"environ" poems
This disaster by master
Coming faster
An intoxication and
Not a charm
This disaster spread
Like word of honorable pastor
There is a cloud
Dark cloudy cloud of
This disaster
This disaster flirting the environ
This disaster caressing the mammals
In its environs. ..
Oh this disaster a disaster
They fear this disaster like when
Oil castor drops in fire
This disaster pretty nice not
Like pearls in shells of oyster.
This disaster scary to their bones
Take this duster
Rub and wipe this disaster
Please take it!
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 1:38 AM UTC
A lot has been said about environ-mental pollution
Okay, can we drop the environ for a second
How about the mental pollution in this generation
The internet loads us with data but not necessarily useful information
I wonder, do we have a sieve in our brains
that filters the data as it drains
Or we absorb them all, to clutter up our minds
Gigabytes of junks downloaded into our mental and emotional system
I was on the internet to seek information
But my mental system received Ads injection
Causing a buy this, buy that stimulation
You are not okay if you don't have this or have that
You don't look good, if you're not shaped like this or like that
What we ingest from the internet is 40% information and 60% malware
Don't quote me
Just an opinion that I want to share
This pollution is **** real and it scares!
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 10:18 PM UTC
The morning mists still haunt the stony street;
The northern summer air is shrill and cold;
And lo, the Hospital, grey, quiet, old,
Where Life and Death like friendly chafferers meet.
Thro' the loud spaciousness and draughty gloom
A small, strange child--so aged yet so young!--
Her little arm besplinted and beslung,
Precedes me gravely to the waiting-room.
I limp behind, my confidence all gone.
The grey-haired soldier-porter waves me on,
And on I crawl, and still my spirits fail:
A tragic meanness seems so to environ
These corridors and stairs of stone and iron,
Cold, naked, clean--half-workhouse and half-jail.
3.3k
Half awake, making coffee
For my dad, not myself because I don't like it
No mugs so I grab a clean salsa jar
Fill it up not quite to the top so there's room for cream
Add the cream
And as it pours in, swirling up from the bottom,
A cream mushroom appears,
Growing in its ebony liquid environ
Swelling and dispersing to even the color
Mixing so the color is that of caramel or toffee
Still thinking about the mushroom
And the possibility to capture it as an image,
If only I can remember it
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 11:56 AM UTC
An echo of slants
A frozen stretch
Humming terra ensconces - you
Forlorn
Ever-crooked
A never-stagnant aeriform environ
Tugging and vibrating through root
Hairs furling densely about and
Through
Dirt clods
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC
you are tethered here now
by just a few threads
gossamer thin
that flex and strain with
each laboured breathe
soon the last of them
will fray and break
and you will be free
to float away
to see and enjoy
new vistas
to be
unencumbered
by that, that drew
you down into the dark
then untethered
you will fly to the heavens
like a bird, small against
the blue, blue sky
or perhaps more akin
to a dandelion seed
be taken by a gust of wind
to a new environ
mayhaps, a cliff top
by a shining blue sea
and there to take seed
and grow again and again
whilst the sea kisses the sand
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
Trapped by the skull
…
That's a solid limitation.
Neurons I could count
to the last and every one.
These processing units
are of a finite amount.
Meaning we know nothing more
than what fits in that skull.
...
Though
Connecting collective wisdom in our environ
enables us to do more than the bare individual.
Ahhh, all so wonderful. But you see what I mean
We can't stand up against an unlimited cognitive machine.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
Look at our daughters
They now show no ill in laying with men old as their fathers
Look at our sons
Nothing is holding them back from scamming the green people with their bad brain and laptops
Look at our mothers, fathers, the young men and alike; women,
They now have no time for their own children,
Everyone is too busy searching for just one thing,
And that is known as MONEY!
Why will a lady lay with a dog?
Or why’ll she prefer to be known in the environ as a hog?
Is it not just for one thing?
They choose to sell their body?
Why will a schooler choose to become a drop-out with no good passion?
But he’s trying to boycott hardships and hardwork
He’ll just join the bad gang
And will receive money off stealing from the innocent man
He’ll swerve off money from the fleeceable parents
And to all their good, he’ll put an end
He’s not ********
He just wants the wealth; in anyway it comes and at whatsoever cost, he cares less!
Blame it on the money,
What is ours is now owning us,
And we still show no remorse,
As even today, some of your sons and daughters are still singing this MONEY SONG!
©Emmiasky Ojex
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 9:26 AM UTC
the art of shapeshifting
can't be underestimated
as its a talent Joe Biden
has well cultivated
at one point of time
he was a moderate within the party
yet he's currently exhibiting
a more radical propensity
the morphing from one idendity to
another is quite an accomplishment
and he's excelled in this particular
switching achievement
it is reminiscent of a
reptilian chameleon
tranforming his colour
to suit the party's environ
May 8, 2021
May 8, 2021 at 6:33 PM UTC
In my sombre sky, you are like a cloud,
Showering kisses like alacrious rains.
Promising me a world full of exaltations,
Your love has turned reality better than dreams.
I become the hyacinth twisted over your soul,
When the insatiable essences environ us.
Your gaze lights me with crimson color.
Cuddling and squealing are always my dulcet reminiscences.
Our nomadic kisses travel everywhere,
Guided by our fingers interlocked.
The enchanting elixir of yours,
Is like hot silk on my *****
Oh my love! You are the rains of solace.
Your buttress keeps me from falling,
And those caressing hands have always wiped my tears.
It was you who always melted the snow.
Here, I raise my song to you.
And as I love you, the birds pipe out,
The withered flowers brighten up,
And baby, I fall in your arms.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 6:56 AM UTC
No more shall we come back to life,
No more shall we remain.
When death prevails the sphere one day
No more can we sojourn.
When curfew tolls, the train must leave,
Can travelers save their heed?
To catch the trip, the soul must rush:
No bags we’ll ever need.
In tunnel, we’ll tarry until,
The siren has been blown.
And this will bring our tour to halt
What next might we be shown?
No choice we made to come to life;
We have no choice to stall.
When winter comes, the wind will blow,
Can leaves choose but to fall?
For your depart avail daylight,
Rosebuds environ weeds;
Ahead nightfall fill up your bag
To brim with better deeds.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 3:18 PM UTC
I
the fear on first approach-
-submerged in reflective twilight
& you think say I say I-
(the island you had voyaged once before has grown feral with age)
where cloud, charcoal mane/the scribe of uncertainty/black casper queen
charges into its young,
a battered sea/a vigilant watcher waned
(Its mercurial body, which folds through
passions innumerable)
The vestibule of Neptune, an orphic
iris seeking-
which causes torn silk of peregrine robes/
the gaelic mercy in your voice
now sinking/smoke environ
"where can I find the spirit hospital?"
howling flower!
cracked serpentine clay!
after thousand veiled dreams/
the tempest of years pulls up from roots
your cradled heart-
-to rebirth as color undefined and
carried by
curious afflictions-
II
hands, golden hands, chariot hands, holy & wild hands/animal/oracle
hands with crystallike fingertips & listening eyes
hands/fury
practiced/grasping, sweet
spectacle hands/
mountain messenger/
Charon/hands (the silver tower abandoned for faith)
-together,
guiding
newborn
bodies
(including yours and mine)
toward
antiphon
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 9:59 PM UTC
In the eyes of another man,
Cascading on the hearts quaking,
A tragedy that was to never be named,
The judgement of fate is his for the taking.
My misconceptions environ me, no longer a soporose dream,
These are the threads of my sanity,
It's a fetch of my hollowness, benumbed thoughts so grim,
Reprieve me, for I am the only kin.
Life revised to the memories inscribed,
Confined within the ageing strands of mind,
Seeking those left undefined,
To deconstruct the crux of life.
A new mould ignites, contrived from past morbidity,
Ever frozen in time,
The voidness of this excited debility,
Flares forever inside.
The chasm within, a shadow well-withheld,
It knows when something's amiss.
When all is lost, a lesion turning gold,
Retorting back the abyss.
May 10, 2025
May 10, 2025 at 2:06 PM UTC
I often wonder what rules
In a world of penned liberty
Yet louds it confinement
You craved for freedom
From the toxicity of your environ
The universe responded
Now you wail to be imprisoned .
You're a prisoner to your fear
And I'm nothing like you
You've always been locked in
With the doors wide open
I'm a prisoner
Not to fear or guilt.
But to the world
Birth and death has the key.
I do not plan on escaping soon
I'm a forest bird
Tho confined to this space
Call me phoenix
Can never be locked in .
Diobimma
Oct 9, 2020
Oct 9, 2020 at 12:24 PM UTC
RaCee+RayyeeS
COUCH ALLENS
Jan 4
to imnetbks
GodSent Speaks Observant
Diversity Entries Rephrase”RaCe-Rays”
Evangelical leave behind close weirdness
Shame lucre pusher countless on-air living audiences
Grown miracle generics in generational churches of
Several hundred baptismal “Parade-Preaching” renewal
Fire often HyperIllustrations proven the
HyperAddict-Adds Of God….; Recycling providence subtle
Sustain millions notion influences agreed soulserves service
Technology…; Breakthrough stamina drilling comforts member
Western Europe And- itch growing substantial environ inspired
Reconcillers…’ Potential passionate praying home blueprints
Sharing up…’Advance the believed networth recovery
Peacebrow flurry prevails…’ The supra-additional guides message
Goodness…’ Transfer dynamics weighing solemnly…’ Breastplate
Hail wake up Creative-enrichPower Career…’ Eyesfeeding indepth
Gospel running acres’ happened…’ Volunteering brings –Loyalty
Reality^Verity*Proof ! Reaffirming#Fountains+Stalk Strength Reigns$ Etiquette breathe fiesta…’ Echo essence QuestQuestions…’
THE PUNCHNOMIUM ILLUMINATION…’PARACHUTES PATTERN
OATH ASSIDUOSNESS…’
QUADRANT GOOSE-' AU TUM QUIVER
ESSENCE: ARRAYING RAINBOW ZOOM INTENSE_ELEVENTH YONDER / NEXT TIE ARTHOLOGY HOGARTH GIRAFFE 'HEAD-MYTHS' REALISM LIAISON DYNAMISM'S.....''
VALVOLINE GRASPING TRUMPETER :
IMAGINARY LION GAPS....''
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
they came from the woods equipped with vindictive teeth
and they ripped my skin off and my internal organs
they scattered ubiquitously and left me for dead
but i am no mortal, i am a god of my own design,
and i will take my retribution on them from the woods.
i drag my body through the thorny bushes and sticks
and up the hills and down the valleys as mountains tremble
to the ground and fall as pebbles from the stormy sky
and my claws dig deeper into the soft belly of the earth
and she screams in agony at this **** of her soil.
i drink from the river and find shelter in a dead horse
and lay its still warm organs where my organs were before
and there i sleep until the sun appears and again i drag
this useless body as forenoon becomes afternoon becomes e’en.
a starry sky offers itself to me but i cannot navigate
with this pallid tepid light illuminating nothing of this environ,
so morning again i drag and i drag this sack of skin and bones
and my teeth chatter in the cold and my breath becomes angels
and they dance for my amusement as i continue up broken hills
and there before me is the city of a thousand lights
siren calling me towards her open arms and seedy *****
and i roll down this steep escarpment and paralyse my hands
as i grab these rocks so jagged like mica or quartz or flint
and now my hands are gashed wide open and blood
smears the path i took but that does not matter because
my enemy lies before me in this city of a thousand lights,
a city that refuses to sleep to man or beast or godlike dead.
i slide unseen into a school and wait in a closet until the morn
when all the children fresh from adventures as robin hood
and his merry men running wild and rampant in the woods,
who found me sleeping and with their army of vicious teeth,
they ripped my skin off and threw my internal organs away
and now i lie in wait for them so i can cut off their skins
and i can disperse their internal organs everywhere
because you don’t disturb the gentle slumber of a tired godman
and don’t expect the godthing not to succumb to blind rage,
so as i lie here and imagine all the horrible things i will do,
i cannot help but laugh a laugh of a beast on the cliffedge of death
but i will always get my requital and **** what needs to be killed.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 5:49 PM UTC