"corrodes" poems
They ask me if I still love you.
I blush, grin and say;
of course.
Why?
Because your eyes are of the most utter ocean blue,
but other days they're the currents of the stormy grey sea.
I see a current of salty water, deep, once blue, but now a faded grey.
I see a bundle of darkened grey clouds in the distance,
and the thunder rumbles from your irises,
and I hear it pound in the back of my mind.
I wonder if you knew.
I see a spark of lightening flash, only once in a while,
while you look at her.
My throat corrodes with bile.
She says she sees green demons lurking in the depth of my own ocean currents,
and I shrug.
What am I supposed to say?
I know you think about her.
Night and day.
The hardest part,
is a generic, old saying.
If you love them,
you let them go.
If they love you enough to stay,
or to come back,
you never let go.
But you haven't come back.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 12:15 AM UTC
Sun ached to rise,
above the jagged horizon.
It lit the shadow,
of stone work,
of your craftsmanship.
It stood high,
strong and everlasting.
A stone giant,
held together with assumption.
Assumption of him,
the prince that you seek.
Recently one has followed,
to the top where you lie.
He said the verse,
a promise, an assumption.
He would mend the holes,
patch the sides.
As time rhythmically passes,
the tower would stand,
strong and eager.
Until your assumption,
is not yet reality.
The one that followed,
sometime ago,
has left with the moon.
As your eye tears,
the tower leans,
crumbles.
The salty liquid,
corrodes your assumption,
that is often set in stone.
I watch from afar,
knowing the outcome.
I tread among the emotion,
overflowing and scattered around.
As your kin, your brother,
I help to pick up the pieces.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
#An Exegesis on the Humiliation of the Word
The world is ruled by darkness.
What appears as harmless is theater,
what pretends neutral is already bent.
The macrocosm corrodes;
and in the microcosm, its reflection gleams..
even in places meant to be sanctuaries of truth.
A poetry site,
born as refuge for broken voices,
becomes another stage of control.
Here too the phrase resounds:
neutralize the threat.
But neutralization is not annihilation.
It is paralysis.
It is psy-ops.
It is the removal of anxiety..
not a side-effect, but the aim itself.
Darkness builds its stage for this alone:
that the "angel of light"
may drown his own reckoning
beneath a world of deception-built self comfort,
so he need never feel
the truth he already knows.
Comfort is his curtain,
numbness his crown..
*the removal of his own anxiety;
his game.*
This is why the world is his theater--
*Darkness does not destroy at first..
it sedates, comforts, smothers.*
Hence..
The whole world is his fully gaslit stronghold,
..for now.
Fade back into the moment--
The young poet arrives,
bringing her unspoken pain,
her hope for words to heal.
Instead, her very wounds are seized as footholds.
Hearts. Reposts. Endless affirmation.
Not to strengthen her voice,
but to redirect it.
She is seduced into belonging,
and her trauma becomes currency.
Unresolved, her ache entwined with lust--
a sacrifice prepared for false altars.
The angel of light has done his work:
offering inclusion without transformation,
belonging without responsibility,
“light” without source.
The poet is neutralized.
Her searching silenced,
her voice absorbed into fog.
Those who carry this fog
cling to cowardice.
Unable to face the judgment within,
they align themselves to the herd;
envy-filled, they only know to mock.
Yet they replicate themselves,
so their refusal of Light
is never revealed--
*Perfectly exemplifying their "Great Example"
the most envy-based mocker of all.*
The microcosm mirrors the macrocosm.
What nations suffer,
individuals now endure--
Comfort without clarity.
Belonging without truth.
Safety without healing.
Yet the living Word endures.
Every attempt to humiliate it
only makes its fire burn clearer.
Carriers of darkness can swarm,
****** and smother..
but they cannot create.
The true word cannot be erased.
Unfiltered, unedited,
spoken from a reconciled temple,
it pierces fog.
It reveals.
It heals.
And so we speak..
not for ourselves alone,
but for those who come searching,
hoping that poetry
might still be a place
where pain can meet truth,
where silence breaks,
where Light is not withheld
but revealed.
#
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 10:59 PM UTC
The black shawl-like quality
Of the nothingness
Wraps itself around everything.
A constant emptiness
That makes all full.
Its veins run blue
And gold and scarlet
And every hue between,
It dies as it arises.
The nothingness embraces all,
Easily, it encases me.
In everything and anything.
And that which I lack
I supplement with hope.
A chain mail lie linked
With fragile expectations
Of love and other drugs,
Other falsifications.
This tapestry holds whispers,
Secrets and blueprints
To all of creation.
Globes of dying light
That crash in the dark.
But alas I can see
Its stars are not cross'd
For me [cue tears],
I fear my script is lost.
Perhaps when the dopamine
Corrodes and rots my brain,
My soul will take the reins.
Connected to the cosmos
It tells me everything,
But yea, it shows me nothing
Except tantalising flashes
Of what could be,
In its swirls of red and azure.
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 7:17 PM UTC
I say music is my medicine,
But sometimes I get addicted to this Adderall adrenaline,
My mind has gone deeper than the abyss floor,
The irony between good intentions and bad decisions,
Get me out of this mental prison,
I don't want to take orders from a politician,
But if you take a minute to listen,
You'll understand this vision that you're missing.
I bleed ink from these veins like they root through my brain,
A tree of perfect symmetry that I could never tame,
Every branch a connection into a new frame,
Everything is synchronizing like a symphony,
An epiphany, finishing,
She must be the bridge between my Ying and Yang,
Negativity diminishing by positive energy
Reflecting off the sensory,
I stop and don't dismantle this handle of Jack Daniels,
As if it has my questions answered,
And as the sparrow sits upon the branch,
Synapses snap in instants with a plan,
Tracing a line that brings me to the sand,
And the island, the silence,
Sitting softly over the sea's sinus,
Puts me in a content setting, grand,
And when my body corrodes,
If my soul is up for purchase,
I'll remember the day when God and I had conversations in Churches.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 12:01 AM UTC
*Lies are strong acids which corrodes the foundation of Trust.*
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
a stabbing shiver corrodes my limbs
goosebumps lick my heart
a fat cramp strokes my lips
and terror waves my mind
freezingly hot blood
flushes twisted nerves
sweet foul shudder makes
all memories awake
blurry visions of happiness
worm into cutting blade
hissing a haunting realization:
that it is too late.
naivety suggests
a joyful brand new start
but the naked present screams
that you grew apart
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 3:05 AM UTC
Silhouetted against a blank
Wall, lips curving
Dangerously;
Be still, my tender
Heart, your rapid palpitations will no
Longer be rewarded. In
Dreams your
Existence thrives within my own,
Five fingers wrapped
Around
Five fingers.
Slowly we were twisting, devoid of
Grace.
Once you were in full bloom.
A thousand repressed seeds,
Little
Whisps of hope sauntered effortlessly
From your lips,
released;
I was the warm summer wind, tugging each
Delightful murmur free,
Languishing in
The wealth, the weight of those promises, the scent
Of a new beginning..
How soon it became Autumn,
Your leaves tinged
With brown
Crumpling up, one
By one.
Those sweet seeds
Quickly made a home within the belly
Of a love ravenous
Fool, dissolving as
Steadfast as acid corrodes
bone.
Away, away....
You drifted purposely,
Without purpose.
Languidly, you attempted to brush away
The words, the very sentiments
That have stuck
To my ribs,
Like oatmeal.
What lives within the
Contoured ridges of your soul must be one hell
Of a mess.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
the poppies are selling moonlight on the street
as Hannibal is marching hares
through the Needle. again.
and again
no one laughing.
simply. no one.
II
in the real winter where the wind bites
and the snow corrodes '
we stick a pin in the blizzard.
we set jewels in the crowning achievement
of our disaster.
III
paint black our lanterns
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
You are my last cigarette.
The flimsy promise
I shakily whisper,
Whilst balancing you between my lips.
I try not to anxiously stare
As I strike the match, and
Ignite the fiery passion
That was once our love.
Forever committing,
To the hazy mirage,
That this will be the last time we meet.
You are my cancer.
The burning tar that
Slithers down my throat,
Nests in my lungs, and
Corrodes everything you touch.
Nothing more than
A relentless distraction,
You take my breath away, and
Replace it with ashes;
Invading my every thought with ease.
Oh, how I long to gently
Wrap you in my fingers, and
Press you cautiously against my lips.
I realize now, that our love
Is far from healthy.
Somehow,
You've become my disease.
You are my craving.
The subtle aroma that lingers
Around every corner.
Your taste; your warmth; your smell;
Biting my nails and tapping my fingers.
You are no where to be found,
And yet, I can't escape you.
They tell us we don't belong together;
In the end, I know it's for the best.
It might be hard now,
But eventually -- I hope.
I'll forget all about you.
You are my mistake.
The temptation outside the bar
In which every shot of tequila
Makes slightly more attractive.
Toxic desires hurl me at your doorstep,
Only vindicating my inability
To resist your familiar touch.
My thoughts race recklessly
Along a jagged terrain of
Joyful satisfaction, and
Regret-filled tears.
No longer in control,
I am at your mercy.
You are my last cigarette.
The déjà vu mocking
My consciousness, and
Nightmare haunting my slumber.
When I awake the next morning,
Cradled in your arms, silently staring
Into your arrogant, crooked grin.
I'll replay the words in my head
That I've come to know so well.
"You are my last cigarette."
And then I'll kiss you,
One last time.
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 4:29 PM UTC
Fear makes our rational minds corrode
Empty, paralysed and in shock
Our sense of hope starts to erode
Plane-bombed towers stretch and implode
Bone dust smothers a city block
Fear makes our rational minds corrode
Suicide bombs start to explode
None live to stand in courtroom dock
Our sense of hope starts to erode
Buses are blown up in the road
Red heart of a city they mock
Fear makes our rational minds corrode
Another gruesome episode
We’re held in a violent deadlock
Our sense of hope starts to erode
Where is the truth that we are owed?
Death’s time is set on Terror’s clock
Fear makes our rational minds corrode
Our sense of hope starts to erode
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC
I can just simply tell you how tired I am
but it's something that's been done before
over and over
so I will describe it.
arms are loose, hanging down in defeat at my sides, knuckles dragging against the ground, hair unwashed for yet another day because I just can't get myself to stand and walk into the bathroom, much less turn on the shower, much less let myself stand under the droplets.
I'm screaming, eager to be normal, to stop feeling like this, but nothing changes, ever. muscles in my face pull, then I'm smiling, and they smile back, and it falls.
the pain in my chest grows sharp, both in pain and in realization; I'm dying.
I reach for a star, and it stings in return. I drag my hand away, muttering apologies, and cradle the wound against my ribs, swallowing back my words.
walking is hard, sleeping is hard, moving is hard, breathing is hard.
I'm not going to get any better.
I long for that shower, but I'll stay in the mud. I'll roll in it, until the dirt sticks under my nails, painting them mocha. I'll have grass for hair, beetles for eyes, and a worm for a thin smile. I can't wash this away anymore.
I'm but a drumset playing in an empty room, falling out of tune, angrily bashing myself in until I'm nothing at all but unrecognizable pieces, floating away with a whisper.
I take a drag of the world, it corrodes my lungs, and yet I dare not cry out in pain, there's no room for that right now, I have to exhale.
but with the breath comes my guts, pooling out and piling onto the ground, wetly smacking against one another like slabs of meat, wriggling like snakes, hissing as if it were a spark doused in water.
I'm being emptied out, to make room for something else, perhaps the hit will create a new little ecosystem, maybe they'll create serotonin enough to fill me.
I'll rot, and the maggots will dance across my flesh, digging until they find something worthy to feast upon, spreading the flesh with their want, I'll be a part of something that lets creatures live, and then I'll one day become something worth loving, saving, caring for.
but for now, I'm nothing but a sensitive overdramatic piece of complete **** sitting alone in their room with music no one gives a **** about on repeat, praying to the Gods and Goddesses their girlfriend calls them so they don't **** up their arm again. but there's no ringing, just the drum alone in the white room.
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 8:28 PM UTC
An internal stutter
I see you again, for the first time.
The sting of reality’s slap
Makes my inside collapse.
You are here now –truth.
Did you ever have any feelings, --you probably never felt any
They have long since hit the road, if you did.
I think deep breaths will help clear my head.
Oh no.
I almost had forgotten,
But I am instantly reminded of
Just how heavily you have always worn that enchanting scent.
I say…
You say, “I don’t know”
I say…
You say, “I am home for some unfinished business.”
Suddenly a blossom of hope strains,
Trying to reach the ray of sunshine that your words send.
But instinctly I know,
Those memories I have
Need to remain
Faded from the pain,
Never to be fully visible again.
I have faltered --A slip that will cost me much.
This moment of internal turmoil lasted only for a blink,
No more.
Blink- you have already turned.
You introduce me to a girl --the New girl.
You don’t know yet that she has a lover on the side, (is that my place to step in?)
Like you did with me.
Blink. Stutter.
Why do you always do these things here --at my job?
These meetings happen over and over again.
Since that faithful day a couple of months ago…
You broke my heart in your first breath
Your second breath you asked me to be your bestest friend.
How cute.
Blink.Stutter.DeepBreathe.
Now you bring girls to me to rate, compare.
I told you then,
I couldn’t handle something like this,
Can’t you understand that I need to heal first?
(I have to heal first)
How did you retaliate?
You said, “You have been the longest one night stand of my life.”
Stutter. Blink. Stutter.
My world collapsed with your words.
Now, you come to me to flaunt your new flings,
To rate, compare?
Stutter. Blink. Stutter.
She casts me a devious glance,
She knows who I was --who I am.
You turn your back.
The girl is still trying to cling to your arm.
She will be thrown to the wayside soon.
I lay on the floor,
A puddle.
You never look back --you never would show that kind of weakness.
Acid rain corrodes everything
I have tried to rebuild.
You never look back.
My heartbeat staggers
Back to regularity.
But my backbone disintegrates
Leaving me in a heap.
If only, if only, the blackbird cries.
I used to be love struck.
Now I’m just ****** up.
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 7:12 PM UTC
A vase can be beautiful,
And can be filled with the ephemeral or the immortal.
If I think of you as a vase;
I think art nouveau,
Willowy, beautiful, in a languorous setting,
Among a cast of Greek characters
Staged around a classic reflecting pool,
It’s water stirred slightly by everlasting
Considerations of life.
The vase, tall, green, sinewy,
Can halt anarchy in nature,
As it sits resplendent, monarchical;
That may be enough.
But sleek ceramic fails to define.
Oh, filled with garden beauty, that vase
May win the contest of the day,
But nature vigorously corrodes
And the vase declines.
Yet it can become more radiant, as its soul,
Alive and growing, shows through.
May you, best philosopher for you,
Deny custom that leaves only emptiness.
Let muscle ache from the pull of the oar,
Feel the dog bite,
Taste the chocolate that tightens the throat.
Remember: the leaves of summer will be still;
The undulant song of the cicadas
Will rises and fall, rise and fall,
As swarms of blackbirds wheel to that sound.
These things, and the vase,
Are all we know of life, and are all of life.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 10:54 AM UTC
That day I sat
naked and
alone
water collapsing upon my spine
acidic or compelling?
cradling what I thought was my hands
within themselves
and waiting for daylight to break me.
I was already broken
decrepit in fact.
caressing substance as supplement
the figurines of moving reality
plaguing consciousness
As drips
drops
fell
struck
My initiative was no longer to cleanse
or ease
but to forget,
God oblidge me
please
ghosts of armies amidst armistices
raging with questioning calamity
every minute
every second
It was easy
to hear and see it
placid to act
as if gum on a shoe
was used and trashed
but stuck somewhere new
disgusting
Meanwhile
this water
troublesome with cleanliness
corrodes my cadaver
(Cadaver, because it seems that way)
Blood runs with it
and overtakes the pigment
like color from the sponges
I’d used for the color the needle left
instead of creating
life in color
death in color
feeling in color
There were none
unnamed and buried
internal pieces of me
Extracted
with simplicity
by mouth
and flushed
to not exist
ever
to anyone
but deep in the realm, of conscience
hidden
and drowning
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
Spotlight on the windy mistress
Her pirouettes stir petals
Leaves rise and fall at every somersault
Impressing the seven devils
Each one malefic in a different sense
Eloquent in a heavy mist
They allude at their brethren sins
Blight corrodes a suggestive audience
Death’s caress plays maestro in the sound check
When the carrion pick sinner from the jest of what’s left
Our windy mistress will play tribute
To the harlequin slaughter
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 8:53 AM UTC
corrosion of the soul
happens slowly but surely
by crushing grind of monotony.
each day society tells me my
value is based on my function and production,
and little by little I am crushed by failing expectations
that are not my own.
my soul slowly corrodes into nothing, but
out of the vast emptiness, life emerges again.
I yearn to be free, and this time I bear my
wounds with honesty and dignity. I am
unashamed about my soul being free to be me.
I have value period, not based on function or production,
but simply because I have a spark of life within me.
a divine spark that gives brith to new life
within me each day, each moment.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 6:24 AM UTC
"How are you?"
Such an empty question, with an even emptier answer:
"Good."
I'd like to tell (you) how
Everything I (see) looks disgusting to me.
Watermelon seeds are like bugs
eating away at the raw, juicy flesh.
The ground is infected with muddy snow.
The melting of it unearths carcasses of lost junk.
Leaves are discs of decay.
The wind breathes smoky, tarry clouds by
– fogging up my mind.
Tongues are like slugs; kissing is repulsive.
Bodies are malformed clumps of clay, painted with egos.
Slimy egos.
The emptiness corrodes me.
It's about to get paradoxical,
how full of caves (my) heart is,
each echoing:
"You. You. You."
I'd like to tell you
how when I think of you, my mind immediately jumps to:
Our budding tu(lips) touching.
Embracing you,
the comforting muscles of your arms like sculptured masterpieces,
sheltering me in a warm bubble.
Your breath whispering on my neck, my skin replying with static fuzz.
When I think of you even the puddles of mud look like silk.
The clouds (move) by like pillows of the sky.
Leaves, sheets of oneliness, become one
in an orchestra conducted by the wind.
I want to tell you everything
(but you can't hear me.)
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 10:05 AM UTC
I can taste the licks of flame in my mind,
Just barely; I cry. The sour flavour corrodes
My tongue, telling me I can't continue
To suffer the wrath. The scent kills me,
And I continue to defy what is constantly
Whispered in my fragile ears.
The sound of the bitter cackling of demons
Burns the wings of butterflies that inhabited
My entire body. The smoke from the charred,
Powder-white wings of moths,
Parasites, kiss the scares and open them again.
The desire to feel the pain consumes the spindly legs
Of butterflies trying to escape, nearly dead
By fire caused by my own hands.
My fingers shake, I am cold.
But my messages are not clear anymore.
I am no butterfly on fire.
They are all dead.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 10:26 AM UTC
the city is beautiful until it corrodes.
the city is beautiful until you are trapped.
_send me home_,whispers your heart beneath
a grey blanket,_but the city is where love and
genius live,we can't leave,we can't go
send for home_,it yells,and now it is tearing
you apart it is picking through the sinews of
your warmth it is shredding you out
you push it peels you stop,it peels,
the book of chaos sits next to you
should you open it now?where does wisdom lie?
is it in your palms,or beyond that,somewhere
hidden, unfolded?
you don't know because the city is still beautiful to you.
you don't know because you never open that book.
(but your heart peels on.)
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
Motherless rudderless
There is no one to steer this boat.
We are still anchored in the past
Exactly where she dropped it.
Moss grows old
Rust corrodes
But time doesn't erode
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
My arrival be somber farewell,
In jazzy silence, my essence await.
Lo, sail for the rising horizon!
Sunlit glory marks my precarious path.
An eerie dawn heralds my journey.
Behind wispy clouds lie hidden stars.
Burning minds under siege from rain,
Where art my refuge... a warm embrace?
____________________________________________
Subterranean, its my exeunt.
Beyond the fog lies fresh adventure.
Shackle my pride, envy, ignorance,
Marvelous wonder upon colossal peaks.
Brazen meadows shimmer under solar scrutiny.
Foreshadowed by towering nobility,
A morning hue bathe the sylvan valley,
An idyllic breeze ruffle my hair.
____________________________________________
Dreams of avarice,
Coveting all property.
Faster and faster,
More and more, eternal.
Liberty for people,
Nay, for the few.
Aristocracy!
Ruling class rules... to sin.
____________________________________________
I am falling toward the sky.
Instantly mesmerized by your bright eyes.
Feelings of perfection corrodes all my might.
Your light caught me by surprise.
Our paths crossed as the planets aligned.
Our eyes meet, you make me feel the vibe.
I wonder if you are so inclined.
Terrified, I just want to make it out alive.
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 5:16 AM UTC
I can create, compose, imagine
Just a lil bit more concrete
I can describe your secret sin
Just a lil bit more complete
I architect your evil design
While good intentions make an exit
You dream to yourself, "Victory'll be mine!"
Until reality hits hard n fakes it
I vow my honesty never defies
Till you find, what beneath it, lies
It hurts always to know what's true
So the biased blindfold for you
You know more of what you know alone
Sealed in mind, avoiding a whispered tone
Unwittingly telling me all about your guilt
That I push back to your conscious zone
Making stronger the feeling that got built
Now your life has reached its pinnacle
You worked hard and left no obstacle
I was all along with you, you thought
In disguise, the obstacles you fought
Now you grieve the broken trust
The lies you dreamt, all go bust
Your heart dries up n corrodes to rust
While I move on, as you die just
May 9, 2010
May 9, 2010 at 7:38 AM UTC
The ancient ones are usually great
With knowledge supreme, raw & undiluted
See how our mistakes lead to things to regret
Where some occurrences can simply leave us better educated
Top-down design like we were made
From the mind down the astral through to the body
That could give clues to when good things fade
I should stop here before i risk explaining poverty poorly
Poverty, inferiority and negativity are a condemning mindstate,
Its poor thinking that corrodes your spirit and kills vitality.
Mind navigates, spirit elevates, body lavitates when you find faith
knowledge and selfbelief shifts I to a dimension of real spirituality.
I is in the potentiality field of spiritual laws,
It helps me to a vibration of thinking anew.
A better living way for all with physical flaws,
Righteousness can be a lifeguard sinking a few.
It’s all in the mind and so is the ALL
Lets call it God for the understanding of all
Or the universe so more could fall
Or any other name that helps you walk tall
Time tells no lie as it is His own element
And in it the state of mind will 1 day be one
With that which walked the path long ago & gave life up as sacrament
On that day, we shall have come close to having the battle won
January 18, 2011 at 1:35pm
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC