolation takes flight
Bones made ash become warpaint
A far cry from help as I burn
An unstable dynamo ready to blow
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC
In between strangers and friends,
And of lines to be crossed and erased,
You'd pull me out without a second thought
And every time you do, you'd whisper
'I feel cold.' Quiet and hot like liquid gold
I'd touch your arm and you gently shiver
I set you afire each time
You'd hold me closer and smile
As you try to lick a final sizzle to my finger
You're a pyromaniac and I'm an arsonist
I wonder how you see me
And I wonder if you know how I see you
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 3:59 AM UTC
*********
Arsonist
Regrettable
Stupid
Horrible
Arrogant
Loser
Liar
Manly
All-knowing
Right
****
Handy
Awesome
Likable
Level-headed
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 9:27 PM UTC
There is a cat at my window
I am still
ragdoll in its flooded mouth
arsonist in one sulfur eye
night in a silhouette
shadow without philosophy
syllable of jungle chill
be it alms seeker
spy
or courier
or smoke as a pirouette
all icicle and satin
black iris I see
blood beating its binary
pulsating lodestone
hanging from its ley line
like the lamp of an angler
when the sun is furthermost
and all gods are unbeknown
I am still
still
the cat sits at my window sill
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 4:58 PM UTC
Peeling myself off the floor with shaking legs,
My head's spins and my bones feel lead heavy,
I grin through ****** teeth as the question begs,
what happens to the river when you break the levee.
****** knuckles, bent noses, and black eyes.
Dissociation hides behind a smirk and a dimple,
that practiced mask that self loathing buys,
I say I'm getting better, like its ever that simple.
You see I'm an expert at burning bridges,
a true to life true crime social arsonist,
I bathe in jet fuel to clean my stitches,
Just another on fire narcissist.
So leave my mirror be, cause its a cracked reflection,
the bad guy won my mental election,
Please don't trust his smiling inflection,
and save yourself from my infection.
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 6:00 PM UTC
I met a Carnival Arsonist
burlap sack around her
fiery heart, force taught
to start fires
bright, to distract her from stars.
Always sat in her ashes
Marlboro hacked up her passion
until the ferris wheel called her
to get a glimpse at her burns.
Each night it's siren syringes
hallucinations injected noises
bending over foreclosure
turning up folders
found an old phone her
Owner planted to spy.
He popped her first red balloon
kept the dart pressed in her side.
Manic Panic won't let her dye.
Her highlights don't hide her lies.
"I'm Fine" always "I'm Fine".
Built thick walls of timber
to guard to try Tinder.
Tender to two tired hearts
begged strangers to beat her
"Play a game, win a prize
Play a game, win a prize"
Poured gasoline on the
carnival, watched it
burn from inside.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 12:22 PM UTC
-
You were the inspiration behind everything I would desire
like Embers, I was once discovered by your fire
In my darkest hours you'd always give me reason,
like wildfires in unexpected seasons
Every part of me learned to radiate,
ecstatically exposed to all your burning states
Then came the day I turned into dust,
and like a volcano you annihilated my trust
I was the property of a ****** arsonist,
and starting fires is how his wickedness vents
It's hard to fathom that this started with little ignition,
because it grew so fast into a vicious obsession
I asked you to stop smoking that day and it wasn't because I was simply sick of it,
I just hated the fact that I saw myself in your half dead-cigarette
-
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
In my spare time, I put out his fires, and I cut
the bottoms of my feet on broken glass while
traversing across the muggy, jagged scape of his mind.
He calls my name between pulls of cigarettes and the
striking of cheap matches, and it's worth noting that I never liked
my name much until I heard the fires scream it.
I'd stand at his side and watch the flames cause his heart to implode,
and I'd fidget with his ***** shaking fingers while I listened to him
whisper something about 'I love yous'
A man's art is a reflection of self. I take note of this,
while I watch the flames dance and swing in the browns of his eyes
and warm the cavern that, moments before, had been a heart.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
There are always little sparks
Created through the friction of
Those two jagged flints though
Never enough to create fire on their own
Naturally, there needs to be a fuel.
Sometimes it’s tissue paper
Sometimes it’s gasoline
But as I’ve learned one way or another
There’ll always be flames between these
Chasms, valleys and gorges.
And the bridges built to cross between the two
Won’t always last. The raw energy will just
Wear away at some but the good ones stay.
Solid. Carved with rock and fortified with steel.
Like a scientist (or an arsonist)
I’ll test every. Single. One.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 6:48 PM UTC
Your windswept wild red hair, *Tantric fractal,
spreads forest fire in my thoughts,to the far end,
how far can I go on keeping this endless raging,
a dangerous arsonist in my mind's chamber?
Unchecked, unbridled, not quenched,
shimmering fire with a thousand ember eyes,
come burn my ardor with the essence of red.
my red riding hood, on this Tantric bed spread.
Your passion, unleashed as unkempt wind swept
red cloud of hair,assumes the forms of our love
now a cascade of water from mountain, after new rain,
splashes all over my mind's fecund landscape,
day and night imbibing the effect of your red wine
anointing cool, love balm, I get inebriated.
Your red, fluffy,earthy textured, magic coiffure,
becomes a sea of infinite calm,in my stormy nights.
I whisper to air"I want to taste the salt of her earth,
I want to swim in the confluence, her red flow commences,
If I'd be buried within the red earth of her dense hair,
I'll be resurrected, re imagined by her as her immortal lover"
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 1:04 PM UTC
My fathers skin conspired with the sun to poison him
It was rumored he was so warm Apollo himself grew envious
He left us in the dead of winter, wet wood on the fireplace.
And my mom, she hasn’t been right since. She missed his warmth so much, she began to feel it around her.
Her curious gaze melted into hurried looks, a chorus of false accusations and “I know I smell smoke don’t you lie to me. It’s all burning down.”
I’ve trained my voice so soothing as water. I am the only firefighter accustomed to smothering illusions.
Even on the good days, the ones she’s entirely there, dread makes a marionette of me. I secretly plan her funeral “what flower do you think smells the sweetest? Was it that Louis Armstrong song you said felt like coming home?” “Do you really like it when I sing to you?”
I just want to get it right because she will be attending it, in body not mind or self.
A going away party for the woman she used to be- the one that raised us, who never forgot a face or a Sunday service.
They say it spreads like… wildfire
Ain’t that something?
It’ll make a faulty narrator of her senses overnight.
What’s left is vacancy
A whisper of a woman
But a lingering presence
A sour aftertaste of my entire childhood
Don’t take it personally
When her body holds her hostage and she becomes a flight risk
a danger to herself around pen caps and shoelaces.
Don’t take it personally when her maternal instinct loses the arm wrestle with the disease and open doors and arms turn to barricades.
Don’t take it personally, it’s frightening to live in a world of your own.
Mom, had you suggested even once that an arsonist is what you need, that if our world matched yours you’d feel even a moment of peace .. id set hell fires up the coastline to kingdom come.
I still carry matches on me just in case.
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC
I.
pink satin masks
blood and broken toes.
i keep effortless poise
while knees and lungs shake.
i dance in tattered tutus,
in old toe shoes,
for a pocketful of coins;
i dance until i am blind with joy,
until my lungs are full of trumpet shouts,
until i am exhausted and weightless,
until my audience is standing,
breath gone, knowing what it is to be--
II.
in the storm of applause
one gnarled hand launches a torch.
"you danced with me," i cry--
her lips seal shut.
wild, cold eyes watch
flames singe my feathers,
fuse flesh to bone,
floorboards collapse.
she stays until she hears
my heart stop.
at dusk,
the stage is ash.
III.
at dawn,
a chorus of mouths emerge from the ground,
my audience, full-throated, white-knuckled,
tchaikovsky hollowing cheeks,
nasoprotivnyia daruia;
knuckles white--
flat-footed, slack-jawed,
the arsonist stands--
and i ascend from the dirt
on pillars of diamond forged from ash,
while my bare feet spill blood and i say
look at the source of my strength--
while new wings spread,
blood-red and gilded and brilliant in the sun--
while fire sprouts like flowers from my palms,
while spiders wrap my toes in silk
and i dance on thick-tongued harmonies
that tremble the earth with new roots
and i bourrée across the green trunks
and i become the sun
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 3:33 AM UTC
I hate how I love this feeling
Warmth that crawls through each vein
All control lost in it's presence
Dependency driving insane
I ride wave like a surfboard
Wherever it may go
No matter how low it carries me
Don't have the will to let go
Time spins circles around
Feels like I am frozen in place
Not only am I not in first
Not even running the race
But wings of comfort lift
In the air while I am high
I inevitably come crashing down
That comfort is only a lie
Hardly notice pain when I land
The drugs have made me numb
It is only when I run out of them
That I am forced to face what I've become
I watch dreams slip out of hands
They fly somewhere out of range
In their place are thorny regrets
Does not seem like a fair exchange
Nothing good blooms here anymore
Body became a barren wasteland
Only the occasional tumbleweed
Rolls across desert of sand
My soul scorched and blackened
Like earth where lightning struck
All the universe offers me
A pocketful of bad luck
The world a beautiful place I know
To me it no longer looks that way
Envy the people who still see it as such
From my perspective surroundings are grey
Maybe if I hold on a little longer
Blue skies will one day return
It's hard to hope when you've witnessed
Everything you love and care for burn
And it is even harder living
Amidst ashes of your greatest desire
When you cannot escape the awful fact
You're the one who started the fire
Aug 24, 2021
Aug 24, 2021 at 2:39 AM UTC
i've never been in a burning building but standing in that room with you
sure did feel like it.
you’ve filled my fragile lungs
with ash and soot,
and my altered anatomy
has become a black abyss
you were the arsonist,
who intricately ignited
my bones through your false accusations:
and your lack to love,
executed criminally
you've ripped the stars
right out of my sky -
every single constellation
my wrecked heart radiates for yours,
while a Siberian iceberg
sits in your chest
the stinging of languish
spills from my pores
baby, why can't you see i'm the best?
so remember to forget me, fuel my fire:
let the flames flourish,
watch them grow higher
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC