"battleships" poems
her happier eyes
brilliant even in the sun
but she has a rough feel to her soul
she walks along the hot sidewalk with a dozen bags in arm
looks like it would tire an army of horses
but she says shes fine
"don't bug me with that 'good guy shit'
know your good, just not right now...
cause id rather be mad"
three thirty in the pool of a streetlight
we both swim in reasons
we both have battleships on fire
and its really only the hot humid air that keeps the blow by blow going
by dawn we are curled up in a park
miles from home
making love cause there aint much left to say
shes still mad
but shes ready to cry
i tell her i'm wrong
but we both know that don't matter
we both are just confused by the her that aint here
we are just confused by what should be
her happier eyes brilliant like twin starlight trains
keep speeding over me
and i keep kissing her hand
cause it s the nice guy thing to do
two hopeless romantics lost in the south florida rainforest
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
It was only a legend, my dears,
A normal town, living in fear,
There were fat feral urban virgins here,
Hell bent on their pleasures, cheers!
"Down with boys' daks, get here!"
A whole town living in fear,
Was it all an urban myth, my dears?
Urban virgins strolling the streets,
Battleships waiting for boys to meet,
Immaculate conception, each miss,
Having divine parthogenesis,
Yes, real fat funster chicks,
It was all about ********
For each little Horatio,
Or was it a fantasy of bliss,
From an urban ****** miss?
Did urban virgins wander away?
Normal town, not a normal day,
A normal town, living in fear...
It was an urban legend, my dears.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 4:08 AM UTC
Unzip,
new skin quick
neutralised Freudian slips
A spy game
so slick
well placed mortars sinking battleships
new suit
cover skin ill-suited to do business with life
find a life that suits your business
before you cover your life with a business suit.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 1:23 AM UTC
Under the shade of weeping willow trees
The air is filled with birdsong an anthem sweet and beautiful
The soft sweet song of the bubbling creek
The fragrance of honeysuckles drifts from the forgotten garden
Where daffodils, violets, and many other flowers grow
Mountains high and valleys low covered in the cloak of spring
Hunter-green cedars and deep-green firs sway in the dancing breeze
Even the lonesome desert and vast wilderness
With its pretty sunrises and sunsets bears its own beauty
Morning glories in the Enchanted Forest unfurl their soft sweet petals
At Dusk when all are sleep
Sunrays shining through the dew covered leaves of the majestic trees
Waves wash onto the sea of time where lots of creatures live
And where fishes and sea turtles peep up out of the ocean
Where palm trees grow their lacy-green leaves providing shade for all
Where rocky island cliffs hold treasures forgotten a long time ago
When pirates hunted for gold
Where old forgotten battleships are at the bottom of the ocean
And the people on them long since dead. . .
Pearls and treasures hidden from sight at the bottom of the ocean
Where dolphins sleep and play ready to save some swimmer
Sea-green coral and seaweed are pretty ocean plants
Seashells at the very bottom of the ocean
Seagulls sing to one another from the coconut trees and many other birds sing a
Tropical anthem blending with the sweet perfume of hibiscus and a lone tropical girl
Plays a sweet song on the ukulele
And the horse gallops on the sandy shore happily enjoying his freedom
And the world to all is beautiful
Tropical sunsets blazing dark goldish- orange with the silhouettes of palm trees
On the beautiful rocky island
And the world is hushed to sleep with the tropical lullaby of the singing waves
When the world awakes with dew the sweet hibiscus
~Marian~
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 6:34 PM UTC
They say the more afraid you are to speak something the more power you give it right
Kept asking myself if I was doing the right thing
I always knew it was never something true, still real till this day I’m tearing wondering if this is one of those things that never heal
Will this haunting everlasting death ever pass
How have I not dug myself out of this grave yet
So disturbed burning tears seeing reflections of ghosts near memories seemingly too close
To her soul is the adamant adventure trying to win her back again but devil memories keep me soulless I am a entity of no beginnings no endings just existing in this black hole of nothing
I am still trying
Like right now I’m on meteor showers looking for lost battleships seeing if maybe they could guide me home, dreaming in high clouds looking at the last hour looking back on angelic souls confused with the misfit’s bold while running sin, it swims farther than suns shining rays of golden turning to dust as deathly holes with vampire intents seek to steal all light out of the world but all after explosions and fire and bangs but no one is left to see the void because it is all in the aftermath.
But what’s left to do after that? Always trying to get on with a new thing before processing the last. My brain keeps me busy going and poking fun and finding things I huffle puffs after breaking into strangers dungeons without knowing where this fairytale might take me. Would Alice have jumped down that hole if she knew it was an empty casket? Little bunnies could lead to the devil you really never should judge a book by its cover. You never try to bridge cliffs together when you never learned how to swim in the waters running underneath, you never know how deep those waters may go. You never know how far from home they may take you. You never wanna drown in a fairytale. The amnesia never heals.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 4:53 PM UTC
Fluff and puff,
water plugs,
power plants,
paper over eyesores,
paint it matte,
pink as salmon,
pack the homeless
into the Bird's Nest,
ghettoise Moses,
bleed the Amazon
down to size,
moor the battleships
to Yamuna Bank,
let white elephants
run riot on warm Black ice
over those who won't
play ball in our
electric garden
free your head
from the rails
for what?
roti kapda makaan
or BSP ki maya?
be buried or a sport
let laal battis through
ab bus, stop
blaming it on Rio
don't you know
how India shone
in October 2010,
or that Russians love
their children too?
So what if they don't
believe in modern love?
Potemkin villages are
built brick by brick
by BRICS,
Red, Yellow, Orange
kilned to Black.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC
so maybe we do call our battleships "she"
and name our tornadoes after women
maybe i am a warrior and a fighter
a champion and a queen
or maybe i'm just a woman
with my own set of flaws and weaknesses
fighting through the jungle of confusion
maybe i'm just a woman
doing her ******* best
to be the best.
maybe i wasn't named after tornadoes,
maybe tornadoes were named after me.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 6:36 AM UTC
do you remember?
we sat by the shore
drunk on moonlight
and bitter starlight
we stumbled in the wet sand
collecting strange seashells
and i wept at the terrible sight
of the end of the world
cheap wine burning inside
veins both young and old
our bicycles laid in the tall grass
like ancient metall lovers dead
i counted a thousand stars
not in the midnight sky
but in your hidden eyes
you counted thirteen battleships
inside my heart
and thus we made love
like foolish wild things do
on a beach with strange seashells
and we wept at the terrible sight
of the end of the world
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
Cancel Haloween, I'm not the monster here
Fall's my favorite season, but hell October's doggie days for me
Stagnant rivers, and pockets full of leaves
I try to run a little faster just to escape these things catching up to me
Big furrys and little monsters at my knees
Oh, geeze-la-weeze
I need to feed on something sweet
So give me your neck girl,
I need your flesh, give me your blood, your best
Give me your glitter, your neon *******
Oh, get me the hell out of this monsters nest
Adrenaline pumped into me, I feel every blood platelet intimately rushing through me.
Radioactively synthesized, authenticity arise
Don't wait on me babe, I'm just trying to synchronize
Worry about me, and I'll let the tension build
Till I get the attention fill I need, babe.
Raid my mind with all your battleships and heavy war machines
Break me down until you find something worth keeping
I've bartered the black market selling love for lust, and my dreams for less
I barter for pleasures, but I always want more
I've lived a shallow life, assured
I've become a monster, and a ***** all while trying something new
That I was told was a cure
Now I follow with the bewildered beasts boohoo
Now I follow with the bewildered beasts boohoo
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 2:00 PM UTC
Jack Cornwell was a Boy, First Class
On the Chester’s forward gun,
There to relay the settings with
A pair of headphones on,
He’d turned sixteen just months before
Was trained for his chosen task,
And hoped for a life of adventure as
He sailed, before the mast.
The Chester sailed to join the Fleet
That had left from Scapa Flow,
The Grand Fleet with its battleships
Sailed under Jellicoe,
They’d intercepted the German codes
And knew that they’d put to sea,
Hoping to split the British Fleet
And gain a victory.
The Chester turned to meet the flash
Of gunfire, far away,
The light was poor before the dawn
And the mist was thick that day,
Three funnels of a German ship
Came gliding through the mist,
And the Chester turned to starboard
Ready to show the British fist.
But the German ship was not alone
And the shells began to rain,
From the following battle cruisers
Shattering decks, in blood and pain,
Jack Cornwell stood at his post while all
His gun crew lay there dead,
Ready to take his orders, though
The Chester turned, and fled.
The medics found him with shrapnel wounds
Steel splinters in his chest,
He wouldn’t desert his post, he was
As brave as all the rest,
The Chester sailed for Immingham
Disembarked the wounded crew,
Put Jack in Grimsby Hospital,
There was nothing they could do.
He died just two days afterwards
Before his mother came,
She’d hurried on up from London
Where she’d caught the fastest train,
They buried Jack in a communal grave
So many men had died,
Fighting for King and country
Steeped in duty, worth and pride.
His name was honoured from lip to lip
How he’d stood beside his gun,
Determined to fight the German ships
‘Til the Chester turned to run,
Such courage born of England
Where it was tempered at the forge,
Was so inspiring in one so young
Said the Navy, to King George.
‘For shame,’ then cried the ‘Daily Sketch’
When they heard of the communal grave,
‘Is this how we treat our heroes,
Jack deserves the nation’s praise!’
The coffin was shortly disinterred
And draped with the Union Jack,
Drawn on an open gun carriage
With the Navy at its back.
His name went down in the history books
As the boy who stuck to his post,
In the midst of dead and dying men
As they made their way to the coast,
King George conferred the highest award
That there was, for bravery,
Awarded him the Victoria Cross,
Jack Cornwell, Boy, V.C.
David Lewis Paget
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 3:16 AM UTC
Tokimonsta - Little Pleasures ♫
The waves are as turbulent as can be
But I'm still sailing.
My sky cries with thunderous roar amidst the wailing waters...
...but I'm still sailing...
Battleships galore,
my blood is on the floor.
but the Lord is my witness.
My troubles are my fitness,
for I am conditioned for greatness.
...fluctuating...
forever fluctuating,
how can I be made for such seas?
Such quests weaken the body but it's truth that strengthens the soul!..
surely it is true that this pang is painful for the sake of some sad sacred purpose.
...but...
Where is my truth ?
where is the truth?
Why is there even such confusion ?
should truth not be universal?
if not is it not just perception?
how unjust !
Are we losing our truth?
Are we losing the truth?
Has our perception become deception ?
To know,
lose your mind watching the inception
see what a wonderous con it is.
Just like you i also doubt...
like the lotus lost in a sun yet looking for the Son.
like Ali looking for his lion.
like Buddha looking for his beach
yet lost in a rain looking for his tears...
suddenly,
...an Ocean...
Set your sail for a heavenly shore,
surely you trust journey??
For Heavens sake,
trust your journey I urge,
It will all make sense in the end if you lie with the kiss of truth.
Through the motions sickness,
In hope for brighter days beneath the rain.
we've all been dealt pain,
but no matter how unfair take what you're handed and let love forever be your mantra.
I'm in the honest hour,
and Melancholy moons seem to be setting in once again,
but still i'm hoping that I will one day see the Son from through the rain.
"Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him"
Future of forestry - set your sails ♫
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 4:48 AM UTC
My mother said we were different.
Round peg, square hole,
but you still put your red peg right through my chest
as my heart was the minefield where you and me played battleships
till we sank into moonlight on a blanket in
your yard smoking cigarettes.
That blanket was my starship and your yard my volcano
as I couldn't be less square than
the night I said I love you, I love you.
That night you manoeuvred my body
like you had a map of my soul engraved
in the palm of your hand,
crafting me into stanzas with rhythm
even Shakespeare could not teach.
My syllabic speech echoing your rhyme
as you read between my lines
that were no longer straight.
My mother said we were different.
That we didn't fit, that I didn't fit in.
That love is not a feeling
but is a bicycle you learn to ride.
That true love is something to hide
at the bottom of your closet for
no one else to find.
No, closets are for clothes and bicycles for forests
as love is falling into dirt with your mouth wide open.
It is dancing naked to Nirvana at 3am
Screaming come as you are.
Please, come as you are.
I will never change your shape so that you fit me,
and I will never erase the lines that make you frown
or make you smile.
My mother said we were different.
Geometry was never my thing.
Thats just the way I am.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 10:05 AM UTC
I've forgotten the last time I had to memorize
oh wait, it was today.
I memorized so I didn't have to plagiarize
and I plagiarized because I had no idea what to say.
instead of studying, I was out at play
breaking ankles instead of pencil tips.
made some gnarly 3 pointers, I might say,
all I could think about were my papercut lips.
the keyboard fights me with whips
I'm trying, I am really trying,
but I'm collapsing, like sunken battleships.
Well, at least I'm not dying.
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 12:53 PM UTC
Sit Still
Tap...
Tap...
Rhythm
thought comes ¡ thought goes
Enter》
《Exit
~ Thar She Blows ~
Oh!
Sister Beating Heart
to Brother Brain
which to follow to keep me Sane??
Chutes and Ladders to CandyLand
Stick my neck into the sand!
Hungry Hippos
Oh so hungry
Sorry! for th' Monopoly
Guess Who? Philosophy
The Game of Life like Battleships
Palms will twist into tight fists
Twister contortion
Muscle Rips
and all we say is,
"God, we pray"
So I just...
Sit Still
Tap...
Tap...
Rhythm
thought comes ¡ thought goes
Enter》
《Exit
~ Thar She Blows ~
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC
March for freedom my dear countrymen!
Let our love be spilled on our motherland
Our sweat and tears shall fall on her *****
Marks of our valor shall grow in its gardens.
Raise highly the red flags in our battleships
Waive the colors that symbolize our passion
Men, women and children stand up to fight
In unity we will sing our songs of freedom!
Drop the bombs of hope from our planes
To be discovered by the future generations
Their mouths shall be filled by our melodies
They shall enjoy the peace that today we fight for!
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 6:31 AM UTC
Bleeding eclipse splatters anguish, scorching frozen terrain
Reservoir transmits despair, vaporizing humid remains
Noxious fumes plague ventilation, incinerating methane mutilates
Inhumane detonations ignite smog, dismembering shrapnel decimates
Bombardments stimulate hallucinations, assailants discharge magazines
Incendiaries barrage trenches, vulnerability flourishes disease
Artilleries eject carnage, atrocious quarantine impedes retreat
Projectiles massacre infantry, heinous airstrike parries deceit
Howitzer impersonates tempest, kamikaze technique revealed
Nautical battleships converge, perilous adversaries concealed
Submarines launch torpedoes, oblivious warships sealed doom
Submersed submersibles clash, claustrophobic vessels entomb
Drowning agony crushes depths, forsaken lagoon transforms necropolis
Aquatic daemons consume decrepit, infernal torment surrenders providence
Condemned mortals cauterize compassion, genocide exterminates consciousness
Snorkeling corpses mound topside, eradicated infestation forfeited holocaust
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 8:26 PM UTC
Chess pieces
The number of one to form action
For the presidential elections
Tests conducted to understand its position
Things to be brought into submission
Strategy of kings with glasses
Things played in huge masses
Fear of buttons onto children
Situations of the system
Survival mind of terror
Domino effect
The Parts of the system errors
Supreme dictatorships
Powered by the battleships
Hands in fields
Eldorado on the leash
Rules to work with
The new government elected
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 5:07 AM UTC
i am currently pitching a tent
do you know my intent?
i currently have a *****
i wonder if shes a groaner
lets play battleships can i sink you with my pink torpedo
i need to get out my pink speedo
so lets ****
or would you like to ****
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 6:49 AM UTC
What symbols can be used to
Describe
INFINITE LOVE ?
( infinite love ) Yeah ( infinite love )
Standin by the waters of the ocean
Infinite love ?
Well
This might describe the Infinity
But how do you picture
The
Infinite devotion ?
Or the immaculate sense of trust ?
///
We wander the hills
We see /// Battleships approaching on the seas
We gather our arms and protect the babes
For the sake of god
And for purity
:: love ::
In any hour of any
" Scene "
Who are we ?
&
What are we doing ?
Lay on the tip of the tongue
( infinite love ) ( infinite love )
•
In the matter of the heart
The simple eye knows what it sees
Truth is the only seed
So that must be the place to start
••
Infinite love
What are the symbols that describe it ?
ONLY YOU IN YOUR PURITY
on the earth in its majesty
The power of ALL
The power of ONE
//
the power of BREATH
holy sons and daughters
Beyond life and death
In the power of your fearlessness
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 12:51 AM UTC
The waves dancing on the shore
The seashells washing up on the sand
It all paints a picture of home
The boats far out to sea
Against a backdrop of citrus skies
It all paints a picture of my home
The seagulls crying out to each other
Beacons standing strong and tall
On rocky cliffs and reefs
It all paints a picture of my beautiful home
Holding hands on the cliffs
Overlooking the sunsets by the sea
This all paints a picture of my home
The pirates here of long ago
Searching for hidden treasure
Things forgotten under the sea
Sunken battleships, years of rot
It’s all a picture of home to me
The footprints in the sand
From where I take my morning walks
Barefoot, my skin against the gritty sand
This is all a painting of my home
The sandcastles of destroyed wishes
Hopes, dreams, and ambitions
Torn asunder by angry waves
It is still a painting of my home
Hibiscus crowns and lovers
Happy children dancing in the waves
Smiling, as they build their goals
Yes, this is a painting of my home
I’m lost across the endless water
Floating in a canvas of inky blue sky
Please, show me a picture of my home
Still mourning in the foam and froth
Praying for a new dawn tomorrow
Please, show me a painting of my home
I’m drowning in these waves
My ship is ready to be lost at sea
The waves are climbing higher
I look for one spark of light
To guide me—show me the way
Please, paint me a picture of home
But I cannot see in the wind and rain
The stinging of salt upon my face
No familiar light from the beacon
So I keep on praying faithfully
Please, paint me a picture of my home
~Marian~
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC
I've never been one for looking back,
nostalgia is a liar,
but when I think of us all
I am paralyzed.
we live in our boxes; land forgotten
by time, government, and one day
forgotten by us.
we flash our rosy liped smiles
and test the waters.
my boy! the moon in his
crystal eyes.
with our shins bruised and
laughs wandering, we use our
words as ammo; language exploited.
we have yet to give up fairy wings
and battleships.
nevermind
the late nights and headlights.
we sulk because we are so young.
we cry because everything is so
beautiful.
when we think back to these days
I hope you remember our nights;
stardust fires. a scorched galaxy
in full force.
we nearly kissed the sun.
-N.M.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 7:53 PM UTC
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Arthur Benjamin Franklin: my Unca Artie, my favorite. A High School football star, known as Red Franklin, he was famous for his dark red hair. He used to chuck me into deep water at Chrystal Pool to terrify me for 5 seconds, then hoist me onto his broad shoulders.I suspect I was his favorite too. War came and he had to go. I cried and cried on the herringbone patterned bricks at the train depot in Kelso. I have a v-mail he sent to my mom, his sister, dated 1942. He was a belly gunner on the B-17’s that were flying the area where Rommel was fighting. He brought my sis and I back little leather suitcases, tooled in wonderful designs by a skilled artist somewhere in the orient. I still have it. A treasure.
Grover Cleveland Franklin: My suave uncle, joined the Navy in WWII and became a deep sea diver. The kind that wore those heavy suits with the big glass bubble head. He helped detect and destroy mines around battleships. In doing that brave work he lost his hearing and came home as a lip reader for most of my childhood. I was always a bit suspicious because he seemed to read lips so well. He even got written up in the newspaper because he could sing while putting his hands on a phonograph and feeling the vibrations of the music he couldn’t hear. We kids would always try to make loud noise behind him but he never once reacted to it.
Many years later I learned that he confessed that his hearing had gradually came back. He was a hero nevertheless.
About their names: Both being born in North Carolina, back in the 1920’s it was common practice among the country folk to name sons after famous people. I also have another distant relative named George Washington Franklin. I love having hillbilly DNA.
May 26, 2025
May 26, 2025 at 6:28 PM UTC
i saw a little old man just mumbling away
he pulled out a paint tin and he began to spray
the picture that he painted was all about the war
battleships and big guns aeroplanes and more
all in perfect detail a picture to behold
he put down his memories now his stories told
telling all the world how it used to be
what was once a battleground is now a land so free
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC