"detonating" poems
perhaps a subject already well covered. but I consult no one else,
who can expertly summon the artificial artifacts, no better yet,
art~iN~facts of prior expert~tease, and speak only and wholly
for myself, blatant, and openly undisguised
it is the spilling, the upward sensory explosive detonating,
in a pressured chest, the eagerness
to race, to complete,
find the next line, to define, to refine to get the balance tween
elegance and simplicity, to have the ******** sensory totality
of completely having spun off a piece of me and let it free float as a balloon, that may fly to China or get stuck on a telephone pole
just beyond my front door
=============
^ I write this midst the composition of another poem, wherein
unusually I feel the need to pause, collect my thoughts which are bombarding my atoms internal, causing a new fissionable element,
distinct and unique, my poem…next…
Sep 21, 2025
Sep 21, 2025 at 5:02 AM UTC
It was not a heart, beating.
That muted boom, that clangor
Far off, not blood in the ears
Drumming up and fever
To impose on the evening.
The noise came from outside:
A metal detonating
Native, evidently, to
These stilled suburbs nobody
Startled at it, though the sound
Shook the ground with its pounding.
It took a root at my coming
Till the thudding shource, exposed,
Counfounded in wept guesswork:
Framed in windows of Main Street's
Silver factory, immense
Hammers hoisted, wheels turning,
Stalled, let fall their vertical
Tonnage of metal and wood;
Stunned in marrow. Men in white
Undershirts circled, tending
Without stop those greased machines,
Tending, without stop, the blunt
Indefatigable fact.
8k
*Butterfly Desires & Fictional Highs,
Magnetic Spells In Her Emerald Eyes,
Bleeding Perpetual Fire & Toxic Cries.
Lucid Screams Of Her Plastic Love,
Paper Towns & Serenity Above,
Refracting Into An Apocalyptic Dove.
Postcards Of Her Estranged Serenity,
Diffusing Into Polaroids Across Infinity,
Rhythms Of Lusts Erupting Obscenity.
Bluest Shade Of Her Misguided Confessions,
Uncharted Fragments Amplifying Obsessions,
Profane Prodigies Detonating Desecrations,
Digital Dreams & Fictional Desires,
3D Symphonies Inside Her Crystal Wires,
Purple Streams Translating Fires.
Tunnel Visions Transmitting Reality,
Suicidal Trance & Static Eternity,
Molotov Solution Is Her Lighthouse Of Ecstasy.
- 04:19AM -*
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 6:56 PM UTC
my imagination scalds
with violating stains
of contemptuous familiarity
agonised shrieks
confront my mouth
with an unremitting combustibility
while a frustration like a volatile tornado
engulfs me with an hallucinated savagery
detonating unrelenting explosions
within my consciousness of perception
causing a hurricane of momentum
bringing such oddities to my mind
as such precludes their proper elucidation
yet a tempestuously implosive inner cosmos
is located a volcanic insurgence
the accelerative storm on which
the poem like Valkyries rides
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
A white abstract silence falls heavily like phosphorous snow… odd and oblique with nervous intensity of random limitations… sensitive and fragile in its unremitting generosity…A fluency of motion of imaginary realisation in silent turbulence descends in tenebrous shadows of illusion detonating the unconscious… the symmetry and exactitude of silence beyond all compass…. an intricate camouflage… meticulous and consistent.
Disinherited it tries to sanctify the air….. a silence in where stars evaporate vibrational loud and inquisitive…. freezing time by the velocity of its inner momentum of silent adrenalin.
Concealing its true identity isolating me in unknown realisation of what is to occur.. It resonates with constant tension waiting for unpredictability’s of indispensible voices that don’t speak….. This is a realisation of the imagination…. a vibrant insensibility…. density of unravelled thoughts that vaporise within me causing a vibration that fractures the equation of time and space in the burning crucible of my mind.
Intractable proportions of silent thought…. hovering… a constant mirage of irrational calculations….. This silence forces all the tears of consequence to fall upon my face with no avail…..Then in this thunderous silence see graffiti on white walls…abstract and meaningless….Like primitive lives…those with meaning yet possess no meaning… an ungovernable democracy of fruitless endeavour… of non factual fastidiousness… a glimpse of life and its fallacy.
Yet the words were spoken and written… by whom… And for why.. Now the silence punctuates and instructs…. phosphorous extinguishes itself and hides behind another truth…..The noise of the world cascades in torrents deafening… attempting to defeat… subordinate the senses in atavistic cruelty… Prowling searching for the silence… but it has gone…. disappeared in the imagination of my inner self…. an abstraction I call me….. But I know where the silence has gone….
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 7:07 PM UTC
*There was a time,
A time so fair,
A zero despair,
Cuz She was fair,
Life as I knew it was drizzling daisies,
Bleeding me the feel like the crazies.
Perfect absolutes,
Chimerical dilutes.
Enchanting moments with ephemeral bliss,
Rapt me into blissful abyss.
Ambient lightnings,
Forming supernova sightings.
My soul trapped in her seductive high,
Unknowing of her destructive lies.
Little was I was aware of her two-tone design,
My ****** Valentine
An alter ego so divine.
Demon with deceitful frames,
Unravelling her intimacy games.
Her bloodless lips whispering in the corridors of time,
Deporting me into her hate grimes.
Mutating into odium of torrential far cry,
Lies sarcastrophic podium of her mislaid demise.
Gagged and bound as me you broke down
And I believed everything,
As my love for you was logic drowned
Round and round I emanated all the way down.
Still submerged in the swamp of dummy beliefs,
Hoping to heal with concealed appeals,
Squeals of her feels reveal choking ordeals,
Cuz it was a different belief in a veiled inception,
Infinitely drowning with these unconcealed dogmas,
Remembrance feels like a past from yesterday,
All I am choked with are these Interstellar beliefs,
Detonating memories,
At the haste of light,
Giving me an anguish fright from the down right,
Corroding my heart with those Sulphur memories we once called a lifetime.
Like those 4 years with 4 million considerations.
Still lost in her maze of psychopathic daze,
Downward spirals decayed & set ablaze.
Reveries of her infinite sentiment once called transcendences.
All that’s left now are your radioactive reminiscences,
Of a place once called Tomorrowland.*
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 4:55 PM UTC
January 28th:
I don't eat the Doctor's candy anymore cause mama Earth's candy tastes better,
I'm not wasting my time being suicidal, I'm going to die someday anyways.
Everyday is a different trip. Life is just a drug.
January 29th:
FAIL.
January 30th:
Detox day one.
January 31st:
Day two went really well.
The feeling of quiting:
Is kind of like an internal bomb,
detonating & destroying
everything in its path.
&
When the fire finally dies and your covered in ash.
All you can do is wait for the rain to wash away the past & rebuild.
Congratulations, you've reached a good state of mind.
Welcome to Mania. I hope you enjoy your stay.
Apr 15, 2012
Apr 15, 2012 at 1:40 PM UTC
•
Our love,
Are like the stars and moon,
Colliding in love and romance,
But in the end,
They just explode,
Leaving shattered smithereens behind.
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
Spoken Word Poetry.
Prosecute me.
Feed me to the wolves.
I cannot live
with what I have done to you.
I am beastly.
Pale behind the curtain.
Thick with the deceit
you have cut through.
You are calm.
In this sea of heresy.
You are the light in my day, illuminating.
That's why it's frustrating,
And grating,
When I think of us copulating.
Systematic mating.
Somewhat creating.
All because I am hating
Who you have made me in to.
This pulsating,
agitating,
being.
Alienating instead of
a l l e v i a t i n g
this excruciating complexity.
I was detonating.
And it -
it was fascinating.
Not it.
That was just penetrating.
Suffocating and terminating my bond with you.
Separating.
So that I could begin accelerating
And clearly a r t i c u l a t i n g
Who I really wanted to be.
It was i n c a p a c i t a t i n g.
And yet intoxicating.
Because you are what I want.
Despite it all.
I want you.
So prosecute me.
Please feed me to the wolves.
I cannot live with what I have done to you.
You are calm.
Whilst I am on fire.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 5:21 PM UTC
The ship was
getting
closer and closer
to us
&
the safe-sandy shores.
Safety.
Healthy
at
long lifetime's last.
Midnight was coming close,
so they
took our candles
&
they took our matches.
&
tried to start a fire.
It would have worked.
If the doctors,
would have
noticed that
they
lit the
wrong wick.
Wish they would have
quit,
pretending to be
god-all-mighty
know-it-all's.
For a hot minute
to look and see
the fuse
they
actually ignited.
Ch-ch-chain
reaction.
In a real-life
action movie like
Implosion.
Explosion.
Decaying.
Dying.
Crawling.
I am
Sinking.
Our ship is sinking.
A break down
happened in the <3
of the ship's
circuit board.
This is how
drowning at the bottom
of a
Sad Sea
feels like.
Seeing parts of your life
blended in with the debris.
Hello, to the aftermath
of an
"accidental" explosion.
Created by a
self-detonating
toxic/atomic
bomb.
It
Broke the Damn-Star-Board.
It
Broke my Fucking-<3
as well.
But even though,
I am ship-less
and stranded.
The ship still has four anchors above water.
Even though, the ship itself
is underneath the water.
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 8:55 PM UTC
Definitely not the type of girl to plant
flowers on a window sill, the type to carry
softness on her shoulders or a desire to witness
hesitant, supernatural births of new morning suns with
enchantment. She was a trigger
aimed at empty clay pots, balancing
on balconies and devouring emptiness as if volume alone
would make her feel satisfied.
And her body held as much sentiment
to her as a graveyard, skin crawling in an empty house
she carried in her head. Everywhere she went
stormy impermanence concatenated
with the things she tried so voraciously to erase, like
tethers
tying her name down to insipid figures, like
beginning chapters of stories
she didn't want to hear
with a protagonist
too similar, too homespun,
to herself.
Perhaps she had intention of detonating in
her final, grand exit strategy, an elaborate move
where the Queen conquered escapism, but now
but now
no one will ever know.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
From my bedroom window,
I can see a lime green ribbon
Constricting itself around a tree.
Lynching the last inch of life
From a being
That stood strong for a half of a century.
As each leaf wilts and falls it is a reminder that nothing is ever permanent.
Everything dies eventually.
In our family,
Green is worn proud
Above our hearts
The star of David guiding us on our way
But something to be ashamed of.
A color that condemns our family to endure your sympathetic stares
That follow us everywhere.
It is as if we are the main attraction of your circus:
Come see the dying, the crying, and the bald.
But to us, one ribbon wrapped around are hearts
Represents a million words wrapped into one.
Especially the ones never said.
The I love yous
The I need yous
The I’m sorrys
And the goodbyes
It is an endless cycle
Of CAT scans, and chemo, and radiation, and surgery, and blood tests, over and over.
If only to slow the process of
Cells detonating themselves
In a body that was never strong enough to fight it.
Strong arms cannot hold the weight of their daughter’s broken hearts
Or their sons missed football games,
Or their wives plan less anniversaries
When they carry their own mortality
We never knew that our man of steel,
Would become our man of sleepless nights,
No longer able to carry his children to bed at night.
The only person to guide through our disjointed lives
What ifs become your safe haven as well as your nightmare?
And your reality becomes mixed with fatality.
And eventually, you don’t know the difference.
Prayers become a lost hope,
Church becomes a last resort
And treatment becomes useless
Because it is a diagnosis that no one can escape.
I never understood “When someone is diagnosed with cancer, everyone around them is as well.”
And dad know that when I look into your lifeless eyes
Mine will mirror it.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
ramblings of my craziness ~
its 1 : 28am and am walking in circles in my room with my lights switched off
the thoughts in my head are at light speed hitting me in the reversing direction in the back of my skull
silence finally speaks to me
such is the ambiance right now
cold and coarse outside
my feet are going numb because of this winter night
i can even hear the buzzing sound of nihility
echoing now
its overwhelming feeling all together
the feelings between my lungs are in havoc like a thousand supernovas at mayhem , detonating....
i just don't feel myself right now
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
You asked me to write a poem about you so here it is:
Hell is brown-eyed.
Today I watched him put his heart into an empty locker again...
He did it slowly and cautiously,
As if to put emphasis onto how long it's been since
He's satisfied himself and not satisfied me.
He used to indirectly claim
that I was smaller than his textbooks-
that I was smaller than his backpack, but just a more heavier weight to carry.
I never knew if he saw the strains I felt more as a burden than he did-
but if he did he ignored it because I never lost an opportunity to turn my pain into a fire-alarm.
Every day we talked about how if it ended it was worth it and
how it still made sense even if we counted days like a bombs detonating time.
His locker grew colder,
And I watched the clock more and more-
I guess he couldn't tell that
I was measuring my heartache with each heartbeat
That burned per second.
I guess he couldn't tell-
Because we talked like we knew each other.
Now I watch him put his heart into an empty locker...
I guess I shouldn't be surprised when I hear a heartbeat inside of there,
That belongs to neither mine,
Nor even belongs to his own.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 7:21 AM UTC
How far had I gone can't remember the day or the way
I met you a stone in my shoe shaking it out on a bench
of the benches I sat drifting the road to Never Will Be.
A crumpled paper bumping along stopping to no end
no purpose to arrive no wish to leave wind pushed
to Never Will Be. But I recall the spark your touch made
my hand uncomfortable taking your hand not letting go
not moving on detonating life all the little pieces of us blown
falling together shaky as rag dolls mends and stitches
beautiful disarray tender at the tears. But missing parts.
And if we did not become what we were when we blew
And if we were not to be as we were made
And if we were not fully functional
And if I only wanted you
And if you only wanted me
And if we walked awkwardly
And if we were beautiful only to each other
were we not beautiful as we were
following our dreams to Never Will Be?
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 12:19 AM UTC
I can’t see the sky falling down on me.
I can hear the angels crying.
Tears crashing like colossal rain drops on reminiscent individuals and broken buildings.
Spilling through open airways and clogged avenues.
Oceans now over obstructions.
I can feel the sun bursting.
Radiation detonating like a thousand bombs through blue television screens and ragdolls.
Emanating above sensible cells and raw forests.
Deserts now in a splendor of abundance.
But no,
The sky is not falling down on me.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 11:56 PM UTC
I enjoyed the work I did,
'cause those bearded-guys
were some serious ********
constructing high explosives
& placing them near roadsides,
then detonating them
for maximum carnage,
to spill some serious blood.
Oh how I loved working at night,
especially those overcast nights
where I drew beads
with nightvision
& did some exploding of my own,
busted a lot of skulls.
Ya see, I could be a serious *******
too.
And I was serious,
as serious as cancer.
I was the consummate
silent killer,
so effective,
they called me
"Mister Pathogen **
& death I did spread.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 3:50 AM UTC
You walk around and live
with this self detonating bomb
that you call heart
it aims for something good
and wishes something back in return
You nurse those cavities
because the heart longed for something sweet
now you have a broken legs
because the heart wanted to run fastest with those feet
and now,
that broken back because you told me
your heart thought it knows how to fly
and all you've got is that
cavity
broken legs
broken back
but at least you know
how to dream.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
I've rebuilt walls so high
that the conversation scares me
why would he desire me
after years of not speaking
every opened message
is a bomb detonating
destroying the walls
of my brand new building
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 7:40 PM UTC
the legions of your
laughter march
across the bread of dawn
eated of eyes the
savory crumbs
ofthy disheveled breaths
trampling of thous sinuous
colours broaching clasp of
sudden cannons of silence booming
the fair article of your poppies
( bashful flocks of cords
.... sifting mercury of doves feathers
exploding against the dark
i bastioned in thy infinite
plait, onyx detonating softly of
thy pale scalp
glory my excellent lavender
no sweeter scent
has sweated in the air as thou's ephemeral
dainty river cleaving the clean night
in exact twain of pallor
wet seconds blushing on the purple cheeks of nocturne
she is a fair lady
but homely against thy
visage.
.
. O night
Aug 21, 2010
Aug 21, 2010 at 2:05 PM UTC
It opens in transition
Warm Texas rain in June
Dallas in a cocoon
--
Kingdom of the sad harvester
Crop of tears raised in the sun
Forming long shadows on the screen
--
Starlight in cathedral
This explosion within
Enter the soldiers
Enter the dragon
--
Framed insects
Relying on hidden stairwells
To cover their hasty escape
To seal their fate
--
Inside a fascist restaurant
The men hiccup and cigarette
The women just smile and pirouette
Dancing around the blast zone
Detonating minds and hearts
Just as the end credits roll
Jan 4, 2025
Jan 4, 2025 at 2:08 AM UTC
The sound of a car alarm,
"Detonating" might not sound inappropriate
Like waking into a fight that's
kicking off-
on Sunday mornings.
This is the realisation
Of how the world intrudes
Of how the the inner sanctum
is detached from the private self.
Car alarms -the drones of greater Western suburbia.
How are we expected to be overwhelmed by life
When we desire all the apps and whistles
Of electronic distraction
to keep our heart rates
Steadily rising?
Seeing a jettisoned supermarket trolley
Abandoned in a riverbed
Close to a church whose peak attendance
Occurs at summer weddings
Explains more about the human capacity for tragedy
Than most schloarly texts on Greek Drama
Surely this the curse of socities who best express sentiments through images?
The ability to make exhibitions out of emotions, of replaying journeys
Without speaking words
Somewhere a girl runs away from home
Somewhere else a boys runs to his bedroom
And even the streetlights betrayed with shattered glass
Make the sound of thunderstorms
on warm evenings.
The moon too bright to decipher as a circle
with unshielded eyes.
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 8:45 AM UTC
Today
I will sing my sins as if I
Hadn’t yet learned right from wrong
As if I didn’t recognize
The becoming wrinkles of my skin
The fading of preconceived thought
The fading of what we were
As if I don’t conjure up detonating
Definitions for what we depict as
Reality,
As if I don’t feel it
As if the wind doesn’t rattle through my
Bones and shake my soul and wither
Me away
You reach out your hand
I turn the other way
Chrome colored lines that intersected
At the wrong time, the wrong place in history
As if I don’t consider
Dying, intentionally
Projecting perceptions through this lens
Titled reality,
White upon the spine
Drawing images and you feel it,
The finality of your
Vitality
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
Better to be dead
Than live in your head
All the lies and discontent
Are better left
In the cleft
Of cleverness
You slice
While i sever it
Never hit
The hard six
Without two clips
Backing my ****
I submit
To nothing
But
The sultry shade
Of my suffering
While still loving
Every minute
Of the absolute
Truths
Starting coups
With youth
In suits
Made of bombs
Watering roots
To grow on
Lacing boots
For strong arms
Staying calm
In the calamity
Detonating
The anxiety
Inside of me
Pawning the notoriety
For a long gone society
In the brawn
Of a family
Burning in the tragedy
Magically
Melting
The dynasties
Of rotting cities
Raising from the grave
With rave reviews
From slaves in suits
Who missed the news
To the dark pursuits
Of suicidal fools
Abiding by the rules
Of lawless crooks
Flawless cooks
Of crutches
For assumptions
In thunderous
Concoctions
Altering the functions
Of the faction-less
Getting traction
With the hack and slash
Mashing the happenstance
Of meaning
Seeding into rants
I am the giant
I am the defiance
In an alliance
Of one
Got all the ammo
But no gun
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
she was
s
p
eaking
a forest a
n
d
it ex
P
LO DED
! a mercury ankle flexed wings digital crunch of elated
cleating sunlight through the tiny between of slatted window treatments.
a vanilla of hot dreaming darkness. the best nothing. a fleeting
permanent second burning. and we climbed
into each others mouths our pink snakes tremendously. the air
was sweating jealous vanity of her. an aphrodite detonating in my
cotton ocean. 500 threadcount pleasure bashful sheets clamoring
beneath a writhing light of feminine stink.
what a splinter. in my flavor
it
loves well
and
i
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 12:10 PM UTC