"explosions" poems
Slowly unfold,
as you fold into me.
Two explosions that explode
imploding our senses with sensory overload
too intersections that intersect invisible
connected through connectivity
magnetized magnetically
galvanized genetically
when energized
this pleasure is derived
riveting her visibly
I convulse as you implode
Extinguishing our misery
With pleasure beyond measure
Thirst quenched physically
satisfied, apparently.
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 3:16 PM UTC
The crowd fades away
As chords in every melody
Rings in our ears,
And shivers downs in our body
It vibrates in every muscle
A musical fusion
Almost everything didn’t matter
It’s you, me and the beating rhythm
The graceful posture
The sway of every gesture
It’s a motion adventure.
Feeling the adrenaline pulsing through
Pervading the entity
Beating rhythm pounding, it electrifies the body
into graceful art, emancipating the sound of the music
Captivating the mind, liberating the young, reckless soul
covertly hidden inside an indifferent exterior
A freeing beauty
of movement to the rhythm
A therapy to the mind and body.
Dancing to the music,
feeling every tune
every beat
every breath of every movement,
with Explosions of Euphoria
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 7:06 AM UTC
making love
suspends gravity
and time
seconds expand
into eternity
we are
on top of the universe
floating
in the fourth dimension
feeling
the birth of a new solar system
amidst convulsive explosions
whose brilliance
light years into the future
may be observed
by keen astronomers
we do not mind
our system
radiates and shines
in its time
nothing else matters
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
I never understood why people compared
kisses to fireworks
until i knew what it was like
to want someone so much
that all you could feel inside you
were explosions.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
I look at my purple and yellow flesh.
Smile at the memory of where you have been.
The harsh and heavy marks of our love.
I bite my bottom lip and press my thighs tight.
Stifle moans from the ache it brings.
Explosions raddle my brain and i wish to be with you again.
I trace the indention of rope along my wrists.
The thin line between pain and pleasure.
How we crossed it; played hop-scotch with it.
I giggle to the excitement of my battered soul.
The snap and crack of a flogger on my back.
Spiders crawl down my spine with the words,
"You are mine."
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
*Lying on the beach,
it's getting darker each time you blink.
Hear the colorful explosions up high,
the sky is in chaos, don't you think?
Forget what I told you,
leave those words to the tide.
The stars are peaking through,
my ignorance is wild and wide.
A handful of white rocks,
you smile like a maniac.
Breathing out hoaxes,
while I play piano on your back.
The fireworks stopped,
you gave me black rocks.
My blanket was made for two,
yet another startling paradox.*
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
It's funny how you apologise for slight and minimal accidents,
but you don't give a **** about creating explosions of Hell.
You're so ironic that your names could be the definition.
I'd rather you'd have accidently nudged me
than destroy my every thought.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 5:09 PM UTC
I'm a relationship engineer
Building engines to persevere
Through the loneliness I fear
That makes me panic
And seek out a mechanic
That tinkers
With my blinkers
But doesn't fix a thing
When I'm left with a sting
From what's defined as a fling
My pistons pumping
The way I'm *******
When I find a rocket scientist
That formulates the highest bliss
In his carefully calculated kiss
But I start to viciously *****
When our problems are subatomic
Because every decision
Creates nuclear fission
Which causes decay
And explosions of energy
His thoughts he relays
He sees me as the enemy
So I find a Christian
To pump my pistons
He has the morals of God
Which I figure can't be flawed
Though they may seem odd
But he doesn't love me
He feels he's above me
He acts like a martyr
Which makes me fall harder
But I'm left alone on the cross
He has forsaken me
He thinks I'm made of frost
He has mistaken me
I feel alone
In the brimstone
Of his dial tone
I found loneliness
In their phoniness
My engine needs trust
Otherwise it develops rust
But when everyone tries to act cool
Pain becomes my alternative fuel
Love once seemed like a jewel
Until my blood made a pool
I tried to get repairs
To find that nobody cares
I learned that science
Was of no reliance
And the pious life
Brought riot strife
So I find nowhere to turn
While my engine burns
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
Precise and organized
is the place we live.
A chair, a city, a country, a world, a galaxy,
all have systems of organization.
Running like clockwork,
precise and intricate,
everything in the universe is perfect.
But I don’t understand why.
I think to myself:
Why is the universe not a messy soup?
How is everything so independent physically?
The universe was once chaotic, random, and tumultuous.
But now it is neat and calm.
We live in a tranquil era of the universe
where such a world we inhabit can exist.
This entropy has served us well.
We don’t have to worry.
Everything will be alright.
Yet as I write this war and struggle encompass our earth.
People are dying in the hands of their loved ones.
Screams, tears, shots, explosions.
These frightening realities
come from a beautiful blue marble of a planet.
Life requires just right conditions
to grow and evolve.
Yet life is the sole imperfection in this universe.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
where am i?
how am I to write when
I am no different from
those gaseous ephemeral words
who lie prostrate upon
the pages of my dictionary
carved plainly into
those battlefields strewn across
the wartorn country
my heart the despotic dictator
whose primal drumming
carries no tune
and no rhythm
and throws of explosions
grenades that
black out the world for
a brief moment
until it careens back and
slams into me
disorientated
i should have been born twice
for how could i have
both my body and that
intangible inexplicable
something inside
it stirs at the molten core
of me
that chasm that forged
those graven images
that first gave way to
a pictographic language
and offered me
a voice
to explain that immutable
all powerful
urge
lust
to throw myself on that
red button and
detonate
burst into a million pieces
and finally relieve that
nauseating pressure
of adipose smushed between
holy bone and
saintly skin
interloping in that space
and separating two lovers
barriers create madness
walls box me in
and yet i grow
an expanding balloon girl
macy’s day parade and
candy littered streets
and razor sharp edges
to steel walls pressing harder
against me than
my supple skin could
ever possibly press
back
i can’t breathe
there is no room
for my lungs to expand
and feel the
fresh sun filled meadow
of crystal air
delivering oxygen to
starved alveoli
and i can’t find your chest
to guide me
in impossible respiration
i’m suffocating in my own skin
from no outside force
but my body itself
turns inward and
shouts its dominance at my
cowering self
sniveling in the corner
of my dusty half used heart
where no blade could possible
land a blow deep enough
to silence the torment and
particular personal poison
a torture to course through
every part of me
activating every single neuron
and making me
hyperaware of my
shame and noxious
venomous corpulence
a reality i
never wanted you to see
but is written plainly
in fiery script across my forehead
and in every fold of fat.
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
my head against your chest
***boom
boom
boom***
I remember
thinking
that no
explosion
could
ever be
louder,
faster
or
more powerful
than
the sound
of your
heartbeat
when it
beats
for
me
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 5:14 AM UTC
A hammer upon the landscape.
Thunder like a toppling mountain.
Flashes like x-ray explosions.
Supernova surprise.
Sheets of rain.
Glistening-rebar javelins
Pierce the asphalt
Shatter the concrete.
Long shards of glass
From the grey
Steel-wool clouds.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
It's time to enter a sleepless mind
The cogs and wheels spin and grind
I hear the whistles and the chimes
My head racing faster than a v8
Thoughts are larger than a U.S state
For my sleep I am ever so late
Clocks in my head, tick tocking
Side to side my head rocking
Chains pulling of the ship docking
Inside a war is going
Bullets and missiles a throwing
Explosions is all, lost for all knowing
Eternity lost in void of thought
Reminiscing on all I was taught
Consistent darkness you haunt
A sleepless mind is what I see
It is all I know how to be
So if don't you mind, come join me
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
raw ******* thumbs drawing open the canvas of cavities
hot stink, tangles of pink wrinkles, ground turkey and beef
pulse of the earth in the groan of the springs as the sequence of spirits inhabits a lopsided carpet of blood, cardiovascular, creation, crawling
pineapple sweat, ******* neck licking saliva stains, flesh slapping, teeth jousting, chins grinding
explosions, eruptions, screaming, biting, clutching the rim, apocalypse, APOCALYPSE, the guilty apocalypse
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
You kiss me the way
you set the sun:
Deliberately sinking me further
down, then leaving me
suspended just beneath you.
Your mouth smothers mine,
cushioning the sound of explosions.
Nails etch a language onto our skin
leaving raised lines of calligraphy
that we'll read in the morning with a smile.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
Boom
The noise
the light
the excitement
Boom
Chemicals mixing
creating explosions
and color
Boom
Fourth of July
New Year's Eve
all nights to spend with you
and watch the sky light up
-r.y.s
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 1:27 AM UTC
Incapacitated, infuriated,
In doldrums.
Cardiac explosions,
Waterfall eyes.
You are
My downfall.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
From a distance they looked like shooting stars
but to us we knew what they really were
some enemy decided to attack
launching bombs from their fortresses while we are left to burn
all around us explosions
destroying schools, hospitals and homes
we've never done anything to this enemy
yet they try to end our lives.
Morning had come with a horrible smell
burning buildings for miles
thousands had died last night
more will die tonight
we're pleading for help
but no one is listening
we did nothing wrong to this enemy
why are we the ones left to die
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
Dont think.
Dont think at all.
Just dont.
Because thinking leads to over thinking.
And over thinking leads to head explosions.
So just dont think.
Just dont.
Because thinking lets you realize how ******* up everyone
And everything
Truly is
So dont think.
Just dont.
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 1:35 PM UTC
Whiteness a ghost
Ghosts with dissociative disorders
Can’t touch each other
Justify genocide
Wreck less organized
Silence
In between nuclear explosions
But I’m bumping Oliver lake louder
Yelling whiteness is a dissociative disorder
That was forced to happen
Still pressuring
Forcing
I thought we danced away
These dissociative ghosts already
Telling us to turn it down
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC
In the annals of New York City
An amazing hero is acclaimed,
Known as "The man in the red bandana"
Welles Remy Crowther was his name.
Born in Nineteen seventy seven,
This New Yorker, born and bred,
Could have escaped death's destruction,
But chose to rescue folks instead.
All his life he cared for people,
Loved his family, kept them dear,
But on that day of 9/11
His higher purpose became clear.
An Honor Student, Lacrosse player,
Former fire fighter, too,
When explosions rocked the building,
Welles knew what he must do.
Rescuing with calm authority,
Directing people toward the doors,
He found a woman so disabled
He carried her to the 61st floor.
In the end, before death took him,
Twelve people were brought out, saved.
No one knows where Welles is buried
In his 9/11 grave.
Later, when his mother told
Of the red bandana Welles had,
The survivors saw his picture,
And knew Welles was the brave lad.
Only 26 years old,
Welles Crowther manned up in strife,
That young man is New York's hero...
... for twelve gave HIS VERY LIFE.
Soul Survivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 11, 2014
13th anniversary of 9/11
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
I remember best coming out of that factory into the
night
none of us saying much
glad to get out
but needing the job
---getting into our old cars
one could hear the grinding of the starters
the sudden roar and explosions as
the worn engines fired up once more
---as we backed wearily
out of the parking lot
to pull away
leaving the factory back there
---each of us to a different place
---some to a wife and children
---others to empty rented rooms or to
small crowded apartments:
as for me
I never knew if my woman would be there or
not
or how drunk she would be
if she was home
---but for each of us
the factory waited back there
our timecards punched and neatly
racked.
for me somehow
the best time was that moment
driving from the factory to where I lived
stopping at the signals
looking at the crowds
suspended
between a place I didn't want to be
and a place I didn't want to go
---I was caught between my two unhappy lives
but so were most of the others there
not only from that warehouse
in that city
but in the world
entire:
we had no chance
yet still we all managed to continue and
endure.
5.5k
Teeth and tongue
Tongue and cheek
Wars start people died, and they talk,
Who’s cheating on whom within a myth of a happy ending
Cheek and cheek
Bombs, explosions and people talk,
About the weather and the puppy fluff struck in sewer drains
Our fantasies coming to a steal away the reality of misunderstood celebrities
We play life across a board game
Cross Go pick up Nothing, nothing fun things of un things
Against the knowing we celebrate everything
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC