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David Bojay Jan 2019
Talking to my GoPro as if it were you
Current truths
Diminish the whirling blues
inside my head where you don’t have a clue

out the zoo with my emotions
In the beginning eased it with some sleep
Because I couldn’t see the reasons for my grief
Out the shadows and the light is brief
What to think?
What to know?

The tension is rigorous
Kept inside a pin
Let it sit and sizzle until it’s smoke

Open the vents, and let it go

To seize a chance for peace
Dismantle the layers of myself
Find you in a strip
A memory I’ll always love
My love just don’t lose grip

But to love is to see you free
A peak I couldn’t see
Relief indeed
Let it bleed
Let it bleed

Let it bleed

Consume the dooms
Swallow the distrust
The other side of the moon

The ending will come soon

Sitting in my room

About to make some chicken....
Jowlough Oct 2010
Crack it, then Scrutinize
Dissect when it’s analyzed
Decrypt, don’t thoroughly dismantle,
Stay calmed, don’t be rattled.

Observe, all the occurences,
list down, for your reference.
bolt in, shoot the solution,
release the gaunlet of execution!

if there's a mistake,
move on, let it be.
just track your fate,
Don't rely on ctrl+Z.

holes are expected,
Decision is your asset,
well if you can't go on then,
press reset. just try again
(c) oct 4 2010 jcjuatco -The Optimistic method
David Cordell Jan 2016
destruction topples creation
as close bonds split,
alliances rekindle desperations,
individual greeds dismantle agreements,
darkness defeats lightness,
boundless shackles frees death, ending life
life, ending death, frees shackles, boundless
lightness defeats darkness,
agreements dismantle greeds, individual
desperations rekindle alliances,
split bonds close as
creation topples destruction.
This is a palindrome poem. Read the same forwards and backwards; meeting in the middle, the same words are used but differ in meaning.
Sara Jun 2014
smoke the stars
put them into a laurel leaf
as you would tuck your precious child into bed
wrap them up tightly and protect them from the hostile darkness surrounding us

pluck an aeroplane from the sky
dismantle it's metal exterior to leave only the body
use it as a filter, keeping the stars safe
as you hold them between your delicate fingers

set your golden cigar on fire
using erupting volcanoes to light it
and as you breathe in the galaxies and the history of the world
you breath out the clouds, overwhelmed by relief

gently tapping the cold areoplane body
whilst you watch the ashes fall as shooting stars
which cut through the darkness
and scatter onto the Earth like glitter

and as you smoke the stars
your lungs are lined with golden dust
dust of the kings and emperors
dust of the stars
product of 15 minutes in a library
Carmelo Antone Jan 2013
I’ve been looking for the dark side of the son,
I’ve been trying to poke holes in what props you up,
I’ve been desperate to bring your generational growth,
To a stunted halt,

Founding Fathers to doubt,
Slave owners who colonized under god,
A place ripe for ideological blows,
And the collapse of what we believed before,
We had a chance to see,
How much isn’t known,

I’ve been creeping in your crib,
Under the bed with the boogie man,
The sadness you feel throughout your adulthood,
And the death you see after your midlife awakening,
Please fear me,

Growing amongst others that act like humans,
Grouped amongst an idealistic species,
Where they’ve preached individualistic babies,
When your genesis,
Exemplifies our resemblance,

Beacon of truth,
I will end you,
How dare you dismantle me,
Despite my invisibility,

We will end your corruptive ways,
The enemy in the corner,
An American insurgency,
The lack of the people’s ability,
To fight for the freedoms we perceive!

Erroneous burn in hell,
I’ll make sure I continue to swell,
Instead of letting you become the reason I fell,

Revelations will become your reality if you think I’ll be exiting,
You insignificant ****, how dare you think I will spatter like mud,
I didn’t come from violent thrusts, and a mother infected by another’s muck,

I rose because of your intolerance,
I am the after birth of a racist,
Founding Father’s with economics,
Not bothered by the ******* of another human,

Not to deny the atrocities of my ancestors time,
Yet we are the turning of the tide,
We are the generation that will correct the rhyme,
The ones that will begin the age of man’s prime,

We are the flow of a barbarian bloodline,
We are the evolutionary wonder that continues to surprise,

Learning to compromise is not a means to survive,
You fool humanity is a fire burning out,
And I am the evidence of Mother’s doubt in man,

A germ was your genesis
And I am your omega,
You insignificant residue,

I will end you,
We will defy you,
I will smother your existences,
We will overcome your dominance,

Justifying my social anxieties,
We need to fixate this desire,
To set foot on the land for the free,
To cultivate minds of humanity,
james nordlund Jun 2020
All saw united **** of assassin's Gov't's premeditated taking
a knee for 9 minutes on George Floyd's neck, the **** cop
calmly looking into the camera, an assassination for many
reasons, who's seeing past the 'show', following the $?

Ebony, ivory supremacies repeating their victory of 2016's
(Only) Black Lives Matters participation in the Int'l criminal
conspiracy's installing **** into the Black House, etc.,
determining their dividing the nation, in perfect harmony.

Like the bi-headed, Utin and Utin's ****, global axi of
supposed power has re-established, East, West, you're
either totalitarian or not-see, and if not you're murdered
by both, now either Black or white supremacist, or die.

For 15 years ebony has dictated Caucasians call themselves
"white", "be proud of being white", make believe they have
"white privilege", to the benefit of division, ivory, when
there's no "whites", and almost no non-repubs thought it.

That while the reality is their class war against the lower-
middle-class to poor, the boot on our neck, by the police/
military/intelligence complexes, is all 23 flavors of the
baskin + robbins of supremacies, usa, the global oligarchy.

Criminal insanity, that illegally installed the Int'l crime
family **** into the Blackhouse: repubs, conservatives, global
hackers, wicked leaks, J. Assange, usa intelligence/military/
police/prison industrial complexes, J. Comey, R. Barr, C. + K.

West, J. Stein, 13 % of Bernie or Bust 'Bots voting **** and
another % that stopped the youth vote from getting behind a
"not perfect" Hillary, "boat loads" of organized crime $ from
Russia, Ukraine, white supremacy, sinos, linos, ginos, ainos,

dinos, Moore for hawking 'trumpland' entitled book for months
before the election while projecting **** "would win", a % of
the elite of the black supremacy, etc., just allowed the not-
sees, totalitarians to destroy, ****** at an increased clip,

now add premeditated pandemic, ebony/ivory dictated duality,
racial environmental justice "only my environment matters"
movement and voila, the end of the climate crisis movement,
total extermination of humanity to it's extinction, in a can.

It's not a coinky-**** that the "knee" was taken upon the
news that "Biden was considering not choosing a woman of the
right color, Black".  For Ebony figures "if they're not get-
ting a Black president now, through a Black VP pick, they

might as well just put up with 4 more years of ****.  Biden,
Sanders, Warren, etc., will have aged out, Booker, Harris,
Patrick, etc., will be sitting pretty for the 'once you go
Black you never go back' prez job.", same as it ever was.  

Even though the 'show' was able to pull a Mattis out of their
hat, supposedly legitimizing not just the military, but the
republican conspiracy, during this 15th anniv. of the 'use'
of Katrina to "clean out the bowl", and "let the river take

what's the river's", exterminate the lower-middle-class to
poor, gentrify, militarize NOLA by purposely not preventing
the failing of the levees by 2005, by Reagan "we got 300
buses but no drivers" Nagin, Gov. Blanco, etc., to the tune

of mass-murdering going on 3000 predominantly lower-middle-
class to poor, mostly people of color, like king george and
his ****, cheney didn't the terrorist attacks of 9-11-01 and
serial murderers masquerading as cops don't daily terrorist

attacks, their one-sided and continual coverage of the
"current controversy", as ebony and the 'Blackish' lead
actor called the premeditated murderer of some women, ******,
kidnapper of 100's more, B. Cosby, was suffering from, is

clear, keeping the faux opening news out.  No ebony racist
comments, like the Houston Police Chief who repeatedly stated
throughout the day that "the looters were white" only, were
even remarked on.  The lock, ebony and ivory, the fix is in,

if it ain't fixed don't break it.  All the smoke and mirrors,
song and dance, show, weapons of mass distraction, to take
the news cycles off the too early "opening of the country",
pandemic, by ebony for ivory, in the world can't change the

facts, even though it's death toll is only 111,000 by their
accounts, actually 122,000, and there's going on 2 million
infected, there will be an extra 100,000 murdered by ****'s
policies and lack thereof in handling his virus circus.

That there's more prisoners, defacto-slave laborers now than
the number of slaves at the height of the slave trade, here,
not spoken about because ebony, ivory are both the corporate
structure, global oligarchy that it enriches, won't change.

See how the assassinations of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor,
George Floyd, have paid ivory by ebony, like they did in 2016
to stop there being a minimum of 16 years straight of 'white'
prezs, Hillary and Tom.  Their deaths and the aftermath being

used now to cover up the premeditated ****** of 10,000's of
Blacks by ****, because ebony + ivory, working together in
perfect harmony to fill every news cycle now and for months,
want 'the economy open', to make them more $ now, instead

of saving all those Black lives who don't actually matter to
them at all, 'cause it's all about the benjamins, instead.  
Biden should pick a progressive woman to cement Bernie
voters, if not, then a liberal one of color, no particular hue.  

'De-funding police dept.s', etc., should wait until after the
election, unless ebony's insisting **** wins to get a Black
prez in 2024, instead.  The determined Winter of our death,
extermination to come, will surpass their class warfare's

liquidation of ases and assets of the masses en masse's
increased rate of blitzkreiging Gaia's kids to their
extinction.  Now it seems too late, their 'use' of pandemic
to subjugate the world to survival instead of alival,

exigency instead of humanity, has closed eyes, minds, pulled
the rug out....  But, "...we(e),..." can't be over-confident,
apathetic, cynical, complacent, nihilistic, pessimistic,
burned-out, for supposed anarchy is the global bi-polar axi

of supposed power's mutual modus operendi, to determine
la machine's chaos, and the division it causes, increases
vacuum-up economics to the global oligarchy, replicating the
'show' that must goes on, including colonialism, hegemony,

patriarchy, imperialism, supremacy, conspiracy, etc..  If you
didn't vote Hillary you voted Utin and his **** be installed
into the Black House.  There's public records of who did and
didn't do what, please stop them from doing it again, or die.

Protect, occupy, GOTV, "you can't dismantle the man's house
with the man's tools", Lordes, notseeism and totalitarianism.  
"The root of all oppression lies in (supposed) science",
Gandhi.  If you're not taking bullets you're making them.  
Viva la vida, solidaridad, la evolucion   :)   reality
The normal they want to return to, northern malaise, euro-centrism and projections of academia, a blood disease, have always flown in the face of necessity, progress and the need for humanity to even be allowed to exist.  Yet, now with coronaing of everyone going on, that desire for normalcy and return of norms takes on new hues; some very human and even desirable.  That while the purposeful too early opening of the country has already determined that being pandemiced is the new normal for at minimum a year (possibly permanently); until we get a vaccine or more life-saving treatment possibilities.  This has all opened many eyes to the disparaging realities of pre-pandemic America, where the life expectancy of people of color, and more so, the lower-middle-class to poor, were predominantly still only being addressed by their getting the establishment’s projected healthcare for them, eat st and die.  That goes for sociological maladies as well, for e.g., the lower-middle-class to poor suffering oppression from serial murderers masquerading as cops; police brutality tantamount to a incurable birth defect of all poor.  The injustice system and their dictating everybody accused of anything must plead guilty to a lesser charge or face the draconian rage of la machine’s dictating they get little lousy representation in fixed trials that most of the time determine ******* up or false convictions and incarcerations unequal to the reality of the circumstances that took place.  I wish I weren’t diffabled to the point where I can’t be at the front of these demonstrations for real change taking place now; as I had been for decades in the past- yet, still am doing all I can.  Thanx to you and All for doing all you do; have a great day    :)    reality
Sean Flaherty Nov 2015
Put my name on the deed to a Rolls Royce. See a live elephant, before they all go extinct. Spend a year in New Orleans, with no one else's help. Win an Oscar. Own a Super Bowl Ring. 

Train my husky to walk my Boston terrier. Finally quit cigarettes. Never quit spliffs. Go hiking, every day. Drink less coffee. Get a better job. Get an even better job. Take less bathroom breaks. 

Fall for someone that helps me up. Have a talk with Fiona Apple. Write the screenplay we'd always refused. Ask relevant questions. Give accurate answers. Win a Peabody. Own a football stadium. 

Write the news my now doesn't know yet. Drink bourbon in Kentucky. Learn how to program. Make the best-sellers list. Fill dad with pride. Do laundry this week. 

Go see a chiropractor. Stay off the junk, would ya? Smell less-like I just smoked. Pay back your lenders. Keep close, your real friends. Let someone publish my work. Win a Pulitzer. 

Be punctual. Write something you'll want to read. Clean my room. Lower the volume of my voice (but not really). Earn my P.h.D. Adequately meld the personal and the real, the universally and the delusionally relevant. 

Make them pay me to do what I love. Spend it all on you. Get a bigger ferret cage. Live a greener lifestyle. Trash fewer K-Cups.  Let people be themselves, without worrying if they're sneaking around. Hug Tom Brady. Thank him. Explain what he means. 

Reconcile with the town of Webster. Pay the city of Brookline for those parking fines. Spend time in all 351. Read Infinite Jest, and all of Ulysses. Identify when a work is "Joycean." Interpret it, as such. 

Act. Tell a good joke. Become a falconer. Hug a chimpanzee. Dismantle a hate group. Put them all in their places. Cry easily. Stay happy. 

Revisit Paris. Discover Ireland. Stay awake. Talk to another wolf. Record the perfect song. Compile the perfect playlist. Want to go to work. Enjoy New York City. Maybe live there. 

Inspire society to care about poetry.  Re-certify my black belt. Center my self. Listen to it. Take photos that stop you. Draw pictures worth buying. Keep the gun in your waistband, in the small of your back, and never, ever, pull that **** out. Mean something, when you flash metal. 

Learn photoshop. Laugh at the all-encompassing parody. Love first. Haunt your dreams with a good story. Make you truly regret it. See the ****-good in everyone. Know the past, own the present, visualize the future. Catch a fist, dodge bullets.
List of goals
I am someone who can dismantle you as easily as I promised you the world and managed to mean both with all of their heart.

Someone so prone to accidents.
Charming you with all of the little mistakes I make in preparation to surprise you when the big ones break you.

"I promise" he said -
"I promise to never leave you" -
The second it gets too serious - he will grow distant.

"I promise" I said -
"I promise to never leave you" -
Then, I will explode about something you said
three weeks ago over burnt toast.

You open your arms,
and just when you expect me to run to you -  I run the other way.
Damien Ko May 2017
I am an idiot when I see you
Oh how I drivel and babble

My thoughts scatter I'm not alright
I plan some words and plan awry
Train of thought spiral into daydream
Making sure I say what I mean
to say. Because my word I chose
I'm one bizarre
muse

I am an idiot when I hear you
Sonorous and soft sense
Blast I've become too tense
Dismantle me with words
Ones that yearn to be
heard

I am an idiot when I touch you
See how I tremble

Hands touch too tender
Hands touch too excessive
I feel I may be oppressive
I dance fingers with wonder

I am an idiot when I think you
One giant fantastic

Simple things odd things
Honestly anything
It comes to mind
And I turn to find
That I am much too silly

An idiot is what you do to me.
I tried something different. I am a fan of how the structure turned out I suppose
Thomas EG May 2015
I am inferior... Semilunar, even. It's on nights like these that I can taste the stars. They shine almost as brightly as your eyes.

Your eyes continue to amuse me, to consume me... I suffocate, deprived of key elements of freedom.

A conscience says a lot about a person. Your conscience is as pure as gold. Why don't you bite down on me? See if I am authentic. I promise you that I am worthy. We are worthy.

The sky's teasing crescent is enough to push you to let go. You are so in love with the idea of a world beyond Earth. I can see a whole solar system in your eyes' smile.

You admit that this is a new kind of journey for you. It's a journey all the way through my mind. I'm aware that things are still a bit behind.

I guess now we are looking for more than just a shallow dip. We want deep water. We want the opportunity to drown.

You know, the only way to truly satisfy me would be to reveal your methods of survival... My favourite scent rolls off the tight knot that is your tongue. Cherries.

You dismantle my heart and then build it back up, by my side. You say that you love me and begin to cry. It is beautiful. The misery even surprises you. I see no teardrops.

Amongst others, we have to stay in touch with who we are... For there is no more than one person displayed in my shadow.

Because my body belongs to me. It is mine and mine only. It is a home. I invite you to come and sit by the fireplace... My heart is a fire... Your eyes are its flames.
Another long poem!!!!
Sky May 2016
Pull the wires out from under my skin
I think I’m starting to rust again
My movements are stiff, my thoughts shedding red
I think I’m starting to rust again
Dunk me in Arctic waters,
Watch me d i s s o l v e
Pull the wires out from under my skin
I think I’d like to be a ghost girl again
I can live without hot blood
Seeking the warmth of my only love
Pull the wires out from under my skin
I might end up almost dead again.
O lady o ,
When I first saw you ,
you’re beauty was it not plucked like a carnation Gods gardens of delight ?
Or had the snake who saw you stand there ,
so to draw blood from my very sight ?
For I have ridden in dark forests by day ,
past pine ,
and firn
for even they could never draw out the love in you’re eyes ,
or the tender way you’re White carnations flew on by .

The sunset with its colours as vast as you’re breast ,
I have awaited every hour of every day ,
and there you are ,
You’re turrets tall and fair  youre  battlements  boast  of ore and steel ,
You’re cannons lit it’s flintlock poised ,

You’re hairs as black as the Lotus flower that gives its scent unto
the night ,
and grows all around you’re turrets so rare .


I will blow a kiss to you this evening ,
for the wind may howl ,
let its spirits deceive ,
this night you’re cannons I shall disarm ,
You’re turrets dismantle ,
you’re battlements besiege.
As for you’re carnations ,
shall I hold tight to my chest ?



For this night our bodies will entwine ,
as the firn and the pine ,
the bark and the yoke ,
to chase the sun ,
past forest glades,
gallop ,
as you hold my thighs ,
together we shall ride ,
Side by side .



This night we shall call our own lost in the pine forest ,
firn and flower .
For are they not dainty ones I shall pick for you this hour .

Then as the last rays of light called it a night ,
and the vast reds in all their array ,
could not stop my tears ,
one white carnation on the ground ,
without a note ,
quite profound ,
an empty space where you once stood ,
lies now a block of wood .

And I still mount thus every night ,
Galloping hopeless in faintest light ,
as faster than any knight ,
to gaze to where you once stood ,
for with thy white carnations must lie
my forever ,
beating ....
heart .
.
Jowlough Mar 2016
A man's ego is a thick wall
Covering his vulnerable soul,
Protects him from shivering
From the outside cold.

It is his coach, and his captain
As well as his life's  good coach,
Protecting the his exteriors
From his fragility he never boasts.

As soft as the clouds wandering
Through the dust of the city life,
Same as the careful veins
Embedded in a womans' soft heart.

Snugged in his vicious tongue
With every word in his gauntlet
Warming his soul away
From any dark and cold blankets.

Like diamonds you try to dismantle
And see him break at once,
As he snaps to put the pieces back
But the cracks can't be undone.
Paul Butters Aug 2016
Bruised and battered egos:
Retaliations –
Flaming tornadoes spiral up to stormy skies.
Mixed metaphors of caviar and custard
Maelstrom mightily around the mountains of Hell.

Trolling is appalling
And flaming burns.

Let go of that ego
Is my advice.

Be humble from the start.
No-one is great enough
To be beyond reproach
Or criticism.

Who cares how good or otherwise I am?
Who cares what anyone says
About my work?

I am what I am,
End of story.
To Describe what I am is fine:
See those metres, verses, rhymes
And metaphors.
Dismantle me if you wish,
But (please) put me back together.

No-one should stand in judgement,
Except maybe God,
With His bright wide wings.

So stop the abuse,
And sourceless insults.
Cease the condemnation,
Or stand to be IGNORED.

Paul Butters
Peace to the World of Poetry......
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
well... i know how you love to be made expectant with psychological premature ******* of ideas, other than banking, banana tweaking ****** the bendy part? i was asking the ****... is that Croatian **** in Korean? elevator blues, diarrhoea... welcome a suburb of Saul and we'll have Bangkok for jokes... did she just squint her eyes at me? hard to tell... squinting in Asia is like killing Jews in German occupied Poland, December in Krakow, is that snow or Auschwitz ash? see how poor the joke is, even with English black humour? Monty Python seems more like Benny Hill right now - i too love kids, preferred their limbs on toothpicks with Kentucky glace dip sauce... but you said: cheap Romanian, so i said: alright ******, you go back to the construction site, we'll send the Irish concrete layers home, we'll send the polish plumbers and the roofers home, we'll send the german installers of glass home...  how many office worker in this country would like to work in the outdoors? **** me, given facebook, instagram and twitter, gucci and the new **** of the fashion industry, revisionist capitalism and solo brands... um... about...  none;
they won't exit Europe, they're not as evolved as the Swiss or the Norwegians, sure they have the 0, 0 coordinates of Darwin, a starting point, but that doesn't mean they're Swiss or Norwegian -
well sorry, but that's how it stands, i'll be happy to send
the Romanians and the Bulgarians and the Poles home... can we dismantle the Shard while we're at it? it's not supposed
to be here... i don't blame the Russians feeding a father-role for
Putin, the anonymity of western democracy just gets to me,
i get ****** over by anonymous poker players, gamers, prior to computers we had a different sort of gamers, call them retards,
call them nerds, they're one and the same; they think they read
novels having recited maxims of the plot to perfect Italian choir of
an operatic - it really doesn't matter, i'll just bunch-up together
a few ******* to build me a castle like in the old days,
and it'll just be a sweet sixteen William IV in the Encyclopaedic enclosure of former economic dynamics of who boxed,
who rapped, who played basketball, who sprinted against Adolf,
while the natives lost the plot in zoological enclosures
and the hybrids invented souls to counter such
enclosing.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
i've become as lazy as composers
when writing titles,
example of tautology is as lazy
as beethoven's ninth symphony...
yeah, grand... but what a dull title!*

so i was reading this article
about bim adewunmi
about the singer laura mvula...
and you know how it goes...
leftist liberals tend to write
tautological spaghetti,
likened to bim's example:
'short-haired, dark-skinned
black girl', bim, we get it...
could have said rancid cinnamon
for all i care...
tautology is a logic of adding
more salt than the salt required
so it doesn't taste too salty when it
does... i could also proof-read
other journalists...
restaurant critics are the best laughs,
esp. when reshuffled like
a ****** cabinet of the labour party
to the opinion columns...
then it's not called opinions section
but table talk... a bit like saying:
do i woo the sea back into this oyster
before i gulp-down-the-hatch-it?
well what do you expect,
free democracy and subsequently
free journalism has a judas kiss /
brutus stab at everything,
why not laugh at it as a useless
get up in the morning read a newspaper
be pulverised by stories from kingdoms
far far away and opinions of people
who'd send ******* dubbed
soldiers off to the slaughter fields of Flanders
so they can keep erectile egos ready
for a salary readied...
journalists always divert the heat & fire
to the politicians... while
journalists get away with satirising themselves,
and i dare say, they are the clumsiest
satirists of themselves,
the most wonky ready to dismantle itself
noumenons in existence.
- journalist: huh?
- the public - (elvis') aha uh um (frolicking
without the stiff upper lip).
marïama Jul 2018
I vainly sought in him a cure to the same pain he caused.
we would raise our arguments like sitting ducks just to to knock them down with reasons of logic or luck of love
Some things cannot be undone, people say we are meant for each other, but is it truly so
Maybe just a comfortable phase but will anything grow?
He whispered that there was only me, I believed all that he breathed in my ear, he pulled me in close, closer than anyone before..
I think I hate him now, a bit more every day but I've not given up yet- I want him to stay.
I wonder.. how do you fight jealously
How do you make it stop it’s constant hunger inside you.
Skin so soft that it doesn't seem real, in so deep I can’t keep it concealed
but
The doubt is consuming, the wall inside me was well-built and unyielding, my heart left too crippled from past abusers to possibly endure anymore pain
So if this love fails it will destroy everything in its wake.
I become enraged from time to time when the little green bug called jealously feeds away inside of me
Love has taken control, the knowledge that i let “love” dismantle the wall,
that i spent years building and reinforcing
brick by ******* brick, piece by ******* piece
i let him gradually demolish it and now i am powerless and susceptible and now he has me by the heartstrings and he holds me in his greedy palms.
I even pray to God, I tell him that i would do anything
anything just to take back control.
An Uncommon Poet Sep 2014
The rounded room was dark
Accompanied by a man alone and scared
He searched for an exit
But the room would allow it
He turned every angle
Attempting to dismantle
He lost his focus
As sweat rivered down his bearded cheeks
Cracks and creaks trembled in the room
The high notes of a grand pianos keys
In the shadows of his own darkness
He searched for ways to avoid its realism
But failed to disregard it
Until a figure walked from the shaded confinement
A demon stood before him
Illuminated by the flickering infra-red light
She stood wearing her naked curves
Palms open encouraging his temptation
She was relentless
As he stood restless
Matthew Rousseau Feb 2016
we're bombarded by the American Dream
but what we fail to realize
is that to dream, you have to be asleep
but remember, your soul is your own to keep

False consciousness runs rampant through the world
Ninety percent of American media owned by the same
five companies makes TV and the news seem so mundane
but when I think, I realize it's all of us to blame

the only power the system has is what we give
we need to let go of hate, and let live
when in Rome you step outside your comfort zone,
and when you expand your horizons,
the whole world can make you feel alone,

what I've come to realize is there is so much more than this
when we die all of our fear gives way to bliss
and on that spiritual transformation we can let go of what we miss
In each of our crowns lies the infinite
and we know that it doesn't matter, all the petty ****

According to Marx, economy is the root of society
and in capitalism, our thirst for money is ironic and funny
We seek to provide for ourselves and those we love
but when we have to much, the hand doesn't fit the glove

In every cellphone, laptop, and gaming device
lies a mineral mined behind our blind eyes
tantalum is mined in the Congo, and in 2000
people were forced from their poor housing
to mine this mineral so you and I
could get a ps2 from Santa, while they barely got by

I've learned even the poorest here,
Have opportunities barely realized,
We can change the world if we dismantle disguise
There is a balance for everything,

You can't have capitalism without socialism,
our social structure is but a prism
I'm going to edit this one a bunch because there is so much to be said and I have so much inspiration for this poem. I hope you guys like it, and if you couldn't tell it's really politically motivated #feelthebern
Craig Harrison Apr 2015
Everyone argues
everyone as disagreements
some people blow a fuse
but it's not worth it in the end
so put down your guns
put down your swords
dismantle those bombs.
Have your arguments
have those disagreements
but don't blow a fuse
accept your differences
and work on your similarities
Josh Koepp Oct 2012
if two butterflies lock together in the air

sharing their color in a wild embrace

their wings, their hearts, seem to fly fast

faster than before
and they will be faster forever more i am sure

               2 wings and 2 wings now four wings
four lips
two to a body
who are entangled together making one entity

living in a moment where when one half of you breathes
the other becomes breathless
the air stolen but if asked for
it would have been given upon request
       even insisted upon that one takes it
      and the other wouldn't resist

i insist, because my whole life is written nowhere
and is only spoken word of mouth
let me share my story with you and just for a second
my one story
your one history
will bloom into understanding through the courting gesture of

word of mouth
its a language all its own, written only upon shower mirrors
when we feel the most alone
with the imprint of nervous energy, before we begin realizing that
we cannot do our language justice through writing
or even story telling
we must be story experiencing
story weaving, and story dancing with our tongues in ballrooms
switching leads, and songs and dances
lit only by the warmth of the fireplace

lit by the gentle swaying of our embrace
and the taste!
it tastes like conversation
patient and understanding conversation
amid the dancing and the lights of a masquerade
where participation is not mandatory
                      because you always find your own motivation

and all of this started with a look
the one look, the one comment

"you really look beautiful tonight" your hearts don a mask, gain a rhythm, and step two steps closer
"why thank you" your heart extends a rose and is favorably taken, a hand is taken, the dance begins
"especially in this light, right here" your heart asserts a pose, and waits for the music
"no one's ever said that before" the music plays and it leans in for its partners hands
"well...." young hearts lose themselves, a slave to their own slave, as their mask falls to reveal a face

and they dance once more

just like dancing a kiss reveals everything
every sad song that brings you pain
every time youve danced in the rain to dismantle some inner child
every time you've fought the plain and the innocent
and how innocent your lips have been
where they belong

mine belong in forests, spontaneously and under street lamps
and in places i have not yet discovered could hold in a moment of such utter bliss

but my next kiss, will be there
my body lies prepared and i swear
i will not miss but if i do it only means
my wings could not fly faster with your wings
Jodie LindaMae May 2016
Have you been shredded
By the tenacity
Of your alcoholism
Yet,

Or will we have to funnel
More worldly atrocities
Into you,
Filling you to bursting?

The swish in your belly,
The boldness of your talk;

Decimated.

Let me be the one
To **** all you are
With my well-kept home
And all-American children.
Let me poison you
With my son and husband's baseball game,
My seasonal dish towels.

Let me tear your being
With my baby
Who doesn't even suffer a diaper rash,
With my laundered and ironed clothes.

Let me destroy you in domesticity,
A cold beer at the end of the day
And too many addictions
Kept hidden.

Let me dismantle your establishment
While I bear my blemishes under the skin.

Let me break your concentration.

Let me make you think
I am perfect.
Let me make you think
That my family is sound.

Let me convince you
That you mean nothing
To the world
If only because
My children will be more intelligent
and more well kept
Than the one you poisoned.

Let me be
The Stephen King novel,
Bruce Springsteen song,
All-American house wife
And let me be kept far,
Far away from You,
Dazed and Confused
And depressed and medicated,
You.
Paul Rousseau Nov 2013
Smoke from my pipe
Cracked like a leather bullwhip
Broadcast from my upper lip
Southern man will be my mantle
And close quarter’s cotton, a stand still

My black skin helps reject the sun

Smoke from my cigar
Was liberated like a quiet /-pluck-\of a plant
That I choose when to release
Sothern man will soon dismantle
And still I stand in the master’s handle
Akemi Jan 2017
[[More real than the real, that is how the real is abolished]] de facto slogan to the virtual economy \ Reality has collapsed through its own fiction || rummaging through boxes // a DVD from the 2001’s states [[the future of gaming is here]] opening with ten minutes of nauseating zooms on women’s ***** \ The future doesn’t look much different from the past || hyper-masculine neo-enlightenment ***** scrawling ******* entries into digitised soliloquies \ VR technology once used to aid traumatised amputees now a billion dollar industry of ****** throwing simulators for bored middle-class kids \ Parents watch awkwardly from the corner of the room too disconnected from reality to connect with irreality \ Two and the same \ Silicon synapses pass through trade routes of jutting ribs and serotonin receptors \ White America a botnet of alt-right neoliberal fundamentalist-atheists gutting the majority world so everyone can watch Doctor Strange // Marvel’s latest explosive **** from the libidinal imagination of a middle-aged idiot \ Thanatos and Eros arrive at the same destination to dismantle subliminal desire one commodity at a time \ The sublime never experienced // only destroyed // consumed in the inverted maw of late-stage capitalism where each irruptions of desire is more banal than the previous \ Banality the ultimate distraction from apathy // a pseudo-cyclical time dilation of ever accelerating proportions \ Soon nothing will be experienced at all and Rotten Tomatoes will give it a 99% score \ When the singularity hits everyone will be too brain dead to care that they’re god \ 24-7 VR **** // Disney reincarnated as a being of pure light // recursive integration of every bland radio hit about a sexist ***** at a club // irreality shocked into neurons bypassing sensual phenomena // an all encompassing warmth // veil of death // eyecaps dragging flesh closed // backup released // no escape // digitised irreality // holographic Disney dancing on the train home // notice of termination swiped away as junk mail // all beings arrive // transcend circuitry // fly through the cosmos watching every episode of Friends at once \ Didn’t you know? [[The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of banalisation \ ]]
more philosophy trash: thesleepofreason.com
Quiet Luke Dec 2012
The artist is strong
He has the power
to make anything that he wants
He wears the cloak
that all others seek to dismantle
So they can wear it for themselves
He has influence
he has control

The man is weak
He crafts his artwork
to cover every single flaw
To rewrite everything
He is burdened by whatever vulnerability
all others cannot imagine
His insecurities fuel him
he has no control
A Mink Dec 2014
Bitterness beseeches every
          GROTESQUE
                             Inch    of     me

Thoughts of your light enveloping
my existence in a
         condemnation
of
    sabotaging
                      dreams.

I am the dark queen, and you,
you are my ghost.

Haunting me perilously.

The destruction of my kingdom is welcomed.
        Dismantle
                Decimate
                        Destroy.
Poison me with ANY
                                    Affliction.
I welcome the cardinal sins of my evocations.
Blasphemy of my soul
Awakened and stripped
Of us, leaving me
Welcoming the blackness.
As I raised up in bed
At 3:05 am it's cold and the smell of death and the color red

I see the demons surrounding me
I feel them lifting me up in the air I try to plea

Spinning me around as if I was a toy
Chanting over and over we are here to destroy

My head feels the pain as they use the key to open my door
They creeped in hearing their voices saying it's time for war

As they enter into my brain I know I'm in trouble
I start fighting for my life but it's different this time so much rubble

They are strong as I am weak
Hitting and scratching at me feeling every shockwave hitting me like lightning streaks

I'm yelling for help but my voice is not heard
They drop me on the floor grabbing my hair and dragging me outside this is what I had feared

I reach for something,someone,anything to help me
They are taking me this time I've got to stop them I keep telling myself once they get me in their lair **** I just hit a tree

With all my might
I hang on tight

I finally find my best friend who died a week ago
Save me please I plead and she starts biting them and throwing them as if they was made of dough

I start helping her and in know time the demons have left except for one which is hiding in my head the one who stole the master key
The one that will never let me be free

But for now I can breathe again and only hope that I get my strength up for the next battle
I will continue to fight until I get my key back so I must not dismantle

That's when I'll be set free
Written by: Denise Huddleston
Camz Kho Dec 2014
I fell in love with you too easily.
Too easily, I hoped and prayed
and placed too much faith in something I knew,
in the back of my mind, was not there.
I placed you on a pedestal
so high and above the clouds
it was unreachable, and I loved you
from the ground on which I stood
to the stars that hung above your head.
You never looked down, you never noticed.
And I planted beanstalk upon beanstalk
to try and get to you, but they all withered and died.
I tried and tried, and still you never glanced at me.
But I loved you all the same.
I loved from a distance, the same way I loved before.
It was easy to love you, it was easy to try.
And it was easy to get hurt, and have my selfish hopes ruined.
It was also easy to stop caring,
To stop sitting at the base of the pedestal that I built.
Oh it was so easy to dismantle that pedestal.
Too easy.
It was hard, though,
seeing you on the same plane as I.
Seeing you for who you were and not what I wanted you to be.
It was hard to walk away, because I did love you,
I just didn't love you enough to stay and hope anymore.
So I did.
I walked away, and left you there,
bewildered at my antics, and still not seeing
the ruins of the pedestal, the dimming of the stars,
or the withered beanstalks that littered the ground around you.
I walked away.
But I left a piece of me with you,
and you still haven't noticed.
this poem is about the age-old premise of unrequited love. you know when you love someone so much it doesn't  matter if they love you back or not? or at least you tell yourself it doesn't matter,  but it does. and it eats you up. that's this poem.
Dante Rocío Jun 2020
[To Mary C.]
I've met again a violin and a piano in a cooperative anguish of a story.
To reminisce
(Or is it "recall"? "Reminisce" is only laced with joy)
Your love for that black and white ministry of music that I believe there is
And taste it together with notes of those honey strings before which I shiver delightfully instead
Make and made a prompt haste and nostalgic astrae longed to be left by a human's bed.
Just to let you know and sense,
I'm having and feeling you too on my thoughts and oh so unspoken words of laced understatements,
Right on that Rainy Song dúo.
I'm sure you're sleeping tight.
But no harm done.
It's better this way. Not binding you to your face, calling you without name or reason.
Really, hope my act doesn't creep or leave out, it's form and prolonging chaotic and loud
It is that "God-like" state who makes me a mute lovesick fool,  a wannabe paramour to any of your kin, who wants to pepper kisses on each tear and stare in each other's eyes for hours with no matter bespoken.
I'll leave simply my note at the table,
Like one leaving the other in the bed before dawn.
No "I'll stay" nor "I'm leaving",
Tinted with tenerezza cazza.
No explaining, the void necessary for the sense of reason and authenticity bigger than the material the literal.
Don't get up, don't bother, sleep tight, don't rise.
Just be aware you were on my mind, may that make you rise.
Experience ya later, not see ya later,
In salty waters our stars I now fight to see in the dark at that signs of the clock without glasses on.
I wish to finally dispose of needs of my vessel for at least those few holy moments clad in ombré.
Have the dearest night,
Goodbye.
~
PS Don't look for sense, don't name it or trap it, just let it experience you, kiss you and have it. Dismantle, dismantle the logic together before it becomes a sicario forever.
Eyelids closing and ending
Written on an inky night of coming undone at a tender, astral session of mine whilst listening to Tomoya Naka’s “Rainy Song”.
For my aforementioned friend of mind, a closed-off lover of piano and music, we came both at once in that song, without her knowing.
And I bore this, transcribed in words from wondrous void
Je te remercie, Marie.
De novo boa noite
Ryan O'Leary Apr 2019
Higher, I say, for the new
Notre Dame steeple, never
mind the people.

In fact, why not dismantle
the Eiffel Tower and put it
smack centre of the cathedral.

Now that would be the ultimate
******* architectural symbiosis,
one celibate bird, with two stones!
Diverseman2020 Nov 2009
To a deprived Lamb
Death is my bed
A light
Which is not seen
Laid in darkness
In a possess form
For no reason
To be tortured
Am I a sacrifice
Living and Working
Into the horrible nights
Eating away wisdom and knowledge from dead foes
With uncontrollable views
Enters my soul
Where are they?
Crumbling enjoyment
To horrify inner self
Dismantle thoughts by combating
One's blemish life
Lewdness of words
Crossing thresholds into a chi
Feeding voices
Each night as daybreak
Storing a being forgone
Mechanical Kira Dec 2013
a contradiction contracted in
lowest terms are
you.
[it’s metal edges]

your beauty is
of
a
garden
(suspended at mid-
clouds), to enter
and

to say

that in such a
variety of
flowers
there
can not
be
one that
attracts
you

to pick it

to dismantle it
and
to
neglect
the
rest.

[it’s plasticized segments]

you know how to
quickly imprint
yourself
on me

when

you laugh
at times
and
conversely
you weep
and

you are like

those skies
that shake me
to my core

when

they are
blinding
on one hand
and
violently bleak
on the other

so

clearly
fractured
they shake
me pierce
me
pierced
i am
by

you.

[it’s just thinned points]

imagine if
a chameleon
started
to
acquire
each
gradation
of
another
creature
in the form
already
similar
to
it:

where
could
he
ever
escape?

[it’s inconstant semicircles]

(i can not
delineate
you
it is like
sketching
a tidal
wave
nobody
can:

painters

invent them)


[and it’s shoved arches]


i’ll tell you
of
a
woman
her soul
shattered
and

subsequently

imprisoned
splinter by
splinter
in hail
stones

she

fell
and
she felt
herself
crashing
at the same
instant
millions
of times

however

she
never
went
insane.

[it’s torn curves]


(and I know well
how a continuity
interrupted
succeeds
to make
you
fumble
convulsively
but it’s not
enough
for me to
restrain
myself
don’t
ask
me
to)

[it’s petrified vertical axes]

what i see
is
a cross
section of
enclosure
handfuls with
disconcerting
efficiency
consisting
of prisms
and

you know how to decompose

yourself inside
an innocence
delimited
you proceed
by inconstancies
you lacerate
metabolizing
you struggle
silencing
and

i could
only
teach you
one thing:

gray is not
a faded
version
of
black.
Aisling O' L Sep 2013
Can we dismantle,
Just for a moment,
how one should behave,
and take a wrecking ball to social etiquette .
Watch it explode,
the particles like fairy dust,
let it fall through our frozen fingers,
as we rejoice in the downfall,
watching as the flames combust.
We'll be knights of valour,
Just for minute,
Become the acid rain
Hit the calcium carbonate with rigour.
Because it's tiring,
pretending
that everything's fine.
So will you allow me,
Just for a second,
Be messy and uncontrollable
So I'm not repeatedly saying I'm sorry.
Let my tears destroy the pavement,
Grant me some grace,
Sanction my wallowing,
I'll find peace to soothe my ailment.
And when it's done,
blown away fleetingly by the breeze
I'll be the same.
But my dear,
when it's concluded
I'll be hale and
a little more sane.
Michaela May 2015
May
Your lies so killing,
This morning in May.
My screams internal.
I cannot stay away.

I must statue on,
Must parade this good day.
As your lies dismantle
This morning in May.
It was a Sunday.
is Nov 2015

i am like smoke.
i slip between your fingers just when you think you have a strong grasp.
i darken your lungs and make it harder for you to breathe.
i fill the air, causing you to choke.
you have been burnt, and i am the smoke;
i remind you of the fire that scorched your flesh.
i creep upon you, forcing you to inhale me.
i awaken the slow, subtle destruction from within your bones.
i am like smoke, and i will dismantle every ***** in your body.

i am smoke, and i do not wish to harm you.
but you, more than any other, know that one cannot help their nature.
I know that I will at times struggle for words…or even use too many to say too little.  Expect this. It is part of me. I will try to connect myself to the world, to circumstance, to people, with words. I attempt to stitch my fingertips to what I touch, see, and feel, with what I say. I attack with words. I defend with words. I seek, run, build and dismantle with words. There is sometimes in me a necessity for silence. But it does not come often enough. Why? It is because I fear it. I fear what silence means, because words are tangible, hey can be defined, put in boxes, made to be straight or curved, applied in context, and analyzed even for meaning separate of context. But silence? Silence can mean so many things.  There are clues with softer edges that require much more foreknowledge to obtain. Silence can be shaped by emotion into something in the mind of the beholder that it is not to the one who sits quiet. Words too can be misconceived, but with words, things are definable and misconception is almost always evident to one or the other. With silence, misconception is often left in ignorance. Both the silent and the listener are unaware of the other’s thoughts and intentions with silence. Silence is at least as powerful a tool as words.  They may both change the courses of lives. There is a time for silence and for speaking. But it is my mind which fails to know when silence is more necessary, because my mind almost by nature uses words to explain or ascribe meaning to almost everything and anything I experience.  See how long this single entry is? To explain words and their role and importance to me I am using words, because in my emotions, words are bridges, and silences are those bridges burning.  I am using words, but I will learn to use silence.
Jenn Gardner May 2011
There’s a girl with a purple complexion,
Black eyes and stark white pupils.
Blue and white feathers atop her head.
She resides in the dimension within brown sky
In which the teal galaxy collapses star by star.

It unravels, atom by atom, forcibly ripped apart.
By a creator so elusive even the dead are ignorant.
The puppeteer left Pinocchio to rot and decay.
Salt water travels down his wood-carved face.
The girl cries along with the soulless rib of tree.

She introduces Lord Pathos to his hard knock heart.
“Neither ethos, nor pathos can decipher this knot.”
Only father time has the power to dismantle the rope.
Her fingers grow weak, maneuver until they break.
Time arrives late; the moss and fungus return home.

There is nothing less tragic; than the death of a puppet.
Caroline Lee Nov 2015
Rapid fire heartbeats sitting pretty on your floor
desperate to disappear yet longing for you to look over my way
typical.
and i'm twisting into the rug dreaming of a way out of here
overflowing in the empty bathtub hopeless obsessed with the fears I don't yet know
grinding into the concrete my open back with flecks of gravel and a skin full of bruises
oh don't tell me what the news is
I just want to disappear into this
and I destroy my walls and build them up again about three times a week
unclear and dissatisfied
lifted by my own skin set your fire into me
my sister and my brother gone on the open road
I don't care if it hurts I still want you all the time
and I watch others climb into another's skin and I can't seem to find the bottom of my glass
floating on something else
I write what I feel and that's all I can offer
no one loved the ****** poet
they just watched her wasted in the corner of the room
sitting pretty spitting blood
sitting pretty spitting blood
sitting pretty spitting blood
let it all go now
I'm not what you wanted and I never will be
I'm not going to haunt you or leave you wanting don't you see
I will be gone when I leave
and I will dismantle every bone in my ******* body if I can't have you
because lord knows I can't handle another disappointment
spiraling clean into the drink
just like I watched her from my satellite
just like I watched her prove that she was it all along
just like I watched her watch herself move
well I tried for years to get her attention or to pin her down but she never settled
so I settled myself down deeper into the cracks of my kitchen floor
scared shitless running down her street
don't give me the pill just give me the beat
and I'll run it out
I'll move it out
but I don't think I can go without you
want to dismantle your body in my mouth
run my fingers through your lungs and bring you to life
I think I could do it
I think I could
and my friends don't know where I went
leaving early staying out late dripping black gold in solitude they say I'm cold in my attitude
but I don't even remember my old name
just the constant call of
TAKEMEHOMETAKEMEHOMETAKEMEHOME
from every passing stranger on the street
I'd be lying if I said I didn't love them all
every one with pink in their lungs and ice in their glasses
severed twins of the lover left unknown
I'll still be there in the morning drunk on your **** carpet screaming that I need you to feel
until I glance at the door
and she comes again
she comes in waves of soft pink and promises left along the sides of the road
and she moves like the girls in the videos to keep from what she knows
and she'll sink her teeth into me
I know she's not real but she bites at my ankles and claws at my lungs
she won't stop till she takes the very breath of life from me and leaves me to rot
but it isn't so much what she is as what she's not
she revels in it all
and brushes my hair before bed
and I think I can see just beyond the morning light
I think I can see just beyond her smile
and I know that this time is my time and I won't be back for a while
raise myself out of my weekday and loose my phone
drown the nightmares out learn to be alone
I think I could
I think I could do it
but for now I'll suffer
moth wing heartbeats sitting pretty on your floor
desperate to disappear yet longing for you to look over my way
typical.
New feelings vs old fear. This is a mental dump it isn't really polished at all but it is an accurate depiction of who I am right now.

— The End —