"dioxide" poems
how do you stop your throat from burning
from salty tear-stained gulps and gasps
for oxygen that is no longer there?
there is too much carbon dioxide in the air now
and i want to fast forward into a world
where i can breathe in sweet helium
and ask for it to stop.
because there are times
when it's impossible to breathe
and when my puffy red eyes
can't open more than a millimeter
because you have glued them shut
with your accusations.
i didn't want to be gas station concrete any longer
i didn't want dirtiness to be my middle name
i only wanted to cleanse myself of you and your fists,
you and your laughter
you and your hatred.
i wanted to be clean.
(a.m.c.)
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
And so the green balloons did grow
Inflated, nurtured over time,
This tree of air
Nitrogen,
Oxygen,
Carbon
Dioxide,
Argon,
Traces of other gases too,
Out side was warm
Internal temp minus triple degrees,
What had been barren branches
Now sustained as these
Strings matured forth
Buds of latex and rubber grew,
Liquid air exhaled as the buds nurtured
Air expanded with warm the green balloons
Grew
&
Grew
Sprung forth in to life what once was
Small, now expanded fuelled by the
Cold fuel of the tree of white,
In the winds they did gesture
As if dancing putting on a show
Tree,
Branch,
String,
Green balloons flourished there veins
Feeding air anew,
Blustery winds picked up
Strings did snap, green balloons did
Float away, drifting upon high
Into a sea of blue,
But as seasons change,
Green balloons became loose
Many floated away to places new
Those that did not,
Deflated,
Depleted,
Exhausted,
Nourishment of air, no longer green ballons
Phenomenon's of gases changed
And green faded now this tree of air
Brought forth new shades of
Yellows,
Purples,
Black,
Oranges,
So these colours did fall from the tree,
Floating not as before,
They did descend, slowly to the floor,
Biodegradable. they did fade
From view, not what they were before,
The life cycle of these green balloons
The tree of white grows evermore cold,
For seasons change and green balloons will
Grow again next spring floating in the air once more.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
*breathe in
oxygen,
breathe out
carbon dioxide,
a simple,
constant
process that
i just want to end.*
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 3:21 PM UTC
The sky is white
and flat
It’s like we are all living in an aquarium and they forgot
to turn the lights on
to turn the sky on
Our knowledge of how to breathe is slipping away
like the cloud that tripped and smeared they sky with buckets full
of one single shade of white
Waiting under the white sky
we stand wondering,
our breaths caught in our throats,
if they will turn on the sky
and let us remember
how to convert oxygen
into the carbon dioxide that is slowly destroying it
and us
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
If only we could begin again and slow down the pernicious pace
We ruin our oceans, the land, our air even outer space.
If only we avoided such precarious paths that may lead to disparity
If only we knew what action is needed now, to deal with the reality.
Ecologists warned, yet still observe with ever-growing anxiety
the growth of harmful long-term effects on Earth's biodiversity.
If only the air wasn't gravely polluted, so the atmosphere begins to fail,
so wreathed by carbon dioxide layers, extremes to climate may prevail.
If only Earth's lungs cease being shrunk by profits heedless exploitation,
existing relationships are considered scarcely in these aberrations.
If only a solution for discarded synthetics which float in ugly hordes
on oceans global drifts, disaster occurs wherever it reaches landfall.
If only we can do something, a belated but resounding universal call,
If only we can safeguard the future before there are no options at all.
If only we could begin again and slow the ruinous pace... if only
If Only
M C Crowder
@scorsby
19th November 2018
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 12:00 PM UTC
Breathe in,
breathe out,
there,
you have just successfully converted oxygen into carbon dioxide,
you have been productive,
you have done enough today to give the trees a job,
like a tired mother,
they go around un-doing everything you've worked so hard on,
In,
out,
muscles relaxing,
tension releasing,
carbon dioxide expelled,
diluted by the oxygen,
in,
out,
lungs burning,
legs aching,
quick,
sharp,
inoutinoutinout,
hands on hips,
bent at the waist,
a long red ribbon laying broken at your feet,
inoutin out in out in out,
calming,
slowing until it is normal again,
in,
o-,
your breathe catches,
heart beating faster,
eyes locked,
a great love epic in the making,
the carbon dioxide sitting in your lungs waiting for you to remember to release it,
screaming lungs silenced by a pounding heart,
insides so loud,
outsides completely silent.
OUT,
in,
out,
lungs comforted,
heart calmed by the brain,
continue walking,
normal,
in,
out,
the trees following behind you,
fixing all the air you have ruined,
and giving it back to you, once again.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 10:34 AM UTC
Why does it always burst to come out?
Is that why it hurts so much from the inside out?
Clawing its way up to my mouth,
Seeping out, Like sulfur, No doubt.
And in an accident we can't escape,
No more breathing for us,
For me, it's too late.
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 8:45 PM UTC
احب نفسك اولا
(love yourself first)
From the moment I met you,
I was intrigued.
Your eyes were like
A vast blue ocean
That would pull me in
Sometimes welcoming,
Letting me stay afloat
Just long enough to enjoy myself
Other times willing me to drown
And drown, I did
You pulled me completely under
Without stopping to let me breathe
I almost died
Except I didn't die
Just as I gasped one last breath,
You helped me back to shore
Made sure I breathed again
That was when you told me you loved me
And right in that moment I wanted to kiss you
I craved you the way trees crave carbon dioxide
And you said there were times
When you wanted to kiss me
And just for a moment
I let myself imagine
I thought of your strong arms around my body,
Keeping me safe, while wanting every piece of me
Kissing the scars that align my skin
Like a map of my regrets
Wiping any tears I cried away
And that was when
You pulled me back under
you shattered every piece of my already broken heart
"I can't love you, because I'll end up hurt"
Were your exact words
And if I remember correctly,
Those were my words to you
The first time we exchanged
"I love you's"
And as I remembered this,
A riptide occurred
*Riptide (n): a strong current caused by tidal flow in confined
areas and presenting a hazard to swimmers and boaters*
you were a hazard to my state of mind
You ruined what was left of my sanity
But it was when you decided to block me out
That I was finally able to realize this fact:
I was so busy trying to stay afloat, alive
In your fatal whirlpool of an ocean
In the ocean of your blue eyes
That I fell too hard for you
Before thinking to fall
For myself
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 2:44 AM UTC
I love the song birds
they sing in morning
they chatter in the afternoon
they (seem to) die at night
I love song birds
&
the song birds love me
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 11:49 PM UTC
horns, hollow-
ly followed by a public service announcement
you do not exist in simultaneous intersectionality
YOU GIVE US CARBON DIOXIDE,
AND THUS,
you are DEEPLY ENTANGLED
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a web, spun by an anxious,
poison-cursed arachnid
holds us all by the finger-tips,
pressing each of our infinite, six-second *******
together.
gravity ensures that when the silk can no longer bear the weight of the world,
the rose-tinted lenses will shatter-------------
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxx
***
x
violently,
our brain stems will rot
alone.
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 1:29 AM UTC
Perceived by five senses
In a stable and solid form
Facilitating shape and smell
Representing muscles and
Bones of a physical body
Earth, the first element
Perceived by four senses
In a cool and liquid form
Facilitating taste and fluidity
Representing blood and
Fluid of a physical body
Water, the second element
Perceived by three senses
In a hot and sharp form
Facilitating color and spicy
Representing temperature and
Intestines of a physical body
Fire, the third element
Perceived by two senses
In a subtle and dry form
Facilitating touch and vibration
Representing oxygen and
Carbon dioxide of a physical body
Air, the fourth element
Inaccessible by other senses
In an abundant and soft form
Facilitating non-resistance
Representing the space,
The soul of a physical body
Sky, the fifth element
Survived by five elements
In all kinds of forms
The greedy human body
Forgetting that one day
It becomes a dead body
Under a six feet of mud !
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC
You talk about eggshells
I hear the crunch as I get closer to you
Thought it was glass breaking but it was too soft beneath my shoe
I can't stay out of your perimeter forever
When the diameter grows bigger and bigger
Pushing me farther away
I can still see soft silhouette
Your skin is so frail
Pale white made of the eggshells at your feet
You reach down time and again
When you're pierced by words
Cutting off oxygen
Penetrated by the carbon dioxide truth
You're not young anymore
Age is ageless numerals
You're not old
How many birds flew away from this pile of youth?
Each one once packaged like a gift
Leaving behind stacks of birth to sift through
You gathered them
Scattered them evenly around you
Put your appearance and self worth into them and
Waited for the crushing blow
Marching toward you from all sides
Your insecurities will swallow you and
The stomping will leave you angry and hollow
We are all hippy chickens
Making wishbones out of peace signs
Hoping for unity
Not realizing it's meant to be broken
A lopsided libra unbalanced
The powers that be
Expect you to follow obediently
Stand in line
You can't take just give
'Short people ain't got no reason to live'
Newman must have know
How difficult it is to create new men
One by one we attempt
To tip the scale in our favor
But the bigger Man
Can push it down with a finger
Like a toppling Pisa tower
A slow motion fall to the ground
A single direction agenda
The momentum gained
With each inch leaning
So stop clowning around
Sweep up your eggshells and
Go buy a dozen more grade A's and
Break them all at once
We don't have much time
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
When I first saw you, you stood before me and I breathe you in.
I took a deep breath… blew out any fears and concerns, I breathe you in, innocently, care-freely and wholeheartedly.
You held my hand and I breathe you in. I blew out every memory of any other before you and I breathe you in innocently, care-freely, lovingly, and wholeheartedly.
You rubbed against me and I breathe you in. I blew out hot mist, letting go of any weakness. I breathe you in, innocently, care-freely, lovingly, completely and wholeheartedly.
You looked into my eyes, I stared into yours and I breathe you in. I blew out my wants and needs and breathe in yours, innocently, care-freely, lovingly, completely and wholeheartedly.
I felt your pain from miles and miles away. I could even smell the salt from the sea. I breathe you in innocently, care-freely, lovingly, completely, soulfully, wholeheartedly.
Never could two be more connected or so I thought.
Now, I stand here confused and alone with your soul and scent entwined in mine, I breathe you in, but now, I’m breathless.
I can’t breathe... Instead of oxygen, my lungs are filled with toxic carbon dioxide, yet, I breathe you in and your breath is mine, innocently, care-freely, lovingly, soulfully, and wholeheartedly.
In the end, it turns out, I was yours but you were never mine – I exhale.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 3:59 AM UTC
The
young lover's
committed suicide
by
inhaling
carbon dioxide
gas.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 6:25 AM UTC
an octagon tent
wide enough that chucking rollies
to the sand made impossible
sprawled layers
you turned to quote Dali
told me how pale blue washed with lucy
shimmered skyline into dimension
acryllic-smeared sass drips canvas
into murmurs circling dilation
dimethyltryptamine stains
painting dreams on my eyelids
with flowerbrushes and silk,
mushroom dust gathers in discarded hues
on your pallet, where the colors of your irises
dry into a nebula of night-blooming jasmine
the scent of how you move when you sleep
and sleeping is never so sweet
as dancing through lucidity
with you as my sheets.
and i've traced your thumbprint so often
i'm sure if it were stretched around a marble
like buffalo skin on spirit-caller drums,
a globe would be seen
in which Greenland is finally proportionate--
the map on my wall always bothers you,
but I do too, and everyone does,
urging me under the geography
etched into the sea of your surface
by the crucible of your purpose
and working me into
empty behind your right
below the 22
between i'ching
and the forty two names of god
clasping your fore in silver
copper wound around my finger
hamstrings woven like wire
kambaba jasper, two to share
you hang Tibetan tektites
to elevate space
meteorite fragments
lodged in your helix,
stardust blood,
mandala sand from your mother,
and our tendons wrappe
by dexterous carpals
make such a pretty pendant
of my heart,
for synesthesia mistakes not
and my addiction to the pen has eased
for you breathe murals
and syllables never could
match brushtrokes of carbon dioxide.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
To make wine,
Grapes are crushed then poured into fermentation tanks.
Once fermentation begins, the grape skins are pushed to the surface by carbon dioxide gases released in the fermentation process.
I am the only fruit who has the necessary acids to make natural, stable wine.
My tannins add a bitterness and astringency,
But I must be picked at the right time.
My acidity and sweetness must be zen in balance.
The right ones are sorted through, but not all of us make the cut.
Unable to be served as sweet wine, too bitter.
Some more sweet, not bitter enough.
Simply picked at the wrong time, their peak unwanted, forgotten.
After being sorted we are destemmed and crushed.
Our roots ripped from us, dignity stomped upon.
For years, it was done manually, by foot.
Now, preformed mechanically, systematically.
But hey!
"Mechanical pressing has brought tremendous sanitary gains as well as increased the longevity and quality of wine."
Grape abuse continues, white wine grapes are quickly crushed.
Why do you ask?
To keep unwanted "color" from leeching into the wine.
But red wine,
Red wine is left in contact with it's skin, forced to acquire more color, more flavor and additional tannins.
After being sorted and crushed, I naturally ferment with in six to twelve hours.
This continues until all my sugar,
Is converted to alcohol.
To produce dry, wine.
The final stage is aging.
I am bottled with a cork,
Put on a shelf.
And ironically,
await my optimal fruitfulness.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 2:30 PM UTC
The Hour Glass represents us. Confused how.. Let me elaborate it to you.
You do see the sand that is seeping slowly off the orifice between the two bowls..
That sand shows the flow of love from ur heart to mine. But wen the flow stops. U just have to revert the glass and u vl see that Ur love is not just taken in, it is adored, processed, felt. Its warmth and the care that is hidden in it is scrutinized. And then it flows back into u.
This is the way we are. Due to this our love always wins from our fights.
U widout any selfishness and greed give me all that u ve got inside u, planting banyan trees of love to make it live for years.
And here, Its me, trying to provide the carbon dioxide and water for helping the tree to grow and feel the fresh oxygen, extracting each amount and inhaling it wid full greed. This greed, Which Comes like a reflex only fr u, is not a devil's one but a Loving one. How can it be possible to share u wid anyone else in the whole world. I cant help it. I cant share u. And I am proud of being greedy fr u.
This sand which keeps on seeping consists of all memories stored in it about us.
All of them, Staring wild eyes with the rays of Innocent Infatuation, Then the seed of frndship that we planted (Actually u planted), And then My extravagant feelings converting that seed of frndship directly into a plant of love, Then the rains and the hot sun that the plant faced between these paceful yrs we were together, Then the Era of wisdom that attacked me and made me construct a good shelter to protect this plant from heavy rains and hot burning rays of rageful sun..
All these memories. That we lived together. Which we now remember and smile, sometyms cry and sometyms even laugh after crying. And I promise to give u more, good, to be confident, fresh and best memories in this lyf ahead so that while taking our last breath these wud give u the best smile u ever had in ur lyf.
And if this hourglass, ever, accidently or unfortunately breaks, dont be sad. cuz these memories are stored in every pinch of the sand it contains not the outer body that consists it.
Love You
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
A plant grew in a forest
beginning as a sapling in a crowded opening
two inches tall
with no idea of what it was becoming
it rose slowly
but consistently
as others rose above it for light
it reaped the benefits of leftovers
this plant grew
not to be the tallest
not to be the prettiest
but it grew
It took in carbon dioxide
and released oxygen
it did its job
it was a good plant
eventually like most things this plant died
after being trampled by a young boy
this boy visited this forest everyday
its nature was his greatest toy
he knew the surroundings by heart
from the tallest tree to the smallest shrew
he saw all in his dreams
he knew all the plants save for a few
one of those few was our plant
although it stood tall, it was not tall enough
although it was pretty, it was not pretty enough
it died unremarkable
it was a good plant
it did its job
but it died without a trace
because it never risked to take another's place
and so the boy grew older
he left the forest for an office
in the hopes that one day
he’d be rich enough to return
so he climbed the ladder
and said all the right things
he was a good man
he did his job
until he met a girl
a girl so powerful
so unmistakably perfect
he had to rise above the others
he left his job because he hated it
he stood tall to reach the sun
he took risks not because he had to
but because he wanted to
this man died poor
he did not succeed
there was no beverly hills
no millionaire mansion down the street
this man never climbed that corporate ladder
never got lost in the rat race
never missed the birth of his son
never broke a promise to that boy
he took a risk he shouldn’t have
an unnecessary leap of faith
he looked back on his past
the trouble he left in his wake
he remembered that plant
the one he didn’t see
the reason he is who he is
the man who became a tree
take risks because you should
because one day you will die
buried under dirt
while your life has passed you by
life is too short
too precious
to be a good man
to just do your job
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
In the form of transparent, bundled tumbleweed
it allows us to breathe, the continuation
of carbon dioxide creation, the movement
of clouds and mists and birds, certain natural disasters,
being able to skim bays at a full sail
or the next step a plane takes after taxiing.
It includes us in the endless repudiation of itself
that it can't seem to – no matter how it may try –
reverse or cure, bringing earlier
peoples to know it as a supernatural force
(there was simply no other reasonable choice available).
And for some reason
it keeps engaging in pyromania as it aids and abets
whatever impulsive firework-lighting-thrill-seekers
or placid cigarette-butt-litterers did or did not
purposefully do.
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 4:42 AM UTC
in my mind, i counted down
the breaths until i was almost
gasping, reaching out to exhale
just in time to stay alive, and i am
conscious enough to close my eyes
and describe this feeling as
breathless
short words in each pause, and i am
only listening with half of my heart
but the meanings are not lost on me, no
i am aware of the definition of this feeling
short words joined spell
breathless
call me drunk, call me unsteady, call
the emergency line just in time
to lift me off the floor
but in reality, the more i sink down
the less i need saving, so just
take this as a sign that we should
fall together, call me by anything
other than my name, call me
breathless
breathless as i breathe in, breathless
as my lungs are filled between the words
that form my ribs and crack my skull
and bend my spine, and as our fingers intertwine
the oxygen spills forth from skin to skin
and even my hands are having trouble
staying steady, as life rushes in
while the world disappears
and it all falls apart while we fall in time
with the rise of your chest and the downbeat of mine
and the constant press of carbon dioxide
against my cheek begins to lessen, and i am blessed
with keening, sweet silence
and through the clouds my mind is clear
with the knowledge that there's nothing wrong
with being breathless
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
You're the cracks in my skin
the blood that I bleed.
You're the carbon dioxide
that I unleash
to stop you
from suffocating me.
You're the pounding in my skull,
the cartilage damage in my knees
slowly ripping life from me,
with no mercy
despite my pleas.
You're Satan's kiss
-- you're a personal death wish.
You are agony
But you're agony that I miss.
For when a blind man regains sight,
it's nothing short of bittersweet
-- a painless torture technique.
-lf-
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 9:38 PM UTC
Icy cold water runs over my hands and I do not move the handle,
I let it wash away the soap without concern for the temperature.
They say that drowning is painful, you feel the burning in your lungs,
You kick and struggle as you fight to get rid of the water and carbon dioxide in your body,
Or you can let it in, your head will feel like it’s exploding.
Your body will feel heavy like several pounds of rocks weighing you down,
But you won’t struggle, you feel a lot of pain at first,
Then it starts to pass and you’ll feel relaxed.
I think about that as I turn the water off,
I go back to my room to watch another episode of some show I'm not paying attention to
I focus on the screen physically but my brain is swimming.
My thoughts are ripples, and then waves, then they are 100 feet high,
A tsunami of pain tugs me into the deep blue purgatory.
I wonder how many water molecules are in this storm,
How many tiny things made this enormous tidal mass.
I breathe in the salt and the sea,
I breathe in the clouds and the sky,
My feet graze the sand as I sink deeper.
I can imagine the coral cutting my insides as my lungs begin to burn,
I feel the fish swimming into my head as it grows like a balloon.
I open my eyes and it’s beautiful,
Miles of empty nothingness surrounds me,
The sun is hitting the water just enough that I can see all the shades of blue,
All the colors that make it so vast and endless.
Icy cold water surrounds me and I do not move,
I let it fill me up and wash away my pain without concern for anything.
They say that drowning is painful and you can feel everything,
I guess I had been doing it for so long that I forgot how to breathe
But now I do not struggle and I let myself sink, and I cannot feel a thing.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 9:44 PM UTC
Neon is rare on earth,
hard to find.
But I bet it’s harder to find
any second of the day
where your warm,
monotone voice,
reading an old picture book,
doesn’t echo through my ears.
Did you know that
after adding eight thousand volts
of excitement to helium,
it glows?
Yet my own face
lights up by counting down
the slowly melting
seconds,
minutes,
hours
and days
of excitement, leading up to your arrival.
Your own engraved dog tags,
silver and shiny,
metal magnesium,
hang from neck
like a personal reminder
that you’re not too far away.
Arsenic is nicknamed Poison of Kings
because it had been used to numb
and **** royal family members.
Although no poison in the world
can numb the tingling sensation,
that reaches to my toes,
as your camouflage boots
descend from the plane.
At this point
the only thing that separates us
is the carbon dioxide in our breathe
and the oxygen in the thick,
humid, Texas air.
So when I see your face
the tears will rush out
like water out of a faucet,
simply because
there is no scientific equation
to explain how slow
these thirteen months
have passed.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
You start trouble, Ovaries. You usually cause:
“I just got my period,” or
“I haven’t gotten my period,” or
“ I have the worst cramps.”
But you’re complicated. We don’t really think about that.
I’m here to say, Ovaries, your trouble is of importance.
You’re part of our own big bang theory.
Some people think it’s a religious miracle,
Most just figure it’s pure science,
But in a way we most don’t understand
You mixed your matter with its male and made a
Completely unique planet.
Earth’s atmosphere could be all Carbon Dioxide,
And my sister could be blonde with a sweet disposition.
Matter can’t be wasted, just changed, and I don’t think
Your eggs are either. I estimate sixty eight of my oocites, my essence
(those are unfertilized eggs, like the ones sold in a store)
are floating in sewer systems through the US and Limoges France too.
Ovaries, there’s no need to worry: that’s sixty eight out of a million
In each of you! I couldn’t waste you if I tried.
Before the internet or on-demand TV or iPhone apps
You figured out how to sift through the most complex data in the world:
Millions of options of human DNA. How do you pick?
You’re the Netflix of humanity.
You’ve chosen people of all roles for us to watch, to love, to care about.
I waited for your faucet to switch on until I was thirteen, ovaries.
Now I wait, usually with dread, but sometimes with a little hope,
For the drop that’ll turn some water and flour into leavening dough.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC