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"detonated" poems
When his eyes first fell upon her She was choosing avocados In the fruit and vegetable aisle. And he watched how her thumbs lingered On the base of the alligator pear And pressed, maternally. He feigned interest in the cabbages Whilst sensing her delicate architecture Through his peripheral gaze. He thought that somewhere, In real or imaginary life, They would soon bathe together. And when they did, They soaked for years in secrets, Details suffusing through their lips and arms, Water-hole satisfaction and moonlit deserts To make them feel they might have transcended cabbages And be pervading a rhapsodic realm They forgot their friends watching in greenery, Subsumed by each-other, They felt no need To live in a world of relativity and apples. Their love-traced sphere tightened around them, Until it ****** at the edges of their skin And wailed when they parted. Tighter it grew, elastic dug into their humid thighs Contorting their once harmonic bodies That used to fit like crosswords. And they each became ugly to the other As the seconds ingested their perfection And they bickered like flailing urchins In a deep sea soiled darkness. Decisions were made and paroxysms detonated And they were taken back by their Fungal friends with tissue offerings And ethanol. Time passed, and memories were binned Periodically on tuesdays Until neither knew the other And they would pass in the supermarket With no more than a quickened gait And a silent thud in each ribcage. But neither could buy avocados.
0
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 12:18 PM UTC
Avocado Pear
When his eyes first fell upon her She was choosing avocados In the fruit and vegetable aisle. And he watched how her thumbs lingered On the base of the alligator pear And pressed, maternally. He feigned interest in the cabbages Whilst sensing her delicate architecture Through his peripheral gaze. He thought that somewhere, In real or imaginary life, They would soon bathe together. And when they did, They soaked for years in secrets, Details suffusing through their lips and arms, Water-hole satisfaction and moonlit deserts To make them feel they might have transcended cabbages And be pervading a rhapsodic realm They forgot their friends watching in greenery, Subsumed by each-other, They felt no need To live in a world of relativity and apples. Their love-traced sphere tightened around them, Until it ****** at the edges of their skin And wailed when they parted. Tighter it grew, elastic dug into their humid thighs Contorting their once harmonic bodies That used to fit like crosswords. And they each became ugly to the other As the seconds ingested their perfection And they bickered like flailing urchins In a deep sea soiled darkness. Decisions were made and paroxysms detonated And they were taken back by their Fungal friends with tissue offerings And ethanol. Time passed, and memories were binned Periodically on tuesdays Until neither knew the other And they would pass in the supermarket With no more than a quickened gait And a silent thud in each ribcage. But neither could buy avocados.
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43
Somewhere between eggshells and landmines Were the creaking floors upon which I played Carefully, for her wrath could be detonated At a footfall, just a bit too heavy From a word uttered under the breath A mess left too long in the sink. But her embrace was warm, Wrapping around me like sheets from the dryer And when she put on pause her own life To tend to me at my sick-bed, Her eyes showed only tender love. “My baby goat,” she would say, affectionately, And leave a kiss upon my feverish brow. She is a living contradiction, my mother: Churning disapproval shattering the gleam That she put into the hopeful eyes of a child Just a moment before. I lived in perpetual uncertainty, Never knowing which mother I might see next: The raven or the hen. And now she looks at me with disappointment, Wondering aloud why her children fear her. Her capriciousness eroded away any trust And much of the fondness as well Her hot-blooded adoration And her ice-cold tantrums Have mixed so long now All that is left is Lukewarm like the bathwater Left over from when the Baby was thrown out.
0
Sep 11, 2023
Sep 11, 2023 at 7:16 PM UTC
Temperate
the dark approaches as if it is an ineluctable storm created by thoughts falling like dominoes or explodes into existence in a breath detonated by a word innocently spoken an eclipse constructed of your fears like locusts eating all the light with hooks and claws they grasp the air pulling it up from your lungs fighting blind against attacks from every side weapons fall from your trembling grasp I still see you dimly, enveloped in despair you no longer see me at all I have become a phantom, intangible dispersed into powerless anguish by your terror my voice is only a murmur to you a far-off echo, indistinct defenses and barriers you have labored on transform into spun glass latticework shattering through them without knowing shards left embedded in your skin stumbling blindly in the darkness you are swallowed whole into the void once more you are ripped away imprisoned in the Stygian, pitiless hole the emptiness turns its gaze to me mocking laughter blisters my flesh I can only wait and call to you how long till you return to me
0
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 10:36 PM UTC
Tormented
I was born in grave clothes Raised in grave clothes Unaware I even bathed in grave clothes I didn't know the extent of my decay Like the bones were expose in my face but I didn't have reflective glass to see my flesh I was on a rotten path Death would have been the only prize at the end of my race Strongholds wrestled my thoughts and subdued my brain Bone marrow deep I was linked to Adam Lord knows I wasn't Abel Dna tied to  blood imprinted on the ground I had more in common  with Cain It's true a heart beat of sin causes death to course through vains I wondered how could I be treated Something was missing something was needed To my shock it was Jesus Clear! He got my heart beat right With that resurrection power Made my heart see light He changed my life I started to realize that the same power that raised Christ from the dead Was the same power that lived in me That does more than allow me to breathe . It brings life back to limbs riddle with rigor mortis It's reverses  decomposition brings back what death has stolen   It's  uncontrollable like a lighting storm. It's unadulterated Once it hits It's changes landscape  like when a nuclear warhead is detonated Hoover dam generated power Turbine engine spending power Lift the dead out of sin power Tectonic plate shifting, erecting mountains from plains power By one name only can we be saved power Second coming cracking the sky power All knees shall bow and all tongues shall comply  power Corruptible turned into incorruptible in a instant power Rebirth repositioned repurposed repented power Turn  what seems to be a lost into a win power It is finish the precursor to the release of infinite power I could never be the same because  the spirit lives in me gives me power My arteries are laced with a burning flame A roaring wind, a groaning earth, a raging sea crashing waves The impact of several elements crush the chains of a slave It's the same power that said come forth Christ friend walks out the grave The same power that moved the stone a borrowed tomb turned to a cave It's the power of the Resurrection In a world full of aborted life It breeds conception In a world that attempts to abort Christ The church still  cries out in reverence Changed death for us now it's portal Changed lives of stop watches into immortal Resurrection power a glimpse into the eternal
0
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC
Resurrection Power
I was born in grave clothes Raised in grave clothes Unaware I even bathed in grave clothes I didn't know the extent of my decay Like the bones were expose in my face but I didn't have reflective glass to see my flesh I was on a rotten path Death would have been the only prize at the end of my race Strongholds wrestled my thoughts and subdued my brain Bone marrow deep I was linked to Adam Lord knows I wasn't Abel Dna tied to  blood imprinted on the ground I had more in common  with Cain It's true a heart beat of sin causes death to course through vains I wondered how could I be treated Something was missing something was needed To my shock it was Jesus Clear! He got my heart beat right With that resurrection power Made my heart see light He changed my life I started to realize that the same power that raised Christ from the dead Was the same power that lived in me That does more than allow me to breathe . It brings life back to limbs riddle with rigor mortis It's reverses  decomposition brings back what death has stolen   It's  uncontrollable like a lighting storm. It's unadulterated Once it hits It's changes landscape  like when a nuclear warhead is detonated Hoover dam generated power Turbine engine spending power Lift the dead out of sin power Tectonic plate shifting, erecting mountains from plains power By one name only can we be saved power Second coming cracking the sky power All knees shall bow and all tongues shall comply  power Corruptible turned into incorruptible in a instant power Rebirth repositioned repurposed repented power Turn  what seems to be a lost into a win power It is finish the precursor to the release of infinite power I could never be the same because  the spirit lives in me gives me power My arteries are laced with a burning flame A roaring wind, a groaning earth, a raging sea crashing waves The impact of several elements crush the chains of a slave It's the same power that said come forth Christ friend walks out the grave The same power that moved the stone a borrowed tomb turned to a cave It's the power of the Resurrection In a world full of aborted life It breeds conception In a world that attempts to abort Christ The church still  cries out in reverence Changed death for us now it's portal Changed lives of stop watches into immortal Resurrection power a glimpse into the eternal
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53
night under jungle canopy was dark as a cave. at twilight you crept two hundred meters out from the perimeter. you and another. the radio, two claymore mines, M-16s-three clips each- half a dozen grenades, pop-up flares, and four canteens of water. fear fed thirst. you opened two packets of instant coffee, spilled them into your mouth, washed them down, and felt your head jitter all night long. there was always sound. jungle rats or snakes, maybe even tigers, or NVA probing the lines. if there were many of them, you sent up the flares, fired into the dark, detonated the claymores, and were the first to die. (I was M-60 machine gunner with the Ninth Marines in South Vietnam, 1968. LP is a military acronym for ’listening post.’ )
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Jan 29, 2010
Jan 29, 2010 at 5:20 AM UTC
night on LP duty
Orange rinds and coffee grinds Take me back to easy Sunday afternoons Playing chess with former churchgoers in your tiny café. I met a man who didn't believe in God But instead put his faith into the Queen "She protects" he'd say after ousting another piece of mine "He forgets" he'd mumble as an afterthought, directed at no one. But as it goes one fateful day Student surpassed teacher And didn't think twice about killing the Queen. As if a bomb detonated just within the cappuccino brown walls The chessboard flung against the wall Causalities flying in all directions A porcelain blood bath. He left in a hurried huff All owl eyes all snapped in my direction I sat frozen -- shocked. You broke the trance Kneeled down to pick up the fallen Queen Placed Her Royal Majesty in my right hand Placed a free coffee on my table. The café resumed it's normal character Scattered chatter and newspaper shuffling I took a sip of the burnished brown liquid Tasted a hint of bitter citrus And came to conclude that there exists a distinct conflict between Power and Empathy.
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
Orange rinds & Coffee grinds
I must avoid this Body shaking Palms sweating Heart racing Pain ensuing All over. My head My stomach My lower back Everything burns. Everything stings. I want to scream. I want to cut. I want to die. All because I lost a homework assignment. Or I'm running late. Or I had an argument with my parents. Petty things, enormous reaction. I have learned to quiet those tendencies Because I can feel them coming on. I feel the compulsions raging inside of me Like someone has detonated a bomb. Breathe. Slow your mind by Repeating a phrase Over and over Round and round It turns. I am okay I am okay I am okay. I must continue to remember That these things do not determine My future, my life, my existence Me. These are the things that one must constantly think While in the midst of a panic attack.
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Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
Panic Attack
Look in the eyes and see the pain and struggle Rubble lies Vacant in my mind from my times of defeat Sweet lines fed to me every time I'd eat Hypnotized into denying the dynamite in every bite Because every night you made me feel alright and think twice And whats left when everyone including you went right And at that stoplight I turned the opposite toward the turnpike And tore a hole in the earth when I detonated in daylight When I could see clearly and the moon didnt obscure my view Of you I promised that I'd love you and that much may remain true But I'll never fully forgive the **** that you put me through So with that being said I smash the mirror and bid you adieu
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Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
Rubble & Broken Glass
They died; they all died, without a moan; their final passage writ in stone. Dark shadows here and there you see where Jews passed to eternity. In these silent streets no children play No trees survived the heat that day. A suicide martyr some call a hero was detonated at ground zero. Nine hundred thousand are believed lost in this second, instant, holocaust. The suitcase he held in his hand was the latest weapon from Iran. My team has come here to retrieve the evidence from Tel Aviv. No one will be living here Not for another fifty years. • * * * * * A damsel with a dosimeter, in a vision I once saw, warned me that appeasement nearly always leads to war.
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Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 8:43 AM UTC
Half-life: a prophecy
This place is my release, A white screen in front of my eyes waiting to be filled with a story that emerges from the tiniest thought, the most fleeting sight, the most faltering emotion. Whatever shoves me around, whatever makes me fly, this place keeps me grounded to where I am the safest. And sometimes, when I don’t know what brings me here, I just listen to the clicking of the keyboard held prey beneath my fingertips, hoping to see the answer reveal itself. That didn’t happen this time. My heart hangs heavy in my chest, held there by cages of bone and blood, swinging from an avid artery back and forth, back and forth, like the ticking of a clock tracking the time till I explode. Have I detonated yet? Maybe, when the clicking stops, it means I’m whole again, without needing to learn of what ails me. I have nothing to say here. I have yearnings of freedom crying through my nerves here. May they release with these words here, calm with these words here, rest with these words here, so I can go on with the earth here. Can it stop me from unease? Will my eyes lift again to the beat of a heart left floating? I still hear it, the clicking of the keyboard held prey beneath my fingertips, held pray beneath my fingertips. Can it lead me out of this one? This place is my release.
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Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
Keyboard Sounds
*Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ... I hear the most croaking frogs and even the sound of crickets filled the night with their songs. Rooster was. His voice was quiet for forty-two years. The only sound now is the voice synthesis of old hardware, metal head that red-eye placed on top of the old marble counter. - Sir Water? - She asks - The radiation level is low today - finished. The same song sung once a week. The voices? They were silent. Demons are silent now. Ahh! I wanted to hear the voice of the old rabbi, that white-bearded long peyos when he said to pay attention to the little voices, the voices of the humble, enlightened wanderers, sparks of mystical alphabet, warning humanity that the day would come when voices calariam. There inside, the demons remain silent. Their voices were silenced by the voice of evil that planted residence in the left chamber of the heart of man the temple. The ghetto is cold today. People gather around the fire lit inside the old barrel of oil, black blood, called him. It no longer exists. The veins are dry and the blood no longer runs more ... The white spots covering skin. It should be a good sign, but it is not. Leprosy went devouring the souls of men, women and children. Neither the animals escaped. Contaminated are exiled. They send them to the valley of oblivion where the voice never will rise. They used maliciously. They slandered her. His calumnies were launched in the wind like the leaves of the old oak tree that stood in chaiim forest. He also stopped. The wind no longer howls more through its leafy branches. Ahh! Where is the voice of the rabbi? He was dead by religious dogmatists. His bright sparks no longer crackle through the air. Even the demons no longer speak. They shut up inside. Where are the voices of poems and poets? It is also silent. They were causing itching ears of humanity. They accused: - the mighty were the leaders of nations, with their palaces decorated with blood. Blood of the innocent. They made them shut. They caused itches to power the ears. The gleam in his eyes blinded. It was in 2029 detonated the old Russian gun exchanged for a piece of bread to feed the starving children. All of them died with nuclear heat. Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ... Ah! Where is the voice of the old rabbi? I wanted to hear it now. She stopped. Even there inside there is silence now, even the demons whisper more ...* By Deepak Sankara Veda (Misha'Ël Ha'Levi) Mystik Poet
0
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 7:20 PM UTC
Silence
*Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ... I hear the most croaking frogs and even the sound of crickets filled the night with their songs. Rooster was. His voice was quiet for forty-two years. The only sound now is the voice synthesis of old hardware, metal head that red-eye placed on top of the old marble counter. - Sir Water? - She asks - The radiation level is low today - finished. The same song sung once a week. The voices? They were silent. Demons are silent now. Ahh! I wanted to hear the voice of the old rabbi, that white-bearded long peyos when he said to pay attention to the little voices, the voices of the humble, enlightened wanderers, sparks of mystical alphabet, warning humanity that the day would come when voices calariam. There inside, the demons remain silent. Their voices were silenced by the voice of evil that planted residence in the left chamber of the heart of man the temple. The ghetto is cold today. People gather around the fire lit inside the old barrel of oil, black blood, called him. It no longer exists. The veins are dry and the blood no longer runs more ... The white spots covering skin. It should be a good sign, but it is not. Leprosy went devouring the souls of men, women and children. Neither the animals escaped. Contaminated are exiled. They send them to the valley of oblivion where the voice never will rise. They used maliciously. They slandered her. His calumnies were launched in the wind like the leaves of the old oak tree that stood in chaiim forest. He also stopped. The wind no longer howls more through its leafy branches. Ahh! Where is the voice of the rabbi? He was dead by religious dogmatists. His bright sparks no longer crackle through the air. Even the demons no longer speak. They shut up inside. Where are the voices of poems and poets? It is also silent. They were causing itching ears of humanity. They accused: - the mighty were the leaders of nations, with their palaces decorated with blood. Blood of the innocent. They made them shut. They caused itches to power the ears. The gleam in his eyes blinded. It was in 2029 detonated the old Russian gun exchanged for a piece of bread to feed the starving children. All of them died with nuclear heat. Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ... Ah! Where is the voice of the old rabbi? I wanted to hear it now. She stopped. Even there inside there is silence now, even the demons whisper more ...* By Deepak Sankara Veda (Misha'Ël Ha'Levi) Mystik Poet
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13
She laid landmines in my skull that detonated weeks later.
0
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 4:28 PM UTC
10w
A hollow point bullet , fired , rifled through barrel , targeting steel resolve , fragmenting , striking ten combatants with one fatal shot ! A wood canoe with confident oarsman , fighting thirty foot ocean swells , hurricane winds and storm surge ! Swan dive over Horseshoe Falls , disappearing within the rocks , returned to the surface laughing , emboldened and unharmed ! Pressure cooker explosives , detonated beside large crowds with zero injuries , homicidal schizophrenic empties his magazine in a theater with no casualties ! Random killing in the name of religion with just cause , fundamental rationality ! Convincing people to try compassion , tolerance and moderation ! Forgetful , carefree , unharmed , thankful citizens impinged , ***** by the three percent , courtesy of Wall Street !
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Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
Zero Chance
do you see how you destroyed the ruins of an eccentric critter making use of what's left she was trying to rebuild a city during the weekday hurricane that never stopped it just gets stronger and stronger do you know what kind of critter i am? do you have an idea of how i adore the horizon and how i loathe its existence for i lost during its time of how i loved staying up at 3am but it haunted me after september? you wouldn't know what's hidden beneath the cracks of my white walls or under my soiled sheets i am a detonated bomb an overflowing dam of heartache or an active volcano that could no longer be contained but i have creative ways to make room for more you don't know what's under my bed and how it scares me every night you don't know how i tried to love everything that's left you don't know how i fought the whirlpool in the green lake and you would never know how i swam against the current i thought you were my other half an extension of my left limb and both legs but it was on my list of infinite regret the city was fine until you decided to stay causing havoc and midnight witchcraft that makes the night wolves howl in the full moonlight but, do you see it? we just lost a paramount element in the parallel connection that we have and dear, im afraid we might lose that, too
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Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC
II. apathy
i. Like a building on fire, you appeared in my path. You were what all burning things are, hot and radiant, crackling with a force I cannot name. You were a comet speeding to earth, a malfunctioning two-stage rocket. I watched as you turned yourself inside out, as you were absorbed by the sky, as you detonated yourself in an act of destruction so powerful it created collateral art. I watched as you gave yourself up to ash. I was there. ii. When a building is on fire, the first human instinct is to run away. But I ran toward you. I ran toward you, because I knew what things might be tucked within you. I ran toward you, because your heart deserved to pulled from the wreckage. I ran toward you, because I was not afraid, because I have been a burning building and I remember what it was like to be trapped inside myself, dissolving in the heat and the pain, toxic and dehumanized. I remember. So I ran toward you while everyone else ran in the opposite direction, and I put my hands on your windows, and I entered you. iii. You were trembling in those flames, those flames I swept aside like curtains, looking for the salvageable. You were sad and raw and red and wonderful, surrounding me with your swollen hopes, bleeding words of venom and gentleness, a dichotomy of throbbing remorse. You blew out window panes and shook down doors. You shattered the roof, sent furniture tumbling. You howled at a moonless night, you agonized gloriously. iv. I watched the pieces of you fly. The Tuesday night Hennessy, the poets you tried to understand, the I-am-not-scaredness of you, the pressure of your angry palms smacking the table, the movement of your legs, the ache of your voice, the bravado of your soul, all sent scrambling like grains of sand. I watched you contort, watched you turn quiet and strange, watched you forget things I still remember, things I cannot forget: the color of our laughter, the finding of trust, the promises you failed to keep, the dissolution of the invincible. I watched as you were, for one incredulous moment, so beautiful I couldn’t breathe. I stood at the core of you while you collapsed around me. I wept for you in ways I have wept for no one. v. Like a building on fire, you appeared in my path. You ended the way all burning things do, falling, skeletal, to earth. Desperate. Brilliant. Gone.
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Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
losing you to you [why we enter the burning house]
i. Like a building on fire, you appeared in my path. You were what all burning things are, hot and radiant, crackling with a force I cannot name. You were a comet speeding to earth, a malfunctioning two-stage rocket. I watched as you turned yourself inside out, as you were absorbed by the sky, as you detonated yourself in an act of destruction so powerful it created collateral art. I watched as you gave yourself up to ash. I was there. ii. When a building is on fire, the first human instinct is to run away. But I ran toward you. I ran toward you, because I knew what things might be tucked within you. I ran toward you, because your heart deserved to pulled from the wreckage. I ran toward you, because I was not afraid, because I have been a burning building and I remember what it was like to be trapped inside myself, dissolving in the heat and the pain, toxic and dehumanized. I remember. So I ran toward you while everyone else ran in the opposite direction, and I put my hands on your windows, and I entered you. iii. You were trembling in those flames, those flames I swept aside like curtains, looking for the salvageable. You were sad and raw and red and wonderful, surrounding me with your swollen hopes, bleeding words of venom and gentleness, a dichotomy of throbbing remorse. You blew out window panes and shook down doors. You shattered the roof, sent furniture tumbling. You howled at a moonless night, you agonized gloriously. iv. I watched the pieces of you fly. The Tuesday night Hennessy, the poets you tried to understand, the I-am-not-scaredness of you, the pressure of your angry palms smacking the table, the movement of your legs, the ache of your voice, the bravado of your soul, all sent scrambling like grains of sand. I watched you contort, watched you turn quiet and strange, watched you forget things I still remember, things I cannot forget: the color of our laughter, the finding of trust, the promises you failed to keep, the dissolution of the invincible. I watched as you were, for one incredulous moment, so beautiful I couldn’t breathe. I stood at the core of you while you collapsed around me. I wept for you in ways I have wept for no one. v. Like a building on fire, you appeared in my path. You ended the way all burning things do, falling, skeletal, to earth. Desperate. Brilliant. Gone.
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5
score on score of them are laid score on score of them have killed and maimed score on score of them in jungles and in fields score on score of them dot the Afghan lands score on score of them have been detonated the touching of a mechanism with an unsuspecting foot the tearing of flesh the splintering of bone the rivers of red blood prosthesis fitted to permit walking again without an artificial foot no steps can be gained score on score the damage everlasting injurious landmines blasting score on score the toll of dead rises landmine activity brings many demises somewhere on our planet a man, woman of child has had a limb thoughtlessly torn away
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Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
Thoughtlessly Torn Away
Met her at the docking station She was waiting for the Moon I, the United Space station Frozen in the swoon Of passing spaceships Tho determined to see it through Our gazes patiently vacant As we drifted our eyes Over the earthly spikes Of majestic might Just to pass our sights Over our nights Of light-less sights Glamoring us goodnight Where fragility was born As our ships docked Feeling torn The seals unlocked And i mourned As I walked with the flock On board Her face further than before Looking for the door As I was adorned In crowds of explorers Looking for more Than the love born In this vacuous swarm I clamber for a window To see her face And i watched it glow As it drifted farther away And i will never know Her graces amongst this place As I just minded the flow And detonated the station For the poverty of a nation But the expansion of the blast Pulled her into its caste And the hole surpassed Our flight paths As our cluttered wrecks amassed But I was not alone As she triggers her past In the eye of the storm Reestablishing eye contact She holds to her form In the secondary blast And together we roamed Into the beautiful black holes
0
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 3:53 AM UTC
771
He made it over the red brick wall, and I swear it was high, I thought it was high enough. He wormed his way in, through the gates, through the bars. He brought a hammer, smashed the glass. Brought fire, bended the frames of the windows, got inside. He brought gasoline, doused the house, doused every inch and every crevice of that home. He dug a trench, dug it deep and wide around that house. He had brought a bomb, lied and said it was his heart. He left with a wire, trailing after and I thought I was safe, I trusted him. He had brought a bomb, left it in my house, promised the smell of gasoline was a leak, and it would be fixed. He said the damp covers and crevices were rain, since the windows were smashed. He said the windows were destroyed because of a burglar, and he was trying to keep me safe. He detonated the bomb, left me to burn, left me to rot with this obliterated home. This house wasn't a home. This house was my heart.
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Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 4:34 AM UTC
Home is with you
sometimes i feel like I'm walking up a down staircase like the whole world is moving in one harmonious direction and I'm lost in a sea of roads antagonized by dead ends my head feels crazy bolts are unscrewed and wires are crossed a mechanical malfunction sometimes i am up up up up my skin tingles with activity dynamite in under the surface ready to be detonated vibrations circulate and cells dance with one another i am wild animalistic invincible sometimes i am down down down down darkened hope reigns a wave of black water runs around me in circles my lungs spill over with it and i suffocate my throat burns with sorrow suspended in pure agony as the waves laugh and swallow me i am devoured by ebony terrorized by my own thoughts body stuck in a tar of sadness i feel death smile down on my distortion he waits for the waves to finally drown me Some times i am red red red red anger is all there is it clouds my vision making my ember eyes glow fire runs through my blood feeding into my muscles pure rage envelops me in its choke hold and i lose control violence plays my core like a set of flaming drums furry has made a home in my chest covered in red, the anger waxes consuming me in a blood moon up down red up down red a see-saw in my head.
0
Mar 29, 2011
Mar 29, 2011 at 10:10 PM UTC
See-saw.
All the answers are in a book A terrifying tome few understand I can see these are the answers Though I'm not ready to surrender to them How many times have I read this book Closed its covers feeling condemned The meeting of sacred and profane too much The rebellion spawned leads many to skepticism But stubborn me, I know there's a neutron bomb hiding in there somewhere One day I'll dive in after a hiatus See that bomb floating with the flotsam and jettison of all my days Like it's already detonated once Or a second time many years ago I don't suppose I'll ever learn No, I don't like this depression Fact is I despise it But it lays me out flat where I can realize I thrive in this environment This retched realization I don't know how to feel any other way
0
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 7:13 AM UTC
Original Title Lost in Requirement to Be Logged In
A sunbeam painted her face In a smile It printed the mountains And built a trail It sculpted thousands Of smiling faces Going to and fro As it shone Through a single crack In the very back Of a crowded basement Where I detonated In my sleep Awaking In insatiable Dream speak
0
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 4:21 PM UTC
Dream speak
There are no hammers in my room. No tactical advances which need enhancements. no broken bits of furniture in need of further assessment. There are no screwdrivers. no holes filled with crack filling nothing willing to be cut. destroyed. nothing blotchy or broken. or to say this house is less than homely. There are no hammers. no holes filled with crack filling nothing willing to be cut. destroyed. Deconstructed. Detonated. No little lines on the carpet, no rusty pipes beneath my sink There are no razors in my bathroom nothing which brings blood from my retinas nothing stinks of mold, nothing sinks in the carberater escaping excavation measure the short comings of my makings, and takings, and tasks. There are no dust mites beneath my bed there are nothing but soap and cleansing masks. sleeping with the boogy man, sharing his head space, no naked, termites in my walls. skeletons in my closet. nothing that would appall an exterminator. nothing which says this house is less than homely.
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Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
Fragmented.
Her laughter resonated for only a moment Then it lingered releasing all tension As if life in me detonated in a glimpse of a moment As it hindered every little expression Afraid to be too cheesy All the poetry stayed inside The touch of her cheeks so squeezy The euphoria in me I couldn't hide Couldn't make a single blink Every ability of mine she defied My weakness is this I think When charm and bliss collide As the laughter started to fade The spark didn't last The sun turned slowly to shade and the void in me grew fast Slave to a laughter to end my agony Soaked in anxiety, deprived of rest I'll defy myself despite my atony Bring back that laughter, my ultimate quest It was a hideous day when i saw her frown Maiming my strength, twisting me around Someone had just broken her heart Remodeled her face, that piece of art I got her flowers of all sorts of colors Tried a few pokes Threw a few jokes My neck bent down But her frown never bent But the next day she rose like a cedar tree She became the hero I couldn't be Flew her way up to happiness' peaks I stood up as she lifted my soul Reborn from those round cheeks with soft lips and bright eyes at each pole And I waited... I waited not for too long Till her laughter resonated for only a moment Then it lingered releasing all tension Then life in me detonated in a glimpse of a moment As it hindered Every possible expression ~Epic Monkey
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Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 1:48 PM UTC
As she laughs