"destructively" poems
my head is
a vacant lot
loaded with automatic cars
idling in a polluted environment
full of bidding corporations
run by empty businessman
who take advantage
of a selfish inward populace
that raise violent children
who turn off their minds to the madness, cruelty
and cultural void at the local nightclub
called "Numb" or " E-tarded"
and slobbering over drinks and beats
like the sounds of horns
from a traffic jam
driven by impatient animals
in a sheepfold bawing
their way to the nearest vaccination center
for thier imaginary twinrix dose of
swine ***** and orange juice
that skyrocket diabetes rates above google hits
and fat conservative voter polls
broadcasted daily by popular media botox injections
that styme creativity
with the same ****** music
played over and over and over
like the broken recorded rhetoric
that tell us to destructively reach out
to foreign countries
while selling ourselves out for better cars
but increase profits and taxes
at the same rate of the rising prison population
and shrinking contributions
to health care , edU-caTion , community and environment
all the while you can hear the sheep bleat and beep and bleat and beep
Feb 27, 2010
Feb 27, 2010 at 7:06 PM UTC
Ten years miserably passed before..."At last!"
Four eyes dizzely cast into blue and brown,
and four, no, six legs on the ground.
Wistfully down a park laid sidewalk, we walked
to meet one another, blissfully.
We walked inside the dried canal, a river of the desert.
It hurts that we go there, no more, to flirt
with the dirt and our companion... infinity.
Is it you with me as I find kin company
in the molecules of divinity?
Repeatedly, I go searching the vicinity and nearby
For anything with similarity that I can call you by.
Any tree, light, shadow or star in the proximity
of where we met that belonged to you and me.
Or a feeling of solidarity that I cannot see.
Son, don't let me now survive ten years expeditiously.
Destructively alive, left with the intangiblity of life
that we left at that decision tree at 5:45.
Repetitiously I continue to apologize,
but apologies won't bring you back to life.
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 5:06 PM UTC
Power of the wind is an awesome force
as you try to get about.
Incredible strength as man is powerless
to control the elements.
Nothing can stand in the winds path
or stop its almighty wrath!
Bringing down power lines and crashing trees
nothing is safe in it's wake!
Cars tossed about like they were polystyrene
roofs ripped off just like paper.
Moving the air at a destructively fast rate
ripping off the garden gate!
Nothing can stop natures almighty surge
man's vulnerability exposed.
No matter how mankind thinks it rules earth
he is nothing and at natures mercy!
Just a tenant renting space on a long lease
as time nears for his release!
Predictions of annihilation never seems to go away
and what is written must happen some day!
The Foureyed Poet.
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 10:08 PM UTC
I'm a stable chaos
Living lucidly lost
Destructively balanced
With life and death crossed
I'm a cursed romantic
A solitary horror
My path is satanic
I'm bounded to torture
My feelings fade dimly
My care will start dying
This world has grown quainter
There's no point in trying.
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 12:40 PM UTC
He gave me the key to heaven on earth
He being the man in the orange jumpsuit with the dreds
Out on a patio smoking cigarettes, apathetic
It tasted like grated demon bones
He being the man in the orange jumpsuit with the dreds
Twenty dollars I didn’t have was more than worth it
It tasted like grated demon bones
A five hour violent ****** spilling out of my anatomy
Twenty dollars I didn’t have was more than worth it
It punched me in the face and knocked me to the floor, dry heaving
A five hour violent ****** spilling out of my anatomy
I hold a hurricane in my body, blowing my mind destructively.
It punched me in the face and knocked me to the floor, dry heaving
A collection of extraordinary sensations imprinting my psych.
I hold a hurricane in my body, blowing my mind destructively.
Explosions of laughter, I’ve never felt anything so plasticy.
A collection of extraordinary sensations imprinting my psych
Out on a patio smoking cigarettes, apathetic
Explosions of laughter, I’ve never felt anything so plasticy.
He gave me the key to heaven on earth.
Jun 19, 2011
Jun 19, 2011 at 11:37 PM UTC
Listen...
If this goes down like the Christians are sayin'...
Ain't no one getting in and god knows it
That ash hole loves it
He's super into punishment
That and judgment
Those two seem to be his favorite
Bringing true enjoyment
So arrogant he wrote it down,
A confession in print
It's obvious no pastor is oblivious,
There's just a willingness,
A complete lack of acknowledgment
They preach benevolent
All I read is maleficent
All I see is a battlefront
A holy deficit
How he treats his creation,
Love and compassion destructively absent
It's an embarrassment
Secondhand, none from firsthand involvement
Unless you think abandonment is an accomplishment
Or fraudulent is some kind of complement
Yeah, I've read it
I wouldn't have taken it public
It's a narcissistic story of sin and atonement
Punished for the failure of a first experiment
Because one decided to be disobedient
Now ungodly pain will accompany pregnancy,
Fuuck the pregnant
Punishment doesn't fit the crime,
But don't question it
That's how it had to be,
But I don't understand that argument
Does the almighty have a limit?
They say no,
There's nothing he can't do
So,
This is exactly how he CHOSE to do it
And when it comes right down to it,
If this shiit I hear is legit,
Let's see if he can feel regret
Will we
Get any
Apology
For this kind of "heaven sent" treatment
Force it to admit to all of it
Even if it takes an eternity,
I'll have all of eternity to do it
©2024
Mar 16, 2024
Mar 16, 2024 at 6:36 PM UTC
Missing you is like a tornado in Kansas
Tumultuously whirling past barren grass lawns,
Shattering the glass windows of old, forgotten
Convenience stores and local barber shops,
Twisting and teasing the warm, summer air
Until it finally gains momentum enough
To come tumbling down upon unsuspecting
Rosemary bushes and rusty metal fences,
While I'm sitting here,
Trying to make sense of how I'm supposed to feel about it all,
On a beach somewhere between Monterey and San Francisco.
It isn't that you don't exist, or that you aren't occurring,
Destructively whirling your mixed intentions
Across the pavement
That once gave way to my strange, unrestricted heart.
It's not that I don't care about you,
Or that I don't notice
When you make your presence all but unnoticeable,
But, maybe I don't see you anymore.
You're sentiment can't reach me here.
The harsh tornado winds aren't quite strong enough
To blow across my indifferent face
All the way from Kansas.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC
Final
Nail
Will
Not
Hurt
Feelings
Are
Left
In
A
Shoe Box
Of
Goodwill
Multiple
Nails
Over
Years
Hurt
Laces
Are
Undone
Left
Behind
Bending
Down
Kicking
With
Force
From
A
Steel
Capped
Nail
Gun
Destructively
Simple
So
Hard
To
Prove
Deflating
Scraping
Inflating
The final nail
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
The caricature of a drip.
Defining in it the sum of a short existence. A life.
Wet and alive and pendulously hanging.
I stare up from the caged depths, my eyes eagerly alive
as it drips down in a cascading spiral
less destructively than I have dripped.
A drip to know and to watch like the T.V. (that's never off).
To see the freedom in its fall.
But once dripped, dies alone. Ripped out.
Disconnected from the unsurviving cloud.
Unpoured, it seems, I murmer out loud.
I watch another drip. My reflection watches back, I'm sure.
I wish for it to break, so I can close my eyes
and hold, for a moment, a friend. A life.
And to feel the dependence of the drip's lullaby.
Does nothing more than a drip make sense?
I gasp as they escort my back.
And does it listen when I tell it of my life
before it drips out of me like freedom in fashionable attire?
Redder than the red-lipped mouth of a liar
concerned with "family matters" and saying "sign here".
Lies that drip out of them like foolish wars.
Or the painted affections for a newborn child.
Oh such terribly dreadful dripful lies they are.
Down. Down. Down.
I'll fall down the endless corridor away from them all.
And drip beneath the cementum cracks of the floor.
I'll hide with my drip.
I'll drip with my drip.
I'll sip it a bit. Bitter, but I sleep better, I think as I slip away.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Even after I'm gone.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC
She was destructively beautiful,
Aimlessly honest,
Wistfully vacant, with purpose.
She held such maddening sadness in her eyes.
And I knew, in the mist of the most dangerous of moments.
For when her blue dress flirted with my fingertips,
I knew that she would destroy me,
And I would spend the rest of my days trying to forget her.
Yet how perplexingly remarkable it is indeed,
To feel anything at all.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 10:27 AM UTC
shouldn't i be
hostile?
attack isn't my style, darling. grace and ferocity.
besides, i know i'll just end up
leaking
for you:
unfolding into uncontrollable desire to
be
the
closest
thing
to you,
take whatever you tantalize me with
hungrily
take off whatever you touch
destructively
in love with
this
de ja vu.
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 12:06 AM UTC
My eyelids fall heavy upon my vacant eyes,
The dull pulsing of the harsh, artificial light
Throbs and shrugs up against my temples,
Running down onto the creases beneath my brow.
Last nights dreams lay stagnant beneath
My troubled mind- like lukewarm coffee,
The cream beginning to lump and curdle together.
I'm destined for this kind of solitude, I think.
My mind races and whirls off course,
Speeding straight past the acute turn,
Destructively hurdling into a thick pool of
Yesterday. Is this how it feels to be alive?
A stale taste of tap water and broccoli slowly
Rises up into my lungs, creating a subtle
Discomfort, too faint to be washed away by water.
I can feel the uneven rise and fall of my hollow chest,
As if it is set off balance by the absence of my red,
Pulsing heart. Something is off here.
Gradually, my body surrenders to the ruthless
Shadows of my conflicted soul.
Sinking in to the starch white sheets, all that is
Collapses into misplaced yeast and water daydreams
That only come out at night.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 3:06 AM UTC
Toska reigns.
The chariot is losing control, string by string.
Put my hands in the air and allow my shadow
to take me for a ride.
The horse gallops in destructively attentive strides.
Gone with the wind and I bear my name.
Pain kills my ego once again.
Death is not the same as the living dead.
The phenomenon of the world is a continuously paranormal event.
There are so many ways to die, veiled under unconscious eyes.
Freud understands me, he knows the beast needs to eat.
But I don't have the ability to choose on what the other side
decides to feast.
Polarity is grabbing my arms in opposite directions,
my skin and bones are wearing out.
If I don't burn, I'll drown.
If I don't climb up, I will keep falling down.
Love is a circle and pleasure is a tide.
The Hermit comes out with his lantern,
illuminating everything I have so cunningly
tried to hide.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 7:36 PM UTC
I desire to frolic in land mines
Toxic compatriots desiring little past flesh
I talked like moving my mouth was compulsory
Word *****
Actual *****
Alphabet soup
Teenage mutant ninja hurdles
I think most of us have failed those
Switch my mind from off to on
But you can keep your ***** hose
Destructively productive
In all the things that don't matter
Pope brings glad tidings
Of what the Holy Spirit's after
Let's talk about *** bay-bee
Let's talk about running free
Let's talk about all the mistakes we've made
Let's talk about Sexually transmitted infections
Let's talk about my music collection
20/20, John Stossel
I don't care if I get your name wrong
Justin Timberlake
Dances through your mind in a man-thong
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 12:17 PM UTC
The bright colours open my eyes
For i see those fighters fight
The hard & harsh work it brings
Hope all join hands and cling
Black clouds hover above us all
Making our hearts break & fall
These clouds gradually disappear
No one steps and doesn't go near
For something so beautiful & active
Yet so destructive ...
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
I sit still and stare secretively at your fragile figure.
Your shivering skin screams while you sleep in your twin sized bed,
As your blight bones rapidly rattle with fevering fear.
Your exasperating eyes open to expeditiously escape your nauseating nightmare.
But
Instead.
You awake to a repulsive reality worse than your immense imagination.
My heartbeat exhilarates excitedly,
When the damaged door frantically flies open,
The shrieking sound of wood carelessly colliding with the wall,
Is intentionally ignored by sleeping ears dreaming in denial,
As I wildly watch him stormily stumble like a gigantic giant,
Into your room.
Your battered body quivers quickly like an anxious animal.
You are the petty prey and he is the havoc hunter.
You use your cobalt comforter like a shield, to protect your shaking skeleton,
As you try to hide from the morbid monster who sedately sleeps down the hall.
The sour scent of bitter beer fills my nose as he places a filthy finger on your trembling lips.
He tragically tears the blue blanket away, destructively destroying your shield.
His terrible touch turns you hard, like a stiff statue,
Resulting in fierce feelings of shame and guilt, to wash wildly over you like a titanic tidal wave.
He painfully penetrates and turbulently thrusts into your collapsing core,
Annihilating,
Your illumined innocence and your beauteous body,
As his monstrous moans carefully cloud your cries as he explodes like a boiling bomb.
Once he leaves your blemished bedroom, you savagely grab onto me.
"I wish I was a superhero, like you Spiderman."
He cries as terrified tears tear across his face,
Leaving salty streaks and creating secluded scars.
But I cannot protect you.
So I am no superhero.
I think to myself.
As I let you cry onto my stuffed shoulder,
The only thing I can do,
Because I can't talk.
I can only keep sinister secrets.
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 9:08 AM UTC
He was destructively rememberable and i blame it on the echo
that fell from his lips everytime i made him smile
It would elegantly fly around in unspoken discomforts then
land on my ears in the form of a
goodbye
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
A free captive
Informed I don't know how to love or live
Only examples have been showbiz
Emotions in cursive
Not easily or easy to forgive
No clear or ulterior motive
Rage and violence consume absolutely
They savagely rip apart and rearrange me but not outwardly
I've been known to be self destructively passive and cowardly
Maybe a lobotomy would stop the calamity
Never experienced supportive
The consequences massive
I've been rewritten as aggressive
Stabbed in the back, I supplied the shiv
Caustic and corrosive
This is no way to live
Good fortune such a rare commodity it falls apart too easily
Troubles squeeze so completely and never leave me
What I am and what I'm supposed to be create this rigid dichotomy
I hope the something that's gotta give doesn't end up being me
©2024
Feb 20, 2024
Feb 20, 2024 at 6:48 PM UTC
I am not a novelist writer, I could never fill chapters of our affairs.
The only way I know how to love is, intimately and destructively unaware.
This tongue was created to turn saints into sinners.
Nothing excites me like bringing out the demons within her.
Just like the seasons love to trick her every year,
when she finally begins to feel comfortable,
I disappear.
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 10:00 PM UTC
I am certain she does not love me
the way that I love her
so full,
so poetically passionately,
so self-destructively,
so lovely,
In all her darkness.
A black sun that burns brighter
than any celestial body;
I would let myself burn
to touch it,
to see it I would let
myself go blind.
I hope she does not mind
that I love her so deeply.
I give it freely,
not expecting anything
explicit in return.
Hoping that she
will always be merely
one poem or message
away from me.
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
Each of us possesses our own personal dialects.
Though many of us may indeed share a common tongue, perhaps even two or three,
each of us uses these toolboxes in our own, personal way.
A way that is constantly in flux.
Fluctuating from the inside, ideally,
but it can be imposed upon by various forces.
When we think,
our mind must fabricate
then it must translate that fabrication into language.
When we speak,
we must in turn mold and shape thought into a common middleground
which is then subject to interpretation
upon which people generally reflect
and can be shifted in their own minds
such that they now perceive differently
and thus interpret differently
than they once had before.
If done constructively, this is generally called teaching (if external) or learning (internally).
Destructively, it can be called brainwashing.
Sometimes it is more innocent
but it is often manipulated
by various people
for various ends.
One must fortify one's own interpretations
based upon personal experience
and ideally critical thinking.
Also,
One must realize the limitations of language
as well as the limitations of interpretation
before one can begin to cultivate
what may someday become an 'enlightened' perspective
that is to say the mind of the Sage;
the Shaman. The Teacher. The Student. The Buddha.
(To be continued)
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
imperial candle light defies
breaths blown destructively
lives downed with double edges
****** by nescient beliefs
if we could have defended them
what would we have said?
preventing the taking of their last
with the power of our next breath
replacing new millenium latch keys
with a hand and body to embrace
loving all of our community's spirits
to pass with age. not by hatred.
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 3:57 PM UTC
Never before has stillness been so moving;
Vulnerability yes, fearlessly inspiring.
This moment in time that is so temporary,
But the effect so powerful, will stay indefinitely
So quietly chaotic, but peaceful in mind,
In a life of reflection: freedoms I find
A moment so grounded, floating on air
to touch the intangible, daring to care.
Her hands move over me, such;
exploratory precision.
So destructively perfect
A Beautiful collision
The gentle strength- felt by her touch
The terrifying confidence of unshackled trust
The need for control, complete self reliance
Now desired and cared for, a potential alliance
To be so comfortable with complete contradiction,
So hopelessly hopeful…
So full of conviction.
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 11:10 PM UTC