"destructed" poems
In My Salad Days
Salad Days
**Wikipedia:
Modern use, especially in the United States, refers to a person's heyday when somebody was at the peak of his/her abilities, not necessarily in that person's youth.**
~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Salad
Hints of tints of golden
pear skins,
combine with
ruby'd cranberries
each a face, the cheeks of alcoholic old men,
each wrinkle,
a life's recording.
All are mates for the
marcona almonds
nestling, playing hide n' go seeking
tween silk sheeted leaves of
butter lettuce.
All dressed to the nines,
underneath a top hatted, cravatted, Fred Astaire
marinade.
Coated, bathed, loved,
protected by a vinegar of balsams,
aged grape must, pressed,
a lovely, desirable color,
a brown and bronzed rust,
pressed, then left,
to easy rest for
oh so many years,
like I do, easy resting,
when you feed me in
My Salad Days.
The Days
Though it was a life, decades destructed
Millenniums of de minimus,
Forty plus Seders of exile, of hell,
Marked by promises, whispers, horseradish tears of
Next Year and Jerusalem,
Time steeped in a tradition of patient waiting.
Each year, recorded by a spot of red wine
Purposely Spilled,
By my father on unbleached Passover tablecloth,
To example, to symbolize that
Messiness in life,
Is O.K.
The Salad Days
Salad served with irony generous,
When beard greyed and scraggly,
White speckled, wisps of sea salt,
All my youthful greenery, long wilted.
Yet the words herein writ are my
Afikomen, my just dessert,
My victory song of Hallelujah
Just before we eat, celebrating
My Feast of Ascension, marking a
Delayed Arrival, yet right-on time of
My Salad Days.
It was only when
I was resurrected as two bodies,
A pair of cuffed links coupled,
In My Salad Days,
With the taste of freedom,
A first-born infant survivor,
Was I rebirthed, and to the fore, risen.
When words fell from smiling lips, and
Rain and tears flew upwards, and
Each and every breath was an
Amen.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 1:44 PM UTC
A trinity of three styles one man no religion one morning over a lifetime
Temporary (we tat too)
Temporary love
has no precision definition
so if I say
love you forever,
as I do,
know know
just know
this particular
phrase
is temporary,
unique and forgivable
as temporary
as our permanent tattoo,
the one embellishing you,
the one marking me,
the two hearts tat
that means
we are a
tat two
If you begin a poem,
a love, a tat
with temporary,
usually, but not always,
you have already failed
See http://hellopoetry.com/poem/if-you-begin-a-poem-with-i/
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Invalidation
my living bones, twisted.
my words, slurred,
disfigured with a panache,
that makes the mirror
turn away, ashamed
invalid. in valid.
I have been invalidated,
I spit at your too late heroics,
unwanted.
I spit at myself,
for missing the moment,
when choice was mine
I would have self-destructed, freely,
reborn in an act of self-validation,
be my own living will,
if only I had not been enslaved to my
**********
Fear
invalidation, the Cain mark of every failed man
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bootyoir
three day weekend has commenced.
it's con-occlusion
now in rapid descent
mini-vacation, maxi-sensation.
the only question remaining,
present but debated,
as yet undecided,
whose turn is it
to answer
the doorbell,
when the delivery guy
brings our break~fast
for it is forbidden,
a transgress,
to egress
from the bootyoir,
except for the
call of nature,
and naturally,
I am calling
you,
comeback comeback
hungry time
it's time we
co-authored some
bootyoir poetry
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 7:58 AM UTC
With every beckoning move
My power self destructed
I stood among the audience
With no outrageous opinions
I performed as a harlequin
Trying to dulcify my motives
My torn pockets spilling sand
The baptism of fire
They said they were comrades
But at that moment
They enunciated
My defeat
Strenuously.
I'm tired of seeing the wall break
My cigarette stained hands yearn for demise
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
They fear for their children,
Their things when our black men come near.
But do they forget that it was the pale faces who were the cruel ones?
They shipped and trapped our brown for sugar, molasses...
For things.
They inspected
Destructed
Degraded
Detained
Stripped naked our black men for money.
They stole much more than our black men today.
Beat, broke, and chained our black men
Only to incriminate the black body
Only to create fear of skin that has been kissed by something not man made.
So forgive me if I say **** you" to the police in their attempts at racial profiling rationalizations.
Have you no education?
Have you no intellect?
Have you forgotten OUR history?
You cannot cancel violence by enacting violence.
You cannot stop a cycle that you have began if you cannot even look at yourself .
LOOK AT YOURSELF.
It must be hard being so **** stupid.
Being so detached
And having the good graces to ignore and not to teach OUR history.
The black body isn't what you should lock your doors from at night.
Are you scared you wont be able to see it?
Are you?
It is the ignorance of our society of the simple fact
That what starts here
Ends here.
And we are doomed to continue
This cycle of shedding the blood of each other
If you refuse to educate on where the violence
the cruelty
the ownership
the belittling
of the human body began.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
Plane Poetry: I go to Barber
aisle seat C 14,
an emergency exit row,
forced to solemnly swear
that for the extra legroom,
I will solemnly assist to open
the exit door, me first as my reward,
and keep my terrified screaming
below an elephant's trumpeting mating call
what hast this to do with a trip to Barber?
you Brits and Aussies, ever economical,
say went 'to hospital,'
leaving we Ameddicans
to dignify that august institution
as going to
The Hospital
Thus advised, be apprised, a
Nota Bene Benidictus:
I go to Barber,
Not
I go to the barber.
Samuel Barber,
Adagio for String Quartet, Barber
If unfamiliar with this piece,
you will recall it well
if "Apocalypse Now" registers at all
If not stop immediately,
return to Go,
start here,
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRMz8fKkG2g
be prepared to surrender your mortality,
listen and if effected,
if you find yourself on your knees
weeping, recalling the days of loss,
the early empires of hope,
the first kiss
of your firstborn
and unknowingly,
the last you gave
a loved one
if you have the courage to
be touched and impacted,
as I,
then welcome back to
right here where why...
*I go to Barber
where violins soar me heavenwards,
where violins rip open sores long since scarred over,
I go to Barber
and float, eyes sky'd, as water
fills and departs my body simultaneously,
I go to Barber
to know that art can rise beyond,
that my weakened, wrecked human flesh, surpassable
I go to Barber
to harmonize my disconcordia,
romantic lyricisize my waning days,
I go to Barber
to voluntary confess, admit my impoverishment,
to acknowledge that they, my days, yet are capable,
I go to Barber
to remember and to forget,
to mark and unmark time
I go to Barber
to be created and recreated,
to be destructed and despaired
I go to Barber
to acknowledge, as human, better is forever possible,
for of the god spark, yet unextinguished
I go to Barber
because there is no plane as fast as his slow adagio,
to transport me to the who I am and should yet be*
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
This is the story of a world at war
From ‘39 to ‘45
The second world storm
It all occurred with Germany
Japan was there, the world was scared
To storm the beach of Normandy
Power struggle with no regrets
Imperialist japan with minor fits
Lashing out to focus on three
“America, China, and the Soviet please”
This led to begin in a new world war
With 2K killed at pearl harbor
The holocaust powered even more
To be ****** to death, until ‘44
June 9th, and yards to go
200 stretched from land to coast
10,000 men that made the march
Across the beach, into the marsh
A revenge that tastes so bitter and sweet
For the surprise attack, on the pearl harbor fleet
The event that took our country to war
It paid with bloodshed, 10,000 hearts torn
And when D-day ceased, and the smoke parted clear
We dropped upon 2 cities
Our own 2 tears
That revenged the fallen
And vanquished the feared
The axis fleet, now defeated and gone
They dispersed their union
For ****** was wrong
And what of Japan?
Well they restored their towns
From their cities destructed…
A full 2 miles around
And to this very day
We weep for the wept
That adopted our tears
And ended up dead
296 billion in debts
At least in today’s dollars and cents
For a country whose heart
Was torn to bits
60 million…
If that’s what it takes…
To conquer the axis…
Their lives, they gave…
...And the war, they won…
...And won from their grave…
And on opposing sides?
To win or to die
Japan, Germany, and Italy reside
With 16 million casualties
They pounded on Poland
The sacked the Soviet
They fought the French
And got all the way to Greece even
They never left the Netherlands
They were the bane of Belgium
They never gave up Norway
Or the liquidation of Luxemburg’s location
They caused a sort of havoc
Everywhere they went
They threatened the world
With everything they sent
They tried to take the Jewish and the handicapped
To hell
And ended up bringing on themselves
A hellish, brutish, world
This is the story of a world at war
From ‘39 to ‘45
The second world storm
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 10:23 AM UTC
I have never given anyone my all
my whole body mind and soul
and i never intended to.
but i gave it all to you
and you destructed my whole being.
there was nothing you couldn't do or say
to make me feel any ******** than i already did
you decided to change
and come back
try to make it better
and make up for all of your wrongs
and i fell into it
and i forgave
i forgot.
i forgot that you
were just another deceiving man
who had nothing better to do with his life
than to mess with everyone elses.
I made mistakes
and I acknowledge my wrongs
but i know i will make the same mistakes again
i know you will waltz back into my life and i will accept it.
there is nothing you can say or do
that will keep us parted.
but that's all my fault
because its all a game to you.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 9:13 AM UTC
I love the way flowers bloom, then die all at once like humans life, you can't take mine and I can't have yours, the closest people sailed away, took our hearts, left and went away, I thought what we had can't be replaced, but you unleashed your monster and deceived me, I loved you and I will always do, I am trustworthy and I will never lie to you, I was blessed by having you but now I am crying over you, you don't deserve me and you will never do, hearts aren't games once they are broken they can't be fixed again, I thought the once I loved were angels that lightens my world, but they are monsters who stole my heart, appeared in my dreams part of my reality that seems so real, and now no one can heal my destructed soul, angels aren't what they always seem to be unfortunately.
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 7:43 AM UTC
*It has been alleged that repeatedly dwelling on the past
brings nothing but dysphoria and nostalgia to the soul
but so does worrying about the unknown future
and I am not one of those who are quite
efficiently capable at living in the
present, one day at a time.
I am left, destructed by
my overthinking
mind.*
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
prayer of hope, for young and old, who suffer from the slings and arrows sadness and the loss of love; I offer up this prayer of hope and offer you my hand around your shoulders until you no longer require it
more than once,
for lengthy periods,
by events, other people,
my self was eradicated
and limping from day
to night, and J faced
absolutes, choices choking,
alternating alternatives that
offered zero, or even less
than zero, and the inkwell
wasn't refillable, and I could
point to nothing yet encouraging a mystifying purposed existence
then came a woman
who asked nor proffered
conditionals
pre, prior post or otherwise
and
offered up the miraculous
drink, human kindly notice,
snd it
drained the bitters,
began fluid replacement,
and slow resuscitation
and then
poems rebirthed me,
liberated the angry sacred
gory sadness words devoid of glory,
with a reworded score, and
the eyes could write without
a patina filter of jaundiced hatred,
and whispered private internally
many times a beloving
hallelujah
and when ever the remembrance of
the near misses are crackly occasionally appearing, the surge dissipates intact quick
into a netherworld for suppressing
and bid "away with you," and a
thin lipped smile part sneer
for having survived
even
prospered when
then came a woman
and the self, the my self,
returned
after an absence of destructed
decades...deadening decades
and I smile when
the grandchildren tell me
knock knock jokes
and gently knock me on the head,
to make sure I'm alert,
then came woman
who had already~all ready
knocked me on the
heart
Jul 9, 2025
Jul 9, 2025 at 9:32 AM UTC
he’s interested in disasters,
the kind of catastrophes that the media has a field day with,
the kind of accidental atrocities that are awe-inspiring in their horrid glory,
the kind of things that have self destructed spectacularly – so much so that the remaining debris becomes a masterpiece on the ocean floor, a memorial for beautified trauma.
and I guess that’s why he’s interested in me.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
Sit down, throw up, pass out,
In your own *****
Dying,
And no body cares.
Pat your, self on,
The back,
Hold back your head,
Crying,
Spit in your hair.
The drunkards death for me,
Slow and easy,
Destructed and lonely,
One apartment. Dead.
Fly friends circling waiting to eat me.
Smelling of failure in every *****
Bot corpse now housed ****** and drowned in the thrones organs.
Bloated and filled with tears from family.
My life's,
A toilet,
Bowels are,
Disposed in,
Crippled,
Defeated in pain.
Wash up,
Clean out,
Help him,
See that,
Faceless,
Empty death bed.
The party is over.
The funeral was without visitors.
Like a guy that kills himself,
To spite his ex girlfriend.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
The itch that demands,
the strong impulse which shall never end.
This battle is a constant one,
this I formulate from within.
You tore up my family,
you tore up my heart.
You destroyed the one I love most,
& you've made her want to depart.
Depart from vibrancy,
the will to live soberly.
You destructed her far past a breaking point,
& now she's a reflection of brutality.
Separated from the one who raised me;
I perceived you as so strong.
You made numerous examples of heroism,
before you let yourself fall apart.
Now your but a frail,
a withered example.
Of the one you used to be,
your present image I'm unable to handle.
Handle the transformation,
that time has made apparent.
Now I'm forced to raise you,
because your brain has deteriorated.
The pain drains my energy,
the devil steals from my soul.
I know this demand all to well,
I've had this feeling since a boy.
Now here I stand,
& I'll attempt to stay strong.
For what you've done to my family,
I'll remember until my days fail to start.
Tears come and go,
but the pain remains constant.
The child-view of life left us long ago;
after this read, its apparent.
Now here we stand,
torn apart from what we had.
You reach out to me and I grit my teeth,
attempting to forget that I'm sad.
I hope I'll able to forgive,
your selfish quest for departure.
Right now its so hard to apprehend,
& the effects feel like deep acupuncture.
The one you married can't see past,
past your current image of decadence.
The combined hatred creates your impulse to disaster,
& your destructive cycle is boundless.
You meant everything to me,
and this has not changed.
However my view of you is in shame,
and alcohol is to blame.
What you've done I can't apprehend,
and I hate myself for the same impulse.
I wonder if one day I'll give up,
because my efforts never penetrated your mental.
Days turn to months, months into years.
Your time is limited here,
from the effects of all the shears.
Your shears are permanent,
Your liver is due to fail.
However every-time you hear this,
you never seem to care.
Back to the cycle,
of your every day misery.
The alcohol has driven everyone away,
And yes mom, this is scrutiny.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 10:09 AM UTC
The way he feeds off of my disguised purity is ravenous
I'm vulnerable when I'm breathing in his toxic air
I can't help but keep on falling in love with his fabricated and beautifully structured sentences
I've designed a monster with my drunken breath and manipulative tears of sorrow
Someone so beautiful, so pure, I've destructed with my undying need to satiate the void within my heart
I am the monster
(P.C.)
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
She stood
In the middle of a storm
The ocean floor slipped from
Beneath her feet
The waves let out a howl of anguish
She stood there
Imperatively
Helplessly begging for clemency
The water touched the rocks
And moved away
Tides were high
Moon was involved in a surreptitious affair
The passerby ignored her
With uttermost ingenuity
He knew
she was the bone of contention
Of the evil
She was an illusion
She spun the web and caught her prey
He knew the tales of the people
Who had
developed an infatuation with her
Together she commemorated the
Death of all those imbecile beings
Every minute
Gravity pulled towards her
A different kind of person
A different soul
Every minute destructed itself
Whatever was left
was summoned to her with a grin.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 5:54 AM UTC
Do you ever want to spit your own tongue out
Apologize to God for using it as a sword to slit your own throat after absent-mindedly digging into the hearts of others with your words
Do you ever want to shove your brain into a suitcase and "accidentally" leave it on a train headed for the bottom of the sea
Because you don't know how to use the thoughts that have grown from your own brain stem
Are you ever allergic to yourself?
Do you sneeze as you sniff your own stupidity?
Do you want to soak in a bathtub full of forgiveness
Wash yourself with the soap of solitude
(re-surface your skull)
Well
I need to remember that nobody is perfect
And that I shouldn't hate myself
But all of me has self-destructed for existing
How do you stuff a pipe cleaner into a soul
How to come back from that
How to clean out the inside of a straw
How to yank open a locked-jaw and leave it gaping
in order to be filled with the endless
love
mercy
acceptance
Offered by the Person who has created me
into more than I could have ever been by my--
self.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
<•>
the unexpected pleasure of a peach
zenith moist, ripened to the exact state
when peaking is a squealing of bite size wet living pleasures,
and all is conquered,
and of course,
you're filled with loss
at the absence of perfection
in important things,
now with despair destructed,
new fear infecting fears
so many forces intersecting,
and one simply wishes to surrender
and then the peach texts the brain
***no way
you may have peaked,
but tomorrow and fore-next,
you'll pick another like me,
and plant my pit beneath
your picture window
and must perforce
live another day
in the shadow of my hope,
the scent of my existence***
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 3:47 PM UTC
I am that quiet girl
Who's absorbed in her thoughts
Self destructed in her twirls and whirls
Hanging in her knots
Everybody assumes she's fine
That she's content
It will all tell in time
When she loses her mind; peculiarity bent. ♭
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
prayer of hope, for young and old, who suffer from the slings and arrows sadness and the loss of love; I offer up this prayer of hope and offer you my hand around your shoulders until you no longer require it
more than once,
for lengthy periods,
by events, other people,
my self was eradicated
and limping from day
to night, and J faced
absolutes, choices choking,
alternating alternatives that
offered zero, or even less
than zero, and the inkwell
wasn't refillable, and I could
point to nothing yet encouraging a mystifying purposed existence
then came a woman
who asked nor proffered
conditionals
pre, prior post or otherwise
and
offered up the miraculous
drink, human kindly notice,
snd it
drained the bitters,
began fluid replacement,
and slow resuscitation
and then
*poems rebirthed me,
liberated the angry sacred
gory sadness words devoid of glory,
with a reworded score, and
the eyes could write without
a patina filter of jaundiced hatred,
and whispered private internally
many times a beloving
hallelujah
and when ever the remembrance of
the near misses are crackly occasionally appearing, the surge dissipates intact quick
into a netherworld for suppressing
and bid "away with you," and a
thin lipped smile part sneer
for having survived
even
prospered when
then came a woman
and the self, the my self,
returned
after an absence of destructed
decades...deadening decades
and I smile when
the grandchildren tell me
knock knock jokes
and gently knock me on the head,
to make sure I'm alert,
then came woman
who had already~all ready
knocked me on the
heart
Jul 1, 2025
Jul 1, 2025 at 9:57 AM UTC
i have been killed
i have been hit with a spear.
It destructed my security.
It pierced my joy.
he killed my with two words.
**** you"
he killed me when he said
"you don't deserve happiness"
i thought he was supposed to be a father.
NOT a killer.
for years i refused to recognize the step before his name.
I wanted Step-father to become father. to become dad.
Joe, **** you.
**** everything you are.
You robbed me of my happiness, my faith, my childhood.
For years i gave you chances.
I didn't turn you in because i believe(d) in change.
And then you wonder why you don't mean anything to me.
My heart was slashed.
Who the **** beats an eight year old kid?
Who?
Who takes away hope by kicking a nine year old out of his home to roam the streets?
I shake just sharing that memory.
Or when you put screws underneath my knees to stop me from falling on them while doing endless push-ups?
kids must be punished.
But not your way, you selfish *****
And now god is your salvation?
i hope he has mercy.
Because you deserve worse than hell
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 2:40 PM UTC
this time different,
the crafting, the words knitted,
care taken, no quips or easy rhymes,
metaphors few, but the stitching is yet
rhythmic, disciplined,
beholden to its construct
~~~
yesterday,
spoke of the more and the ever less,
and the alpha seas restorative,
today,
*the ****** quick and the ever still*
the beating of jumpsuit orange fabric, wind-whipped,
musical homage to the terrifying
silence of a battlefield,
your utility belt,
body parts and soul silences,
a composition of what was
and what will now never be
you were there
you are there
witness-combatant,
no denying the voyeured carnage
of a human self destructing,
or being destructed in a way
**********turned you on,
worse, temptingly familiar
the horror meets you, it recognizes, locates
its place within that is stored close by,
where you keep it just close enough to surface
for quick retrieval
you postulate, pose, clap hands to heads,
make groanings awful, rethinking fearful pictures
I don't believe in free will
I don't believe in free
I don't believe in will
there is good and there is no good
there is the quick and the still
the still comes fast and stays longer,
the quick lasts longer, the obvious now
always seconds of too long,
all implausibly undenied and factually reversed
I hang myself crudely,
my throat slit quick,
and the still images that follows
everlasting and unerasable,
no matter how quickly,
how often temples hard squeezed
I see the images,
the quick and the still
they won't let go of me
text me that you know,
exactly what I mean,
know what I know
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
my indifference will be the end of me
either caring too much, or not enough
there is rarely an inbetween
I lead a life of who cares and doesn't matter
when asked my opinion it's I have one or the latter
because in the grand scheme
most of these things are just things
we put so much importance on things twenty
years from now will just be a memory
so put all the blame on me, I will accept
that I am too indifferent for this life, except
when I find something that matters to me
things that don't have much stress in society
in a world of superficials and materials
it's very hard to find what is real
real and tangible, versus human and socially constructed
beauty, marriage, morals all things that need to be destructed
as things things that are inherent and what one does
so please blame me for my indifference
because I've had enough
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 2:13 AM UTC
i was walking tall
now im caught flat footed
i had won it all
but the game was crooked
what came before the fall
was pride reconstructed
pressed the wrong button
self destructed
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 11:18 PM UTC
Too many deep breaths
feels like desperation
You bleed through other people
you're an expert on salvation
The horizon of your hips
is by far my favorite mystery
Temptation told me tales of
our impossible history
it just hit me
you don't mind sunrise
because morning aren't
saturated, stained with goodbyes
I want to know your
when, how and why's
Where your worries go
at the end of the night
Then I could take your misunderstanding
as love
Because it can't be understood
so much as coveted
and
There's something in my past
that makes my head not grasp
why I ended up surrounded
by a world of destructed evolution
You can be my problem
I've had enough solutions
Too many left and forgotten
Too many ways to get lost
I may not be whole again
tangled in your fantasy
So captured in my abandon.
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 4:35 PM UTC
The wires sprouting from my chest
they protect my heart
like it's covered by a kevlar vest
and they run
from my core
all the way down to my feet
and back up again
to wrap me in a subtle need
for solitude and solidarity
it's all over
there's nothing left to see
I self-destructed
and pulled myself together
one too many times it seems
because something is missing
something is not as it should be
So let's not focus on the past
when we've got this bright future
spitting in our faces
and what's left to love?
I find nothing worth speaking of
until we learn to restore our trust
we speak only lies
and we breathe only dust
and we're weakened by time
until our figures disgust ourselves
can we escape this hell?
can we ever help?
I'm trying to forget
everything that I've felt
and just start clean
but we fiend for that opposition
we all wanna see their rendition of us
to peek at their position
in this race to turn to rust
But the sun will rise again
and someday we'll all be free from ourselves
I just hope we're here
to find out if it happens
I just hope we're here
to find out if it works
caus'e that's when we'll build our plan of action
constructed from our blood, sweat, tears
the dirt from our hands over the years
I hope one day
we forget to feed our fears
Dec 29, 2010
Dec 29, 2010 at 6:29 PM UTC