"contaminates" poems
Dye the ***** water with contaminates:
Blue #1,
and Sucralose, too.
Bend over to spray
the rotting road-kill with perfume.
Perfect the recipe
for what was fleshed and fruited
from animals and plants.
Photoshop the starved and diseased
with smiles
and beautiful bodies.
Clothe the *****
with lingerie, with heels,
and with stones.
Paint the roses red.
We paint the white roses red.
We’re painting the white roses red!
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
Once upon a time, a long time ago
There was a little boy with a grimy flow
I used to hear him rap in Chicago everyday
And this is what I heard him say…….
He say **** like, he be like….
Ah! and I'm a *********** biter
The size of the incises inside ya might surprise ya
You might need rewind to decipher my cyphers
Ain't nothing on this world worth more than my saliva
I go so hard when I'm flowing
So cold my flows frozen
I'm a rowboat rowing in an open ocean
And I'm hoping, to blow up with no promotion
But dam, those explosions are so slow motion
So, I need some honey bees to pollinate my money trees
Cause fuckery of companies, accompanies that come between
A couple bucks and me, turned my orange juice to Sunny-D
Hide the cash for food stamps, no way i'm funded publicly
I'm hungry, but not for sandwiches I'm ambitious
A panhandler with gram plans and last wishes
Ask for the last table scraps you can't finish
Sell em back when you digest, and I repackage it
Abracadabra, I'm an alchemist, my magic tricks are acting as contaminates
I damage this establishment
They enacted bans on urban camping
If you ask them how they sleep at night the answer is
Happily on mattresses
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
i know of his hazel eyes that are a map to his soul if only you would look deep enough.
i know of his wide smile that could mend a heart that has been shattered into one million tiny pieces.
i know of his brown hair
that carelessly lays atop his head.
i know of the intense sadness that contaminates all of these beautiful things.
i know of the emptiness that engulfs him and the dry blood he conceals beneath cloth.
i know of a side to himself that he keeps locked away, the key buried under a thousand rocks only to be revealed when his barely-breathing heart is completely alone.
i know of the sleepless nights that are filled with memories of unkept promises and the tears that forcefully fall from his frustrated eyes.
i know of the thoughts that overtake his mind, continuously haunting him.
i know of the fear that controls his words and overwhelms his heart.
"no, i don’t know him. i just know of him."
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
The King of the World is on his way now,
he always shows up when the chips are down.
Everyone just loves The King of the World,
he always arrives with his banners unfurled.
The King can be a loud chap,
or The King can be quite a quiet mime,
he even puts his pants on
one royal leg at a time!
The King might eat breakfast,
or The King just might not,
he is everything you are,
yet is is all that you forgot.
He's a musician of sorts,
with a very big band,
his arrival is in herald,
throughout every land
-with brass trumpets a-blare,
and snare-drums rat-a-tat,
he makes everyone aware,
that he's now where you're at!
The King marches his forces
through the cities and fields,
assure of his courses,
lying flat beneath his heel.
He revels at the sight of deterioration,
fills his belly with the joy of nations in extinction.
The King grounds everything down to things he scrapes off his boots,
he topples the governs and poisons the cultural roots.
The King's fixations are splashed with spatters of blood,
turning kingdoms into crumbles of ashes and mud.
He bulldozes the bodies into toxic pits of ****
contaminates by obscenity, wringing his hands at the wit.
Lionized by his minions in the empty empires he wrought,
The King's elite ruling class is dictated with rot.
In the aftermath of the bile
of his genocidal, sweet plight,
The King celebrates with great style,
turning the daylight into night.
With bonfires a-blaze on the wicked, windy wasteland,
The King of the World strikes up his big band,
and once marching again will torch and ravish the land,
dropping massive, beautiful bombs for the sake of the thrill,
melting the people and villages and eroding the hills.
The time for The King
always is nigh,
for he is surrounded by
the conjurations of lies.
Some say he is evil,
(but, he's not the Devil, you see)
-He's The King of the World,
he is you, he is me.
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 9:14 AM UTC
The peaceful river does not sleep
but carves a road that runs so deep.
The silent waters trickle down
and calming lullabies do sound.
The peaceful river does not cry
though soaked with tears and never dry.
A lonely journey leads it home
to oceans wide with drowning tones.
The peaceful river does not anger
no wrath contaminates the martyr.
Temptation does not flow to sea
does not hold the river free.
Instead the river feeds the soul
weaving life where're it flow
breeding hopes for future fruit
and wiping clean the ash and soot.
Humble savior of unclean soil
without reward despite its toil.
A ceaseless flow of blessedness
The peaceful river of forgiveness.
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 12:39 AM UTC
the world.
filled with pools of water and washed away regret. but so deep with regrets and fear of the fore coming.
the world. with trees of beautiful green and red roses too dont ever seem to bloom in the eyes of the people for the continuation of constant world war three with our physical appearance.
the world. with trees that stand as high as our worries and grass as sharp as the pain that lingers within, it seems so easy to wake up at the crack at dawn and take our good time to paint a smile and carefully dot our eyes with the plastic of the worlds personality. but the world
is so beautiful-so pure. the water so crisp and clean.
until the touch of fingers contaminates the beauty within, shreds apart the trees and crumbles the structure until there is
nothing
but insecurity.
we paint our face and dot our eyes so carefully to reach that so called perfection
but the definition of perfection in most of our hearts put it perfectly: "Perfection is a disease of a nation"
one that we have all caught and seemed to not find a cure. it goes rapidly through our body spreading so fast and clenching on to the brain until it calls all the shots as if we are the robots and it is now the controller.
you see, there is nothing but insecurity.
you might be able to air brush the blemishes and bumps that creep into our skin and sprout so grossly, but,
you cant air brush personality.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
He is my least favorite vegetable.
No amount or level of preparation makes him taste better:
Boiling-
brings out his bulbous, insipid ego
the texture of his flamboyant ignorance.
when I timorously sip him in soups or broths,
his oozing insidious misogyny
contaminates my blissful dining, contorts any ingredients still pure.
I fry him, striving to remove the
excess of impertinence which
permeates the oxygen I feebly inhale.
but he evades my maneuvers:
usurps bliss and violates all semblance of tranquility
I cannot prevail
against the throb of his assaulting narcissism
I must instead attempt
to comment
(arduously, fraudulently)
on the delicate iridescence of his silkily mucoused membranes
and admire deftly
his indefatigable ventures to pervade my
every.
serenity.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 3:18 AM UTC
It is within this rock I sit
Encased in regret, solidified guilt mortality
Hurt friend’s tear drops etch’d
Dead for all sense and purpose
Shifting on ancient sand’s sorrow
Blistered by dire gale forces breathing
Stoic between cracks in the lies
Weathering at rapid paces of mistaken footsteps
A mausoleum of loneliness
Branded with hot iron’d deceptions
Deafened of heartbreak earthquake tremors
Hammer and chiseled contaminates
Crushed bits of worthless rubble
Scattered in anguish’d apologies
****** by stupidity…
...dust on the wind
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
You still hurt me
Even after 'our' end
[*I cover my eyes every time your stare
Contaminates my thoughts*
You'll never say
What you've thought
What I am
What you think
What I'm not
And I don't really care
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
This unresolved ambivalence
Contaminates a dubious sense
Of accents yet unknown
And of unbridled words yet unspoken
Where one becomes haunted by circumstances
Bequeathed to a virtuous iniquity of discourse
Whose fabrication of appearance binds deception
Yet transforms human misery by conscious and unconscious
Deployment of illusions were words are those energies
Given free rein and perform a fecundity of speech
Defying as it does so semantic predictability
And brings dissolution to normality
The first born UNICORN
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 3:43 PM UTC
A far off rumble, like a premonition,
Disturbs the quiet urban biosphere.
Soon, flashing, scattered thunderstorms appear,
Depositing an icy ammunition.
A domed volcano wakes from long remission,
Explodes, contaminates the atmosphere.
The sun retreats behind a ****** smear
And all the world submits to dark perdition.
For weeks the crumpled vegetation limps
Along and feeds on fallen carcasses.
The battered monuments to progress fall
And Wall Street übermensch, now useless gimps,
Assemble near their ruined businesses
And ponder why their profits tend to stall.
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 6:32 PM UTC
“Post a time when you were at your lowest but no one noticed”
But the thing is when I was at my lowest, I never hid it, at least not in the long run
I let the blood from my struggles pour from my eyes,
It runs down my arms in vein-like trails and seeps into the creases of my palms
It runs down my fingers, filling the whorls and arches of my prints
Every touch contaminates and floods
I spread it on the surfaces, smearing and painting with red: startling like a cardinal in snow and thicker than wine
At times I regret being so open, thinking I should just keep things to myself
But that would be to go against my nature
To go against my deep desire for those I love to know every single intimate part of me;
To see me at my weakest.
Maybe it’s because there aren’t any secrets then
It’s just me showing the world that when im strong, im strong,
And when I’m weak, I’m weak.
I suppose I don’t feel the need to hide how I'm feeling or what I am going through.
To hide it would be far too much work
And I don’t have the energy to hide.
Apr 3, 2023
Apr 3, 2023 at 5:03 PM UTC
An inadequate interpretation
preserved in crooked craniums
contaminates the minds.
An embellished episode
dissected by firm fingers
falsifies the hearts.
An unacceptable attitude
and irreversible invalid anecdotes
poison the people.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
I'm sitting alone in a crowded room,
people talking all around, sharing smiles
laughter and joy. Yet all I can think about
is you.
You, you, you, you, you.
You're like a poison that doesn't want to leave my mind,
it contaminates me, one bite and your venom seeps into
my open wounds and makes me suffer
the agony of thought.
Thoughts.
They never end, the what if's never decease,
and every morning I don't want to awake
into another world where I know I shouldn't have
anymore hope.
Hope.
It's lacking in my life, like a balloon flying upwards
toward the sun, your eyes make me change what I think
over and over your words don't seem consistent
with that look.
That look.
That look that tells me you have so much more to say
more to give, more to offer, more to propel,
yet your words speak cowardice, over and over get
out of that little bubble because I've jumped out of mine
because you forced me to pop it and now I'm
a fish without water.
Without water, without hope, without dreams
but I can't stop my dreams and my hope
that my subconscious gives me every night
over and over and over again with you and I
don't know what I dream but that when I wake up
I see your face and when I go to sleep you're the last
thing I think about.
You're the only thing I can think about.
Concentration lost.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
i considered it a sneeze
more of a natural expulsion
of that which contaminates the spaces
between our mustaches and our medulla
no
something ejected and the room paused
most placed aside their drink
snuffed their cigarette
to see if you would pass away
smooth
chuckled
thats what you did after
and we breathed a sigh of relief
some glad that you hadnt seized up
others glad they didnt have to leave yet
either way
thanks
i wont buy you a triple meat again
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak
If we continue this way, the future is bleak.
Be ye drunk with the spirit
Here we are drunk with whiskey.
Sensuality burning hot even in sleep
With corrupt minds open to sin
She walks in and contaminates
With venomous eggs hatching death…
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 7:37 AM UTC
I'm tired of breathing the same air as you.
This energy contaminates my vibe.
I'm tired of speaking to a ghost.
Your presence is invisible.
I'm tired of wearing masks to hide myself.
I'm ashamed of my unseen scars.
I'm tired of being alone in my darkness.
I can't converse with humans.
I'm tired of walking for nothing.
My bones became too weak.
I lost you because of my mistakes.
I lost me because I tried to change.
You lost me because I'm not the same.
We lost us because we were too tortured.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 7:55 AM UTC
The vibrating feeling you get when in a trance of contentment, where nothing contaminates your brain, with false allusions of what to be. You hold selflessness within your heart and soul, where debility is non-existing, just sitting out of the ring. Where the roots of bitterness are snipped, because the branches were begging for mercy as to they were betrayed. You smile towards the sun waiting for infinity, and a gasp from reality. The meaning of life lies between your eyes, maybe you see it as a disguise for self contentment, but just accept that it’s happening, and you shall be happy .From the beginning of time to the gates of hell, this is where we all dwell.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 10:31 AM UTC
A river among a stream
forecast only myriad of dream
when early dew easily derived as mad
while peace here is now our dream
with thinking that imbed these orchid pastels
once weight did keep it from debt only seemingly then
but the river quay abscond many hats to wear again
while canoe does display this garden wall
with a dream of a lifetime so it's shone
when into darkness finding a rainbow
and each river there a quay did find a reeve
for contaminates as water must goldenly flow
as their sustenance can keep evermore alive.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 7:01 AM UTC
Snow beautiful snow
Falling to the Earth
With purpose to cover
The filth and ****
That contaminates the world
Snow beautiful snow
Why must you melt?
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
this is not a free country
pick a place on the globe
they force the laws upon us
US - free people of the world
i am not free to do as i wish
says the man i have never seen
my freedom to act, my free will
taken away by the sinful machine
i should be able to say and do things my way
as long as none else's freedom is taken away!
in a world full of art, love, hope and God
will not be any jails or psychiatric wards
look, the elctions are staged such a cheap act
who cares who gets picked? same outcome, facts
keep paying taxes guess what the money is for
there are more wars going on than ever before
they show you suffering show you pain
through your eyes right into your brain
some are addicted to the "news" from the box
it contaminates your mind, worse than drugs
people don't watch it, what's there to see?
just violence and *** on TV
they create a show out of sinful things
rappers now days call themselves kings
how dare you say that how dare you think?
your throne is a myth get off of it quick
think about chess you have to protect your King
you're playing for the system? not gonna win!
God reigns over All, his rule is supreme
i check! my pawn turns into a Queen
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 7:59 PM UTC
I Warrant that thy lack of care
Is bound within a hard restraint,
Bound within thy calloused fist
To disavow convention’s taint.
I Warrant that thy steely eye
Hath fixed upon the prize of yore,
Hath disregarded consequence
In disinterring mankind’s law.
I Warrant that thy wall of pride
Hath steeled thy arm of self regard,
In keeping thy momentum’s rush
From dissipating conscience hard .
I Warrant that the breath thou breathe
In staling air of all contrite,
Contaminates the very heart
Of those who roar “Seig Heil” to *****
I Warrant in the dead of night
When phantoms stalk thy peace of mind,
Incineration souls aflame
Might cause thy yellowed teeth to grind.
I Warrant that through centuries
These ghosts shall ride thy spirit hard,
And man shall weep in horror when
He looks upon thy cruel regard.
Marshalg
Warrantor to an indiscriminate other
24 February 2012
© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 10:47 PM UTC
I am woeful of decisions that have once been made.
Fallacies clouded the judgment of my heart that I have shamefully been unable to detect.
An instant sensation of remorse, contaminates the mind as euphoria failed to fulfill my sadness.
How could one experience joy kicking love to the curb on an empty street?
A division of the conscience uncertain of it's conclusions,
But it being too late to repair.
The uncertainty eats away at this divided conscience for quite a stretch.
Dreaming the dreams of the love once lost,
A love lost by my own hand.
The thought of victory when feeling such relief,
But feeling blue at the relief when finally occurred.
Reality had too lost it's way,
On the road of which I am paving.
Cue that sweet, miserable sound of the miniature violin as it penetrates the heart I seem to have broken.
Her heart was once mine and I treasured it so,
But comparing the pieces of them shattered on the floor would be asinine,
Since hers are more difficult to retrieve.
I'll always hold on to that remorse for as long as my hands can bare,
But will finding love be as simplistic as running from it?
A place to search for it, I won't know where.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 12:07 AM UTC
I love the love at the bottom
The way the roses blossom through any problem from the concrete
Oblivious to defeat
Never cared for a silver spoon
As long as the love around the dinner table was true
All the loot, can care less
All the amount of money in the world can amount to emptiness
Without the people you care about to share it with
No matter what Caucasian, African, Hispanic, or Asian
There was always an appreciation
Every day survived was a graduation for nobody had to face cremation
Lack of communication is what is waiting at the top
When material begins to get heavily involved
Relations tend to be lost
Materialism contaminates thoughts
Being more worried about what we just bought rather than who we are
Look at a reflection of yourself and realize who you have become
Always remember where you came from
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 12:40 PM UTC