"bombarded" poems
everything is so sweet
like cotton candy sold in the night market
just like vanilla ice cream that melted on the tongue
tonight the sky was bombarded with fireworks
rainbow colors are scattered everywhere
stars have friends
they celebrate
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 8:30 AM UTC
*A vast blanket of darkness, the world at night
Bombarded by the explosion of light
Were you bedazzled by my kaleidoscopic luster?
You were silenced with awe
And your eyes manifest wonder
My splendor of lights were formed from the shadows
And in its depths I'll return
Sadness and hurt made indigo
Bliss and jubilance made yellow
So light me up, ignite me
be the flame to set me afire
colliding thoughts had lifted me up
This is my extravagant goodbye
As the last glint of light flickers
in the last seconds of my show
as it falls slowly to be one with void
i'd like to see one last smile aglow
you're the spark that triggered me to combust
i was once a firework show
now one with dust*
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC
when i was young
ammi packed me lunch
one strawberry jam sandwich
cut neatly into squares
as i grew older
and my tummy much bigger
(along with my appetite)
one turned into two
two to three
and finally
for some unknown reason
there were no strawberry jam sandwiches
but ammi still packed me lunch
it was tuna or chicken
maybe tomato and cheese
sometimes a pastry
i wasn't hard to please
and it never occurred to me
that my strawberry sandwiches
were gone
till one completely random day
i'm sitting with my friends
taking the first bite of my sandwich
a burst of strawberry fills my mouth
sweet, rich with sugar
it tastes red, good bright red
my strawberry jam sandwich came back
and i was bombarded by my childhood
playing on the swings sandwich in hand
red coated crumbs dotting my shirt
running out of class as soon as the bell rings
to munch munch munch
on my strawberry sandwiches
strawberry jam was never my favourite filling
but it filled me with memories
so occasionlly
when i'm feeling nostalgic
i'll pick up a slice, butter it up
spread my gooey, red friend
and share a sandwich with ammi.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 5:28 AM UTC
I'm barefoot in 46 degrees and I must remember that my perception of things must not encapsulate how I truly perceive. Soldered commentary is bleak but is all I've left, all my years have given me and my years have been few.
To be constantly bombarded with the question, "what is it that I really want?" is fervently exhausting and consistently hypocritical and I'm a hack. The conclusion is always that I'm a hack without a win to present or a failure to fall back upon. As a hack, I've left myself with very few plans to alter or hungry mindsets to feed.
After glistening the only thing that remains is to burn out and the thought of extinguishing so prematurely provokes a physical falter and frequent respiratory failure.
Ask your brother if he lingers at times. Ask your sister if sometimes, she means what she says and she should always say no. Ask your friends why you should be anyone's friend and whether or not the chance to swing into hyperbolic criticism ever affects how they make their choices, hoof their steps.
Their answer should always be no and their input should always be invaluable.
Ask yourself if brain power should always be set to alter mind power and ask yourself is alteration is ever even possible. The answer should always be no.
The conclusion to draw should always be his. The choices you make, always expert and ground out by consistent respiratory failure. Ask yourself if you'll always be an animal and when will that stop. Ask yourself if time will determine whether or not this "thing" is worth doing or this "thing" is worth composing. Ask yourself why you're not the young girl who sings soul on the street, whose tremble sets off car alarms and inner requisitioning. The answer will never be the same.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 5:08 AM UTC
When my father was young he mowed lawns for money. He pushed a second-hand spinning blade in the hot Florida sun for spare change.
With dull coins clanging in his pocket and crumpled bills in his palm, my father fought to escape home.
To him, home was synonymous with scary southern suburbia, where late-night television was replaced with screaming matches and loud fists. Angry eyes with children's cries. Barbecues bombarded with apologetic looks from neighbors. Pretending not to hear shatters and shouts of supposed 'baseball black eyes'.
And so he pushed. Pushed the rusty lawn mower down strangers' yards, pushed away the sniggering snot-nosed kids calling him 'Spic', and pushed at his father's demons, crawling down his spine, whispering that he was no good.
Years later he kept pushing
Pushing
Pushing
Pushing towards whatever came next. Yet no matter how much he pushed, he was still the same boy with the lawn mower. Angry, mad, pushing violently ahead.
The smoke of sanity is inhaled now, as my father's blood-shot eyes try to suppress the angry boy within. The residue of stolen innocence is not left unnoticed. A touch of tone on his once sunburnt neck and the man he has made instantly flushes away, leaving his father's demons. Calmer than before, a dying star, burning bright before collapse.
Like a strong jaw, his father's anger is passed down to him, and I, his son, am now born with this seed of destruction. Smaller than before, but still seething.
Constantly reminded, I sit in a leather chair surrounded by white walls in carefully controlled climate, plastic pen perched on my palm, I push.
I'll keep pushing.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
•
If you are a tree,
Bombarded by extreme winds,
In the amidst of a typhoon,
*I'll sacrifice to be your roots,
To diminish your agony,*
OH, I cannot manage seeing you suffer!
*In carrying on in a big tragedy,
With utmost throe alone ,*
*Let me be torn and broken into fragments,
And be cut in combating and holding for you,*
That's how much I love and care,
I wish you only knew...
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 11:09 AM UTC
Have we all become mere automata
guided by the ring of pings and notifs?
The spray of lather from a sea of data
carrying with it wrung celebrity whiffs
have stung us with a certain aphasia...
The written thought was a lifetime ago
long abandoned by the times and all--
where once there was soundness to follow
nonsense amassed like a rising cymbal
whose crash sent reason to the gallows.
The news of the day presents a delectable entree
of a hodgepodge of this, that, and nothing much.
Wherefore we find our tongues compelled to say
something about the aftertaste or to prejudge
as if we were connoisseurs--it must've hid faraway.
Are we perhaps amusing ourselves to death?
I am by no means a Luddite to such a degree,
but I believe we have bombarded and blessed
ourselves a little too much to see...
only time will tell us reason's final breath.
Sep 19, 2023
Sep 19, 2023 at 10:38 PM UTC
I wish I could spare you words like beautiful, babe, figure and thin.
I wish I could guarantee you a complete disregard for the size of your *******
Or the length of your legs.
I pray never to find you hunched over the toilet
Or hiding a sandwich under books in your bag.
What will the equivalent of cyberbullying be, in ten years time?
I will try, so very hard, to keep you safe.
Please, always talk to each other, and to me.
Share your heart’s bleedings
And I will help you staunch the flow.
I will find the courage to share my failings
And the confidence to pass on my successes,
Both were instrumental in my becoming the woman I am,
A woman I hope you will be proud of, and applaud.
It is hard to be a woman, in this world,
Urged, relentlessly to perfection,
Bombarded with it, drowned in it,
But perfection is a myth, and becomes imperfect with attainment,
It is the imperfections that will mesmerise,
Embrace them, love them, let them shine.
How long did it take me to learn these lessons?
Have I learned them, even now?
Sometimes I think I have, then I become overwhelmed
By anxiety and self-doubt.
This will happen to you too,
I cannot hope to save you from it
But I can provide some armour.
Think for yourselves,
Reject the babble and the screens, the illusion of celebrity
Twenty-first century addictions.
Do not become a slave to technology.
I can see how hard that will be,
But it must be done, if you are to remain people,
Retain your humanity.
I will help you; I will hold your hands.
You are tiny now, but I can see the strength within you both,
And I will nurture it, protect it,
Then it will protect you, out there.
I promise I will always be your tigress,
But you will not always be my little cubs
I will have to find a way to sheath my claws,
And let you stalk your own prey,
And evade the predators, just as I have done.
I watch you, playing happily together in the sun,
And wish you peace, and love, and joy.
Such simple things, yet so elusive.
I will not show you this poem.
But I will read it, frequently,
And try to keep my promises.
My heart thuds in my chest, each a double-beat
A constant repetition of your names,
Tattooed onto my soul.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 3:54 AM UTC
The ether’d suggested,
“Say something.”
I didn’t.
The photos bombarded,
“Say something.”
And I didn’t once more.
His widow plead, cried,
“Say something”
I couldn’t.
One daughter begged,
“Remember?
And I couldn’t once more.
But I bought a cake,
“Daddy?”
Lit the candles,
“Daddy?”
And he didn’t;
And he wouldn’t
Answer,
Because I never did.
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
a phone call to a friend
threats and crying
there was no wrong here
i am not alone
us
bombarded
will hold tight
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
They said high school was a home of learning
Oh I learned alright
They said it would construct my future
All it did was destroy me with the past
They said it would be safe
They have no defense over the demons
They said it would develop me as a person
But I remain who I was... only shattered
They said so many things, yet understood so little
This goes to the pillow-clutchers
to the broken who carry soaked and salty handkerchiefs
to the flesh that thrive for streaks of red dripping out
to the souls that are constantly bombarded by screeches of lies
Lies that overrun every beauty in and out
Lies that lead to masochistic actions
Waiting for the second heartbeat after every punch
Hoping this would free the monsters trapped within
This goes to the insecure
No, we are not emo
How can one contain our being in just three letters?
We are not superficial pain lovers
We are violated, dispirited, downhearted, beaten, unsettled, splintered, forgotten
But we will never be merely emo
A high school is not filled with students
It is filled with labels, rumors, divisions and fake personas
filled with eyes that look straight into your soul
filled with whispers that spread like a virus
Getting worse and worse after every ear it has jumped into
Savages looking for the flaw that can destroy you
Until you break and mindlessly follow their example
**High school is where you lose who you are
And be who everyone else wants you to be**
Everyone thought I was just being vain
Always staring at the mirror, trying to be cute
Never did it come into their minds that I was already believing the lies
ready to accept the rumors
using FINE as my own maxim
**** I'm Never Enough
But I waited
Waited for someone to drive out the beasts
to heal my scars
to fill my emptiness
Yet until now I remain drenched in loneliness and fear
High school is worse than hell
A quick and small crack in your soul hurts more
Than an eternal burn of your flesh
This is why we're ready to see the light come out of our eyes
But I'm holding on
For you need pain before you're declared strong
For you need darkness before you see the stars
For you need death before you reach heaven
For where there are angels,
there will always be demons
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
I once knew a woman who got cancer
I don't know why
Perhaps it was genetic
Environmental
Or she swallowed a fly
They sliced it out
Bombarded with radiation
Chemo
It might as well have been a spider
To wriggle and wriggle around inside her
Because she died
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 5:32 AM UTC
feelings of deep discontent use to swallow me whole.
now I am bombarded by a flurry of hope and love
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 7:18 AM UTC
my 3rd vice
my catalyst for food restriction
desperate to sooth my shattered self image
daily bombarded by airbrushed perfect female beauty
braking my image of beauty and showing my cellulite
followed by overloading information about fixing me
regular exercise, beauty routines and Cal restricted diets
insecurity the new female epidemic
we fight for women's rights
and threw the baby out with the bath water
a basic human need
unmet and exploited
our legacy
the English standard
geneticly out of reach for women of color
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 1:19 AM UTC
If you ask how I'm feeling
Prepare for a long talk
But if you want the short version
Then I'll try to sum it up
How do I feel?
I feel like
I'm fighting a battle
With a billion moquitoes
One bite isn't a big deal
Neither is two
But I'm getting bombarded
Bite after
Bite after
Bite
I am surrounded by the enemy
And no matter how many I ****
There's another to take it's place
I can't escape
They're ******* the life out of me
Even if they don't **** me
They hurt
Like you wouldn't believe
So how do I feel?
Like I'm being attacked
By a billion mosquitoes
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
~
Sitting on my rhinestone lotus pond floating around in my oceanic bedroom
The haunting begins its sinister buzzing with a silent ‘vroom’
Wooden door opening by itself
My jeweled heartbeat falls from a bone frame shelf
Demons hanging like poisoned vines from the painted ceiling sky
Gods then pours their breath inside my empty soul, drowning all insinuated lies
Butterfly piano keys fluttering their enchanted melodies
The notes dripping pearls of discarded lullabies into my hidden pleas
Lost dreams entangled in my seashell hair
As I sit cradling broken memories in my emerald iris, the ones I’ve forgotten to share
Dead skin peeling from my fingertips as I turn a dusty page in my notebook
Loose frays of secrets coming apart, falling away in my Underland outlook
I remember the day I recreated my being, as I drew Self into a mermaid rose
Piercing my revolving face with a jagged pen,
**** fairytales bleeding from my lips, a new world I chose
My dress of ivory seaweed has caught onto a sharp end
I sink into the onyx murky depths of my rhinestone lotus pond, wishing for a friend
Discarded
Bombarded
Licking death, seeing the dead
My attire drifts in the sulphide air, swirling with the essence of dread
I now leave my surreal sanctuary
As rhinestones melt, the pond drains, the lotus folds its metal origami
I’m back from the world I created
Back to reality where a sententious poet is constantly hated
Back to a butterfly wallpapered bedroom where hallucination spend
Yea I’m back, but not for long, not until inspiration comes and I swallow my pen
And into my notebook realm I will be back in my own world again…
~
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 3:17 AM UTC
I
am
not afraid
of birth
People seem to fear
losing this chaotic
fight to the world
I see no fear in the newborn
I see screams owing nothing
I see a cry out to declare
"Yes I am alive, I exist"
and calm settles in after life's first breath
I
am
not afraid
of middle age
the ego death
the rending of the self
and the questions bombarded asking me
"is any of this all worth it?"
As I see many people on the path
of anxiety
I can't help but wonder
how one can fear death
if they worry so much about life being worth it
One doesn't worry about being robbed of
an empty bank account
They seek instead to fill it
to save
to leave something behind for loved ones
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
It seems to me that the happiest people are people who barley have the,( I won't say necessities because that would mean to much to most of us in the US), let's say people who barley scrap by. Every day is a challenge to scrap up enough to eat and drink. These people seem to be closer to their families. They laugh more. They share more. They know what is in their brothers heart as well as what is in their own. They live a simple life spiritually and a hard life physically. No TV, no media, no Hollywood. Sometimes I wish I lived somewhere like Ethiopia or a hundred other places on this earth not bombarded every minute of every day with things. THINGS that are not important. To live where just to survive the day and have people to rejoice in that survival with is enough. Body and soul I long for the happiness that comes from a day well lived. We have become a nation that knows not how to live but how to be entertained. We never slow down to feel what's in our heart or to feed our souls. If we never listen to what is in our own heart how can we know what is in another heart. Oh just to live and not to judge. Is that possible? Can it be possible when we are bombarded with the latest, the greatest, the best of fashion, phone, game, religion? Who knows what I could do if I didn't have everyone telling me who or what I should be. And believe me it changes daily. We all look at these " less fortunate" people on TV or in a magazine and we feel sorry for them when it is ourselves that we must feel sorry for. What is to become of us. We are a most intriguing people, we who have done so many amazing things, and yet most of us feel sad or lonely. Yes, you have a beautiful home. Yes, you have people who love you. But wait, how do you know they love you?.....well of course they love you, their suppose to love you, after all you love them.....right. I mean that's the way the story goes....right? You know the story, the one you saw on Lifetime yesterday, while your loved ones were doing....ah what were they doing? Oh yes, your son was playing that new game, you know " **** Zombie **** on that PlayStation or Nintendo or something like that, and your daughter was at the mall buying the latest thing to make her feel beautiful, and your husband was.....well he was doing something on the computer. How can you love someone if you don't know who they are. How can you love someone if you don't know who you are. All of this technology may be bringing the world closer but who needs to know the world when they don't even know their own family....,or their next door neighbor, the one that shot himself yesterday. No one knows why. Please people , I beg you, put down the phone turn off the TV, go out on a date( not at the movies), but somewhere you can talk and get to know each other. And if you don't know what to say just say what's in your heart. After all that is what truly matters. If you can realize that most of the things in your life are meaningless then you too can have a life well lived. In the end isn't that all that matters. So for now I am signing out and switching off, and tuning in to my life. For all I wish is to have a life well lived.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 5:47 PM UTC
Let's engender a love like an elastic.
Let's create a love where when we're plagued and bombarded with complications,
we still spontaneously recommence our conventional shape,
like an elastic.
Let's create a durable love;
a love where lies and opinions shock us as a whole
but our love is an insulator,
so we remain unaffected
by the lies that lie in the lightning.
Let's create a love where Cupid's arrows no longer have an effect on us because just how in love can two people possibly be?
Let's create a love where roses are over-rated
and who really cares about a violet's true nature when we all know violets are violet and not blue?
I want that elastic love,
whereas we're oblivious to our boundaries and we're too paranoid to test them out because we just may pop.
I want that colorful elastic love;
not that basic black love...
Although I do like the idea of that black never cracks kinda love.
I want that John Legend give me all of you love,
that you still want my kisses even though I got the flu kinda love.
I want that stick together like glue kinda love,
that walk into a crowded room and all I see is you kinda love.
I want that dream about me and you wake up wet kinda love,
that pet your kitty *** I'm your vet kinda love.
I want that chocolate love...
mixed with some of that mathematical love...
that 1+1= me and you kinda love,
that your skin + my skin= melted chocolate kinda love,
that whisper in your ear and you snicker kinda love,
that make your body parts quiver and purr like a kit-kat kinda love;
...not that slim shady kinda love
but that sweet tooth M&M; kinda love.
I want love and I want you...
I want the tough polymeric substances connecting out hearts to communicate.
Vibe with a ***** one time.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 6:26 PM UTC
How stand thee tall, judgemental,now? How dost thou choose thy bread?
When all around thee, finger pointers, leer and shake their head.
Have you found a sphere of comfort here, whilst perched upon thy throne?
Has it ever really bothered you, that esconced, you're quite alone?
You live with dire restrictions, imposed so harshly by the Court
And as socially, classed an isolate, it affects you more than ought.
Though recompensed so generously you feel the pressure bound
Because each and every day your judgement rendered, must be sound.
Each utterance decreed by you must hold good Law intoned
Or the Brotherhood Knights Templar shall see you thoroughly dethroned.
A Pillar of Society, though one who stands forlorn
Is the Judge who'se daily client's words are negatively sworn.
The Judge who waits expectantly for that ray of light to shine
But is constantly bombarded by the tarnished shade of crime.
The loneliness is tangible and corrosive wear extreme
For the man who sits in judgement and who'se wisdom must be seen.
Marshalg
Pukehana
13 January 2014
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 5:31 AM UTC
I am a feminist.
Does that mean I'm the
radical relentless woman determined
to ruin the rule of the man?
Or am I the sweet, soft lass
striving to impress my sweetheart,
because we all know that ‘confidence is ****
I am a feminist.
Even though my friends have told me
“I’ve never felt unequal to men”
And the raging facebook comments
on the history of how women are inferior
and men cannot be *****
Because their opinions cannot be right.
I am a feminist.
When I was 15 I thought I was wrong
for liking menswear, and still wearing skirts.
I was told that if you were assaulted
the culprit could never be caught
because their word speaks louder than yours.
I am a feminist.
When the UK statistics say
that nearly a quarter of men do not think consent is important
and thousands are sacked for just being pregnant.
We are bombarded
by the expectations of looking good
because now your eyebrows your greatest trait.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 3:53 PM UTC
I love life the way it should be
Where we all have a soul mate
Where when we're born we see in color
Until our other's fate
But for me it's quite the opposite
I've never seen color a day in my life
All shades and highlights and different tones
Of the same old black and white
Eventually I somehow came to terms
I accepted my colorless scheme
So you can imagine how startled I was
When my reality took after my dream
I opened eyes to meet light shades of morning
To instead have them flooded with ***
I was bombarded by all of these new tints and tones
I couldn't ever select a choice one
Though after the initial shock of it all
I was startled once again more
With the realization that I finally found you
The someone meant to color my world
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
I took you to the top of a Colorado mountain
A yogi with blonde hair and light eyes
Told us to let go of our anger, let it seep through our skin like a fountain
And evaporate into the angelic blue skies
Let it go
Let something go
She said "Be here, happy, now."
You told me that night
You felt relieved for the first time, though you didn't know how
But you finally felt you were not going to fight
Yourself
Your mind
I bombarded you with my energy
I cocooned you in my love
I gave you my spirit
I only hope you look back on our wanderings
That you are thankful for what you recieved
And that you still hold in you a bit of my energy, a bit of my peace.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 12:20 PM UTC
All I feel is pain
sadness and hurt.
With a slight tone of positivity
Love ever so present
like a distant dim light in the dark.
Gestures of good will
either harvested with selfish intentions.
Like putting coins in a slotmachine
to hit the Karma jackpot.
Or genuine kindness.
Mass produced negativity
running rampant across the globe
fits the current type of mankind
like a perfect silk glove.
I feel the wind crying,
poisoned and sick.
Clouds ***** acidic rain
every drop a bombardment
infused with a chemical mix.
I feel the sunlight trying to escape the earth
but the clouds are moody
representing the mental sickness
of the guests under their roofs.
There is no escape once you land
on this manmade Mental Asylum.
I am scarred by kids with knives
young unpure love that is quickly crushed.
Only a handfull experience a lifetime of love.
Earth is sick, being gutted alive
stripped barren and bombarded
with it's own body used as weapons
that have turned against their Host.
Me and all my friends know.
For we are tree's, our bark is thick
protecting our rooted Souls
in the deep slick soil.
Connected with Earth
we feel everything that it endures.
And it hurts..
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
Been stressed. Been depressed.
Been too depleted to decompress.
Had my issues and lost my way.
Lost myself trying not to stray.
Had some highs. Had some lows.
Had some smiles to put on some shows.
From sleepless nights to morning daze.
From not eating food to stress weight-gains.
I’ve had little-to-nothing to my name;
Suffered silently in my shame.
Been misvalued and disregarded,
or inconsiderably bombarded.
Been tried and been tested. Even been disrespected,
but the bomb inside still hasn’t blown.
I’ve done my part with the love I’ve shown.
If rejected or not well-received, then
shake the dust off of your feet and leave,
‘cause while the love you have for them is real,
so is loving yourself and keeping your soul at peace.
You can only do so much for others. Love yourself enough not to give up or quit. & when life hits, hit back 🥊 💛
You’ve gone far for others. Make sure to take care of yourself too. #balance #boundaries #love #peace #knowyourworth 👌🏽✌🏽
Nov 18, 2023
Nov 18, 2023 at 2:08 PM UTC