"combustive" poems
in the year 2462 those with nails protruding from their palms
will talk in ancient tongues
& sway the tribes of men to eternal love,
& endless ammunition
of the soul.
spiritus.
kin, galactic
& the golden fire.
throb the saga of man,
into hip ****** illusions and combustive color schematas.
we bury our dead in flower clippings
or skull bits.
[skateboarding rises as the highest form of intellectual sport]
thrum and plum-bum the sewers of electric babylon.
hive city reaching past gasp and wasteland,
her lips ruinous.
cement slabs and coils of fault with
vast artistic possibilities.
these skate-lords from their heaps, their clans, augmenting
& rattling bone masks
grinding themselves into meat-bit heroics
& death.
their teeth are yellowy awoken.
this is all seen globally,
via tele-cast-com-core-mind-warp-tech.
or video.
dreams impact reality
impact dreams
in such
that the cathode cortex filter, invented circa 2222,
evolves into a demi-god, a solar charged demon of unlimited knowledge.
& it mutates the psychosphere of our mainstream public mind
with countless projected memories.
[streamed alternate realities]
fills the belly and the brain,
but all those unhooked are skating.
sweet meat market.
ghost harddrives.
poor leftovers called children of the once-was-men
& their poolside parties.
they leap the rubble of centuries old plastic icons,
their boards, their weapons, their seeds and spit.
they hang chains from their necks
& spew black flame from their sunshaded boot-click
lickings.
they drink from large bottlesof elixer distilled
on old flowers
& worship archaic cassettes.
cults of cyborg women with gem-tipped-blade-additions
carve wooden planks from
groves of great oaks.
great oaken powers.
their creators chew gummies and bend time
to uphold
a proposed history of perfection.
they master pong from their crystalline towers,
& hire mathematicians to write
conceptual skate-deck algorithms,
solely for fun.
non-profit.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 5:49 AM UTC
You are the terrorist
Smashing porcelain
Sauntering
Passing through
Your presence
Broad and fleeting
But Virgo’s birthed anew
Goodbye to you
And your combustive yellow bile
Representing no true fire
Yet here you go again
Smashing porcelain
Cause all I am to you
Is a doll you got use to
You are the terrorist
But I,
I am Mercury bending fire
Smashing porcelain
Sauntering
Passing through
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
Broken hearts are lost, confined and chained to the wall
by a chain link fence so sharp and strong;
disabling a soul from moving on.
Combustive beating heart,
distrusting evil ****
she ****** me over and drifted away
like a formaldehyde ****
Jun 19, 2010
Jun 19, 2010 at 8:29 PM UTC
She roams through my mind
in combustive states
that dissolve the elusive run,
melts the *** to her honey
invades the forefront
charging the grounds of my thoughts
Invigorating the new.
Dazed, baffled,
I wake to her sunshine
drenched to her love,
How direction finds us
draws us close, subdues us
with little worlds, big thoughts
these concepts of women
That change ever our horizons.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 24, 2011
Mar 24, 2011 at 1:10 PM UTC
I seek the soft caress
where tales undress
your long smooth form
where fingers beg, torment and roam
Deep to the bone
Every hungered kiss,
demented bliss
That wages forth and cannot be denied
Where dreams engulf, sealed, cried
The budding lips that pour out
for the lingering want to tease about
Each scented flair that gathers the mind
Holds us tight there to find
Every combustive motion
of loves ****** potion
that wages deep upon our cries, the want
Better to tease, Torment, Taunt
Where eyes glazed, hovers and begs
another touch upon silken legs
the moments rush
the explosive crush
of tormented valleys
upon sensual galleys
where love to love
the wants rides above
All that holds the passion true.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 22, 2011
Mar 22, 2011 at 2:14 PM UTC
She roams through my mind
in combustive states
that dissolve the elusive run,
melts the *** to her honey
invades the forefront
charging the grounds of my thoughts
Invigorating the new.
Dazed, baffled,
I wake to her sunshine
drenched to her love,
How direction finds us
draws us close, subdues us
with little worlds, big thoughts
these concepts of women
That change ever our horizons.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 7:48 AM UTC
Your voice is like my favorite song.
I'm not quite sure how to explain it.
Soon as you speak my soul is instantly combustive.
A deep echo heard in the farthest region of my soul.
Standing there, roaming free.
Each peak skydiving into the ripple of my heart.
This edgy parapsychology that ceases to end.
Doused in gasoline, ignited, remade anew, soon as the door way to your mouth
is opened.
Never fading.
This majestic feeling that you give.
I wish my headphones had a higher setting.
To take in more of you.
Each throb against my ear drum
Echoes In perfect excitement.
My heart pounds in anticipation.
A pool of gasoline touched by a spark of fire.
A bright blaze taken place inside the well of me until there is nothing left inside.
This is the effect you have on me.
Waiting to hear your voice climb the peak of where I stand
In the farthest region of my soul
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
I seek the soft caress
where tales undress
your long smooth form
where fingers beg, torment and roam
Deep to the bone
Every hungered kiss,
demented bliss
That wages forth and cannot be denied
Where dreams engulf, sealed, cried
The budding lips that out pour
for the lingering want to tease, adore
Each scented fair that gathers the mind
Holds us tight there to find
Every combustive motion
of loves ****** potion
that wages deep upon our cries, that want
Better to tease, Torment, Taunt
Where eyes glazed, hovers, begs
another touch upon silken legs
the moments rush
the explosive crush
of tormented valleys
upon sensual galleys
where love to love
the want rides above
All that holds the passion true.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 19, 2011
Mar 19, 2011 at 3:43 AM UTC
I lit my first match
when I was eighteen
it was a slip of the
wrist, finger kiss with
fire
clumsy and stupid on
my part
because I had always been afraid
of fire.
Afraid of burns and turns
thorough enough you could
see the true colors
of me
singed
and charred,
scarred.
But now I eat peppers
that make my mouth raw
and empty, that makes everything
I eat after combustive.
But now I sleep in fire places
twisting and turning
at night in a bed of
ashes, a-light
And once I even sought to swim,
underground in magma
searching for that
sensation
of every nerve screaming
alive,
all at once.
Because I've since discovered
it's better for your body
to cry 'hot, hot!'
then for it to whisper
'cold, cold...'
Jul 7, 2010
Jul 7, 2010 at 10:40 PM UTC
When the first summer rain stirs the peaceful veil
And the white fly casts shadows down tried and true
When the firelight sparks in the first dark of night
And the thunderous call reaches the mountains through
Within grandeur ends such glory
A quiet death for time as it stops
Crashing like passing waves ashore
Bursting into the creative mind
That is the caffeine rushing to a combustive heart
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 10:25 AM UTC
A wicked road winds across lawless lands
West of the Pecos.
Where Texas turns to hell; a lone GTO
Scourges smug asphalt with a big block
Renegade ethos.
She’s runnin’ low on gas,
She’s been runnin’ way too fast--
And she’s burnin’ rich--
But that’s good.
Because in that combustive concoction,
Is reflected the nuts and bolts,
Ball peens, and crescent wrenches
Of a provocative, evocative, tool chest lending to
Precision tuned angst riddled verse.
She’s a flat black bad-ass *****
An epic among American cars--
A ‘69 Judge--the 400 cubic inch
Ram-Air rhythms riffing redline stuff
From bookstores to bars.
I work a service station on this
Lonely road, in this inferno west of the Pecos.
In the distance, I hear a distinct sound,
The Judge’s 400 big block, roaring with that
Bruisin’ outlaw ethos.
Down this wicked road of the accepted norm
This Judge is soundin’ mighty good,
I know to have the coffee ready,
As I listen to the poetry chanting under the hood.
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 10:59 PM UTC
Emotion bottled and shaken
to the point of explosion,
Risking a state of total destruction
With the simple rising of a raging white cap,
Twisted by the stormy hands of inner turmoil.
Slapping waves of reaction
Against mountains of addictive distraction,
Causing one an internal Mexican standoff,
Presenting a decision, diamond in the rough:
Raise the white flag of resistance.
Offer yourself some relief assistance,
Breathing in a meditative manner,
Setting a slow releasing standard,
Steadily releasing emotional pressure
In a controlled state of measure;
Or
Find yourself dead on the floor,
Having exploded in an internal combustive roar,
Because you fought to hold in the building Pressure.
Attempted cognitive deconstruction,
Neglected yourself thriving construction,
Fearing your own atomic reaction
to the explosive emotional canter.
Either choice resulting in emotional disruption...
Eruption,
But only one in total annihilation.
-Marie Moldovan ©️ 2020
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 1:04 AM UTC
bruised by rainbows
that bang the ends
of time--
abstracted to coursing
freedom.
cut off by rote--
your tethers whistle.
a melody that's
shame to the stranglehold
of ears--
the sounds of paths
never crossed.
the length of life's lipless
kiss,
soft as leaves trained
on the naked eye
of a tree.
how frictive, enter &
exit, so bright i forgot
to see.
only felt for the
precipitating steps
of feeling.
you wear a saint's
combustive head--
sending rare flowers
to hang from the
edge of the earth.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 12:06 PM UTC