"barraged" poems
Connect like comets,
got thoughts but won’t comment,
controversial as a result of being honest,
honestly sick of the politics & sick of the nonsense,
actually I’m sick of it all to be honest but still I won’t *****
conflicted by the conflicts that’re inflicted on my conscience,
from the constant onslaught of plots that they’ve got that I’m barraged with,
in this enormous orbit that we’re all in it’s ugly & gorgeous I’m nauseous but conscious,
just wishing they’d stop it & I’ve lost my train of thought but haven’t yet lost consciousness,
at,
a house party in The Hamptons,
July 6th. 2018,
last week D.C.,
next week Miami,
bless the vibes like we bless the mics,
that’s why they want us around,
if I get the invite & have the time I might take that flight,
because I’ve been all around but still up to get gown,
buzzing off of a mixture of different chemicals,
feeling Sharon ****** operating off of basic instinct,
Semi-Quasi-Serious-Centennial-American-Millennials,
were are what is in so we tell them to get out with their doubts & we dismiss what they think,
live big & still get enough to give more than a little bit away to various charities,
with 3rd Eye Vision that’s 20/20 so they can’t pull a fast one on me,
in the perfect position I see everything while most of them can barely see anything,
not kidding but we do play no kids no way,
our artistic creations are what we will leave behind as our living legacies,
staying grounded at the same time we’re all stars outta this world like a fabulous galaxy,
where we connect like comets,
got thoughts but won’t comment,
controversial as a result of being honest,
honestly sick of the politics & sick of the nonsense,
actually I’m sick of it all to be honest but still I won’t *****
conflicted by the conflicts that’re inflicted on my conscience,
from the constant onslaught of plots that they’ve got that I’m barraged with,
in this enormous orbit that we’re all in it’s ugly & gorgeous I’m nauseous but conscious,
just wishing they’d stop it & I’ve lost my train of thought but haven’t yet lost consciousness…
∆ Aaron LaLux ∆
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 12:52 AM UTC
I have weeks where I want to be out every day until the sky is painted charcoal with the last flares of the sun's hug
I have weeks where I want to stay inside every day because I'm barraged by human interaction and I need more air for my social lungs
But I'll never regret to answer your text
Call you when I'm in distress
Or invite you over to help me undress
To feel your lips connect with my pores
So that when you leave I'll miss you more
Than I ever did the day before
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
It was like we were wrenched from Morpheus' grasp and shaken, until our eyes adjusted to the harsh light and our bones stopped their clattering. We make like tea bags and steep in hot water, letting the dregs of the past day settle at our feet.
We drag our feet through the quicksand pavement and trudge through the black-tar roads to work. War is rampant in the world and in people's hearts, we see murders on screen and deceit in the streets, we're observers to the horrors of humanity. All we can do is watch with pained eyes.
Our minds are barraged with arguments and advertisements, ethics have been defenestrated, our worries overpopulated, our patience stretched thin and beaten cacophonously. Our consciousness is beaten down with pessimism, our thoughts devoid of hope.
Our souls weep at the state of things, the martyrs gather in drones at St. Peter's gates. We do good only so people will be good to us, we greet each other with half-smiles, and half-truths. At the end of the day we drag home, our consciences heavy with the burden thrown upon us.
But we meet again, we kiss, we embrace, and we join hands and strip ourselves of these mundane garments, we’re a mass of hands and skin and long sighs and worn-out smiles,
and with tired eyes, tired minds, tired souls, we slept.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
If Happiness is a contagious drug
then I’m sure I’m hooked and high,
where'd the sad flee off to,
when did the falling sky stop crushing my lungs.
I’m for sure that the air's flooded and barraged in fantasy drugs.
If God's got happiness in a needle then I’m in the bathroom,
plunging my thumping veins of cyanide in my happy suicide.
The air's thinning down,
lungs collapsing
rooms running round and round.
I've got the trigger twitching up to heaven and space,
I’ve got the barrel lodged against this perspiring face,
guts to glory life to lord
I’ll blow the universe sky high,
never to see,
never to hear,
never to know fear.
The roulette's spinning a Russian game of life or death,
I’m lost in conscience,
high on **** and happiness.
Give the word my hands a twitch set to snap,
scoured to tense,
there's nothing left, but these dreams of bliss.
A heresy of contused and flowing light,
day dreams illusion sugared sweet in an infedimine delight.
Pull the switch assign my soul to lasting high,
take my crackling mind for one last ride.
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:07 AM UTC
It has a new scale of reference
vast, vicious and unforgiving
death for millions will be anonymous
machine gun arbitrary and indiscriminate
shelled and shocked, barraged and buried
no whole corpse to recognise as human
no remains to mourn and grieve
just rich blood and bone for Poppies
growing strong in the Flanders' fields.
Landscape resculpted to barest bone
earth desecrated and destroyed
every old tree and young bush uprooted
tossed like feathers to the blackened sky
debris swirling in the clouds of poison
gas and the putrid stench of burning flesh
in pyres that smoke and stink for days
just fertile ash and dust for Poppies
growing strong in the Flanders' fields.
© M.L.Emmett
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
How do I escape
when the negativity
nooses circumstance around my neck
and ties it to my every insecurity.
It’s like my surroundings feed
off of what I hate the most-
I am constantly barraged
by resentment for the people I should love
and I read too much into things
that I should let go.
But how do I change what
i’ve spent most of my life
chained to?
The walls that surround me
are more like a cage
where negativity and sorrow
collide, crash and then burn
holes in my way of thinking.
Positivity is hard to come by
when every step you take
is like a drive-by shooting
you somehow planned
for the sole intent
of making your life hang
on the edge of a chair
waiting for the death row pardon.
Death wishes don’t come often for most-
but in the dead of the night
when I am alone and weeping
over the spilt milk I have slipped
and broke my backbone on,
I realize they come too often for me.
When the night whispers softly
into your subconscious
reminding you of all the things
you wish you didn’t remember,
curl up with your favorite pillow
grasp your bulletproof vest
of a good book into your
sin stained fingertips
and remember,
the night never wins,
because eventually
it must turn into dawn.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
The Quiet Time
Setting on the evening tide in the silent void you will hear more than you did in the volumes’ day more
Truth untainted without deluded aspects just pure raw gorgeous plain knowing words wingless with out
Guile they speak of there own content no more or nothing less be barraged by this contagion regal
Unadulterated without vile tampering you feel exhilaration the sweetness the fragrance that innocence
Gives behold the garden and the flowers speaking the night air is one of the greatest calls you can hear
As the tear speaks of sorrow and its need of silence then but let the heart rest and peaceful knowing and
Rich stirring will reach you with tenderness the same as a baby’s touch you fall inward to blessings that
Are flowing by you streams that cradle dreams delight a voyager who seeks a passage and finds it and
It surpasses their expectation and nestles in the heart as honey when it touches your tongue what
Pleasure a thrill that rolls smoothly onward restful you touch peaks and valleys that lie in the depths of
The soul a broadening occurs enlargement of conciseness it is imperceptible in many ways but the sigh
Might be mysterious but it waits for visitors then it flashes through a brilliant smile it divides and
Conquers in a world of division harmony closes tensions gates the still prevails like the silent wind
Made heavy by moisture on this the harvest of thoughts and words march to instill in your world
You have been by yourself and at length you have unknowingly decreased so as to make room for
Wisdom that seeks stillness always its intent is to evade the world fraught with ignorance build
Bridges that crosses divides making connections drawing forth alliances that cheer you and others to
New heights of achievement just as this writing has tried to do God bless you
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 2:22 AM UTC
I would not refuse to **** you.
not on a mere ethical technicality
a cursed dialectic sheared and far less pretty
than the contents of your *******
smooth as oysters lips from where your barraged ocean
falls on salty fingertips
you shall bathe in this warm artifice of my adoration
and be my play waif,
my relief from the wristed finesse
that I have become so used to
and I shall take you away from this place
where the chill of a boneless glass sustains
the shadows and fog of a self-financed ******
and Eurydice might still be expected to rise
from beneath a carpet of stone blossom
but in the sober morning a killer may raise
the bones of dead eyebrows and watch the moping steam
evanesce from the wet heart bed
bled full of drowning lungs,
the mangled target of perspective reduced
to something so blessed
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
endless drip-drop-plopping pling-pop puddles pooling over
their self-constructed boundaries,
spilling into rainbow chem-drip paintings on the darkened pavement,
melting into unseen hues of wetness.
the super-saturated ground continues to collect the leaking of the sky,
compiling samples of the potions spilling from clouds who gathered too much magic to hold onto by themselves.
bustling busy-bodies cower under fabric roofs,
only to be barraged by rising tidal waves rolling at their feet,
sneaky splattering from dirt sick of being stomped upon.
under the cover of brick and mortar
searching eyes are stuck staring out blurred window-panes,
hypnotized by the water-works and
feeling nostalgia for a time when they lived under the sea,
evolutionary longing for ancestral roots that escape understanding.
entranced by the suspended flight and splendid crash landing of
parachute droplets sent through a long descent as singular entities
to dissolve back into a homogenous being at the end of the journey -
separating and reconvening, reforming and dissipating.
drip-drop drip-drop all the same,
everything as everything else under the guise of arbitrary names,
dripping-drop plopping in watery refrain,
I am the same as you are the same as we are the same as the drip-dropping rain.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
A zeppelin perches in my gut.
heavy air balloon bubbles up at the top
it is at its stop.
numbing.
the bottom atrium holds rushing footsteps- stubbornly colliding.
and before my closed eyes in the blackness of the mind-winded by the whitest of frost-white flower flash cards deal and conceal the emptiness of snip off eyes.
stinking flies lonely in their lives, barraged by their sticky snaggy wings
they draw sharp daggers, pinning sorrow on to my breath.
my mouth thirsty for salty blue water lies
hungry for the breath of another kind-
shadows of tuberoses on hot mornings
pipe dreams and pies in the sky
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
if you pick me up
from my house
and find me standing in the driveway
fidgeting with my hands and tapping
my foot
it is not your fault
it is the feeling that i do not
deserve to be treated kindly
carved into my bones
and i am trying to scratch it out
because seeing your smile
makes tears sting my eyes
but the second i slide into
the seat next to you
and you put your hand on my knee
i already feel safer
if i spend more time
looking at the menu than at you
it is not your fault
i am not counting the calories
because they are not listed
and it is usually only hospitals that do that
but i am afraid to look you in the eyes
because all i will see is love
and a sparkle that i am afraid
i will ***** out
if i only eat a little bit of my food
and ask the waiter to bring a to-go
box to the table along with our plates
it is not your fault
it is the flashbacks of my family
making fun of the way that i ate
one thing at a time
because even as a boy
i was already being wrapped tighter
and tighter in the grasp
of trauma-induced OCD
if i **** away when your foot
touches mine under the table
it is not your fault
nor is it really mine
and isn’t that strange
that my mother only doling out
cruel touches can still cling to me
even as a young man
if i only take one bite of the dessert
that you ordered just for me
it is not your fault
and i am sorry if i hurt your feelings
but even though the anorexia is
now just a faint whisper in the back of
my mind
it is still there
and at just a whiff of the sweet
i am barraged by the cruelty
in her eyes
when she told me how fat i was
and then praised and loved me
when i was nothing more than
skin and bones
if i go rigid when you hug me
and then bury my head in your shoulder
it is not your fault
i am not good at receiving affection
or kind words
because i grew up with a severe lack of both
and i had none of either left to give myself
because i did not know how to
but i want you to know
that standing there
in the circle of your arms
breathing in your distinct smell
i feel safe
and loved
like i’ve come home
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 1:46 PM UTC
You get your picture taken
The person behind the camera says "Smile!"
So you do
They say that if you want a pretty picture you'll smile
So you do
You can show your picture to your friends and family
They'll say,
"Look at that beautiful smile!"
"You look so pretty!"
"You look so happy!"
But that's just it
You LOOK so happy
That's the thing with image
We strive to be beautiful
Thin
Graceful
****
We think these things will bring us happiness
They don't.
They bring attention.
We are constantly under a microscope
A lens
And everything we do is picked apart piece by piece until our confidence is ripped to shreds and our eyes are raw from tears.
The expectations of the world around us are overwhelming
We are barraged on a daily basis with criticism
Ridicule
Judgement
Harassment
Ignorance
Many of us are capable of treading water until we feel it's safe to swim with the rest
But there are others who slip under the waves and no one stops to help them
No one acknowledges the struggles
The feelings
The pain
The starvation
The cuts.
Our problem is that we don't strive for happiness
Happiness for ourselves and for others
We only strive to appear happy
Many of us succeed
But few of us actually are.
Even fewer of us take the time to consider those who are pretending
Those who smile when they are told
But hurt when they close their bedroom door.
A smile is too beautiful a thing to be left empty.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
confessing my sorrows to a daffodil
petals reflect colors of disdain and contempt upon me
I reach not to the reflection but to a bottle of encapsulated freedom
oft did my feelings reverberate the sound of a forbidding touch
laying upon a hill of dirt
I’m doused in shades of blue
palpating the flesh that becomes mottled
sloshing off layers hoping to satiate this hollow body
these bones become stilled by a heart that no longer beats so sure
a temple barraged with unbidden webs
clouds come and take their place
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 5:29 PM UTC
(Cross heavy) Old found poetry by meself...A cross to bear, nails to tear thick through. Canst thou shovel thine own grave? Gravedigger art thou payed yet for thy expenses? No message's coming on in. Just burdenful sins to cut the blue made veins, where the bloodiest of stains grapple no completing. The dogs are teething as babies to the **** ******** stay stuck in the devils inventions, none to know or mention what society seems to fail. Do we prevail? or get conquered to lost woe fears? Holy spirit shalt thou come near to be thy carriage i lay this carrion body? Claireaudience has found me barraged in darkest of flagrant sadness. Such madness have i been born into, or was the madness thrived in me? No locks nor keys to pass, Limbos fated match, Chimera's live hatched where no love has been given.......
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
Emotions can be:
little magical sprites fluttering
inside your heart
caressing the deepest recesses
of your soul
gently giving you that "high"
happiness
euphoria
inside you springs
a boundless utopia
Or...
They can be devious tricksters
gremlins, the vilest of
these little devils
torturing you
pricking you with a thousand needles
of sadness
grief
the lowest forms
of loneliness.
Inside us dwells
the eternal Yin and Yang
We may be walking contradictions
irresolvable paradoxes
toyed by the whims of unseen forces
barraged by these mysterious
sensations, feelings
and yet,
Such confusion is what makes us
human.
Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 3:13 AM UTC
I was never taught what to do
in a circumstance where
age was just a number
but I didn't know any better.
I knew not about sexuality
only polly pockets and barbies.
I was only seven.
But somehow that circumstance
was uncircumcised
and he made me realize
dolls are just pretend
but this world,
this world is real
and it will steal your words
leave you with wounds
and take your sanity
in just one dark cold night.
I didn't know it wasn't okay-
I had thought this was normal
and every kid my age was like this.
But I knew something was off
when the generosity stopped
and the guilt started.
It was then I realized
this isn't something I will grow out of
this has become a part of who I am.
I'm not sure if this scar will ever fade
but not a day goes by where I wish
I had done something to stop it.
I was young and naive
and longing for attention.
Somehow I was subject to the wrong kind
Where there should have been love
there was lust
where there should have been affirmation
there were bruises.
So maybe I just wanted someone to notice
I wasn't okay
It wasn't okay
But I still hold this inside me
latched onto my subconscious
like a virus
sickening the only sense of mentality I have left.
No one knows the secrets I hold
and I'm not sure if that's good or bad.
Though from time to time
I am reminded of his face
barraged by his presence
I somehow keep it together
because in my mind
I am living
and he is just a ghost.
Although, I wasn't okay,
although, It wasn't okay.
I will be, okay.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
A man left work one Friday afternoon. Being payday, instead of going home, he stayed out the entire weekend hunting with the boys and spent his entire paycheck. When he finally appeared at home, Sunday night, he was confronted by a very angry wife and was barraged for nearly two hours with a tirade befitting his actions.
Finally, his wife stopped the nagging and simply said to him, "How would you like it if you didn't see me for two or three days?"
To which he replied, "That would be fine with me."
Monday went by and he didn't see his wife. Tuesday and Wednesday came and went with the same results.
Thursday, the swelling went down just enough where he could see her a little out of the corner of his left eye. (by Joke.Com)
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 7:17 AM UTC
tanning at high noon
under the shade
protruding the shape
from a field of sunflowers
towering the surrounding grass
I'm beaming back a smile
bewildered and bedazzled
barraged by amazement
to the grandeur of their petals
and their seeds
a roasted culinary delight
nature's compass
staying eye to eye
with the life giving rays
full of nutrients sun-fired
beating down from the sky
yellows, browns, and
bright dull greens
are they not just Beautiful
Nov 25, 2019
Nov 25, 2019 at 5:45 AM UTC
Things seem to be
somewhat real this evening
a chalice moon
far in the west
dare i say, lonely?
and for once this comes to me
without me being asleep
and i find the words to speak
from another kind of dream
things would be so easy
if the same **** appealed to me
at least they would be cheap
because cheap is so easy
if only for a moment
before fake lights upon my eyes
and options in front of me
barraged with packaging
the air it seems to be
enough to sober me
moisture frozen to my face
as i occupy the space
enlivened by the opportunity
of moving place to place
to get that necessity
and return to a place high in the trees
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 11:07 PM UTC
The rock we forge upon the world,
The slab made of belongings and people,
The place that seems to unquestioningly exist based on feelings of responsibility.
The only schedule we have being barraged with other possibility's. Good and bad.
A realistic windshield outside of which the unknown is kept out.
The jungle planet exists and we stay in circles. Well defined patterns of green blues and purples.
Love work and honor and loss of our lifetimes. Collect in our heads all the yellow and white lines. Green lights and stop signs. Friends and our bloodlines.
Speeding past poison, driving through lightning, electronic storms of the unknown and the frightening.
Our foundations are spaceships as we float through the spaces that pass all the places that we've never known. The difference between us is great and the genius we've built all around us keeps life in our homes.
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 1:58 AM UTC
Can we take from our forefathers their wisdom and strength
Can we take it from then to be executed for the here and now
So that our prosperity
Is not in vain
Before the vicious cycle all around that drives the insane
Takes a grip so strong
And to yourself you no longer belong
Is it to be that we are eternally tortured
Or is it just a thought occupying a mind
That in itself has been slaughtered
Barraged by the bedlam of the benign
The wind of social complexity blows **** cold
The ideas that gravitate without definition can never be told
So as life does increase
It's grasp of depravity relinquishes no release
So am I mad
Or to the core,
Is it really that bad
Are there just too many excuses to express so freely
Or have I lost all coherence and sanctioned reality
As we who create continue to perspire
And those who parade their parasitic perversions continue to feed the fire
Then words and images shall gouge their truths into the hearts of the innocents, the worthy souls who question conformity
The taking of no prisoners as a world rises from the smog of corporate contamination
We shall free our minds
We shall live severed from greed,
Bullets won't fly under the banner of political idealism
Our morals, our values they will not be castrated
But if we never see blind and deem ourselves to be but one
Then the outcome is obvious,
The painter will paint
The poet will write
Common decency, invested integrity
Manipulated
Corrupted
Finally annihilated
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
So many choices, options, decisions
Bombarded barraged created divisions
The possibilities are endless; a veritable buffet
This is the world in which we live today
We choose how we act, how we feel and what we wear
We choose what we say and how much we want to care
God gave us free-will he gave us a choice
He gave us our minds and he gave us a voice
Tricked into the sin of jealousy and pride
Realizing the mistake and trying to hide
Like Lucifer we too fell from Grace
And sin entered in to the whole human race
But God in his mercy would not be outdone
For in the fullness of time he would send his one and only son
To suffer and die and rise from the grave
Not to judge or condemn but that we might be saved
He gave himself freely; his body and blood
The ultimate expression of his divine love
Our hearts are broken and we seek things to fill
But no matter what we try nothing fits the bill
His body as bread he joins his heart to ours
His blood the wine sweeter than flowers
United on a physical and fundamental plane
So intimate and so profound you can never be the same
We have a choice: we can be believe and accept
Or we can deny, and doubt and be circumspect
But we have a choice and it can’t be coerced
What will satisfy this longing this deep thirst
And when all is said and done at the end of the age
It’s your turn in the spotlight it’s your time on the stage
Our choices carry a surprising amount of weight
Did you choose to love, did you forgive instead of hate
Did you follow in His footsteps and help others on the road
Did you ease someone’s burden, help them carry the load
Many times you have to make choices that are hard
None come through not bruised or cut or scarred
Though the way is hard and the journey ever long
We are not alone and together we are made strong
In the world of a million choices there is one that I will make
Find something that will mark me like a stamp or seal
I choose to live a life of love that’s real
and not just some cheap fake
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 8:37 PM UTC
As I twirl in velvet mystery
I unfurl the quilt of history
I am left awestruck and dizzy
As I let the world shine in me
My senses are assaulted then assuaged
My brain battered and barraged
I tumble in a technicolor tornado
Made from borrowing the beauty of an autumn tree
And as I fall in twilight infinity
I finally feel I’m flying free
The autumn leaves form an iridescent raft
I sail on sunbeams and fly through dreams
I gently float down these fantastical streams
My vessel gleams bright as I part at the seams
My form opens up and I splash on the deck
A filament, a photon, a spiritual speck
My truest self made up mostly of space
No longer hiding behind the mask of my face
Lost in this brand new story
A novel way of noticing the world’s constant glory
The unknown adventure insistent, imploring
I cut loose my mooring and begin exploring
Colliding with chaos I plunge in the deep
I daringly explore the dragon’s dark keep
When I finally lay my weary head down to sleep
I will have made music that makes angels weep
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 9:02 AM UTC