"disintegration" poems
A duality of elan vital, two people
Spectres of emotion
Intertwined by a fuselage of bruised skin & tendon
Tissues become orbital, gushing towards grafts
Helixes of snot, **** and lymph
Boy & girl
As they embrace the animating principle and eachother, they fuse
A one piece tapestry adorned seamless with no hem, beginning or end
Always was, always is
Patiently turning to liquid as their being unzips
Lying figures of runny makeup and genetic *****
Quintessence, a texture of synaptic potential
Corpus Callosum
An entirety of self, lost in imbued disintegration
Theory of mind, looped & bound
I will water the thought
Roots envisaged in dystopian amygdala
Piercing data packets with a frost-like intensity
Forgetting our obsolescence moments ago
A neuron dipped in nylon
Theta waves and the non-euclidean crux of dissociation
Ghosts in the machine, your macro god
The sympathies of fractional distillation
Digitised/assimilated unto the nanosphere
Cold hands and brass backs galvanised in oscillated tears
Commodified, sold out and bought
Stretching, from purple, white and black
slowly losing its colour, amorphous in shape
brushed across a smudge, ambiguously chromatic
Monetised flesh god
An eternity bathed in starlight
Cutting an incision in the sky to allow entropy
Divided dimensions of energy
Fleeting and intangible
No longer a delirium of seperation
All semantics become light
As a rusted vehicle passes overhead
And all the worlds questions fade out of existence
Flutters of red tape and foregone growth of practice
Sinew flayed, integrated towards information
Our minds shared
In circuits and resistors
Photons and electrons
We radiate
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
Look on me dearly:
your stolen sullied sullen
daughter. I could dig you up
to hold your bones but
want only to wash myself
away, like white foam
from the seashore.
If I burn what is buried,
is it cremation
or disintegration? You would fly
ashes in the wind, like a wish
given
lift, like an altar of lit
incense.
Think of learning of your blood:
yellow skin and rice paddies
and great-great-great-great-granddaddy
grey for the Confederacy.
Do two halves not one whole
soul make? I take
a breath
and leave it
free.
Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 1:28 PM UTC
the world sits on the wing of a dove
being swallowed whole by a fiery goddess
descended from heaven on a chariot of ivy
i am incarcerated by shaking flesh and itching cloth
the road before me is giant and knows no bounds
the graveyard is warm and wet with spirits and dew
and red clouds are born from fire in the dawn
there is an intelligent horse being ridden by a snarling insect
and this man has come to claim our souls
our sunset blood burns boils blisters until a million animals wounded
i'm still alive, transfigure me into a creator
choke up my nostrils with the scent of your ***
invade my lungs with the burn of your god
caress my toungue with the infinite promise
enter my brain from above, and regurgitate your anxiety on me
slimy worms devour a psychadelic tomato laughing
into transendency, an eyeless eel has dissappeared into a pocket
i speak from balconies, from terrible heights, from hastened windowsills
in a million desperate quarrelling cities
this is where i **** up illusion, i give up to despondency
i ring the great iron bell that resounds with corruption, with hatred, with hideous *** and admiration,
i scream and cavort on rooftops alone with a black & blue midnight
covered in electric lights and gunpowder tongues
here comes the disintegration of my mind
disgraced by the eye of the earth and spat into
a realm of salivating light
i am swimming through digested heartbreak and melancholy livers
sickened by madness and homemade bombs and ******
the rainclouds carry a truckload of babies' hearts
and it's raining eyes over the city now
the cry of the mind escapes from waving mouths in impotence
as millions of bacteria invade the brain
may these lines be answered by the bird of the sun
by the worm at my ear
by the sight of my skeleton
by the stench of ***** in the air
by the dead gong shivering through midnight
by the bleeding eye of abandoned dreams
by the prophets in proclamation
by the god of all my sorrows
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 9:55 PM UTC
I've never been good at
Being touched.
Though the fingers
Of endless suitors
Have traced incomparable
Lines of affection,
They all stroke
The same wounds.
New hands feel like
Recycled lullabies,
Humming promises
Of a new melody,
Singing a remedy for
My impassivity.
Whether words fall
Passionate or
Fearful,
Endearment lines my lips
With an expiration
Long enough to convince me,
But short enough to leave me.
Reminding me:
The disintegration of
Indifference
Remains
My prerequisite
For destruction.
So before you
Touch me with
Promises of a new
Orchestration,
I'm already marking the
Days until you leave.
Because my skin
Is tired of
Intruders hidden
Behind momentary
Infatuation.
So keep your hands to yourself.
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 12:24 AM UTC
I used to live in a country
That was based on liberty
And where just anybody
Could achieve prosperity
That with assured equality
And working diligently
One could expect definitely
To succeed economically
If you saved all the money
Left over from your salary
To save to bring your family
A step closer to solvency.
Not an impossible proposition,
It was based on the condition
Of a grand national institution
Which promised that stabilization
By taxing us and corporations
With an equitable correlation
Between folks of humble station
And the larger organizations
Working in happy syncopation.
A welcome feeling of elation
Would descend upon our nation
And keep us from stagnation
Or going into nationwide deflation,
Or just as scary, a huge inflation.
Now I look upon our history
And see decades of misery
Laid upon us by calumny
By those meant to fortify
And build up our security.
The constant forces of calamity
If we accept less than probity
From those who have no honesty
Choosing leaders based on beauty
A national cult of personality
Then permit political chicanery
By people with no dignity
Only a greedy criminality
That pretends to propriety
And a devout base of spirituality
When what we have is actually
A kangaroo court of dishonesty
Without a care for the citizenry.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
Integration that we clamour for
Disintegration we design for
Unity in Diversity: India’s facet
Diversity , disunity are in closet.
No national spirit acts in rescue;
No co-ordination glares unique.
Vitiated Political Ambitions snarl
At the stranded panicky people.
The Himalayan chill frozen minds
Eat , drink in star bars and mines.
Father of the Nation Gandhiji weeps
At Highway junctions in Idol forms.
Harijans weep , Girijans weep, but
None to keep promises highly put.
In Legislature Canteen Primary needs
Pitiably play shadow-dance; no deeds.
Votes and Whiskey stirred black- horses
Rush to mikes in spikes ; roar for votes!.
Illiterate poor and injured minds again
Ink : first- finger for a five year tension !
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
*Soft underbellies of corruption, impropriety and moral decay
Blatantly masquerade as societal bulwarks to aggression and disintegration
Minions fine-tuned to dance to the tune
Of godfather functionaries champion
Progressively retrogressive causes that follow
The course of destruction.
Is there light at the end of the tunnel?
Reason and logic persuade otherwise
It’s thus “safe” to conclude that
A compassion filled individual
Quintessentially embodies a positively radicalized individual
Wielding immense unbridled power
To impact society in ways unfathomable
Whilst in complete understanding of the fact that
“Absolute power corrupts absolutely”
Are you that compassion filled individual??*
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
Twice the fool is the runaway
Who hides his trail, as he hides his ache
All bottle and pills, temporary sleep
Insomniac daze and cheap dinner meals
Static lies on a stationary screen
Radio chatter can’t feed the famine in me
The world is aflame
With no one awake
Sunrise slumber
I fall unconscious to the restless on midnight pavement
Breaking bones or breaking bottles
Selling skin or dealing dust to lost souls
Hearts tucked and folded from the cold
Future oblique
I dare you, predict my dreams
Late riser / never bloomer
Packs a bag, a change of clothes
To deadbeat joints, and dead end posts
Been as many years gone as daily cigarettes smoked
Bloodshot symmetry eyes
I see in every passerby
Like the whole city gone up and left their troubles behind,
You and I
We’re cerebral projections
Locked into motor whirs, recursive disintegration
Status acknowledged, clean cut
Black and white since day one
Mould breaker, you’re told you’re out of line
Gutter graves or veins, stay your place or fall behind
The only constant is the throne
You sit upon or come to view as your body’s own
The red light stare, blue flicker flares
Blare on your skin, like prisms, colour wear
Better to fade to grey than know yourself
For what you truly are, just a shade of catch and tell
Dire straits
No deviation
Full advance
Or desolation
Empty eyes
Golden restraints
I don’t want wealth
I just want change
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 8:51 PM UTC
Sunken eyes, broken thoughts,
air with difficulty enters the lungs.
Dry mouth, lacrimation of no purpose,
the pillow full of nails she is resting upon.
The body, a ship stricken by a wave war.
Slow disintegration,
remains are battling the seven seas of sorrow.
Like a painting uncovered,
black sheets cover the rays of the sun
from the soul.
Resident of a lucid dream,
mumbling to the wind that blows
regrets down to the river
between Hypnos and the Underworld,
to carry a message to the hearts
with locked doors.
A message of no words
but incoherent perceptions,
lost unknown connections
and strangled hopes.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 11:12 PM UTC
my psychiatrist tells me i have holes in me.
she says it as though it is something
i should already know.
and when she says it,
the shift inside me is something i wish i could compare
to the grinding of tectonic plates,
if only i were strong enough to bring about an earthquake.
but since i am a stranger even to aftershocks,
i keep quiet.
my earthquake is stillborn,
expressed instead as a nod,
as a chewing of the lip,
as a silent, compliant “mhm.”
and the urge that nestles itself at the pit of my stomach
is not an urge to disagree;
it is an urge to forget.
because my psychiatrist tells me i have holes in me.
she says it as though it is something i should already know,
and she says it in a way that is not meant to make me feel incomplete,
but it is a way that still does,
and if i can forget this,
even for a moment,
i can forget that i am not okay.
i do not like not being okay;
i do not like having problems,
and my psychiatrist,
she tells me i have holes in me and she says it
as though it is a problem.
and so begins a slow disintegration:
i become but a bearer of problems,
a garden growing only weeds —
something in need of fixing.
i see myself a war-torn landscape,
dry and cracked and lacking life.
i see myself the kind of ground you step on and say,
“remember when things used to grow here?
remember when it used to be green?”
i am still trying to be green,
always trying to be green,
but my psychiatrist tells me
i have holes in me,
and suddenly green becomes a color i will never know how to paint.
outside my psychiatrist’s office,
on the wall of the waiting room,
there is a painting of flowers —
irises and a geranium —
and the leaves, i know, are supposed to be green,
but the paint is old and faded
and they don’t look it.
and for a moment,
i think
that maybe,
whether iris
or geranium
or boy riddled with holes,
maybe it is possible to bloom
even if you are not green.
(a.m.)
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC
Booming Rhetorics (Spoken Word- Freestyle-Dramatics)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
==Booming Rhetorics ==
by
Checkered Darks
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(Copy the link below to your browser)
https://soundcloud.com/user-367453778/boomingrhetorics
Human nature itself is a smash of contractual responsibility. A splash of rights afloat as we sink in our psychological rooted moral panics. All I see is a cascading titanic of ventures our mislaid adventures one after another. The criss cross of chains, we bonded in tax measures, reserve treasures...... It's not my leisure I beg you don't make your pleasure.
I sink in pressure, resolving Karl Mark ideology of conflicted power. Is it our born nature or nurture to live in a world of social polarisation. A pole to pole, a tug of war. Each owning and holding a rope.Is it our task to cage in boxes, fencing notions of inequalities within our society. Is it our right this notion Bourgeoisie and Proletariat.
Help me out as as I wade in the swampy lowland. Treading through and through, head afloat, the submerging walk me to the shores..... Help me find my way through this dark tunnel. Help me see the light, let the sun ray penetrate my blight.
In our dichotomy of democracy we have made it right. A rolling ball of ........
1. Stock them high sell them cheap is the order of the day.
2. Social warehousing of merging demand and supply chain.
3. A disintegration of socialist entrepreneurship.
4. Re-distribution of Export Production Zones in marginalised countries.
5. A surge of capitalism on this patch we call the universe.
6.Conortions of monopoly colluding sustainability.
I pass this ball to you. As the industrial revolution fades and debates of "STEEL" revolves.
My Speech is a mere consideration, our contradiction. The contractual complications that we have grounded and granted ourselves as humanity. My voice is an exchange, my gift, a cloud of thoughts, an arousing hope our haunting costs.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 6:19 AM UTC
The enchantment of wonder, imagination and wander
energy within every organism
molecular structure and chemistry betwixt
creation and destruction
balance and disorder
transformation to disintegration
Fire, Water, Earth and Wind
Blade to Staff to Stars to tongue
Knowledge and interpretation
Innocence to experience
Below and above
In and out
slanted and straight
divine and human
good and evil and everything between
light and darkness
realms of all kinds
Mind
Body
Spirit
connecting and detaching
protecting and attacking
magic and physics
true and false
justice and criminal
infinitesimal to astronomical
destiny is our own yet set......
Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 3:46 PM UTC
For the girl who doesn't know how to say no:
I have been a version of you too many times
I have worn your body on frequent occasions
Always physically neutral, stock-still
Denying purpose into static
Eyes open
And breathing
I know exactly how it is
To not know how to refuse
Or resist when rough palms press on your skin
I know how it is
To feel there is no other option
But to lie still while eager hands pull at your body
Uninvited lips stepping into your mouth
How quickly a tongue becomes a weapon
I know it all too well
It is iron-clenched fists
It is unforgiving friction
And disintegration becomes second nature
For a girl whose limbs
Are already paper-made
Stares burned into too many white walls
A woman watching her own shadow
And the word no never escapes the vocal chords
Because there is never a question to answer to
It is assumed
That our shared pulse is enough yes
And consent is an easy thing to ignore
When it is hardly ever asked for
Men are taught to halt
Only if it is preceded by screeching
I wonder how many silent cries
Are covered by darkness and heavy breathing
This is for the girl
Who doesn't know how to say no
For the girl who chokes on her words before they can leave her lips
For the girl who freezes in uncomfortable situations
For the girl who has played mime too many times
For the girl who has been made surface to sandpaper hands
For the girl who is always vocal
But in a single instant became victim to chokehold silence
This is for you
I have been a version of you too many times
I have worn the fingerprints on your phosphorescent skin
I have pulled off your clothing after a night of detachment
I see you in every mirror I look into
Every stained glass reflection
I hear you every time he doesn't ask
It is so easy
To forget you have a voice
But I know with certainty that you do
I know
That you understand the stillness
The quiet
The hush
The absence of language
Words held hostage
You are the only one
Who bares the heaviness of night kneeling on your chest
The added weight from all those
Who have touched you without permission
I want you to know
I would carry it for you
If I could
I want you to know
It is not your fault
That your calmness
Is often mistaken for compliance
It is not your fault
That you so quickly fall paralyzed
Playing statue may seem
Like the easy way out
But you were never meant
To stand still
We are built to listen through our bones
Your voice is a million vibrations
Received through the skin
You were made
To howl our names into the ground
Until the forest shakes its trees to their death
And no one is around
To hear it.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
Humans think they can move nature aside,
The earth laughs, it mostly will hide,
From people, pollution, and the mess we make,
Every now and then, nature's wrath we must take.
The wrath I speak of, comes in many forms,
A powerful hurricane, run fast from the storms.
A foot of water, the storm may send,
Fences and houses, you may need to mend.
Sandy's her name, just visited New York,
The day after, everyone's eating salted pork.
She flooded the streets, and turned out the light,
Happy she's gone, we bow to her might.
Speaking of storms, here's one that instills,
Fear of death, down your spine feel the chills.
Look here it comes, from over the hills,
A tornado, is swirling, better make out your wills.
Destroys anything placed in its path,
Nature is laughing, now feel her wrath!
Many other disasters are waiting for men,
Happening all of the time, we know not when.
Look at its flash, a brilliant light,
A billion tons of earth, taking flight.
Heat that will turn, your body to dust,
Before you die, to see one a must.
Can you guess of the forces, to which I speak?
An A bomb? Next to this, an A bomb is weak!
A volcanic eruption, its power has might,
The sound of explosion, causes many a fright.
Boiling lava runs down the side,
Don't get in its way, nowhere to hide.
St. Helens erupted, many years ago,
Thought she was dormant, then decided to blow,
The billions of tons of volcanic ash,
Covered 2 states, car washes made cash.
Missing people are listed, in Washington State,
No bodies to find, disintegration was their fate.
To close to Mt. Helens, during her blast,
All families have now, is the memories of the past.
These are just but a few, of nature's way,
To show all you people, who's the master today,
And tomorrow as well, never shares the spot light,
Nature's in charge, her power burns bright.
When the awesome power of the planet is displayed.
Hope today she is quiet, and catastrophe delayed.
Visit poemsbypaul.com
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 6:16 PM UTC
The departure gives meaning to the absence.
Because absence alone means
disintegration.
And holding on to absence
Putrefies the heart.
Because you are giving pieces of yourself
To a black hole.
So when they left,
You were gifted with a decision:
To move to the left, where nothing feels right
Or to dream of the right, where they never left
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 7:35 PM UTC
people never care
but always say they do
everyone thinks about themselves
their priorities racked up on shelves
I'm on the ground
sounds echoing around my lifeless figure
like poor raggedy ann
i cannot stand
i'm motionless and lie there
robotic expression, stitched smile that's fixed
but my emotions are mixed
their erosion eluding to my mind's disintegration
the segregation between mind and body
so pronounced.
thoughts constantly bounce about
while i lay helpless without direction
intermittent reflection
due to others deception
i wish i could perform inception
plant ideas in their heads
setting the seed, of not greed but the idea of needing ME;
it sets me free.
raggedy ann's legs seem to gain strength
she stands on command
and finally sees the only thing she needs
is the courage in herself to keep her up right
the insecurities and disappointments shut tight inside raggedy anndora's box
not to be opened
she stands tall even on the floor
takes a step ready to unfurl
what's yet to be discovered and take on the world.
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 12:54 AM UTC
you are
fire
drawing me
almost mechanically but almost
because i am bound by my own volition
almost rationally
and as i inch closer
your energy
radiates:
radiance i cry
oh my
your warmth
holds me
permeating my skin
seeping into these
iron arteries and
cold, cold guts
(you unravel my knots)
my eyes reflect you
because you are all i see:
all i want to see
i'm a submissive prisoner to your beauty
captivated willingly
i am yours
and even if never
ever
will you be mine
**** it
**** it all
yours i will still be
and no
this is pure delight to me,
i won't consider it a tragedy
your embers are worthy of stars
your hot fumes to me an aroma
and if the price of becoming close
and closer
to you is the
disintegration of my flesh
so be it
give me death
because
i only feel alive
when i am with you
so burn me please
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
I collect the stars
and drop them into mason jars
that once were home to
my honeysuckle jam
Suns Suns Suns
One by One
I use their lantern's glow
to light up my universe
Ahhh . . . , the universe is black
without it's light
And I pause in my gathering
to comtemplate
The sky is blue
A sea of blue
as far as I can see
A sea of blue without mermaids
Oh , that feeling
as I turn into blue
A lingering
A disintegration
A chorus of crickets
are singing ,
"Here Comes the Sun King"
he is one and done
Yeah !
I need a jar
to start collecting
all the lightning bolts
Didn't anybody tell you
that touching a bolt of lightning
was so much hotter
than kissing the sun
pause for reflection . . . . .
I opened all my jars of restraint
and freed the Suns
They fled smiling
glowing with joy
I contemplated
smashing all my jars
but I made scupernong
wine instead .
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 8:44 AM UTC
With starshine beaming from beaded eyes,
I could only nod and grin,
while aspiration and sworn sorrow disintegration
rained upon me.
Anna killed future Septembers with a promising
ring in newly righteous hand.
In rabbit trails she talked --
high fashion and porcelain skin,
but like all rabbit trails,
most of the stories ended with a dead rabbit.
Anna still entertained my company
despite the gleam of my once longing glance
burning out light years ago.
Healthy, we.
Settling, sea.
Sailing, no.
Drifting, yes.
Purely bruised.
Sighing in dream.
I'd follow Anna into the rabbit hole.
I'd feast on
her mouth wet with honey.
I'd sleep in the milk
of her skin.
I'd happily allow
destruction in her care
and become
freshly hewn in
the river's bend,
the wrinkles and
the calluses of
her weary hands.
In blood I sat,
defeated rabbit.
No prize to gloat,
only picket crypt
to curl.
Jul 23, 2011
Jul 23, 2011 at 10:05 PM UTC
You met me like a question with no **** explanation.
We embraced eachother like
Icy water and smoky flames,
Now I see you in every constellations.
In different timeline, in different planes.
They say I am over imaginative but **** you are a beautiful disintegration.
Mar 24, 2022
Mar 24, 2022 at 12:33 PM UTC
Not at all confident in where I stand
Not at all full of any fully formed ideas on the matter at hand
I am unsure
That I am
Who I think I am
That I am
What my hands create by their actions
If I am forming my own dissatisfaction
I
Get lost
In the
Mazelike craters and crannies of my wandering and cynical mind
As it fluctuates to attempt to avoid the pattern of divine
Revelation that just might bring my doubt, wandering, and day to a point of
Disintegration, I suppose this is a twisted and muddled form of self alienation
Maybe. . . Or am I mistaken?
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 10:38 PM UTC
You said you hate my suffering
And you understood
And you'd take care of me
These words are not mine
I do not write
What is worthwhile
I just can't hear
Anything but pain
Any longer
You all speak some other language
Or maybe I'm just regressing
And soon I will be unborn
Soon I will return
To the grave that once was
Will always call
To return to me
The oblivion of home
And avoid the disintegration of dreams
And I will see
What is clear
To the world surrounding me
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 4:09 AM UTC
So it is
if you cannot wait to warm my gaze
she said
Strangers take in beauty
let it lie
Disintegration gets washed into the sea
Thoughts then again...........
Disperse
before your eyes
All of which
is recalled in morning by elements
Dropped
distinctly there at your feet
in pure light
Within all the ways you look at me
Lines are drawn..........
Striking
marks in my life
Jul 15, 2011
Jul 15, 2011 at 6:53 PM UTC
Sinking smiles and golden brown spots
Silver lining on every edge, drifting deeper into the horizon.
Blue drops fall silently down,
Sinking into the light brown surface.
Evaporating.
Evaporating back into the black empty holes.
Up from a disintegration, its meaning less to go back.
To hard to start over.
Sorrows show flashes spread across darkness.
A small opening.
Just enough.
Closing up.
Black inside and out.
Pitch black.
Breaking into song until its too loud.
quicker, quicker.
Wishing it would stop.
Noises stop for just a moment.
Silence.
Waiting for it break.
Peacefulness gets swallowed.
Resting in sobs of tranquility.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 5:08 PM UTC
The end of the disintegration
not just missing the companionship
but the swelling of seas and the thought
of ships colliding.
I don't miss you nearly as much
...as I miss your touch.
I miss your inner thighs,
your loud moans
and cries -
of pleasure.
As I stroked you
up and down,
and swirled my tongue
kissing you in hidden places.
My legs up high,
your heart,
pulsing.
your face
between my legs,
me convulsing.
As the slow flicker
of your tongue across
the top of me,
makes me swell
like the rageous of seas.
I swear I won't
hold it against you,
just you against me,
and when the fun is over -
I won't resist to let you free.
Just let me know in this,
this feeling of reminisce...
If I'm alone in it.
That you miss the clashing of
our bodies and the way
our bodies meld.
and I'm not the only one in Texas
who wouldn't mind being held.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 1:44 AM UTC