"fatally" poems
You make my skin crawl,
Like writhing maggots beneath,
Like the innocent child's scrawls,
Tainting my canvas, my skin.
Your words, they pierce me,
Like the ***** of a needle.
Caressing, so fatally,
Over the scarred, raised skin,
The years of mistreat,
Has treated me harsh,
Showing meat so starved,
Brittle bones over skin.
The world! Such a joke,
Made of him, her and you.
My existence, mere smoke,
Our stories, nothing but skin.
For skin show where we've traversed,
The roads we have trod,
A beautiful canvas,
Of cools, brights and skin.
I am proud of my masterpiece,
It's whittled into my skin.
From the lines embossed to my chest,
To the intricate blend of colors,
The white spiraling scars,
Etched deeper than skin.
Here I stand,
Here I scream.
Proud of the bands,
That bind me as one, my skin.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
And then
the night
comes flooding
in, like
a spilled beer.
Fear is a
rabid bat;
fatally
infecting.
Loneliness is
an ice cube
in a bathtub
melt-
ing
slow-
ly.
Love is a
flat toad in
the road of
life.
Hope is a
broken dish,
an empty
pocket,
a shattered dream.
Life is a sparrow
in the cat's mouth,
an abscessed
tooth, with no
antibiotic.
It's a whale
in a frozen
ocean;
an eagle in the
city.
Insanity is
digging for the
courage to
continue
day after
day
after day.
Aug 5, 2021
Aug 5, 2021 at 12:06 PM UTC
Sadly, there are many intellectual postulations
that are well meaning, but fatally flawed.
One can only end up with an unholy mixture from…
combining Man’s religious views with God’s Law.
Beyond the constraints of the mental realm,
the human template of thought cannot contain God.
Yet after more than two thousand years of Church,
lessons are still not learned; so it’s not odd…
to see a skeptical world, groaning and grasping
for rays of hope and light and salvation.
God’s truth can stand on its own, not needing
to be couched within feeble human traditions.
The multitude of meaningless rhetoric
will ultimately reveal the heart of a fool;
this idea demonstrates that the Church really needs…
Christ in its heart to reign and to rule.
It’s shameful to see an inability to ‘walk in love’;
unfortunately, it seems to appear everywhere today;
stop ignoring the basic, Biblical truths, for…
Christ declared Himself to be the Life, Truth and Way.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Prov 10:19; Eccl 5:1-7; Prov 20:15
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2011, All rights reserved.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 7:40 AM UTC
I'm a realist, mildly an idealist.
My ideas create a mindset that allows me to express feelings
But I built up a wall, high as a skyscraper..I stand, as a realist I know if I jump, I'm bound to meet my maker. I don't think idealist are weak.
I just think they escape the honesty they seek.
You don't walk a straight line in order for you to finally reach your peak.
Obstacles come and go, water is a need if you want to grow, you can't have a lightbulb without an idea and expect it to magically glow.
I know every action I do and especially when I am wrong but, I just won't rewrite all my wrongs, they inspire all of my greatest songs.
Optimistic that I'll make it, I just need more effort than 50 percent
because you get what you put in, as a realist I know if you put in half, half back is all you will ever get.
People remember your mistakes, the heroics they just simply forget.
I can't stand when people think it's okay to live a life without any regrets.
*Sure things happen for a reason and karma "may" have your enemies morally bleeding, but your ideology sounds misguiding and thought process misleading. Karma is an excuse to allow a higher calling contribute to your spiteful abuse, you don't want the crime on your soul so you allow the angels to fatally shoot. It's fine, before we die, we all commit a crime.
Women **** men steal, just being in love should require you to do time.*
Born a realist sinner...far from an idealist winner
Success doesn't come over night
The sweet life doesn't come until after you've made your dinner..and cleaned the plate, but we're never satisfied...nah, we going to probably eat again late.
Work hard for the dream, don't just rely on faith.
A realist knows she may not show up, even when you scheduled a date.
It's all love to the victims, stuck in a fiction. If you hate this piece...your ignorance got you unable to listen.
Not my problem though. I'm speaking without any permission! I like that idea...oh **** wait...I think I just become my own contradiction?
...forget it, I'm healing, my words and unpredictable wisdom, I am still dealing.
Insanity is a fear that is expressed towards you when others have confusion
A realist, an idealist..no one is right...our concepts to each other seem all an illusion.
-Dougie simps
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 11:13 AM UTC
Fire Hazard
A crime against humanity,
this life is pure and utter insanity,
waking up to restrictions of gravity.
I find myself committing to humility,
a step forward from brutality.
A ******* high trip of no pure quality.
Stop.
In honor of desperate assassinations,
Throw away any glimpse of foundation,
spiraling into a sess pool of hallucinations.
Cloudy minds smear wind shield wipers,
across grimy fixations.
Drop.
Clear all hesitations
of this imperfect reality
there’s no cure for the mental stability,
of human nature
that we so seldom take as a sign of fertility.
Wake up to noise that bleeds ears like
sewers so fatally.
Roll.
Ignorant mortals,
try not to sound so angry.
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 8:43 PM UTC
Another hate crime.
Another death.
Another life gone
because of a gun.
Fatally shot outside a library.
People run to stop the shooter
but the damage was done
because of a gun.
Political difference, a possible motive.
Maybe gun laws aren't the problem.
In the UK people still die
because of a gun.
A city comes together
to celebrate love and loss
and remember those who
died in the past week
because of a gun.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 4:58 PM UTC
if words are food for the mind,
then here is a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then here is why i'm so pained.
abandoned, abhorrent
abnormal, absent
abstract, abuse
addicted, anxious
betray, bitterly
blank, blasphemy
bloodless, breakdown
breathless, brutal
captive, casually
catastrophe, cautiously
change, cigarettes
crucial, clueless
damaged, dangerous
deadly, disastrous
disheartened, disconcerting
dramatic, dreading
eager, eccentric
ecstasy, eerie
effete, effortless
embittered, excess
faded, failure
faintly, fallacy
faltering, fatally
fearfully, finally
garbage, gawky
gibberish, gloomy
gone, goodbye
graphic, gratify
hallucinate, harshly
hazy, heartless
hectic, helpless
hesitant, hit-and-miss
idiotic, idly
ignorant, intimacy
illogical, imaginative
infatuated, intoxicated
jealousy, jittery
journey, journal
joylessly, judicial
junk, juvenile
keen, killing
knavish, knocking
knockout, knotty
knowingly, knowledge
laborious, lacking
lame, languishing
lifeless, literature
lovelorn, lugubrious
madness, maintenance
make-believe, malaise
mean, melancholic
mellow, melodramatic
naff, naivety
nameless, naturally
nauseous, nebulous
neglected, nervous
oasis, objectionable
obliged, obliterate
oblivion, obscurity
obsolete, one-and-only
pacifist, pained
pale, panicky
paradise, paralyze
passionately, passively
raging, ranting
rationalize, raving
realistic, reasonable
rebellious, reckless
saboteur, sadness
sake, sameness
sanity, satisfactory
scar, steady
taint, tangled
tasteless, tearful
telling, temperamental
terror, theoretical
unaffected, uncanny
uncommon, unconsciously
undesirable, uneasy
unfortunate, untidy
vaguely, vanish
vanity, vanquish
versatile, vicious
violence, voracious
waiting, waking
walkout, wanting
wasteful, weary
withering, wrecking
if words are food for the mind,
then you've seen a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then no wonder i'm so pained.
-djs
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
the priest, whose tomato face looked like it might explode under collar tension,
gave the valedictory at the friday night execution
the yellow-toothed, combover'd serial killer buckled in electric chair
kept staring at the door, expecting an ally to crawl in late but not too late
the mother of one of the victims rattled on about
how she didn't care that the killer had an allergy to the anesthetic used
in lethal injection he's going to die either way what's it matter?
buzz of fly crack of rolled program against empty folding chair
(yes, there were programs, and whoever laid them out knew their typography)
buzz of fly raised upward, toward the black, magma-cooled ceiling
audience chin up, pupils circled fly as the priest droned on
about everlasting life like a Paul Simon song from his youth
like a catcher's mitt from his youth like a youth from his youth
the boyfriend of one of the mothers of one of the victims
said he was hungry pancakes sound good, don't they?
I love it when syrup gets on the bacon, you know? love that.
a pudgy guard with bleary eyes and 12 a.m. shadow
rolled his index finger lowered his brow, telling the
priest to wrap it up so the priest wrapped it up
by reading the names of the victims
Tara Barnes, 17, Rachel Lythe, 10, Julie McPherson, 13,
Serenity Strongman, 15, and Mary Beth Williamson, 13
the priest said something about judgement as
the boyfriend of the mother of one of the victims
took another swat at the fly missed
any last words? the priest asked
where's James? the killer asked, he was supposed to be here
did you guys give him the right time?
the guard nodded to a lab coat by a black box
then a hiss then a hum then an inhale
the first jolt of alternating current for
instantaneous brain death
hard to tell if they succeeded in that
for the second jolt came only a moment
later this shock's aim to fatally damage
the internal organs, overstimulate the heart
and the killer's face looked like a horse's leg
then an exhale then a hum then a hiss
and the killer's face looked like the crinkled
skinmemory of a cicada
it was late most of the best restaurants already closed
but we could go to that diner off 63rd, the boyfriend
of the mother
of one of the victims, said
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 1:07 PM UTC
Oh, dear
I've been pierced
with the knife of love
Oh, dear
and I think
fatally
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 7:43 PM UTC
Tick tock
Tick tock
Throughout the years
I've always thought
Of faith to be
A clicking clock
With hands
So persistent
So determined
To never miss a single beat
Nor stop
Tick...
Tock...
Throughout the years
This faithful clock
Built up a longing in me
My solid rock
Through which,
In times of trouble
I would pull
From my everlasting
Love-filled stock
Tick...
Tock...
Brace yourselves,
My friends
And do not
Let this coming news
Be some sort
Of terrible shock
For the time is coming
When this faithful clock's
Hands must,
Inevitably stop
Tick...
Tick...
For you see -
The battery in me,
So to speak,
Is nearly diminished
The continuation of
its intermittent
Clicking is
Almost nearly finished
The gears within
This 'ol faithful clock,
Are most definitely
Fatally blemished
Tick...
Tick...
I am so
So very sorry
For this very moment
Marks the end
Of my journey's story
I hate to say it,
But not every person
Goes out in a blaze of glory
Tick...
Tock...
Goodbye,
Tick...
Tock...
The clock has stopped
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 4:12 PM UTC
She is a gypsy queen
My queen
Who sees sadness in my eyes
And falls in love
She is on the road
And in the stars
Hanging over me as clouds
Shining over me as suns
She is a gypsy queen
Belladonna
A femme fatale fatally stricken
And falling further
She lives by her own rules
And in her dreams
Where our bodies intertwine
And in our hearts
We both know
We know it well
Nothing last forever
Not even pain
I wondered if she could love
But I know she does
Even love that is ending
Never dies
She fell in love
With the sadness in my eyes
And broke her own rules
To see me smile
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 2:02 AM UTC
Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
With Bill And Ted
To buy two bottles
Of mineral water.
Jack and Jill
Came tumbling down
Fatally cracking their heads open
And the local council was done
For corporate manslaughter.
But Bill and Ted
Came down on their mountain bikes
With the mineral water
towed on a skateboard.
And having buried Jack and Jill
At an environmentally friendly funeral
They headed for the Amazon
On solar powered surfboards.
Thus they concurred
This was yet again
As vinegar
Bed and
Brown paper-free
As there ever could be
Excellent Adventure.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
Options
for the beggar
that hath seen no
light
Takes what she pleases
and finds delight
Hath not the beggar seen
her fatal flaw?
The beggar is but a beggar and
not pleased at all.
For if the beggar were to see
that her situation is but irony,
She then doth partake in sentiment
whose cracked joke is eminent.
Never fear for the dear beggar
is near and does not realize her folly
She trips and skins her broken knees
yet does not board the trolley.
For the trolley will take her away to see
What she has so fatally lacked
the experience she needs to grow
and grow a bone in her back.
Apr 4, 2010
Apr 4, 2010 at 12:06 PM UTC
Each day is drowned in frigid waters.
Never able to dock against real land.
Little bubbles ripple to the surface of the ill-fated.
Riptides of hate and disgust slam the high towers of this mighty hull.
The icy cluster plunges into the depth of our core.
Defiantly this mighty bow of ours shrieks from its deathly hollows.
As if some ghostly being is wailing it's final departure to the sea.
Monotonous overtones creak inside this inlet;
as life and death flood to it's harmony.
Brimming with animosity and subjugation.
The majestic's heart yearns for land one last time.
Our innards displayed,
as our two halves fatally sink to their final depths.
Never reaching our idol port.
Never finding what was Solely ours to find.
A sinking Ship.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 7:04 AM UTC
Isn’t it interesting,
Or rather a complicated thing,
When we want something and get it,
But when we do get it,
We don’t want it,
Because we can cherish it no longer.
We love it and yearn for it,
Almost every day from a distance,
Then we hold it ,
And at that point,
It’s an everlasting memory.
Waiting to be demolished,
By our thoughts of tomorrow.
Complicated is it not,
When the heart wants to love,
But the mind disagrees,
And your body wants to give in,
But your soul won’t agree,
And your left to wonder in your subconscious.
Then you give in or you don’t,
You begin to ponder on the could’ve been,
Or I should’ve done it this way or the next,
And your mind becomes weak,
While your heart has already been,
From jump street fatally wounded.
© Robyn Neymour
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 2:05 PM UTC
"Gladly lost in the depths of you"
What depths?
How am I lost?
I'm lost in a puddle.
I'm standing ankle deep in fluff; in disappointment.
Some days, I wish things were different
Some days, I wish we were two of a kind
Some days..
But I fear loving someone just like me would be terrible.
We would be a twister; a ball of flames-- so destructive, that we would burn everyone in our wake.
We would break every bed, and smash every hope and dream our parents' had for us.
We would scream and yell and decimate each other to the brink of permanent dislocation, but never over the cliff.
My, what a cliff that would be..
We would break every bone in our bodies violently explaining how "right" one of us was, but only proving how fatally stubborn we really are.
We would ride the waves of life ********
We would shoot up the night, and drink up the tragedies like a drunk fresh out of a failed rehab stint, as they roll over us like rock crushers-- hair of the dog that bit you; it's good for poetry, they say.
Never a dull moment for us
Never a craving
Never a quiet moment
Never left wanting more
Never a deeper sadness than what we create together
But perhaps it's a mistake wanting more than you
Perhaps you're keeping me from destruction
Perhaps your holding me back is a blessing
Perhaps I need you more than my heart realizes
Perhaps it's better this way
Perhaps I don't need to ever fall in love with someone like me
Lord knows I can't seem to love myself
What makes me think I would love my true other half?
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
my wasting bones are unsettled by kisses. how your lips graze my paper skin and i am an origami crane — catching fire in waking sunlight. watch me love you terribly. kindly. fatally. watch all of my shadows burn bright for you, my darling, into the sweetest, sun-soaked surrender.
Nov 27, 2021
Nov 27, 2021 at 6:59 AM UTC
Tonight, at work, I asked 10 people
if they knew of what had happened
at Los Angeles International Airport (henceforth: LAX)
not 30 hours earlier.
Only 2 had heard of it.
One, because a cousin was traveling that day
and, the other, because a regular at his restaurant
also had family who had left LAX just before it happened
just in time to be stopped with the rest of the traffic
for two and a half hours.
I find that sort-of strange;
information, even if misinformation
spreads too quickly and ubiquitously now-a-days
with our cell-phones, internet, satellite radio and media sensationalism
for a mere 1 in 5 to have heard of this,
and even then, only because of Family's accounts.
Apparently, he acted alone, wearing military-like clothes
and walked into LAX at about 9:20 AM PST on November 1
carrying a very cost-effective Military and Police AR-15
concealed in a bag with over a hundred spare .223 rounds
and a note with words of sociopolitical dissent
and an apparent intent to **** several Travel Security Agents.
He mortally wounded a single TSA agent, after two shots
and non-fatally wounded at least a few other people
including two other TSA agents.
This thorough chaos warranted sopping traffic, air and ground alike
for over two hours, until his apprehension
after being shot in the mouth and the leg
by valiant officers of the LAXPD.
Luckily, the Police had trained for
"this exact situation not three weeks before"
Wait, what was that?
Oh, that's.. impeccable timing.
Anyway.
Few know about it and even less discuss it
even a day and a half after it happened
only 550 miles from here.
I figured it'd be a bigger deal than this.
What is up with this?
It's rather srtange...
quite queer indeed.
The Suspect is in the hospital for his wounds and is now awaiting trial
for ****** and Inciting Violence in an International Airport.
Many people of Office cry out for the death penalty, even here in California,
where we like to think we've "grown past that"
The Travel Security Administration was established in the wake of 9/11
It is a branch of the Department of Defense.
It took me much digging to find all this information on this event. Here it is for any who seeks it.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 4:17 AM UTC
I dreamed of tomorrow
But chased my yesterday
I wear my heart like a dried ink stain
Black and misshapen
I like to pretend it didn't happen
Some things bring it all back
Memories fatally attack
A scent
A stray thought
Frozen on the floor
Trembling in knots
Perhaps I really am that *****
I know not when I became filled with such rot
© 2014 Peach
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 2:42 AM UTC
I have a light under my concrete
For others
It is fatally luminous
So it must be contained
I relegate rays to the darkest depths
So no light may exit
But then you walked on my blacktop
And cracks started to form in my road
Light began to escape
You were fascinated
I was terrified
Because the more you traversed my pavement
The further my road split
Brilliant flashes with increasing frequency surfaced
Your curiosities were piqued
Mine were plagued
By what lies underneath
And when it would blind you
I tried to warn you from inside my cocoon
You said you'd purchase sunglasses
You never understood
This light
Shatters glass like Stone Cold Steve Austin
It's intensity is a stunner
It may be the Sun itself
But you insisted on continuing
To travel down this path
As models import wrinkles
Potholes become sinkholes
Fears were realized
Senses overwhelmed
Skin burned
Blackened
Into something unrecognizable
As all signs of life fade
I'm stranded on a crumbled road
With only sightless cadavers to lead me home
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 12:05 AM UTC
Treachery
A stinging sensation
A sense of indignation
Oh the smell of treachery!
When those that you love
And those whom do hate
Clash and break tragically
Like glass slammed on rock
Or an egg smashed in its crate
Oh the smell of treachery!
It’s nothing to do with you
And nothing to deal with me
Yet we’re here inevitably
The betrayal, the lies
No one wants to compromise
Oh the smell of treachery!
Two faces lodged in one
But one pops out a gun
And ends the ordeal fatally
Say it takes two to fight
Yet not one willing to lose
Oh the smell of treachery!
Point fingers at everyone
And you say do what you preach
All I can say is to that is: pure hypocrisy
Oh the smell of treachery!
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 2:33 PM UTC
In the city that never sleeps
Nobody has time to dream
No one cares for the color scheme
Everybody on these streets are mean
Women over here dress to ****
Yearning for a life to steal
Outrageous trigger happy police
Ruthless, spiteful and rigorous
Kindness comes fatally priced
No time for love or paradise
Obsessive depression is what's subsidised
Beggars on my train struggle and scuffle
Oblivious oppression lurking
Delirious children deceived
Yesterday's conception grieved
Craving lust is a must
Ageless shame is
Rationalized pain
Everyone here idealizes blame
Serenity is an absentee in this chaotic city
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 2:40 AM UTC
I loved you the way
Samson loved Delilah
Foolishly.
I loved you the way
Aphrodite loved Adonis
Sensually.
I loved you fatally
Lustrously
Beautifully
Brokenly.
I loved you the way
A rose loves it's thorn
Too tender to the touch.
I loved you the way
I loved no one else
And that was far too much.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC
Sin glows
With sparkling richness
Of all luminaries
of blanketing galaxy
Sin is worshiped and enshrined
Righteousness is
but blase fallacy
With all over-flowing
Affluence
of new pentecostal churches
and their greedy pastors
And easy-come riches
of Chiadzwa diamond fields
with her flippant Gwejas and Gwejerinas
Life is but black
like Soddom's ****
I hear the knell of dawning doom
As Angels of doom boom...
I swear by ****** Mary's blessed ****
I saw a Stephen preaching down Rekai Tangwena Ave
And was run down by a speeding motor car
"O poor chap, was a good fellow," muttered God
I saw drunken Thomas roaming the streets
Of cogitation convincing himself
it was true news
That brother Jesus, pot-bellied in Armani suit
Was back riding a top of the range Lamborghini
And God shrugged his shoulders,kept quiet
Afraid it may be fatally true
I saw God wet his pants
When listening to Elliot The Idiot's "Songs of Sobs"
That applaud Simon and Peter fishing
From people's pockets
Songs that revere and adorn the vigilant
Pillar of Salt
Scorn and mock
the meekness and softness of heart
At Golgotha...
Sin is vermin spreading
In this our home,the infierno grande
-dougwa-
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:10 AM UTC