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"emissions" poems
Hey Human! I am your Sibling. Queen bee wings are Ripped, bee niblings are Smoked For Your Honey Sweet. Hey human! Listen your Sibling’s Buzz. Tiger lost bones for Medicine, Fox lost fur for Fashion, Sharks lost fins for Soup. Hey human! Do Not Butcher Siblings. Simba’s life is not your Trophy, Jumbo’s tusks are not Decors, Helmets of Hornbills are not jewels. Hey human! Do Not Reap Siblings. Emperors of ice continent lost land, Economics is making Amazon less, Logging makes Orangutans homeless. Hey human! Do Not Invade Siblings. Warm oceans bleach corals, Water depleted in cities, We ingest plastic regularly. Hey human! Do Not Desert the Earth. Overfishing is holocaust of aquatic life, Livestock levitates toxic emissions. Hey human! Do Not Prey on Siblings. Lichens stunned by pollution, Symbionts are disintegrating, Biodiversity is declining. Hey human! Be Together with Siblings. Hey Human! We are Offsprings of Mother Nature. Monera, Animalia, Fungi, Plantae, Protista all have common roots. We are branches of the one Phylogenetic Tree rooting Common Ancestry unto LUCA. Hey Human! We are Siblings. Hey Human! Recall your Siblings. Hey Human! Revive your Siblings.
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Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 11:19 AM UTC
The Forgotten Sibling
Lone leatherback cruises up from the deep, pausing on the fragile reef to feast ancient eyes upon the show, a bright parade laid out below butterfly couples paired for life, graceful angels in black and white stripe brilliant clowns and their toxic lovers, a plodding gang of giant groupers puffers bob like comic balloons, humble gobies on every menu beaked parrotfish grinding the coral down, in the ears a constant sound cowfish blowing puckered kisses, sea stars catching fishy wishes white-tipped, hammerhead, tiger sharks, triggerfish mean bite worse than their bark untamed unicorns too wild to ride, dogfish snapping, biting alongside coral trout color-shifting fools, attracting ladies in dull-hued schools **** headed wrasse rumbling through, thick lips mumbling go get a room sea horses nod in labyrinth caves, razor-toothed eels lying in wait if tentacled embrace should be your fate, nudibranchs will light the way to a place of bliss, none of this can exist, without the builders coral and algae bewildered, the ways of man egotistical rising ocean temperatures, carbon emissions, and el Niño victim of abundant greed, say goodbye to the Great Barrier Reef so massive is this magical place, one can see it from outer space astronauts witness its demise, ninety-percent barren, bleached bone white.
0
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 1:58 PM UTC
Reef
We humans have messed around With Mother Nature and her eco-system For years and years Decades and decades Centuries and centuries Felling gazillions of trees Turning forests into concrete jungles Filling ponds, lakes, rivers and seas With tons and tons of toxic waste Releasing enough carbon monoxide into the air To wreck the entire troposphere The list of sins against Nature goes on and on With no end in sight Given all this, who are we to complain When Mother Nature has had enough And unleashes her fury on us Through earthquakes and tsunamis Avalanches and volcanoes Hurricanes and tornadoes Floods and droughts And so on Remember, Mother Nature has blessed us With oodles of riches In the form of plants and trees Mountains and forests Ponds, lakes, rivers, seas and oceans And last but not the least, oxygen! It is time we show her some gratitude And more importantly, respect and compassion And stop messing around with the eco-system Remember the famous old saying Live and let live It doesn't mean infrastructure shouldn't be developed We can build roads We can build a railway network We can build houses We can build schools and colleges We can build hospitals We can build libraries However, as my grandfather used to say There is a limit to everything And we should also plant trees Build gardens and parks Switch to renewable sources of energy And cut down severely on emissions A balance should be maintained After all, messing around with Mother Nature Will only bring about our own downfall There have been enough natural disasters Caused by human negligence Let's not add to the list Which is already longer than the river Nile!
0
May 9, 2022
May 9, 2022 at 12:54 PM UTC
Why We Shouldn't Mess Around with Mother Nature
We humans have messed around With Mother Nature and her eco-system For years and years Decades and decades Centuries and centuries Felling gazillions of trees Turning forests into concrete jungles Filling ponds, lakes, rivers and seas With tons and tons of toxic waste Releasing enough carbon monoxide into the air To wreck the entire troposphere The list of sins against Nature goes on and on With no end in sight Given all this, who are we to complain When Mother Nature has had enough And unleashes her fury on us Through earthquakes and tsunamis Avalanches and volcanoes Hurricanes and tornadoes Floods and droughts And so on Remember, Mother Nature has blessed us With oodles of riches In the form of plants and trees Mountains and forests Ponds, lakes, rivers, seas and oceans And last but not the least, oxygen! It is time we show her some gratitude And more importantly, respect and compassion And stop messing around with the eco-system Remember the famous old saying Live and let live It doesn't mean infrastructure shouldn't be developed We can build roads We can build a railway network We can build houses We can build schools and colleges We can build hospitals We can build libraries However, as my grandfather used to say There is a limit to everything And we should also plant trees Build gardens and parks Switch to renewable sources of energy And cut down severely on emissions A balance should be maintained After all, messing around with Mother Nature Will only bring about our own downfall There have been enough natural disasters Caused by human negligence Let's not add to the list Which is already longer than the river Nile!
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52
Fingers tapping, one, two, three, A slow rhythm drums in my chest. The words on my screen blur and fade before me. The world slows as we are put to the test. The streets, barren and eerily silent, Darkened windows, chairs on tables. Places once filled with noise now absent. Are we now living in one of God's fables? Perhaps, then, we must stop and listen, Listen to the lessons He is teaching us all. These drastic measures, so brazen, Yet we are close to the edge, were we to fall? See kindness and beauty, See all that is good, As Mother Nature breathes freely, Tired from all She withstood. Laughter and bored games, Brought together by distance, Whilst the air, the water, She reclaims, No more waiting, no more patience. Yes, waters clear as emissions drop; A truly beautiful consequence. But we must not forget - take the time to stop, Extend our minds to at whose expense. Unemployment creeps ever higher, Many lives are lost. For those a dark and terrible chapter, Enduring such a saddening cost. The good that lies within, The beauty of humankind, Rainbows, clapping, togetherness underpin, Our world, our people, our priorities realigned. So listen we must, To our animals, our rivers, our Earth. Look to your nearest and dearest, Use this time to recognise their full worth.
0
Nov 2, 2021
Nov 2, 2021 at 6:12 PM UTC
Lockdown Lessons
Unburden me my wiley friend from all my mundane woes Release the threads that bind me here, submit me to your throes Happily you blur the lines and change the days perspective Mollify me with your lies and kindly dope objective. It’s pleasant here, I have no care to change this altered state Inhibitions lose their power to taunt me and berate I perform well, I entertain, I please so easily Popular I find myself within your potency But soon I find the last drops have now dried up in the glass Your soothing draft has poured its fill, your best has come to pass And in its wake you leave for me a tender raw emotion That carries me upon a wave of heady dissolution The tears they stream, I am a mess, back down to earth I plummet All former worries amplify now you have reached your summit I was misled, you’re not my friend, a pariah in disguise You sought to trick and confuse me put beer goggles on my eyes So now into my bed I crawl to rest with bland submission The toilet has already shared with me your vile emissions I close my eyes I pray for sleep, my head already throbbing I enter sleep in throes of self-absorbed, repentant sobbing
0
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 11:45 AM UTC
DRUNK
Okay Let us take a moment And break this down If you don't believe   In global warming By now You're probably not Going to come round But perhaps We could take a step back To when pollution was indeed A matter of fact Such as The black factory smoke And runoff waste That fills our water ways Coal soot that fills our lungs and skies Sewage that fills our bays Poisonous smog Settling over our industrial cities Toxic chemicals giving birth Have you no empathy nor pity "As our" Emissions are ever choking Scorching the earth Can we start over Sure it's no big deal Can we at least agree That pollution is real?
0
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 7:33 AM UTC
FORGET GLOBAL WARMING
Hypotonic collusions Rising in osmotic lesions An eruptive soul reversion Emissions of embered logs Each lightening with a glow A youthful straw of clemency Pollinated sandals, handled Gripping the flesh in vessels Houses of lost and unreal dreams Vicarage gardens of suppression Masticated in delegated abstractions A surmise of death and redistributions Each a beat rise, slide on frosty ice Un-enveloped in seasons of erosion Delusional commotions sprawled In the dance of the ecstatic programming The body waved and led in hypnosis ********** with the intangible essence To make sense a revised tense,I fence Straying in lenient lunacy to fields afar A merry to ferry the phoenix dance Rattles shaking in transit translations Drums pause settling in finesse pond A coitus of dimensional valour and vice
0
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 9:37 AM UTC
Hypnotic Trances
This poem is a Google Adwords ad, Intruding into the sidebar of your heart. It’s a 1-800-LAWYERS commercial Making you money off your personal injury. It’s a brutal, ****** UFC bout, Weak in its ground game but knows its Jiu-Jitsu And it’s got you on the mat, begging you to tap out. This poem is ***** a SNAFU waiting to happen. It’s the sarin gas Syria used against its own And it’s the attack America will be responding with, Using ****** to punish murderers. This poem is a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken Getting your finger-lickin’-good fingers nice and greasy. This poem is yet another poet writing yet another poem about poems, With the word poem repeated ad nauseum. This poem is a bunch of awful band names, Like Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Tapes ‘n Tapes, and Chunk! No, Captain Chunk!. It’s a summer blockbuster and a teen dystopian trilogy. It’s riding ***** In your ex’s car. This poem is anthropogenic global warming Whose CO2 emissions are dangerously high and climbing While its polar bears are stranded on the broken ice floes of its verses. It’s a baseball crowd speaking the words “no hitter” In the midst of a no-no Which itself is a no-no. Its bad grammar, who’s comma’s are all, out of place And its’ apostrophe’s, are meaningless. This poem is Zooey Deschanel, Who will not marry me some day, any day, in the future. In fact, it doesn’t even know I exist.
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Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
States of Being
Wondering down the narrow hallway Blank stares stolen with nothing to say Trying to exhaust life's filthy emissions Choking on linear transmissions Distance calling me into deafening sound Closing curtains and water down
0
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 10:07 AM UTC
Walk
The little voice inside of you Directing decision Trapped Unable to envision Success In rapid succession Reverting In sudden regression Sewing shut Your mind's eye Blame your loss of contact Contact with me The romantic deviant Your love is beautiful With all it's conditions Scolding the masses For their mental carbon emissions Unpopular Is an understatement What do you expect Pushing for a decision When there is no answer
0
Jan 1, 2011
Jan 1, 2011 at 2:19 PM UTC
Phony Bologna
By: Cedric McClester The first black president Must have made one hell of an impression On the man who followed him Directly in succession He seems to want to unravel Whatever is at his discretion In order to rob the legacy Of the man whose name means blessing He did his best to chase Obamacare away Without an adequate replacement To make its absence okay Now it’s gas emissions Being lowered by the EPA I guess fossil fuel behemoths Are sadly here to stay And on the international scene The man has been a wreck He left the Paris Climate Accord And gives our allies no respect Then ***** up to Vlad Putin A man of greater intellect And pulled out of the Iran Nuclear deal To spite Obama I suspect And when he can denigrate him He never misses a chance Much like a woman scorned Caught in a bad romance People are getting tired Of this dismal dance They can predict his moves Four moves in advance Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018.  All rights reserved.
0
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 3:08 PM UTC
THE FIRST BLACK PRESIDENT!
seven years young, always sharing a still smile. You find him decked out and drowning in choir robes, with Golden curls placed gently on a hammered head. This boy plays piano in a dead sanctuary Following familial rule, until he let it all go. the boy began playing music unwritten, off hymnal sheets Harmonious melodies stream from dancing fingertips, Intrinsically clearing the once-cloudy air with vivacious voodoo. The boy’s fingers groove up and down the piano, His touch graces ivory keys and His foot performs a rhythmic pedal-pressing tango. He calls the audience: everywhere, eyes ignite like flame: A communal headturn towards the piano. They need more. They crave it. All the sanctuary people rise from the seats, Abandon their pews, they enclose this boy. No means to scare him, they want to experience. The audience turns their ears towards the piano’s emissions,   Emanating from within Inhaling soundwaves— Intoxicatingly sweet. They absorb his notes into every pore of their skin, Fueling their bodies with musical nutrients. Electric jolts flow right into the room’s extremities. They let down their hair and begin to dance. Until a brief noise, distinctive throat-clearing, came through the speakers; Heads shifted to the podium, only to see their ticked-off pastor, Smirking and waving sarcastically. Discipline. The congregation stumbled back to their seats. The boy stopped playing. Ending the enchantment, killing the sanctuary. Air again filled with ‘God’s voice’ through the mouth of the speaker. A speaker who just wanted attention. The boy slipped out of the piano seat, out the church’s doors. You want to chase after him, give him a ride Where could the boy be going in the middle of the storm? The pastor’s prodigal son.
0
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
The Boy Who Played the Piano
seven years young, always sharing a still smile. You find him decked out and drowning in choir robes, with Golden curls placed gently on a hammered head. This boy plays piano in a dead sanctuary Following familial rule, until he let it all go. the boy began playing music unwritten, off hymnal sheets Harmonious melodies stream from dancing fingertips, Intrinsically clearing the once-cloudy air with vivacious voodoo. The boy’s fingers groove up and down the piano, His touch graces ivory keys and His foot performs a rhythmic pedal-pressing tango. He calls the audience: everywhere, eyes ignite like flame: A communal headturn towards the piano. They need more. They crave it. All the sanctuary people rise from the seats, Abandon their pews, they enclose this boy. No means to scare him, they want to experience. The audience turns their ears towards the piano’s emissions,   Emanating from within Inhaling soundwaves— Intoxicatingly sweet. They absorb his notes into every pore of their skin, Fueling their bodies with musical nutrients. Electric jolts flow right into the room’s extremities. They let down their hair and begin to dance. Until a brief noise, distinctive throat-clearing, came through the speakers; Heads shifted to the podium, only to see their ticked-off pastor, Smirking and waving sarcastically. Discipline. The congregation stumbled back to their seats. The boy stopped playing. Ending the enchantment, killing the sanctuary. Air again filled with ‘God’s voice’ through the mouth of the speaker. A speaker who just wanted attention. The boy slipped out of the piano seat, out the church’s doors. You want to chase after him, give him a ride Where could the boy be going in the middle of the storm? The pastor’s prodigal son.
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42
I stand before you, not as an expert, but as a concerned citizen. One of the four hundred thousand people who marched in the streets of New York on Sunday and the billions of others around the world who want to solve our climate crisis. As a poet, I pretend for a living. I play fictitious characters often solving fictitious problems. I believe that mankind has looked at climate change in that same way; as if it were a fiction. As if pretending that climate change wasn’t real would somehow make it go away. But I think we all know better than that now. Every week we’re seeing new and undeniable climate events, evidence that accelerated climate change is here, right now. Droughts are intensifying, our ocean’s are acidifying, with methane plumes rising up from the ocean floor. We are seeing extreme weather events and the west Antarctic and Greenland ice sheets melting at unprecedented rates decades ahead of scientific projections. The scientific community knows it. Industry knows it. Governments know it. Even the United States military knows it. The chief of the US navy’s Pacific command, Admiral Samuel Locklear recently said that climate change is our single greatest security threat. My friends, this body, perhaps more than any other gathering in human history now faces this difficult but achievable task. You can make history or you will be vilified by it. To be clear, this is not about just telling people to change lightbulbs or to buy a hybrid car. This disaster has grown beyond the choices that individuals make. This is now about our industries and our governments around the world taking decisive large-scale action. We need to put a price tag on carbon emissions and eliminate government subsidies for all oil, coal, and gas companies. We need to end the free ride that industrial polluters have been given in the name of a free market economy. They do not deserve our tax dollars, they deserve our scrutiny. For the economy itself will die if our ecosystems collapse. This is not a partisan debate, it is a human one. Clean air and a livable climate area inalienable human rights and solving this crisis is not just a question of politics. It is a question of our own survival. But now it is your turn. The time to answer humankind’s greatest challenge, is now. We beg of you to face it with courage and honesty. Thank you
0
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
Poets of the World Unite
I stand before you, not as an expert, but as a concerned citizen. One of the four hundred thousand people who marched in the streets of New York on Sunday and the billions of others around the world who want to solve our climate crisis. As a poet, I pretend for a living. I play fictitious characters often solving fictitious problems. I believe that mankind has looked at climate change in that same way; as if it were a fiction. As if pretending that climate change wasn’t real would somehow make it go away. But I think we all know better than that now. Every week we’re seeing new and undeniable climate events, evidence that accelerated climate change is here, right now. Droughts are intensifying, our ocean’s are acidifying, with methane plumes rising up from the ocean floor. We are seeing extreme weather events and the west Antarctic and Greenland ice sheets melting at unprecedented rates decades ahead of scientific projections. The scientific community knows it. Industry knows it. Governments know it. Even the United States military knows it. The chief of the US navy’s Pacific command, Admiral Samuel Locklear recently said that climate change is our single greatest security threat. My friends, this body, perhaps more than any other gathering in human history now faces this difficult but achievable task. You can make history or you will be vilified by it. To be clear, this is not about just telling people to change lightbulbs or to buy a hybrid car. This disaster has grown beyond the choices that individuals make. This is now about our industries and our governments around the world taking decisive large-scale action. We need to put a price tag on carbon emissions and eliminate government subsidies for all oil, coal, and gas companies. We need to end the free ride that industrial polluters have been given in the name of a free market economy. They do not deserve our tax dollars, they deserve our scrutiny. For the economy itself will die if our ecosystems collapse. This is not a partisan debate, it is a human one. Clean air and a livable climate area inalienable human rights and solving this crisis is not just a question of politics. It is a question of our own survival. But now it is your turn. The time to answer humankind’s greatest challenge, is now. We beg of you to face it with courage and honesty. Thank you
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11
Before the thaw, my feet will be rooted Into this nation’s primordial freeze My muscles and bones will be acquainted with malaise The sun’s altruism will be refuted Before the thaw, I will struggle to find consciousness The frost will leak through the bedroom window And don the facade of a blanket The door will prove to be bottomless Possibilities will seem unachievable The brain will itch for what it can not have Buses will limp through congestion And the blizzards may feast on the feeble You may want to write of your misery But your automation will halt in cataclysm Because someone held a door open For the gust that billows bitterly Gastric emissions will become tangible As smouldering wastes contrast against the sky with rancour The wispy whites, marginalized into ***** And the world remains infallible I will lack the tools of incision To enact my life’s revisions I will weep for my unguided millions While I saunter into oblivion After the thaw, I will smile My expatriate soul will run in the whimsical wind Of the morning dayspring that will march unto me I will stand over a kingdom of honey-filled tiles After the thaw, the arks will converge Into the straits of the Bermudian Sea and the Elusive Caspian Forest, where I will learn to love again While bidding farewell to winter’s dirge In the waking world, I will ***** a limestone castle Where entropy will rule and the mind’s domain Is left susceptible to perennial reverence The sea, coloured true, nesting a fairgrounds vessel In this Great Revision, gargantuan skyways Will show the world how exiguous we are That we must not wait for exodus to come Should we fear to waste away Into icebergs
0
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
Seasonal Chronicles
Before the thaw, my feet will be rooted Into this nation’s primordial freeze My muscles and bones will be acquainted with malaise The sun’s altruism will be refuted Before the thaw, I will struggle to find consciousness The frost will leak through the bedroom window And don the facade of a blanket The door will prove to be bottomless Possibilities will seem unachievable The brain will itch for what it can not have Buses will limp through congestion And the blizzards may feast on the feeble You may want to write of your misery But your automation will halt in cataclysm Because someone held a door open For the gust that billows bitterly Gastric emissions will become tangible As smouldering wastes contrast against the sky with rancour The wispy whites, marginalized into ***** And the world remains infallible I will lack the tools of incision To enact my life’s revisions I will weep for my unguided millions While I saunter into oblivion After the thaw, I will smile My expatriate soul will run in the whimsical wind Of the morning dayspring that will march unto me I will stand over a kingdom of honey-filled tiles After the thaw, the arks will converge Into the straits of the Bermudian Sea and the Elusive Caspian Forest, where I will learn to love again While bidding farewell to winter’s dirge In the waking world, I will ***** a limestone castle Where entropy will rule and the mind’s domain Is left susceptible to perennial reverence The sea, coloured true, nesting a fairgrounds vessel In this Great Revision, gargantuan skyways Will show the world how exiguous we are That we must not wait for exodus to come Should we fear to waste away Into icebergs
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41
There's Midnight Ravens along the telephone wire. Big black suckers with deep dark eyes that see death before it comes. These hosts of the end pay me no mind as I pass beneath their roost. They rudely go about their Raven buisness, yelling and ******** their way into the morning. An unrelenting bark drums on from behind a white painted fence. An insane sound like an alarm that no one will turn off. I step over a small cities worth of ants who are scrambling around a crack in the sidewalk clogged with more frantic ants. The great flood has arrived in the form of a timed sprinkler. And all of the soldiers have abandoned the Queen. It's early morning The air has yet to be choked out by the diesel fuel and needless emissions that will soon began to smother the city . The faint smell of fresh fish makes its way up the city blocks from the waterfront below. Old Italian and Slavic women stand outside in their long day time night gowns smoking cigarettes while watering the concrete. I enter the alley way , the smell of ***** diapers, cheap laundry detergent and too many children surround an apartment complex. As I passed I came upon the Black Princess of these streets. The wisest and surest of them all crosses my path. Her tail held high and strong, striding care free, she looks at me with her emerald eyes and yawns. She stops near a row of trashcans that are lined up looking like a modern day monolith. She laps at her paw with slow, long, lazy licks as I pass. She again fixes me with those marble green eyes and lets me know without saying a word. That the alley cat kills for fun. Ignores all Gods by choice and laughs at our attempts to tame it.
0
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
Black Cat's Kingdom
There's Midnight Ravens along the telephone wire. Big black suckers with deep dark eyes that see death before it comes. These hosts of the end pay me no mind as I pass beneath their roost. They rudely go about their Raven buisness, yelling and ******** their way into the morning. An unrelenting bark drums on from behind a white painted fence. An insane sound like an alarm that no one will turn off. I step over a small cities worth of ants who are scrambling around a crack in the sidewalk clogged with more frantic ants. The great flood has arrived in the form of a timed sprinkler. And all of the soldiers have abandoned the Queen. It's early morning The air has yet to be choked out by the diesel fuel and needless emissions that will soon began to smother the city . The faint smell of fresh fish makes its way up the city blocks from the waterfront below. Old Italian and Slavic women stand outside in their long day time night gowns smoking cigarettes while watering the concrete. I enter the alley way , the smell of ***** diapers, cheap laundry detergent and too many children surround an apartment complex. As I passed I came upon the Black Princess of these streets. The wisest and surest of them all crosses my path. Her tail held high and strong, striding care free, she looks at me with her emerald eyes and yawns. She stops near a row of trashcans that are lined up looking like a modern day monolith. She laps at her paw with slow, long, lazy licks as I pass. She again fixes me with those marble green eyes and lets me know without saying a word. That the alley cat kills for fun. Ignores all Gods by choice and laughs at our attempts to tame it.
Continue reading...
121
a falling boy's measured out footprint, slipping in vain search for a breadcrumb of solace lost is spring, and green, and bird nesting, lost is his mother's smile, he breathes in deeply a memory of trees, an afternoon sun emptied of fertility: a high wood on its last, teetering legs urban air is everywhere and wishes to be free, but we are all carbon emissions, separate living-dying pieces polluted hieroglyphics with nothing to convey, fragments of a prayer with nothing left to say
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Aug 2, 2021
Aug 2, 2021 at 2:16 PM UTC
We Are Carbon Emissions
i was raised by the greatest generation. at least, that's what we were told. we were raised at your knee, told stories of the American Dream. "work hard," you told us, "obey, consume, and god will provide for your every need." you neglected to mention you'd borrowed our only home, a loan you've since squandered. like the parable of old, you buried your talent in the sand— along with your head. dormant, you twiddled your thumbs, ignored the warning signs of sky-rocketing carbon emissions. when you die alone you'll leave behind a footprint larger than your tiny mind could fathom. it will echo in the hallways of your vacant, dilapidated mansions. you stood upon the shoulders of gods and giants, but you gave us a globe unbalanced, off-axis. now, like Atlas, we're left to carry your burdens. this yoke is heavy and we are slight. there's no future now, thanks to you. only prophecies of nuclear holocaust, economic collapse, and the inevitable heat-death of the universe.
0
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 10:55 PM UTC
generation
An anarchist atom Assaults the atmosphere With anger and aerial arson Bringing, begetting Brutal and ****** battles In my brain Initiating chaos With charges Of chemicals. A disection, distortion Diversion of dedication And direction Causing eruptions Emissions Of erratic, electric elements Of ego. Ferocious fires form In filaments, firmaments Feeding the fantastic Forces Which grow and gain In greatness in gravity Grave, gory, gorgeous Gloom. Henceforth hidden horrors Harrowed in a hollow heart Instantly interact with Intimate ideas Initiating irregular, irrational Irreversible Irrelevant Intimacy Jealousy Jumbling of jinxes And laws of the jungle For kicks Leading to lies Leaving love for loneliness Loss. A massive moral meltdown In my mind Negating, neutralising normality Orchestrates an open Onslaught of order And ordinary People's principles To pursue passion And perfection In a poetic periphery Quite queer to some And quaint to those Not acquainted with Rushes of ramblings Received and reciprocated Or radical ridicule Of rascals. Synapses send, Signal every sinew Simulating similar signs But transmitting treacherous Tingles Teasing, trapping thoughts In terror, temptations To commit treason Unforgivable, unforgettable Us Vivid and vibrant But also very Woeful Wishing we were wild And willing to walk Our wishes make wonderful Wells of Youth And creative zest.
0
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 11:09 AM UTC
Chaotic Pattern
(Commemoration of Earth-Day, 22nd-04-09) Earth hath Been Weeping! Nature lacerated & pleading? Extinct species beseeching; Antarctica mercilessly melting, Noxious gaseous emissions heating. Have you ever wondered? “Of the Greek mythology!” women warriors of Scythia astray burned off the Right ***** to try to habituate the bow and arrow in sly, arsenals of terror abound harsh shear ploy! Hitherto, the atrocious force upon Nature ne'er stops. Wherefore-now the lost leaf of the conifers? Searching for the nearest route to the Savannah Plains, Waiting pro the long anticipated cascades of the tropical rains. Babylon wrests & clinches intimately thy adored hanging gardens that black slaves tend no more hasten. Euphrates in the Persian Gulf wanders uncertain; Everest looks down in pitiful scorn… As it wobbly looses its molecular activity in pain. Humanity squirms in an enamored Trance to heave a foundation Of conscious Purpose That Earth day waits Upon us To elucidate a divine Hypothesis. ~~/|\~~ Namaste' ~~\|/~~
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Sep 17, 2009
Sep 17, 2009 at 4:49 AM UTC
EARTH IS WEEPING : “A Divine Hypothesis”
Today, like many days My special friend in study hall Asks me why I am not dating you He tells me that when we broke up It broke his heart Because he loved us being together So he recently told me That while he knows We are with other people He has been secretly Or not so secretly Trying to get us back together By telling each other When we are near In hopes that we will talk Now, this is extremely embarrassing Considering I am very awkward around you And you don't want to see me anyway But I put up with it Because I love him And I know you do too He told me that he wants us to be together Because he said he loves me And he loves you too Even though you are a "womanizer" who drives a gas guzzler And he wants the two people He loves To love each other But every time He says this I have to remind him That not everything is perfect Like how he says sometimes Tesla cars catch on fire Despite their fuel efficiency And stylish appearance And even though University of Kentucky Has an amazing basketball team They still have 92% coal emissions
0
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
Womanizer
a message sent to me: “I know you, Marrano, secret Jew of my heart, weakened by words and strengthened thereby...stout man of words”^ a stranger invasion - his technology, a new combine of words, percentage of perception high, a ferreting scraping of tissue, an abrasion of spoiler alerts that are not hidden but now summoned, despite being unbidden early on a Sabbath morn and at this, my haunted hours, this secret Jew, wanders unexplored yet familiar routes of his well traveled innards, pondering this sweet Shylock Accusation, nay, this confessional truth, but more, the nut of his essence that ‘tis his conviction, his twisted sentencing, the exact lived-level of a hellish Dante verse that shreds the escape of sleep, that is home “weakened by words and strengthened thereby” words forced to the fore, peremptorily summoned, this inconsistency so constant, his battle, where neither victory, loss or truce, are resolutions legitimate, contradictory poems are the tension production of this high wire act of the man, a performance best assessed as one of always slipping, more near-falling failing than cross walking, employing his word emissions as a balancing pole, and balancing is a sometime thing I am not an illusionist - if anything, a disillusionist there are stanzas writ but unspoken that shall not be out-spit here or now; for lengthy answers already exist, in a thousand prior scripts and the thin wire of preservation teaches the value of brevity stout, I think not, man of words,   no doubt, one who is both, a secret Marrano and a Jew, fully exposed, and one who is “weakened by words and strengthened thereby” 12/2/17 The Sabbath 3:33am <•> extra credit reading https://hellopoetry.com/poem/529429/the-true-tale-of-shylocks-pound/
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Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 1:43 PM UTC
Secret Jew of My Heart
a message sent to me: “I know you, Marrano, secret Jew of my heart, weakened by words and strengthened thereby...stout man of words”^ a stranger invasion - his technology, a new combine of words, percentage of perception high, a ferreting scraping of tissue, an abrasion of spoiler alerts that are not hidden but now summoned, despite being unbidden early on a Sabbath morn and at this, my haunted hours, this secret Jew, wanders unexplored yet familiar routes of his well traveled innards, pondering this sweet Shylock Accusation, nay, this confessional truth, but more, the nut of his essence that ‘tis his conviction, his twisted sentencing, the exact lived-level of a hellish Dante verse that shreds the escape of sleep, that is home “weakened by words and strengthened thereby” words forced to the fore, peremptorily summoned, this inconsistency so constant, his battle, where neither victory, loss or truce, are resolutions legitimate, contradictory poems are the tension production of this high wire act of the man, a performance best assessed as one of always slipping, more near-falling failing than cross walking, employing his word emissions as a balancing pole, and balancing is a sometime thing I am not an illusionist - if anything, a disillusionist there are stanzas writ but unspoken that shall not be out-spit here or now; for lengthy answers already exist, in a thousand prior scripts and the thin wire of preservation teaches the value of brevity stout, I think not, man of words,   no doubt, one who is both, a secret Marrano and a Jew, fully exposed, and one who is “weakened by words and strengthened thereby” 12/2/17 The Sabbath 3:33am <•> extra credit reading https://hellopoetry.com/poem/529429/the-true-tale-of-shylocks-pound/
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43
Vipers barrelling - high vaporous carcases, farting emissions Biospheres radiator streaks, dooms rushing emissaries .
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Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 12:58 PM UTC
Mile High tanka
is there any room for hope… no longer is friendly white Jesus waiting on a cloud with harp playing angles that image has been replaced with Catholic officials proclaiming Alien saviors will soon be at our doorstep… a doorstep sprinkled with nuclear fallout and massive carbon and methane emissions a doorstep in which hate resides based on skin color, religious dogma, classism, and anything else the media outlets promote to the mindless ninnies forever entranced by the glowing box… a glowing box spilling lies onto children’s ears forcing sexuality and violence on children’s eyes promoting genetically modified foods flavored with prescription drugs for children’s mouths’ all the while singing about the future and the world we are leaving behind… and so many behinds must parish so many parishes of Pharisees pleading to the Presbyterians that the Pleiadian’s probably will save us all from our own collective choices or maybe they are coming to feed… we feed on the flesh of the endangered for status we frolic in the delicate forests for fun we fight amongst ourselves for fear but I am free from that frivolity seriously….
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Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
umpteen trash sacks
I still deny the rules and social ties of citizen spies that i televise by shouting chanted anthems into the sky yet to comply with the codes of conduct i defy as you synthesize the number and size i am careful not to compromise the lost light within my eyes my cold gaze reflective of your demise and i scrutinize them until they realize they're being penalized for the lies until maggots monopolize your corpse through your cries until pulled away by the hissing of shadowed flies that fly into the lost light in my eyes until my pupils cauterize locking you inside institutionalised and i am imprisoned in a prism of realism as anti social collisions have me pulling my soul through verbal incisions seeping radioactive emissions from the legions of religions from the season of rhyme without reason failure to pay darkened tuitions is now treason as catastrophic cataclysms lock me away in my primal visions my verbal inflictions as though holy missions to infuse friction smashing through my divided contradictions and feeding my addictions good riddance
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Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
Facade