"fallout" poems
I'd like to think that she's thinking:
"How far have I fallen?"
As she sits on the corner of her bed,
Listening to the soft buzz of his battery-powered toothbrush.
I imagine her,
Running her fingers through her clumsy, coagulated hair.
Glancing at her chipped, crimson toe nails,
Then looking to her class ring,
Made entirely of imitation ingredients,
Wondering when is the proper time to trash it.
When she was still a friend of mine,
I never saw her wear make up,
I never saw her show off in tight jeans
or low-cut tees.
But as he spews the toothpaste into the sink,
Skinny jeans lay tussled on the floor,
Next to the side door
that leads to his sister's side room.
The make up she wears
is from the night before.
It's skewed and shows evidence of running,
Like a wasted watercolor.
I'd like to think he isn't that handsome,
And that he's obsessed with Paul Walker.
I'd like to think when he re-enters the room,
He's in grey sweatpants,
He's wearing a black tank top,
With a Confederate flag backdrop,
With two barely dressed babes looking ******
in the foreground.
His hair, unwashed and greasy.
He rubs his belly,
And bears an idiot grin
on his face.
Looking like he just learned how to smile
at this pace.
"Did it feel good?"
feel good.
After he asks, he scans her body,
Beginning at those crimson toes,
And Ending at that clumsy hair.
Every second he scans,
He still wears that drawn-on
Idiot grin.
I'd like to think at this point she thinks of me.
Of my warnings and prophesy.
Her eyes start at the chipped toe nails,
Course over her tanning bed-inspired legs.
And finally reach the only thing she has on,
A t-shirt that belongs to his sister.
A t-shirt, when given by him,
It was mentioned, "thanks, mister".
Though she didn't satisfy all his redneck intentions,
During last night's expedition.
He still paid her back with a morning
one-sided session.
"It felt good" she says.
In reference to the ten minute **********
When her body was strummed and plucked,
Underneath his sister's Terri Clark T-shirt.
As she sits in the filth and the ****** fallout,
On a bed that is six days *****
While he is grinning,
Being everything but wordy.
I'd like to think she's thinking:
"How far have I fallen?"
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 10:31 PM UTC
let it not be confused
let no one else's name
ring throughout these sentences
let this be a hatchet
let me put this to rest
this is not a test
i don't want to think
about shipwrecks anymore
i am tired of folding apologies
into origami birds
and placing them
at the headstones to your tantrums
this is not is not geology class
these are promises
written on razorblades
*& if you are getting choked up
then maybe you should be*
maybe we should be buried
with our telescopes face down
my mouth is full of sorry
all for being honest
we are falling out of orbit
we are burning bystanders
so cast away your callous condolences
because no one is clapping
in this waist deep water
this is not a baptism
so do not tell strangers
that this was a chance to drown
any differently
i am not a catalogue
of constellations you cannot name
this is not mythology
so stop believing your horoscope
i am not a wishing well
i am just a wall for you
to paint post nuclear fallout & antonyms for catharsis on
we destroy the things
that are not ours-
the wanton ways
we embody wrecking *****
and then cry over the rubble
this is not a heap or a mosaic
this is leaping
off a thousand story building
with no one to catch you
at the bottom & maybe
that's why some quiet moments
are so fragile, maybe that's why butterflies have mimicry
your words are black powder
and poetry is your musketry
i guess that makes me your blindfold
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
We had never even talked;
I really only knew of you.
We passed by each other in the hallways,
Consumed by all we had to do.
Now, three years later,
I suddenly discover you are gone...
Makes me wonder if we had been friends,
Could you have found the will to carry on?
Maybe just a weak "hello"
Or a smile of silent understanding
Could have been enough to keep you here
When life had gotten more demanding.
I wonder if my friendship
Could have simply helped you to know
That life is hard for all of us
And that you were not alone.
The feelings must have been raw,
As the voices in your head got louder.
Maybe if you could have foreseen the fallout
You would have lived your life a little prouder.
I don't know what you went through
And I probably wouldn't have been a huge difference
But perhaps, for you, I could have been
Some sort of interference.
I'm praying for your families--
Because I wish you knew that you had two.
There was the one with the same last name
But also those friends who chose to love you.
I wish that you could see
How much everyone here is grieving
Asking what more they could have done
Just to keep you from leaving.
And I am sorry I couldn't help you
That you felt there was no other way--
And I wish I had given you a bit more thought
Than just finding out the other day.
Even though I didn't help you
I just wanted you to see:
In one day, you touched so many lives--
One of those being me.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 5:19 AM UTC
I’ve been reading a bit about positivity, this past hour.
I have been trying to project what I’ve read, mentally, in scenarios where I’m under stress to see how things work out.
I couldn’t make peace with the fact that sometimes letting go and keeping quiet is the best course of action.
That sometimes, just sometimes, shutting up and letting things happen is the only way to get over a bad situation.
The fallout can be dealt with. The one percent of our animal nature within helps us rebuild every time.
I can feel an uneasiness settling, making its home in the center of my being.
Writhing in malcontent and uneven distaste, counterbalanced hatred for this feeling I’m riddled with. Where is the good in all this?
Is that what forgiveness is? Swallowing the bitter pill? Turning a new leaf?
Among other euphemisms for being a **** up.
Something that’s very hard to do.
Two minds too blind to make themselves up. Nothing is accomplished in confusion.
One kills while the other cries.
Despair and hope side by side, waiting for one to rise and the other to fall.
Positivity is elastic, it can be stretched to fit over what you deem right.
It can be mistaken for a rush of energy, a thirst for life, a sense of achievement, an inebriated night.
All the while festering, brooding, decaying inside, a heart of sadness, that once did smile.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:13 AM UTC
Anthropogenic climate change
Nuclear fallout Chernobyl
Raptors flourish
And wolves
Dwell
Sleeping.
Catfish swimming
In a cooling eye
Grown old and untouchable
By mans wills.
Rusty ships
Wetlands
Roam free.
Storks in their nests
1875
The cheval de prjevalski
Dye without mercy
The fallout from time
A call to restore
A broken land.
The wolves cry
The wolves cry
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
He watched as she fell
He watched as he did what he had to
He watched as she hit the ground
He listened
There was no sound
He watched as their world split
He cringed at the spectacle
Unfolding before his eyes
He listened
There were no cries
He felt the shockwave
As her reality exploded
He marveled at the colors the wound
He listened
And then it boomed
Violent
Force
Wreckage
Shrapnel
Fallout
Screams
Weeping
Unrestrained
Anguish
Betrayal
Hatred
But hold on child
This is not the end
This is just a pothole
On the Warpath of Love
So look to the Bittersweet Bystander
His hand extended now
Take the help he offers
You need it to continue
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC
Some day, some people you don’t know might get spittin’ mad at each other.
you won’t have a ****** thing to do with it.
But one morning while you discuss equality at a café on Wilshire
you might hear a terrible
BOOM
In the middle of the city
And you could spill your fair-trade iced coffee
All over your Egyptian cotton clothes.
you might be able to make it home to see
If your purebred cats are not dead
But most likely you won’t get so far.
your ice might melt,
Don’t you know?
And your faucet might leak.
your apartment could be an ocean
And nobody would care.
You might try to get away
But everyone else will do the same
And you might puff up like the Chilean Blob,
And maybe your hair will come out in tufts
And you’ll possibly die with your legs stuck out at obscene angles
On a gum-dappled sidewalk,
Ashes and fallout whiffling down around your snow-angel death scene.
Mushroom cloud don’t care how civilized you is.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 1:33 AM UTC
you draw your self hatred out like a kid draws out small pictures
and play double dutch with the hands on a clock, knowing how
unsafe it is out there, flirting with death and flicking me off when
i wrote out the reasons why you should stay, that this autumn fallout
is only a misconstruction of your mind's witching hour, that dystopia
won't linger and utopia will be home soon, it will blossom into your lungs
and turn the simplicity of your broken soul into something completely
quintessential and complex, like an origami rabbit, i fold my sharp edges
and twist myself to be malleable and secure for you, maybe i'm not too certain
of myself or you, but i'm not too certain on a lot of subjects, i'm worried
of being thrown into the arsonist world you started, covering up the sky with
black dense fog, the type of fog that would happen only in dangerous wildfires
i'm a controlled wildfire, but i let my fire spread just to help control your fire
- kra
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 5:23 AM UTC
**@@@
@@@@@@
@@@@@@@@
@@@@@@@@@@
@@@@@@@@
@@@@@
||||
||||
||||
||||
** |||| **
XXXX |||| XXXX
XXXXXX |||| XXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
ON THE UNEXPECTING
A BOMB IS SET IN
WAIT • IT CAN
SHATTER ANYONE
RICH • POOR • SMALL
OR GREAT • THERE IS
METHOD TO ITS EVIL
THERE IS FALLOUT IN
ITS WAKE • THERE IS
|NO RECIPROCATION|
THERE IS NO GIVE "N
TAKE • THERE IS ONLY
SELF-OBSESSION THE
BOMB OF POISON KIND
IT'LL MESS 'ROUND IN
OUR BODY IT'LL MESS
AROUND WITHIN THE
MIND • HAVE A FUNNY
FEELING CRAZY BUT IT
|BE TRUE • THE LOVE|
BOMB DROPPED IS A
NARCISSIST AND
GROUND 0 IS
YOU**
SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/20/2016
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC
I settle near the Camellia
as good fortune
surrounds me.
I wonder
how does luck grow
leisurely around me?
I can't recall pushing
a lucky seed into moist dirt
of a weathered slip ***
Many friends and siblings feel
battle fallout as Zeus and Hades
hurl bolts of catastrophe at them.
Life is unfair.
Meek brothers and sisters will you
inherit the earth or misfortune?
Mishap, misadventure and calamity
do you lurk around the next bend
of my fair weather journey?
.
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
I
Put down your wooden blocks, Miyagi -
Smashing stuff against your head and shredding the Yellow Pages
Is child's play to me
I can split atoms with my teeth!
II
Hey, long time no see, Miyagi
What's that you say?
You got caught in the fallout and now you're radioactive
Just like me?
That's great, buddy,
We'll call you the Blue Flash
And we can team up
Fight the darkness together
...You say you lost all your teeth, and your hair is next..?
Hey, Miyagi, that's not funny...
That kinda **** doesn't happen in comics
Where an accident in a science lab
or an experiment with nuclear energy
Lands you a seat in the superhero hall of fame
And then you adopt a suitably awesome superhero name
No, you have to be mistaken
Look at me - I didn't die from radiation
A steady dose has given me powers
Beyond my wildest dreams
But for you, it seems
more like a bad dream
Your white blood cell count drop, drop
dropping
Your body getting weaker
Instead of stronger
No, no, this can''t be happening
You say you can't go a day
Without the nausea and the vomiting
You pray for relief, for this
Journey into Misery to end
Here, Miyagi, my friend - take hold of my hand
And I will do my best to defend you
In your final stand
You and I, old bud,
Fighting the darkness together
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 11:19 PM UTC
“Here’s your morning PSA,
Laced with saccharine and anaesthetic,
Unfortunately the missiles are on their way,
So leave the sick and try not to panic,
Ignore the hysteria, and those calling your name,
Avert your eyes as the world sets aflame,
We apologise for keeping this from you,
Secret for all of these years,
But please keep in mind, though we’ll aim for your rescue,
Death is the least of your fears
This will be our last transition,
I’m afraid the president must catch his flight,
You may wait to hear from us but until then,
Goodbye, goodluck and goodnight.”
We were the PVC plastic barbie dolls,
Waiting to be burned alive,
Unlucky enough to live,
We woke up to an absence of we,
No Nevada left to test in,
So I’m a model mannequin,
Melt me down,
Tick-Tick-Tick,
The light was white and empty,
Tick-Tick-Tick,
My madness steeped in silence
Tick-Tick-Tickety,
Geiger is telling me to run,
Tickety-Tickety-Tickety,
But it’s no use now,
I threw up on Monday,
Tuesday, I choke back fallout,
Ignore the bubbles when it hits my skin,
On Wednesday, my gums blink bright red,
Thursday I know I am all alone because the wind has ceased to blow,
And Friday I realise I am not,
They came with rubber masks,
Silicone,
Respirators and coils of filters,
We both had big black eyes,
But neither of us saw people reflected in them,
I counted three,
Alpha, Beta, Gamma,
One smiles by exhaling clean air,
Reaches out a hand across the barren wasteland,
Fingers tipped with lead and tells me:
“There’s a prize for the last standing.”
I am not ionised,
So I bruise every time they touch me,
These guides through plagues of acid rain,
The graveyard of monuments stripped bare by a world of rot,
My hair falls out as I breathe dead air,
I don’t remember what PSA stands for,
I don’t remember my name,
I bleed sand and the echo of a failed civilisation,
But with heavy breathing and a muffled voice,
Gas masks filtering what used to keep me alive,
I wonder if there is anything behind those masks at all,
I know there is nothing behind mine,
None of us are human anymore,
And we haven’t been for quite some time,
Together, we watch the sky rain black ash.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 7:51 AM UTC
Little bits of fallout are scattered at my very feet.
Mingling with dust motes and spilt tears.
These little shards of time.
Whether, they were fragments of clocks & antique watches
or
the very iridescent pockets of dusty memories.
I am not sure.
Few things that I do know is,
please do not try to pick them up.
If you do, be careful, be cautious.
Hold your breath
if
you need to.
One little cut is the doorway
for
all
those creased and crinkled memories
to
tip-toe
in.
I did both.
I held you in my hands.
Wisps of your warmth flitted through my outstretched fingertips.
You flowed gently in my veins,
kissed my ribcage,
gently nudged my heart.
Then,
it
was
n o t h i n g.
I gasp on some days at this emptiness that fills me up.
The silence lends itself to hear my words;
the
truth.
I
had
you
in
the
dusty
past.
The present is one my eyelids cannot close to,
not without your heart-beat saying
'I am here'
to
mine.
Little bits of fallout-
burnt and crinkled memories
mingled
with
shards
of
you
then
me.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
you were a better friend to me in a few months
then some have been to me in years
yet now when we see each other in the halls
we act like we're total strangers
the fallout was all my fault
I didn't believe I deserved a friend
"it wasn't fair you got stuck with me"
and so to make it up to you, I left
now I see how mistaken I was
to think such a foolish thing
but I'm the insecure one of us
it's my job to keep my heart in a sling
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 3:33 PM UTC
(it's cliché to admonish clichés in their entirety)
I. (love)
We are meant to live the clichés;
we are meant to resuscitate the words,
and rehabilitate their wounds
into a fertile viewpoint
where we build respirators from clichés
to filter the virulent dust kicked up
by the marching pigs.
(re-invented clichés offer back breath
in an exchange of circular breathing)
The swine contort love
into armaments of antipathy;
they push buttons,
squeeze triggers,
pull pins,
and aim where it causes the most damage.
Even though we are natural born hypocrites,
we don't have to let that knowledge corner us
into using love as a weapon.
The pen is mightier than the sword,
and I wield both;
I sharpen the quill on the blade's edge.
If need be, use the pen for a counter-strike,
but only channel love in defence.
II. (poetry)
The pigs march to a beat
of nuclear blasts
that bring poetry's flag
nearer to half-mast.
Poetry should stand on its own merit,
instead of leaning on shanks that hide behind smiles
constructed with aspirations of popularity
that churn out lazy, aspartame-laced lines
devoid of accountability and integrity,
or lean upon smiles filled with slivers
from far too much fence-sitting,
too worried about the trending majority,
to see the complexity within simplicity
and clarity,
or
propped-up against degrees
while writing poems that are drier than the Sahara:
husks of lines tumbling across dunes,
only to be imploded
by atomic-pork mushroom clouds,
their fallout marring parchment
into a poisonous terrain.
.
III. (dreams)
(revive, twist, and switch the clichés )
We must not fear saying "never".
Surrender to love, but never surrender
to the jealous captains who attempt
to hook and net the defenders of Neverland.
With compasses of conscience
beating in hearts kept young,
navigate through the smoke and mirror-smog
emitted by the marching pigs.
(we must never give up on our dreams)
Dream about the courage needed
to love everyone and everything,
including our enemies
who conduct genocide
on the language of a purer intent.
Dream about word-seedlings
pushing through the arid rind
of dying poetry,
in hope for a more organic fruition
to grow in our hearts and minds,
so that poetry gains back its strength and vitality
to once again stand on its own merit.
+/-
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC
1
Another space arrives. The newborn cries.
And the destiny determined:
Oven or matchstick.
Descendant of both; inheritor of another:
A machine that dreams itself into being,
Dragging its sleeping subjects after it.
Sustenance of nightmares, the food of what
God is, blood the earth pumps forth.
The plastic legacy is siphoned off,
Its artifacts cheap jewellery:
Enamel glinting white and turquoise.
Flimsy chains that never last,
And yet last forever, the paint flaking off.
So too does the rust on this delicate orchid.
It is an oracle of poisons.
2
The city burns in its incandescence.
The indelible halo
Of a lime-green candelabra
Makes light of midnight. Our slumber is
Punctured by gunshots and the drone of the
Ambulance.
Not a foot but a juggernaut,
Pandora’s box,
Sowing the seeds of your distress.
Fallout marks the potent epoch.
The neon octopus spews it back,
Invisible print on the murderous air.
Where water drinks
No diving bell can bear
The pressure of such fuchsia.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 9:54 AM UTC
anxiety attacks like
volcanic eruptions
buildup unbreakable.
the explosion is
the worst kind of release
it seems like the scariest
part but don't forget
the fallout
the devastation of
any living thing
nearby.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 9:45 PM UTC
Milestones Toward Oblivion
by Michael R. Burch
A milestone here leans heavily
against a gaunt, golemic tree.
These words are chiseled thereupon:
"One mile and then Oblivion."
Swift larks that once swooped down to feed
on groping slugs, such insects breed
within their radiant flesh and bones ...
they did not heed the milestones.
Another marker lies ahead,
the only tombstone to the dead
whose eyeless sockets read thereon:
"Alas, behold Oblivion."
Once here the sun shone fierce and fair;
now night eternal shrouds the air
while winter, never-ending, moans
and drifts among the milestones.
This road is neither long nor wide . . .
men gleam in death on either side.
Not long ago, they pondered on
milestones toward Oblivion.
Keywords/Tags: oblivion, milestones, markers, tombstones, radiation, fallout, nukes, winter, path, destruction, Armageddon, Apocalypse, nuclear, a-bomb, atomic bomb, hydrogen bomb, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Bikini Atoll, Manhattan Project, Trump, planet, earth, war, violence, America, environment, holocaust
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 2:40 AM UTC
You leave fallout whenever you walk away from me.
Oh, god, I can't breathe when I see your face.
Everything in me just stops,
Like someone hit pause,
And then it's like I'm falling through the floor.
I never knew a person could make you this crazy.
I never knew it could be such chaos inside,
Like a star dying,
Little parts of me spinning out,
Fire and light and everything quaking.
I want to reach out and steady myself
Just to touch something solid, to know that gravity still exists
And you're not the only thing that's pulling on me.
My poor heart is trying to keep up
With my blood going the speed of light through my veins,
And it flounders, it stutters and trips and trembles.
Nobody's ever had this kind of effect on me.
I could crumble to your feet whenever I see you.
And for hours after, the fallout keeps coming,
And I lay in the dark in the early morning
Trying and failing to sleep
Because inside I am a whirring jumble of feelings
And the light from the turmoil inside shudders its way out of me
In tears.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 1:01 AM UTC
All weapons of
the fates you've sealed
Are no match for
this pen I wield
The power to
articulate
Ticking rhyme bombs
to detonate
The conflicts waged
gambling mankind
My perfect hand
is treaties signed
Hellbent hounds pray
like dogs, I hunt
Frontline this notebook
battlefront
With metaphors
of mindless drones
Like similes
to brainwashed clones
Whose C4 booms
and IED's
Can't build bridges
like ABC's
Or tear them down
with death regimes
By rusting through
the war machines
Flamethrowin’ my
verbal grenade
With ****** noun
scorched-earth tirade
On militant
cold-blood elite
King cobras know
I'm packing heat
Seeking missile
resolution
Winged raptor
devolution
Prehistoric
barbarism
Literacy
cataclysm
Stockpiling
extinction bones
We're cavemen carving
fallout stones
My Hiroshima
prose explodes
With nuclear
bushido codes
Released from my
katana's ward
To free my press
from shogun lord
Oppressing haiku
imagery
And samurai
epigraphy
Expressions of
my ronin soul
Omitted by
the daimyo
Satsuma is my
poetry
My final draft's
Nagasaki
Ink cartridges
strapped 'round my neck
I print no charge
or background check
And ****** every
live round free
Of innocent
blood elegy
And killing sprees
of gunned-down news
Domestic violence
black and blues
A Number 2
pencil dependent
Obsolete
lead-head amendment
Open carry
shoots a blank
Empty shell case
at my think tank
So grip this peace
then **** and pull it
**** my diction
write the bullet
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
I hate you, don't leave me.
I need you, set me free.
Please hear me out
I've been here with you before
And I can't handle another fallout.
I admit I'm confused, I'm terrified of you!
I hate you, don't leave me.
I need you to trust me
But you will not listen
To a single word I say to you.
I'm in pieces, I can't take this pain!
Hear me out before we go again.
I'll admit I'm scared of how you make me feel,
I hate you, don't leave me.
I admit I'm probably mad,
I'm so confused and out of my depths!
I can't take what you do to me.
You never seem to understand
And you just can't explain anything to me.
No! I can no longer deal with all this in my head.
I hate you, don't leave me.
I hate you, don't leave me!
I need you to be honest with me.
Please listen when I ask you these questions,
Please don't run away.
Tell me whatever you want. I need you.
Please set me free, stay with me.
I hate you, don't leave me.
You don't seem to care if you break me,
Leave me if you want too
But please know I love the way you used to comfort me.
You don't seem to want to hear me out...
I'm addicted to the way you make me feel,
I'm gonna admit I'm terrified of losing you.
I hate you, don't leave me!
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
The light quit working in the jukebox,
the melodies' surrender,
a commonplace extinction,
against the salt and the breeze
of your false Mediterranean.
The burden of your rational soul
in a world of extremes
has torn your spirit to tatters-
tatters littered across
your Toronto abode.
Divided amongst the heirlooms
and emptied bottles.
This desolation you
sought to translate
for the harmonious pulse
of the dial tone.
Hazy,
is this ancient mind,
a smoking fallout of
yesterday's parties
to be discussed over
lukewarm coffee
and cigarette butts,
while the shivering streams
and green plains become
commodified for a higher power.
Dan, my dearest friend,
I loved you
ferocious and freely,
fanged and supremely,
and as your mind coagulated
on a couch,
microphone in-hand,
I felt nostalgic for
your clumsy alcoholism,
and clumsier guitar strumming.
The white fog descends,
the city is hungry--
no longer can it expand.
Toronto eats itself
with you inside,
shall I write you a postcard?
Shall I kick down your door?
Shall I let you join the bones
you so beautifully alluded to?
Whisper, my friend,
amidst the soft croon of
the saxophone,
whisper, my friend,
of a Europe gone defective,
whisper, my friend,
for an apocalypse of sun
to release us all from
the white fog slowly burying
our Toronto.
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 7:18 PM UTC
In a misguided attempt to escape you
I fled to Nietzsche.
Weak
Inconstant
They are cats and birds
At best, cows,
he mocked.
I don't know about that
But I've never stolen glances at a cow
And felt my heart turn to ash
At the gentle devastation of its beauty
While praying that the mild curry in my mouth
Somehow shrivel up my tongue
And singe off the unspoken entreaties simmering within.
(And my affection for cows
Extends only to veal cutlets)
Today
Nietzsche and curry failed me
Tonight
It'll be the familiar embrace of alcohol
Until you fly back to Beijing.
After which
Are other substances and their derivatives
To deal with the fallout
Your transient smile
Wrought on my worn soul.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 6:03 AM UTC
Triumphantly raised colorful flagpole insignia dynasties
of this country and that country and other country
destroying each other territorial
like rabid animals and house pets.
Atomic bomb cat food will feed us full
in fallout by the end!
Meeeee-oww!
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
You and I have something
And it's either all or nothing
I had my defenses
When it came to your intentions
But I'm not the one who broke you
And you're not the one I should fear
You thought you lost me somewhere
But I was never really there
I want to break free
And I can feel you falling
Calling to me
So won't you tempt to be all that I need?
We've got to move darling
We don't need to fallout
From all the past that's between us
But I'm not holding on anymore
All the lies aren't enough to keep us here
Let's move on baby
And let love save us
You hide your smile behind a God given face
But I know you're so much more
And that's all I need to see
You're the only one I ever believed in
The answer that could never be found
The moment I decided to let you in
Now you're banging on my door again
The end of fear is where we begin
If we decide to let love in
You're wishing for me to find my way
And I'm holding on for all you need
You take your chances
While I'm taking time playing my games
You can't control a soul
There's nothing we can do about
The things we have to do without
But the only way to feel again
Is to let each other completely in
You're like a soldier seeking shelter
From all the madness that you've seen
But don't lose your faith
Don't let us slip away
You're still the only song I sing
I'm still the shelter that you need
I'll be kind
If you'll be faithful
You be sweet
And I'll be grateful
Just come be my best friend
Feel my heart beating within
All my secrets bared
I love you so don't be scared
I'm still right here
And I'm not going anywhere
© Ashley Rodden. All rights reserved
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC