"exterminator" poems
The greatest challenge my nature presents:
Love is harder to find
Hate is easier to find
Within myself and others
Is rejection different for me?
Everybody seems to know the pain of being unwanted
And idle threats and empty words are no stranger to rejection
But when you say you'll **** me if you ever see me again
The intention is clear
The existence of my attraction
Is grotesque beyond redemption
I thought I loved you...
When appreciation comes my way
It's superficiality amuses me
Because I know all that needs to happen
Is breaking down the wall to my mind
Or unlocking the door to my heart
And those appreciators will transform into detractors
Especially if the hideous leviathan approaches their vessel
Not finding women gross frustrates me
Because I have no reference point
For why people hate me so much
Which provides a reference point
For why I hate myself so much
It's difficult not to be dominated by this damnation
But there's no way people could understand
The daily subtle nuances
Why should they?
I don't constantly consider their lives either
Even if someone tried to comprehend my life
I'm not sure it's possible
I've been here the whole time and I'm still massively perplexed
I display my emotions
Disgust
I shroud my emotions
Indifference
I **** my emotions
Hatred
Is there no escape?
Even with sanctuaries along the way
Life feels like
Everybody swims in the ocean
While I'm resigned to my lonely oasis
Is it possible to feel more alone than completely alone?
Like a cockroach consigned to living under the refrigerator
It gets so cold and dark down here
I forage for crumbs only at night
Mortally afraid of human contact
For I know that the boot follows the light
And why not?
In a world where our priorities obstruct our compassion
How much consideration should a real human show
to a lowly maggot like me
When they have to worry about paying the exterminator?
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 4:16 AM UTC
Strumming the untuned strings, he stares drunkenly into the setting sun of yesteryears songs, sung of lost dreams and the birthed ambitions of the dark, dark days to be.
Happily, he tears up in the fortunate tragedies, of the reclamation in his dreams, as he seethes out the damnation of his steeds, galloping gallantly through his being.
All seeing, in the finite fleeting when he sings, of strummed dreams to the rhythms of heart beats lost, embossed on the epitaphs of kings.
Sad songs of dreams once had.
Be glad for that, which does not **** you, only to bestow upon you, the gratitude of the weirding ways, in passionate display for us all to play nice.
Shake these dice and jump aboard this bus of wandering poetry, from the porches of poets singing to the sun.
From the morning Moet, to the afternoon beer run.
we sing of dreams
of better things
we blaspheme
and spin the scenes
of our murdered dreams
and just clean the guilt away
I am so awesome as to be devoid of fault.
I am a god that cracks the asphalt.
I am the angel signing the clause, of deserved harm.
I am the indentured servant sounding the alarm, with the charm of a Trojan horse, forced to adhere to the most righteous path.
The first
The last
Laugh of inevitability
Honing in on the ability to capture the longevity of dream warriors, in the lock of predators, in the employ of a senator, from the center of the heart, to impart on you the fear from thieves caught in the plight of those fraught with the graces of an exterminator, exterminating the pro-creators of your world. Soldiers unraveled in the lavished gavels of real criminals drowning in their own subliminal theories of the self imposed heresies of intention.
Free will
A fragile blessing
I cracked, all so long ago, as i gently bestow my belligerence upon your innocence and **** it all away.
I'm the ******* son
Strumming for the only one.
Once.
Before the lore of the storm.
Born of the swoon of a gun.
More than one.
Once.
As the day faded into night, his strumming turned plucking, as he slightly eased from reprise to silence, in the whisper of nights words, easing him into the blur, of sleep.
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 3:46 PM UTC
As of recent,
there has been an infestation of cockroaches in my house.
I want to rid of them, but I cannot call an exterminator.
I do not want him to find the bodies.
So I decided,
I could only rid of them,
by eating them.
And I ate them all,
one by one.
Each roach crunching between my teeth.
The tangy juices,
squeezing into my mouth,
and down my throat.
I must say,
after a while,
they did not taste bad.
They in fact tasted quite delicious.
So delicious, that I started eating them with meals.
Soon, I was only eating the roaches.
Now, all I eat,
is roaches.
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
There's a hearse next door,
but I don't know who its for.
The driver is wearing a midnight black derby,
and a midnight black sports coat.
Its plain to see, he's not in a hurry i
I hope its not my fault.
There's an officer at my door,
he has a warrant,
my house he'd like to explore.
There's a goat's head in the tub.
Luckily,
it's invisible.
The rats are building bombs in the walls,
I can hear eggtimers ticking, as I walk through the halls,
sinister squeaking, and cracks in the plaster,
from "The Seventeen dead!" M-80 disaster.
The exterminator says I'm bonkers,
but he runs a white slave ring in Yonkers.
You call me paranoid,
from collected chemical indiscretions,
and laugh as I keep peeking out the blinds,
but even if you don't see them,
they're coming from all directions.
They will get you too, in time.
Maniacs are Golden,
that's why God loves them so much,
they're the only ones that keep in touch,
with both him,
and the Devil.
Maniacs are Golden.
Cut them open and see.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 2:55 PM UTC
It all begins with pounding fists
against my door, and men with guns
and yellow tape, and me afraid,
I’m on the floor and crawling toward
the front room drapes to peak outside,
oh what in the world have I done?
A bit relieved, I find out why
a regiment is in my yard,
they say the man that lived next door
has turned up dead behind his shed,
they said he died an awful way,
with eyes ****** out by who knows
what, or why, but either way a
nasty death; poor guy.
The landscape man called 911,
but what he saw he wouldn’t say,
was so surprised to find him dead,
he swallowed his tongue, his face all red,
and there they lie both side by side
the one alive, the other dead.
The EMTs revived the one,
the older guy had long since died,
the guy who lived, they took away
to where? don’t know, they didn’t say,-
but rumor is a padded cell
where all he does both day and night
is moan and drool, he just ain’t right
from what he saw that spooked him.
Within a week I notice things
around the house (not his, but mine)
the porch out back, the wet wood stack,
the shifting earth, the sticking doors,
disgusting insects on the floor,
the pungent stench from underneath
the house, the vents that weep a
sickly brown and soupy **** I
must confess in ignorance,
I didn’t know a house could bleed.
I try some bleach, some cleaning spray,
but just can’t scrub the **** away,
it just gets worse, and just when I
can take no more a chasm cracks
behind the stack of sticky wood,
and from the hole a flying horde
of Satan’s pawns and slugs and prawns
and beasts of sorts I swear I’ve never
seen before come shrieking out and
flock about so loud the sound is
deafening.
And now I know what mute man saw,
he saw what’s left, the face of stone
when people die at home alone,
the rigor mortis, gouged out eyes
when killed by things that men despise,
those beasts that creep and crawl and fly
about as Satan’s pawns or slugs
or prawns or whatever else might
make them cry or swallow their tongue.
I really don’t know what the big
deal is - good god
its only BUGS.
I guess I’ll call an exterminator.
Sep 18, 2010
Sep 18, 2010 at 11:28 AM UTC
It is often said that sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt.
But wait if each word were beautifully carved into stones, the size of each letter.
The smaller the word, the bigger the stone.
The bigger the word, the smaller the stone.
Idiot became much bigger than intelligent.
Dumb became much more common than bright.
Shy became an excuse for exclusion.
And the word friend had a double personality with adversary.
I didn’t understand.
Each stone formed a meteorite,
Hurtling down to destroy my purpose,
Slay my heartbeat,
Butcher my happiness.
My happiness, however, was too powerful.
The exterminator disintegrated as it peeked at my face.
Each pebble hitting my skin like confused bullets.
It took my hands, then my shoulders
Then my back,
Then my legs,
Then my lips,
Then my voice.
It melted my skin,
Screaming demons lay atop.
Each layer of skin peeling, falling apart.
My smile had been long gone.
PLOT TWIST:
Instead of melting like a witch,
I remained.
Today, I stand before you, stronger than ever.
A message from the universe told me to tell you:
Never give up.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
So i tried to be Snow White
And did the whole pin-up girl look
Red lips, black hair, white skin.
then I joined a website
and learnt how to cook
and how to wield a rolling pin.
Then I sat and waited for a charming prince
who never came.
So I got up and made an apple pie
and lo seven guys turned up in a pinch
but most of them were really lame
and short and they didn't like the pie. I cried.
I threw the pie into the trash
where the rats choked on the apples
and waited for their own true love's kiss.
(But then I needn't have worried about making a hash
of things because later on the steps of an abandoned chapel,
The Anti-Pest Society gave me an award for getting rid of all the rats
and that's how I got work as an exterminator -which I am justifiably proud of and good at-
So hasta la vista baby, I'll be back.)
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
You were poetry. You made my heart beat fast enough to start a car engine, but now I'm suffocating, and you won’t let me catch my breath. You’re a song stuck on repeat - I’m getting sick of you - but you just keep playing. The poem feels repetitive and I’m a lyric away from regurgitating every love song I ever composed for you. The only noise playing in my head is the scarlet letter you wrote back. The letter where you called me as beautiful as a flower, yet ripped the roots of my beauty until there was nothing left to recognize. The letter where you reminded me of the strings you pulled with my veins, the way you controlled the choreography of my body with your presence near; I believed you were an amazing ventriloquist. All you are is a skeleton coming from the back of my closet and I can’t get rid of you in discretion. I want you gone. I don’t know whether to call an exorcist to rebuke the demons in my head or an exterminator to get rid of the termites your corpse has left behind. I want you gone. The memory of your acidic touch is leaving third degree burns that may never heal. The memory of butterflies in my stomach makes me wish a whole zoo trampled me instead. The butterflies have burned a hole inside of me and I can no longer digest chocolate kisses from sweeter times. I now sit in this bed, where we once laid, and write about how badly I want to change this radio station.
You are in every station.
I’m tired of writing tragic rhymes about missing you.
I’m tired of missing you.
This is my final sonnet to you.
And with this, I finally turn the radio off.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 1:52 AM UTC
I am the terminator
The exterminator
I walk around with my spray
Aiming at things that get in my way
So you better stand back
Before I start my attack
Because I might see
You as a tiny flea
******* out my life force
You might be the source
Of that itch I can't scratch
You will have meet your match
I love to destroy what bugs me
It fills me with a sense of glee
I wonder if God feels the same
Maybe that's why none of us are sane
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 12:31 PM UTC
Banished from my life
To me, you are dead.
Amputating your white knuckles
From my lungs I revive the breath
Which had previously been taken.
Sneakily, I crept upon you
Stealing away the blinders—
Regaining my peripheral vision
And ability to see the world around me.
I plug my headphones into my body
Drowning out your drill sergeant
Yelling at me to run faster,
Push harder,
Be better.
Removing your sparkling diamond ring
From my finger,
I cancel our engagement.
No longer will we live together
Intimately sharing our space—
MY space.
There is no space for you here.
Quickly and ferociously
I throw your **** out the window
Leaving you mute, homeless and limbless;
Unable to communicate with anyone else,
Or invade their space.
An exterminator has been in and out
Killing the parasites ingested
From the food you tainted.
With the worms removed
And the eggs uprooted,
You’ve lost your control over my body.
My firewalls are up,
Protecting me from further infection.
I know and understand your acid rain
Will fall upon me again,
But I have built a house
Upon strong supports
In which I can enter
When I am enticed
By the tingling burn of my skin.
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 9:56 PM UTC
HAVING DREAM CATCHERS ABOVE MY BED
AND CONTINUING TO HAVE THESE NIGHT
TERRORS IS IRONY BECAUSE YOU ALMOST
******* CONVINCED ME THAT YOU WERE
THE EXTERMINATOR TO THOSE NIGHTMARES
BUT GOD, WAS I DEAD WRONG ABOUT YOU.
YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE THE INSTRUMENTS TO
RECREATE ANYTHING GOOD IN MY DREAMS
ANYMORE. FRANKLY, ALL YOU ARE ANYMORE
IS THE TRIGGERS TO MY NIGHTMARES. THIS IS
WHY I DON'T BELIEVE IN FORTUNES, TAROT
CARDS, SPIRITS, AND MUCH LESS, GOOD LUCK.
NO DREAM CATCHER CAN FULLY REMOVE THE
SCARS YOU'VE LEFT IMPRINTED IN MY MIND.
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 5:16 AM UTC
I am the terminator
The exterminator
I walk around with my spray
Aiming at things that get in my way
So you better stand back
Before I start my attack
Because I might see
You as a tiny flea
******* out my life force
You might be the source
Of that itch I can't scratch
You will have meet your match
I love to destroy what bugs me
It fills me with a sense of glee
I wonder if God feels the same
Maybe that's why none of us are sane
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 7:25 PM UTC
There are no hammers in my room.
No tactical advances which need enhancements.
no broken bits of furniture in need of further
assessment.
There are no screwdrivers.
no holes filled with crack filling nothing willing to be cut.
destroyed.
nothing blotchy or broken.
or to say this house is less than homely.
There are no hammers.
no holes filled with crack filling nothing willing to be cut.
destroyed. Deconstructed. Detonated.
No little lines on the carpet, no rusty pipes beneath my sink
There are no razors in my bathroom
nothing which brings blood from my retinas
nothing stinks of mold, nothing sinks in the carberater
escaping excavation
measure the short comings of my
makings, and takings, and tasks.
There are no dust mites beneath my bed
there are nothing but soap and cleansing masks.
sleeping with the boogy man, sharing his head
space,
no naked, termites in my walls.
skeletons in my closet.
nothing that would appall an exterminator.
nothing which says this house is less than
homely.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
Brownies, Bogart's, or Borrowers within my halls,
pitter patter of small shoes in my dusty walls,
I hear the ranting and mumbling of his voice echoing in my rooms,
The scraping of his small tools fill me with gloom,
the knocking, pounding, and banging at night make my nightmares come to life,
so if i was you, I would plaster and grout every small hole you find about,
for it is not a good thing to have a small being running about your things,
so save your frustrations about the tiny thing and call a exterminator and do the right thing.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 12:52 AM UTC
There's a minute mouse hidden in the darkness under the house.
Hear it scooting around, it's chewing on paper.
All the books are getting distressed.
Notice the scuffling things.
A peek from the corner of householder's eye.
Wonder why she didn't call upon the services of the exterminator man.
Not the daleks naturally.
See them darting across the room, honed almost invisible darts.
In they pop to empty their bladders and bowels, all over the house.
Discarded broken pencil leads.
Their broods hidden under the host's cosy house.
And they nibbled the wire.
Gnaw, gnaw,nibble,nibble .
Ignited a spark.
Now the house is on fire.
(C) Livvi
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 6:14 PM UTC
Since Jesus Christ is God, and I am not,—
Since I am not my own creator, I,
Adam, shall seek no more to justify
Myself; for every tittle, dot, and jot
Has been fulfilled by Christ who's God of all,
The Adam hitherto I could not be,
The faithful Adam faithful now in me,
Adam redeemed and lifted from the fall.
The God of all the gods of nature, earth,
The kosmos, hades, greed, lust, war, and death,
Whose word is life, whose life is breath, whose breath
Inspires the wind that seeds the second birth,
Is Sin's Exterminator, Death's Decease,
Judgment, Forgiveness, Mercy, Love, and Peace.
*
Aug 9, 2024
Aug 9, 2024 at 11:53 AM UTC
While you’re sleeping
The spiders bathe in your nightstand water
As the mosquitos play you Copeland’s “Fanfare For The Common Man”
The worms use you as a blanket
The bees outside your window spread rumors about the Praying Mantis
The roaches climb the bedpost to get a better view
and the ants want to be left alone cause they’re too busy working on their own things
while the Praying Mantis makes a move on the Brown Widow
It’s actually not a widow it’s a Brown Recluse according my roommate, Charlie
He tells me their bites are harmless
But I don’t believe him
So I take a picture and ask someone on reddit spiders
and they tell me it looks like a Brown Widow but the photo quality isn’t too clear
I mean I got up as close as I could to take the picture
And we should really call an exterminator
Because the Ladybugs now won’t shut up about the Mantis
And the Moths are making a mess in the kitchen
And it’s really Gal the landlords job to handle it
But he’s too busy being a heart surgeon on the side so I guess I’ll have to do it
I’ll call today. I’ll call now.
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 5:09 PM UTC
Bright light attracts the bugs at night,
So I got smart and dimmed my glow.
Barely noticeable to untrained eyes,
I just simply glide through the day.
A little less unimpressed at sunset,
Watching all my circles shrink.
It can get a little lonely here,
But the past comes to remind me;
Sleeping with dogs can give you fleas,
So I adopted a no animal policy.
I haven't had an itch in ages,
But I miss the companionship.
It can get a little lonely here,
but at least I have no bugs.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 4:23 AM UTC
Conflicted
Internally tormented
Butterflies come alive
Just beneath the flesh
Some with
Wings of razors
Others soft as silk
Call the exterminator
The pests won't leave me be
They flutter about
Collide and ****
Dead ones floating in the blood
- Jay M
December 8th, 2020
Dec 8, 2020
Dec 8, 2020 at 8:17 PM UTC
I had this girlfriend many years ago
her name was Wendy Edge
she was my first love
I gave her my heart and pledge
Well she took me to meet her family
her father was a pest exterminator
and his young son took up the banner
by being all the poor frogs terminator
As we sat and talked in the garden
by the pond of frogs
Wendy's little brother came up
and blow me with a hammer in his hands
He grab them out one by one
hammered them to death and throw them back in
my god I told them, I was in dismay
they said to me, leave him alone and let him play
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 8:55 AM UTC
America they speak of you so demonically
America wasn't it you who separated the dark humans from the light?
I lay wake sometimes for no apparent reason watching television
I'm useless in most situations I can't control
**** you and you ballistic missiles!
America when will miss Liberty start showing justice for all?
When will you stop hiding the fact
you're not all white ?
When will you stop trying to fit into societies demands ?
When will you acknowledge the fact you are not always right ?
America why are your libraries filled with wove lies?
America when will you help without showcasing your "good deed"?
Your greedy and I'm tired of it
When can i cash my paycheck without it being yours to begin with?
America you do know you and I are a team don't you?
Your produce is too much for me
You make me want to fast like your Christian leader "Jesus"
There has to be a way to come to an agreement
Don't talk to me about College !
Colemon went overseas as a chef I doubt he'll return it'll be sinister,
I refuse to lay rest my poetic passions
America I know what I'm doing stop pushing !
Immigrants should have freedom too
ISIS started in Syria or Iraq or In the CIA
America when are you getting an exterminator?
America when does your spring cleaning begin, when you fall ?
America when will you take off your clothes?
There seems to be a confusion with gender is why i ask
Can you distract me with more propaganda
i seem to have spilled some tea
The white house is back to being the "white" house it's ancestors intended
America I use to be darker as a baby I'm not sorry
I haven't listen to the news in months, everyday someone is murdered
America can we throw away false beliefs and false idols
America can you send me the money printing machines that gets you out of debt ?
I tend to get drunk occasionally and make a fool of myself
My love life comes and goes like the L train
America I haven't told you what pain you've cause my future children
I'm talking to you
Do you really want another war?
Does everyone really want what we have or is it the bipolar opposite ?
May 30, 2020
May 30, 2020 at 9:04 AM UTC
There, in the doorway
Brown field mouse looks inside
My spirit shudders
Exterminator
Looking just like a space man
Ready for the moon
Chemical spray clings
Morning dew inside my home
Scratching from the wall
Wooden trap, cheese piece
So delicately balanced…
The mouse laughs at me
Layer of strong glue
Forest fibers make the tray
One foot is enough
Tear falls on the deck
Cat has killed my worthy foe
No wet food tonight…..
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC