"bursted" poems
Poking fun at my
Insecurities will pop
My helium heart
Like a balloon; I
Can only take so much, I
Have bursted open
The pressure killed
Me-
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
full of nothing
and full of colours
are those balloons
ignorant they jump around
not knowing where to go next
waiting to be bursted
full of independence
and full of lives
are those cats
ignorant they jump around
with their 'fuck you' attitude
waiting to die
full of joy
and full of ideas
are those kids
ignorant they jump around
discovering the world
waiting to grow
bursting, dying, growing
those are the blessed ones
living for the instant
the waiting ignorants
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
death bursted into my room tonight
awakening a deep slumber
outstretching a cold boney hand
as if offering for me to go with him
I felt no fear or sadness
I have been waiting for death to greet me
I have admired him from afar
a lover who took no chance in courting me
Until he was ready to give me an embrace
That could be defined as loving and warm
but it was sinful and alluring
flickers of sparks in his eyes
ignited a fire in my soul
a passion that I had longed for
as my hand grabbed onto his
he pulled me close in the middle of the room
he began to dance to the tune
of our heartbeats synchronizing
a beautiful symphony rang love in our ears
craning his neck
he leaned in close
inhaling the shakiness of my breath
moonlight illuminated the poison dripping
from his puckering lips
as an offering to taste
what afterlife was
it held soft undertones of an earthy aftertaste
but an overpowering intoxicating sweetness left me hungry
for just one more dip
in his suicidal serenity
moving in one fluid motion
sweeping behind me
a boney hand placed on an unclothed forearm
slowly slid up my shoulder
as another arm was placed around both hips
he pressed himself tightly against me
icy breath grazed across my neck
making hairs stand up on my arms
as a moan escaped between closed lips
he whispered a seductive I love you
as he tucked hair behind my ear
the words I longed to hear
were met with a sharp knife
placed in open hands
and a crooked smile
spread across his face
it was at that moment
I came to the realization
to become his fully
my beautiful souls light
must burn out
to match his souls decayed state
no persuasion was needed
I longed for this moment
now the time was finally right
steady right hand raised
the elongated blade
"together forever..."
death breathlessly whispered
as a swift motion
punctured my abdomen
breath was taken out of my lungs
knees buckled
as death dropped me to the floor
tears of bliss flowed from my eyes
staining mascara streaks on flushed cheeks
I peer around the room to greet my lover
in another embrace with my final breaths
but im alone
left with a bloodied knife in hand
but this forbidden passion of a deaths dance
was only used to take ones soul
not give it the life it craved
laughing through the flood of tears
not even in death was I loved
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 8:21 PM UTC
If I were an opened can of pop,
You know what I'd be right now?
Flat.
That,
Is a horrible thing to be,
Cause you see,
I am up and bubbly fresh,
Now down,
Gloomy doomy death.
I am moss on crack,
Growing out of floor,
Covering the world,
And wanting more.
Cause you see,
When a blind man falls,
I like to laugh,
Because he doesn't know when the ground
Is going to hit him in the face,
And when it does,
He's so surprised
Like "How the hell did you get all the way to my face?"
Then I, come up to him
Laughing,
And say,
"You met it halfway!"
And run like a *****
But I'm flat,
And that,
*****
Like a straw set in a frosty milkshake,
Set between two starry eyed lovebirds,
And as they are about to indulge in the yumminess
Of the creamy bounty before them,
The eye of the guy,
Catches the sight of the girl,
Who's not sitting in front of him,
Passing on the by,
Catching his eye,
And his girl is soon by his side,
With a look on her face,
That could stop a race,
Dead in it's place,
For the fear of the world coming apart at the seems,
And he, knows, it.
She knows what he thought
When he saw what he saw,
And when he stuttered and sputtered,
She had heard it all,
Just not in so many words,
So much for these lovebirds.
She said what she felt,
He heard every word,
Then she turned and sped out,
He went quickly after,
And every one heard what he tried to shout.
And bursted into tears,
At the humor that was there,
Far less did his attempts,
Even try to fare.
It was told through the day,
From ear to ear,
"You had to be there"
They said with tears.
"But baby wait,
This is too much,
Come on, let's go back,
Our milkshake hasn't even been touched!"
And guess what?
I feel like that straw,
Feeling so lonely,
Nerves getting raw,
Listening to the fight,
Knowing this ain't right,
I should be cold,
But with the heat of lips,
Caught between sweet nothings,
And sweeter sips.
So you see,
What I see?
Feel,
What I felt?
How it just stood there,
While the milkshake,
It melt.
Leaving it in a puddle,
No one would drink,
And being wasted like that,
Poured down the sink.
Makes you think.
That,
It must be horrible,
To be,
Flat.
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 10:45 PM UTC
Bursted tyre, alone,
She tasted 'highway despair',
Lift offer, uplifts!
Oct 30, 2021
Oct 30, 2021 at 4:19 PM UTC
I keep a smile on,
I tell the world all my dreams will come true.
I try to keep my heart alive.
I fill it with happiness,
That's the least i can do.
I'm a bursted star.
I'm a fading call.
I'm a caretaker of an abandoned settlement.
My hopes have been erased.
Don't tell me,
Don't fight me,
the fire in my heart,
I can see my dream in ashes.
My prayers are my cure,
work and worry is on my mind.
Come on,
fight me.
I have told the world all i wanted to say.
I remember the time when i was afraid to say.
I have no issues with anyone and none with myself.
I still have belief in myself.
I don't know why.
I'm the waves crashing on a paper boat.
I couldn't escape my own storm.
My heart is riddled with thorns
yet it refuses to tell its tale.
I still live happy and laughing,
knowing I'm a barren land.
I'm a caged bird.
I'm a caretaker of an abandoned settlement.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 5:56 AM UTC
I'm from the land overflowing with milk and honey and my mind is more rich that The Europeans useless green paper money yes far from a dummy and like the dawn of day my personality is Always sunny.
I am a rare soul
On the outside I am just another hueman but on the inside I'm a being of the supernatural
I am a radiating rainbow
Shinning in between blue and purple
I'm the canvas of the star child so paint me Indigo.
I'm a lantern in the darkness of the heavily wooded forest, I glow.
My heart is as pure as the whitetess snow
I am a farmer planting seeds, So, I reap what I sow.
I expand my horizons because the more you know the more you grow.
I am vibrant just as the stained glass window.
My soul is a strong and fierce bolt of lightening, quite powerful.
I am Fearlessly and wonderfully made in the image of The Most High, Quite beautiful.
I'm an individual whose energy is a current thats just flows.
Maybe because Love is My religion no matter where I go.
I was Created from the particles of stars hidden in the cosmos
Mixed with the elements of earth
Descended from the heavens, past the galaxy and from the wombman my spirit and body became one at birth
As it bursted thru my Earth mother, The Universe.
this body became both a gift and a curse
My life became as song unrehearsed
I guess thats why they nicknamed me lyrics because my words were my hook and verse.
I am like many phases of the Luna very diverse
I am the moon that rises to rest in the midnight sky upon the evening shore as the cool ocean passionately kisses the sparkling sand.
I am the wombman with a vision and a plan.
I am India Arie, boosting your souls immunity. Healthy for you like vitamin C.
Loving me unconditionally
Embracing the Queen in me.
I am free!
I am Lauryn Hill opening your eyes to see the things that Are Real.
I am the peace that is still.
I express the way I feel.
I am Jill Scott giving you some food for thought.
Pay close attention because lessons are being taught.
I'm am Erykah Badu giving you something you ain't use to.
I'm Alicia keys Feeling the music putting my mind at ease
As the nature gives my skin goosebumps with its cooling breeze.
I am Janet Jackson giving you that that fire and passion.
lacing it with that poetic justice style and fashion.
Yet I will have you talking to and looking at that man in the mirror like Michael Jackson.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 12:05 AM UTC
With a whirlpool of intentions and a focus greatly skewed
My declaration of disdain with my voice has this imbued:
Having ****** into the chaos of a modern need for thriving
With a trust that all my actions give me credit for surviving
Don't ask me for my progress, as I doubt you want to hear it
You've picked out your priority, yet contention makes you fear it
Bursted bubbles of illusion gave you free fall to the curse
of scatter plots for your design as you could only make it worse
Pick apart and yes unravel every thought you've come across
Shifted eyes upon the prize has darted off and at a loss
Identity has forced my hand to cry out for the masses
But contrivances you understand are killing off our chances
Everyone is sure and no one seems to quite grasp the fact
That catharsis marks a farce as art and we're all caught up in the act
Set the stage, turn the page, start from the top, we know it's crucial
Knowing meaning is a feeling, but the feeling it seems is mutual
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 5:17 AM UTC
Drudged for the gold but drawn silver
Yearned for warmth, greeted by shiver
Braved the tempest for your embrace
Awoke with heart that ran a race
Oh, Star! My Star, empyreal
Your luster is ethereal
I reached, resolved and full of hope
Lo! I gaped through a telescope!
Within arm's span but could not grasp
Stung achingly like spider wasp
A shunned love, a bursted bubble
Such pain is unfathomable
Bewildered thoughts, our hearts won't weld
Let go of things I never held
Tender soul, albeit bereft
Set free someone I never kept
And though the sun shined ever bright
All I can do for now is write
And bid the long tale to a ghost
Of a love most true, but almost
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 9:52 AM UTC
it was put on the board.
my teacher told my to stand up in front,
of my 6th grade class and,
read the assignment.
i stared at it for a while,
and i started to read,
to, then suddenly the letter t,
flipped upside down and decided,
to become an f
the the o became a c
the c turned into an n
i could feel all eyes on me.
my mate whispered "today"
i said today,
still trying to figure out how that matched the board.
we turned itself into,
me.
but i finally remembered what i say first.
its been 3 minuets now and,
all i had read out loud was,
"today we"
will and be started to move around the board.
then all the letters switched around,
and
f
e
l
l
o
f
f
the board.
the only thing still there,
was one word.
then my mate finally whispered to me,
"today we will be"
and i said that.
then i turned back to the board.
while i was attempting
at sounding things out
my mates couldnt handle it anymore.
they bursted out in giggles.
i read "poet..try?"
and got a detention for delaying the class.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
i.
In sheol, I lifted mine view atop me; wherein the cave was a dreary scene, fixture's and antique beam's screamed of the hopelessness in this sump.
ii.
A preternatural shimmer, bursted this chthonic picture; the demon's betwixt me and her hunched. Her brigandine of Filipino shine, yoked into mine synapse.
iii.
Mine carrion shook, into the nook's, she slipped me through sheol's crack's. The earth above, I was taken up to, seeing all, I felt a calm, from this seraphim of tribal awe.
iv.
She saidst " Brandon ive come, to giveth thee mine protection " I felt a rush of her touch; direct ressurection. I healed instantaneously, as mine soul finally found it's other half.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication/Filipino rose
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 5:58 PM UTC
"Why do you write a poem?"
"Poems are so deep."
"I hate thinking deep."
"Eww, so meaningful and dark."
"Ugh, thats so sad."
Those are the words I always hear.
Whenever Im there, here, or near.
They talk about my poems behind my back
Sometimes if they could, they might throw me a rock.
Funny how they knew.
Funny how they find out.
Because that girl that I trusted
Bursted it all out.
Life, life, life.
Is this what they call life?
Is life the thing that makes you get a knife?
Im tired, arent you?
They are living in a world full of lies.
In a world they think they'll be famous.
In a world they think everyone likes them.
But, they're wrong.
This is a world that is dangerous.
They should open their eyes and start entering reality.
And entering reality starts by understanding deep poems.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC
If the world was so vibrant to others
And if people bursted with color,
I'm sure I'd feel less alone.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
the words have left my brain
the pen has fallen out of my hand
and on to the floor.
the page is not blank however.
my tears are the new instruments
that paint the pretty picture.
I have lost the focus and ability to focus.
my motivation left the day
you completely faded away.
my heart pounded for you,
how could you be so deaf?
I nearly bursted with rage,
how could you be so heartless?
I've become crumbled ruins;
craving to be built up again.
this is my cry towards my happiness,
where did you go?
how could you leave me?
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 7:25 AM UTC
This Apocalypse Summer
has really got me down,
but then I'm up running
through what is left of town.
I never got to swim the backstroke
before Brunswick Basin bled
Lake Olympia from amidst her oak,
before Deer Creek went dead.
*The streets'll burn, the bodies break
and the blood washed away by beer.
The streets burned, bodies broke
and we're still here.*
Shadow people wander the sidewalk,
been here since the bombs dropped.
Never got no noisy television,
just watch the streets and shadows in them.
I'm pushing up just like daisies
and pulling them up for fun.
Convinced that I'm going crazy
from the trips that I get on.
*Jane says she cannot get it:
"something hidden...back when children."
You're always looking for the road
where we used to drink too drunk,
where you look to have again
what we had so long ago.*
Do you feel it coming?
on Earth His will be done.
Collapse a long time coming—
still nothing new under the sun.
Summer is for the living.
That's a bubble-bursted, sun-dried reason.
It's the end or I am fibbing,
still live up the rest of the season.
*First came the flood then spilled blood.
Had anyone caught on of that to come
you know we'd never have let it begun.
But it had:
got you, your mother, and dad.
Surely there was nothing we could do
but hunker down, get a job, and rue
the day they brought us into
the Old World and buried the New.*
I hear tell that downriver
the water gets warmer;
I hear tell that valley below us's
a hotter n' hell, body-ridden bowl of dust.
—
I hear tell that upriver
the trout they run thicker,
the water cooler, air smoother, and **** sticks thinner.
I wanna flee up that river
but I'm not that good a swimmer.
How do we know?
We think we're smart,
in fact we're geniuses.
But we're still sitting
and can't stop talking about...
This Apocalypse Summer
has really got me down,
but then I'm up running
through what is left of town.
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
I stare at the moon & the stars
Wondering if you are too
But then I say to myself
You're probably out with someone new
A girl who's got the scent
Of cherry blossoms
And tastes like fresh picked berries
So you're probably gonna distract yourself & try to get the thought of me out of your mind
Trying to concentrate on her but the twinkle in her eyes reminds you of me & so you rush out the door, slap yourself & bang your head on the wall & spit out the words you could never say to me & while you immerse yourself in things I shouldn't even bother to care about I'm here looking at the moon & the stars telling them how much I miss you
And if you do take her out to your favourite place just like you did to me, the moonlight & twinkle of the stars will follow you throughout the night & you'll look over the sky remembering the first time you took me there too, how we shared secrets & stories, & how I almost told you that you were my night sky
So I wish that the light catches your attention instead of her & you'll remember that daisies were my favourite flowers & that you can't get your eyes off the moon
But isn't it funny how empty I am right now because I swear months ago I had the whole galaxy within me and now I've cried a **** ocean in my body & now I'm drowning
And that volcano inside my chest corrupted when you told me you were leaving and the lavas have
bursted throughout my whole veins
And I had the whole planet within the back of my hand to guide & show you the world
But all that is nothing now because you left & you're never coming back and I'm here a big mess of stormy weather who's gloomy all the time, waiting for a rainbow to come along & see the bright side of things again
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
Of course we’re born sad little creatures!
To be born, we had to have the picture
broken & bursted—for, being born, we’re
fragments of it. (But not just us born—all
of it that’s born…all of it’s fragments.)
Us, though, we found out about the pieces
(and that we’re them) so shock-hearted and
weary-eyed we joggle ourselves around,
and waggle and babble (because we can move
and talk to the other pieces, like you) in the
sedulous task of trying to see what picture we all
formed before we were born and to see
if we can’t form it again while born and living.
And, also, inexorably, to see like fateless
naked goggling chicken-children what part
we have—is it a sun’s ray, a cloud’s feather, a
grass blade, or is it just the indistinguishable
shade of unctuous bole that’s laid there
almost smeared in between? I’m not quite sure,
our tabs seem flexible enough, and to add
we’re whimsy little interlockers, so no wonder
we’ve been going on billions of years now.
At this point it’s probably give-up or never-end,
and both options, frankly, seem quite abominable.
I wonder if that’s what it says on the box,
right above “meant for children” and “small
parts dangerous choking hazard.” But the
question is what to do when you’ve realized a
piece has been missing, always been missing,
and probably more. (Oh, and for after, you can
ask if it was never put there in the first place,
and why)—do you just imagine, then? I mean,
just that—just imagine the whole thing, after all
the fuss been going on to hold hands and make it out?
I’m telling you, I bet the sucker is something else
entirely, like something I don’t even know what,
but different—crazy different, I bet. And it’s
probably why they didn’t want to include it,
those ponzies—we wouldn’t choke on that one.
Not that piece. Still, though, I hope it says on the box.
I hope it at least tells you something on the box.
Wait, where’s the box? What box?
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:32 PM UTC
today I did nothing only
stamped down tears
dropped naked
trusted hand’s slow
planned present enmity
drove a pair of strapping green centipedes
bursted into death
broke my home into several
scrapped subjects
wondered how are you
refused
Jul 6, 2017
Jul 6, 2017 at 8:23 PM UTC
For Ages I called myself Human...
With her I felt my Humanity...
For Years I thought I'm complete...
Because of Her She let me sense my Soul...
I Love her...Maybe...
I Care for her...Maybe...
I Protect her...Maby...
What I'm sure of...
Is that....
She is the Connection between the World and Me...
She is the Hope I hold within my Spirit...
She is the Light I walk in the darkest moments...
She is the Air I breathe when I ran out of any....
She the Faith I keep when I lose my battle...
I realized I love her with my stupid style...
I realized My Silent Love wants to cry with a Tiny Tear in Tired Eyes...
Keep shining My Love...
You are the Gift of God....
You are the Angel on my world...
Thank you for every touch healed the pain and soothed the tiredness...
Thanks for the laughters that you bursted out of the deepest chest...
You unlocked my truth...
Thank you my Angel...
Aug 1, 2024
Aug 1, 2024 at 5:54 AM UTC
I feel drained
As if every last drop from my veins bursted
I feel tired
As if my mind teased me of sleep
I feel lost
As if I was kidnapped and forced to escape
I feel triggered
As if a gun is the only answer for my anger
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 2:28 PM UTC
It's been a decade since i’ve seen my beloved… the last time was bittersweet. You left me blue like clouds ******* the hue out of the sky, and releasing warm rain that purifies the unclean. I smelled the rain. I bathed in the burning cleanse that gave me life. My life.. like a blanket of recycled cloths, patched together with fraying threads.
I was Cleo, and you were Osiris… I broke the bulb and bursted the light, and awoke in your darkness. Your darkness that I could taste like **** sweet,somber lollipops from the waiting room of your fortress.
I can still feel the crevices of your patterned finger tips grazing the edges of my blue aura… I vibrated in your presence and just like that, we were one, together at last without life to tell us how to live… We didn’t need to live. When our lips fell dry of all conflict, you used to say to me… “There is no hell… but the afterlife is blue”
Sometimes now i float through time as if it’s a shopping outlet invaded by stores I have no interest in, striding down the pavement with no intention of absorbing my surroundings… no intention of acknowledging this measurement that tells me the answer of “when”.
You were just a color to me… Once I was a yellow daisy and you were a green machine that kicked and screamed… But once we danced together… we turned blue.
I am not blue because I am depressed, foreboding, or desperate… I’m blue because all I embody is myself, as this colorful existence. You were you, too.. and you were so blue. Your palace was nothing but a blue dream in a blue burst of my thoughts… and your memory was nothing but the smell of blue… then some day suddenly, I smelled nothing at all.
© 2016 D.M.V
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 3:16 PM UTC
Can you still hear it when the angels sing? Your car radio only seems to play static stations these days, as if it knows how empty it's gotten inside of your head. Damaged goods, that's what your mother always called it. Something that's just not good enough because the last person to touch you didn't read the signs that said, "fragile, handle with care". Did you forget to tell them your bones were made of glass? Did you let them know the person before had already shattered a few? I guess that's why you drink so much, just something to numb away the pain. It must be hard to feel anything at all when you're two bottles deep, passed out in someone else's bed because you cling to anything that remotely resembles a home. Something warm, at least that's what you'd like to think. If only the people who touched you didn't quit so quickly. Cold turkey, hands that turn your skin to frost. Nothing warm about it other than the heat in your cheeks at night before you start to cry. You're just feeling sorry for yourself because there's no "do not disturb" button for you to click. No way to tell someone you need to be left alone because your heart is too wounded to fight another war. If only you hadn't been so nuclear. Full of energy that bursted and took out the wrong people. Always pouring yourself into a new body and constantly coming up empty. You've given away so many of your pieces that there's no way to connect the dots and define yourself. Stuck in a body you no longer recognize. You'd like to call it identity theft but the person inside can't scream out quite loud enough. Somehow they've fallen so far down the rabbit hole that even the Hatter thinks it's far too gone to bring back. I know when you were little they said that if you ever got lost to just call for help, but there's nothing more you can do when nobody wants to pick up the phone.
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 2:50 PM UTC
Maybe it's true,
Maybe it's true that you are March and April's pollen,
Maybe it's true that you are the shadow of the sun,
maybe it's true that you are a dream of god.
Maybe I am a gale,
One of those warm but gruff,
those that can mess with your hair,
but never impregnate you.
Maybe it's true,
Maybe you told me, maybe you did,
that our love, only at times
looked like it was going to live
Maybe it was born dead,
with forgotten bones,
Maybe it was only mine,
this cold fruit of sharpened longings
embodied in my chest.
So, don't speak of my love.
I ask you don't speak of my love,
Don't speak of it as if it was yours.
The thorn is yours,
the scar is mine,
the scar of all these years,
you have bitten,
you have scratched it,
don't speak of it
as if it was yours,
as if your hands had been chopped
in the wood of his coffin,
as if your mouth had gotten wet
right before you gave him bread,
as if you heart had wallowed
in the torture of his quietness,
as if your ears had bursted
in the second he stopped breathing,
so don't speak of my love,
I ask you, don't speak of my love
Don't speak of it as if it was yours,
as if it was yours...
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC