"broiling" poems
Unanswered uncertainties limber up
Unwanted confrontations cumulate
Passion deliquescing over unexplored reason
Unacknowledged, ignored, overwritten and dismissed
Without consideration for his fragile heart
The answers flow broiling him, wearing him down
Scorn rejection,
When trust is misplaced,
And she exfoliates to true skin
Hatred smothers over her love act
Bogs him down by the shoulders
All seems empty, all is empty
Toyed with, lied to and used up
He is a clock rigged for self destruction
With no actions that lead to consequences
The reason seems bleak and obvious
His respect for her dies, His respect for her other doesn't exist
She is not the one he loved, she is not the one that he knew
A younger him he sees in her other
Making the same mistake he did, mislaid trust
The multifaceted chameleon that she is
The other doesn't see
Pouring his heart out and defending her wrongs
The other starts to undermine and ignore him
Move on they say,
Only his heart is too heavy
Forget her they say,
Only she was a perennial settlement in my memory, he thought
Hate her they say,
Only he hates himself more for trying
No one understands him
Everyone tries, but no one understands
He loved, he was back stabbed
He suffered and suffocated under the blanket of secrets
Lighten your heart brother, the mascot of a good soul
You will be alright.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
Itch Itch Itch Itch
Hate broiling
Speeding up the
Process
Itch Itch Itch Itch
Uncertainty sloshing
Around
Getting nervous
Itch Itch Itch Itch
Like a leaf
Getting eaten
By a caterpillar
Itch Itch Itch Itch
Muscles tensing
Up
Breath quickening
Itch Itch Itch Itch
To do but
Not
Doing
Itch Itch Itch Itch
Can't reach it
Still
Can't suppress it
Can't fill it
Can't anything
Itch Itch Itch Itch
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 1:14 PM UTC
Left to die, unable to survive on your own
a child thinks this. It is the greatest fear
Doesn't last long, but makes a big impression
A bigger fear than being abused
But today, it means, can mean, freedom
from abuse mistreatment, your insults
their disdain, being his personal punching bag
the scapegoat for his broiling troubles
your neglect, and preference for under age girls
Abandonment is a respite
a place of renewal
a silence that terrifies, but then rejuvenates
as I can think on my own
let my thoughts be my guide, for a better me
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 1:44 PM UTC
The Queen of Absentia rises from royal
stool to watch the moon set sheathed
in broiling cloud as she skips whirling
adders that hiss in fat jagged coils, their
hollow blades jutting death in sprinkler
sprays of misting veils and her
head is hypethral; a Gaudi shipping
container soldered in reptile curves,
licked by arrowheads of falcate flame
as she rounds its laughing corners;
an adderaled lab rat, eyes black funnels
drinking electrodes pulsing crimson and
the stars are crackling in the pan as she
sees planets torn shrieking down Hell’s hungry
plughole as fallen Gods divide by zero
and the clock’s skittering claws scratch
prophecies of consequence of poorly
sewn seams, but she smiles like a risen
crocodile and says,
‘you’re just jealous cos the
voices only talk to me.’
And again she dives as unwanted
advice gibbers up out snapping drains,
and power points shoot sharp blue spears
lighting substrates of ancient horror, inchoate
but fattening before her eyes as she
sits, wrapped in ghosts, guarding her
ochre tea in its chalice of steaming bone,
trying to sell herself a ticket to
tomorrow’s sunrise, staring at thunderheads
bunching up satin over sodden ninjas sprouting
cardboard hair, slicing down legions of
roaring pearl as death hunts hollow-eyed below.
Her Majesty holds court, amid the percussion of
steel and plate, a matador to shadows
that clasp their hands and dance around, as
clouds hammer rain to the ground.
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 6:44 PM UTC
We sat aloft a dune
peering over the ocean,
waves mesmerizing
our inner turmoil,
grainy surf dimensions
cut into psyche,
voices turned hazy
midst broiling sun
washed back with
salt water tears,
there was no lighthouse
to guide the way
nor save disparate crests
no words reverberated the sound,
just the floundering of
gritty restless emotions
that once were blissed horizons
before moon lost its balance
to relentless torrential currents
of neglectful destruction,
drowning in ambiguous undertows
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC
I aimlessly drifted in teenage years,
From subtle scion to zaftig plebe.
Seen phony glory, vanquished fears,
And the stench of a wicked glebe.
From below, saw the stars up high,
Igniting horizons with callow wonder.
Beheld colossal beauty with mine inner eye,
Begged for chained thoughts asunder.
Amidst the serene flock to be slain,
Oft' a titan, seldom a vacant savant.
Known sorrow, elation, gain, vain, pain,
This mortal hour, hear joyful lament.
How quick we are to bid farewell,
How slow for friendship to pierce the cloth.
The rhythmic ache of that darkened knell,
The sobbing whimpers for a lover's warmth.
Nix for reciprocated amity, yet!
My seat of affection thrives in twilight.
Herein discipline is adamantly set,
Whence shall this ****** ire take flight?
Into the night that covers my soul,
Unleash that verdant star I see.
The divine abyss have taken its toll,
I pray the shadow is only me.
Note the ease to neglect one's clan,
Yet savored glee of reunions by blood.
Fury cease my elder ties, an infant plan,
By filial ardor, I still kneel in mud.
Star-shine ablaze onto vivid blooms,
Arise the stench of broiling debris.
Beauteous summer-tide metronomes,
The sinking scythe follow gales of peace.
Labor come sweat yield sweet fruition,
Tis annual come the bronze harvest.
Wrongful vengeance seek humble redemption,
Autumn under siege of well-fed zest.
Stormy vista rime graying meadows,
Entrench the sepsis by the ice age.
Taste weeping woe of guilty widows,
Lest their beloved hunger in cage.
Arise young lilac out of barren frosts,
Touch the vital aura to begin anew.
Altruists gladly pay auric costs,
To stalk vile leviathan into dew.
May stones bear indistinct distinction,
So my stride shall stumble and falter.
Peace paint heroes of sluggish fiction,
Chaos rouse prodigies from quiet slumber.
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 5:12 AM UTC
Sometimes I dream of that night.
I think if it wasn't summer, everything would have been different.
But it was just so hot.
In my dreams,
the world is an oven.
I'm baking, roasting, broiling.
It was 108 degrees that day,
80% humidity.
Someone was once acquitted on the ******* defense.
Isn't the heat defense just as good?
If it wasn't so hot,
I wouldn't have done it.
But it was.
And I did.
And secret number two,
I'm not sorry.
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 9:05 PM UTC
I turned the engine over and drove to my place. Not my house, my place: MY place, where I can listen to albums and stare out across the city.
I climbed up through the sunroof to get out in the raw air, it’s a broiling 95 degrees but so much better than being inside. Cars move on I-80, stopping and going. The sun hides behind the west mountains and leaves ribbons of brilliant burning orange in the sky and reflected in the great salt lake. I can see for miles in every direction.
This moment is so cliché
and stupid
and fantastic
and freeing.
I wonder how I’ll survive this heat. One day at a time, just like everything else.
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 11:09 PM UTC
it is like
a knife
the ice hot
burning fire edge
the warming glow
of Self embrace
broiling and crackling
like that campfire
by the little lake
you swam
all the way across
only days before
the layer
of being a girl
was stripped away
the tipping point
pointing back to
that black hole fire
that is all the life
there is to live
tipping to one side
with cringing ash
disappearing off the lips
and one way
absorbing into
clear oceans
of infinity
Jan 25, 2022
Jan 25, 2022 at 4:20 PM UTC
Rolling of a broiling and boiled red sea
swift sticky sick twisted greenery
netting licking at our heels
at pillars of strength O' mighty Achilles
pulling for bronzed treasure
but the marble temple stands
and our idols fall crafting a crown of sin
but who is the idol of the sea?
The compass
the stars
the moon
The sailor prays to his Women
the captain for his Men
Heaving and Ho'ing
of storms brewing since long before the Men knew the Women and the captain knew his god
How heaven unloads a thunderous sigh
belching a quelling force
Sheets shape figures in the dark
tip louder, louder, darker, darker
colder than wet
clutch yourselves close because you're all that's left
open your eyes and see
the real god
You are not a Man
there is no Woman
You are flotsam
I am eternal.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC
It's centuries of deterioration
not just by black era defined
humanity to blame
whatever place and time
In the grime if someone
you discover despite
unaffected by the world's deadly spite
broiling in his sorrow
yet happy inside
stop and cherish
for he defines
a lotus's ilk
ascending from the dirt
but remaining pure
defying its birth
Trust if there is one
there might be more
but forever wary
of impending extinction
so if you honor them
behold the few left
before the lotus ousts
and they mold into the
rest.
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 2:30 PM UTC
Sweet fragrant offbeat smells and sounds
accost us as we wake in the oversized bed.
Sheets have been crumpled and creased
thrown to floor in a white pure heap.
Your warmth next to me is almost too
much to endure, I can see the sheen of sweat
coming from your very pores.
Sweat created by the Spanish sun and our Spanish fun.
I look around the suite, and sweet memories flood
through me, the heat of the night as we arrived,
dishevelled yet ready to concede with our pleading
bodies. We cannot retreat just surrender to the crisp
white sheets, inviting us in.
How we tried to be discrete, but it was too sweet
we tried to contain our passion, but it was a lost cause.
This was a country used to the rhythm of repeated pleas.
I run my nails down your sweat covered torso
here we are complete, we are one in this, the Spanish sun.
You turn lazily to look at me,I see the fire is still burning
I know I'll get another treat, Latino fiery ness has emboldened us
In this anonymous suite we compete with each other's affections
Like a matador and a bull we display, and play with each other.
Broiling in the sweat covered sheets we concede defeat,
we fall asleep not by the moonlight, but by the blaze of the sun.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:23 PM UTC
You know most of us overlook the simple things in life
My hotel room here inMalta overlooks one of the swimming pools
Below I see a seething mass of over oiled humanity broiling in the sun
Same time same place but they won't experience the things that I have
Because for the next week their whole world will be
The bar and the confines of THE POOL
Me, quite simple. I have 22 acres of beautiful gardens to explore
Every flower an art form in glorious colour
What normal person would shun such things
All around my balcony I see sparrows
Drab little birds seen the world over
BUT
When they perch on my fingers and peck breadcrumbs from the palm of my hand
A totally different perspective is revealed
Then the sparrow becomes beautiful
The delicate little claws tickling my fingers
Little sparkling black eyes searching out every tiny morsel
Simple things, simple pleasures
But these simple things will be
The treasured memories of my holiday
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 4:51 AM UTC
There were painter’s clouds that day;
broiling, tumbling,
moving inner silence across an easel.
Beneath them
a concrete mind mixed and etched
one long brush-stroke:
the tarmac before us.
Excited engines carried us along
and carried by us
an air befriended...
with the convertible top thrown down
your hair streamed
olympic colour; a spectrum of extraordinary.
You threw back a sunrise laugh,
the wind and all else
belonged to exhilaration.
The horizon captured another sky,
a mist-green hail filled sea; a quiet litany.
A pallet knife scratched its lightening
and the danger of no potential
that kept us moving on.
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 9:14 PM UTC
twenty-three trips around the sun
just another insignificant planet
crowding a broiling ball of
hydrogen gas in one
of some hundred
billion galaxies
it's hard
not to wilt
by comparison
not even a quarter of a
century and for all i know i could
very well be dead tomorrow buried
three days hence never to walk the earth again
i am an amalgam of every person i meet
each event in this tumultuous tragedy
modifies me just as i alter the
universe with ripple effects
expanding ever onward
out into the cosmic
embrace of the
abyss
squeezed
out like paste
stretched like string
theory across parchment
paper—thin and fragile as i
hope in vain for some semblance
of significance to be lent to me on loan
if i want it i'll have to make it all on my own
but i'm growing older with every passing
moment and i'm not so certain this is
the route i've chosen anymore
i'll still carve my name into
this Earth but not for me
i'll lay down my life not
for my legacy but
for my neighbor
for all those i'll
never get to
meet
not out
of some youthful
idealism or ardent
child-like naiveté but
for an idea that's bigger
and brighter and better than
myself: universal brotherhood
peace and love goodwill towards
all lifeforms with whom we share this
tiny blue dot that we call planet Earth
and while i know i will hardly make a
difference in the grand scheme
of things at least i can say i
died a lion never living
on my knees
instead
i tried to live
my life so *******
brilliantly that even
Death feared to take
me into the nothingness
twenty-three trips around the sun
almost a quarter of a century
i won't let them steal my
hope from me i refuse
to bow to apathy i
stand strong on
my own feet
and say i'm
free
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC
Hold tight to your half of the sky.
Wrap it in pretty charms if you like.
Give it lipstick and an 18’’ waist,
if you choose.
Leave hollows of neglect and pools of ancient shellac
in its heart.
It’s your half of the sky.
It probably deserves it.
Leave pearly clouds hanging
From its foggy lobes.
Fashion a lapis lazuli corset
And whisper sweet nothings.
Kiss her puddled neck.
Stepping out into the hot breath of night,
Is broiling clarity.
I’ll show you fear in a handful of dust,
terror in dusty eyes.
You call her the hyacinth girl,
But she’s the hanged man, sheltered in the shadows
Exchanging joy for a sip from the well of liquid eyeliner.
Half the sky
Is half too little.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
The edge of my eternity begins with you.
My love, I lulled you with lyricless lullabies, sheltered you in a sheet of stars, yet, in your sleep you still speak her name. "Inferno," was it? You always were a pyromaniac.
I furnished you flames to tame winter's teeth, and yet, you still use them to burn me. How can you pour that boiling blackness in my bloodstream and dare to call it love?
You leave coal-like clouds swirling stormily in my lungs and the taste of smoke to scorch my tongue. Still, my throat is raw and red from coughing up ash and blood, still you call this torture love, and, I believed you.
Tell me, do my mulberry scars entice you? Those marks mingling with my skin of moss and morning glory; you put those there. You made a hell of my skin to rid me of the blue-green, beryl-shaded "blemishes" that provide the very breath you waste, only to build a factory to pump more poison into my lungs. I can taste the tar on my tongue.
My love, as you tear at my being with your careless claws you seem to forget the fact that you need me, but to me, you are meaningless.
Where I was once a sanctuary of life and beauty, you have made me a battlefield- a cemetery of living corpses craving to leave behind bombs and bloodshed, to cure their heart wrenching homesickness and to fall asleep in their lover's arms.
Why must their precious rubies mingle with the ashes of detonation? Why do you **** each other when I have provided you with my harmonic grounds as a home? Why do you raise your children to believe that dying is an art and death is an escape?
My love, I cannot understand why your knees are pained and purple from praying to the angels when you dance so divinely with the demons that you have created. You deserve each other.
Don't you see that you are burning me alive? Can't you smell my cooking flesh or see the charcoal clouds smothering the sky? How can your seeing eyes be so blind?
My love, my death is yours, and if I shall burn you shall blaze beside my broiling bones.
May 2, 2022
May 2, 2022 at 12:49 PM UTC
Go on, leap gallantly through the flames
The ring of fire threatens to sear your skin
It taunts you, the faces in the conflagration contorted
Fiery tongues outstretched, broiling cheeks pulled back in mockery
Flaming fingers quivering, laughing at your hesitation
Oh, how very tempted you are to leap through the flames!
In time, Honor outranks common sense
And as you pace in thought, Dignity outranks precaution
And then you fly through the ring, a determined little engine (who thought he could)
to a very toasty, elegant death (but in this case, you miserably failed).
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 7:39 PM UTC
So when can I see you again
and when can I see you?
When can I ruffle your vague skirts
into a turmoil of waves
on the flustered reach of your thighs?
When can I lean my breath
against your ear to brush those drums
with my feathering voice?
When again can I kiss
the flagrant mischief of your mouth
or fever my fingers
in the dark arches of your form
I want to be alone with you
in your revelation
and falter at the flesh revealed
Can I undo your clothes and leave
Strewn puddles of patterns
like islands in the carpet seas?
Shall I take you naked
Into the broiling avalanche
Storming down your senses
to feel the brightening rapture
of your thunderous cries?
In a dance of few steps
shall I press my weight against you
and trace your pulsing blood
to find the riot in your nerves
beneath the careful veils
of your long attended beauty?
I seek subversive grace
and dream of your disheveled hair
When?
.
Or if you would prefer
I could take you to the movies
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 12:28 PM UTC
Saurian Jovian's and Martian's clasp me to catastrophe rubble,
Dusty airpocket's, with blue sky bubble's, I tryeth to reacheth. Whilst their hobnail's art click cackling, mine suffocation is intensified by magnitude; longitude and latitude, distance is cleverly missing, mine red flow rushes, mine heartbeat nudge's; Harmonious harp playing angelic one, Gale's her hail assail into the impenetrable. She's Immortal and invincible; on forearm's, nose to her garb, her bouquet fragrance I canst telleth a lie; got me broiling in mammal wild primal heat.......
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC
I sat down in the cold hard seat,
My heart slamming into a concrete wall,
Splattering everywhere,
While 3 pairs of pupils,
Penetrate my soul.
You could tell the commotion,
Was broiling underneath the surface.
Silence was my best friend,
We sat there together for what seemed like a lifetime,
Until the timer was up to start the saga,
Of my never ending rendition,
Of the same **** story.
My head was spinning,
Unaware if I shall pass out or ***** first.
“You have a choice.”
My nails dug into the rough leather,
Resisting the urge to scream.
Thoughts scrambled my brain.
Yes I do have a choice,
It’s either I throw myself off a cliff,
Or I let you push me.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 9:41 PM UTC
You can take it all away from me
Unknot the stress
Carefully pulling apart the ribbon
That binds the destruction.
And then you tie it back up
Twisting and furling
Raveling into a broiling stew
A turmoil of contradictions
And we are back where we started.
Nothing ever is solved,
just thrown off the axis
but gravity will always come back to haunt us
magnetic orbs of chaos
stability only ever a fragile illusion
patiently waiting to implode.
We will try and float on
For how much longer?
Jun 8, 2011
Jun 8, 2011 at 4:37 PM UTC
Distilled sunlight and a steel breeze
Emphasizes the anxiety steadily
Burning, broiling, bubbling within me
The events of a tumultuous life takes my mind for a tumble.
Clench and release, ready to unleash--
The pains of day to day.
Even my ******* heart won't stop beating long enough for the sun to extinguish it's blazing hard stare.
All that's left is numbing gums.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
DEAR DEAREST:
Do you remember?
You had dreams once,
When time lived forever
And phosphorescent burning trees
Carried you
Through landscapes floating beyond
The places you called Home
You jumped, entwined
And broiling
While suns died
In the livid sky-
Followed the wavering form
That called to heart strings
And shifted the inner tides
Dearest, do you remember?
The beating bright
Left burning, dim,
In the dark spaces you forgot
Waiting in the back
Of your mind
The music
That strains wild
Across eons and
Spaces and pages of notebooks you used to keep
When thoughts were thought
Worth the saving
It brightened the hazy edge
Of every waking desire
And oh,
The Colors-
Jewel tone wings
tipped birds cast in
Gold and crystal-
Green veins
Opened, oozed sweet and
Waxy and clean-
Blues dripped from the sky into
Bleeding fires, molten lights-
Broke you down and
Filled you up
With flames
They had texture,
The colors you have no name for
Nothing is so brilliant anymore
Do not forget,
Dearest;
The blinding light,
The final song;
The fire in your blood
That roars against the quiet
Moments of the day
Your light is fading now
Empty is filling you up.
So cling-
To tangled passions
And wicked dreams,
The heaving cacophony
Exploding immortal
At the edges of bliss-
Cling, cling, cling-
Before reality is all you have to hold
Against the dimming candle that
Lights your world
Apr 22, 2010
Apr 22, 2010 at 3:32 PM UTC
far out to sea
deep in wild woods
in the crisp dawn on the high desert
there are still places it can be heard
but it takes a heart to hear
it takes a labor of love
countless miles hand to the tiller
to find that brief moment
on the crest of a twenty foot breaking wave
as a nor'easter wilds the sea
when you glimpse it
in the stillness between heaven and earth
under the bewitching stars
in the anvil of desolation's wasteland
of high desert
on the cusp of the suns imminent rise
you can see it in the broiling fire
as the edge of the world itself burns
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC