"flak" poems
I am the oak bent or' and aged
That once stood brave as natured raged
the lines were drawn the battle staged
and man with time compassion caged
I am the field scarred by each track
that shared the weight of soldiers pack
and too felt pain from shell and flak
and those gone forth no more came back
I am the breeze scented with death
as noxious gas inhaled as breath
sent young men blind without the f
and yet their leaders ears were deaf
I am the rain washed or their blood
and roused the poppies from their bud
to honour all whom fought for good
but died before they ever should
I am the cross the epitaph
the stolen kiss the chance to laugh
when young men walked the broken path
of anguish and the aftermath
I am the note that says beware
tread lightly here with tender care
for fresh eyed boys with features fair
bore arms for you now your weight bare
I am the oak with shrapnel scars
that guides their souls to waiting stars
where commoners prop up the bars
toasting their faith with three hoorars
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
We were equally matched
Until a plan was hatched
You became the subtle aggressor
By making appearances lesser
Using your passion aggression
To steer a passive direction
You perform a vanishing act
By canvassing flak
Balancing black
Against a sky so blue
Teaching me that which is true
Is different from what I knew
So my anxiety naturally grew
You launch a resistance
By remaining silent
On this plane of existence
Where you're the pilot
Not taking the right angle
Into the Bermuda Triangle
That is your social sphere
Where you disappear
From committal fear
Of love being near
So I throw a search party
But your presence is tardy
Because you're departing
On the journey you're starting
Without me
Slouching
From my submission
To your anti-admission
Splitting our position
Like nuclear fission
The air has become radioactive
Through light that is refractive
Through ways which are retractive
Living this ugly way to live
Sharpening my shiv
To escape this cell of decay
Where flowers bloom and fray
But can't see the light of day
Not one ray
Stuck in the marked moor
Of this dark war
I use parkour
To avoid aggressor attacks
Never cutting me any slack
Bringing pain back
Until I crack
Lost in your blank expression
I make a grave concession
Enslaved to your impression
Yet afraid of your aggression
Caught between
Taking heed
And fulfilling needs
Born from greed
I'll only impede
You scream aggressively
Like you're ********** me
Just by addressing me
After making a mess of me
With deafening quiet
You attack with a diet
Of a steady riot
And I won't buy it
You left when you were here
But stayed once you weren't near
You switched to a guillotine gear
Based on how you wanted to appear
Striking me from the equation
By utilizing deflation
For a sinister elation
You removed our relation
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:23 AM UTC
It’s about the American dream
To make more than you need
Through corporate greed
And pyramid schemes,
So I guess I’m not asleep
Since I eat rice and beans
In a crummy C.F.
Apartment,
Or what’s left of that
Ten by ten compartment
I can barely afford,
Like the ******
Degree that was supposed
To reward my hard effort
By leading me toward
A corner office
Or something
Like that
I should desire,
But **** it,
Let’s get higher,
I’m getting bored,
And my heart is heavy,
And I’ve been
Forsaken
By the country that
Bred me
Yet expects me
To slap on some flak
And attack
Fathers and sons and brothers
In Iraq
Over nothing
But ideological
Fluff
And political stuffing,
It’s nothing
It’s nothing
It’s nothing
It’s just not worth
The time or frustration
To engage in
This nation’s
Procreation
Of condemnation
Of logical reason,
Though reasoning
Lies not in the
Eye of the reasoner
Or that of the reasoned,
It’s gotta be easier
Than achieving
Appeasement
Through please
And leasing
Thank yous
To random
Strangers,
But if
You believe
They, like you,
Are human
Then the danger
Is fleeting,
Cuz they’re feeling
The same feelings,
The sane feelings of
The chronically
Sure,
The always right,
Everything in its
Right place,
Yea I know Tommy,
I must endure
And try to say
I should try to save
The knaves,
But life’s so easy
As a slave,
You buy your
Goods
And pave the way
For impoverished hoods
And hoodwinked
Majorities
Who’ve already
Made
The sacrifices
Necessary
For the necessary
To get paid,
Hope you did some good
With that bogus bonus
Mr. Suit and tie
And perfect life
With the plastic wife
And bank account
You’ll never drain,
No matter how many
Times you make it rain
On upscale hookers,
It runs too deep
To keep all to your
Selfish selves,
But I guess it’s our
Faults we don’t wear
The leadership caps
Cuz we should’ve pulled
Ourselves up by our
******* boot straps
And made something of
Ourselves, right?
Those that deserve
To make the big bucks
Make it happen, right?
Time for the forgotten *****
to put up a fight.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 12:26 PM UTC
When the bwisagu is arrive
Flat-shaped cake make lovely
Make rice cake
Bwisagu season in the new water
Fish swimming like kuria labeo
First month of the year, new season
In the queue, we must ask for
Heart of happiness from the heart
Sad and sadness to leave this life
In the queue, we must dance
When the bwisagu is arrive
Flak-shaped cake make lovely
Make rice cake
In the queue, we must ask for
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 8:41 AM UTC
there is black at the end of every miracle
and the base of every rainbow where the colors drip
and mix in the sickest sort of chorus.
color and rain and atmospheric moisture,
you kneeled under a rainbow and prayed;
water in your alveoli paint in your bronchi,
you inhaled all your art
to make yourself prettier on the inside -
{but that doesn't work when everything you paint
is uglier than anything else:
broken ***** girls
and rusted knives and rotten fruit -
how can you expect to be beautiful with a rotting apple
for a heart?
you're an abandoned orchard,
falling to seed when you once fed a nation,
dry earth dead trees rotten rotten fruit
remember your glory days and cry}
you were a blackbird but time plucked all your feathers
you were a blackbird but now, oh,
with all your yellow blood,
canary in a coal mine you knew it was too late.
you were the first to be tragic.
the first to choke on coaldust -
the road to el dorado is paved in coal
and all the gold is smudged in black from the men who sought riches
but brought with them misery.
canary in a coal mine you died in el dorado,
canary in a coal mine you died in a city
of your blood.
there is black at the end of every miracle and the beginning of every tragedy
but if all goes well it'll be all
blues and reds
by the end of the story.
drowned and bled,
primary colors for your finale.
you knew these colors would be your end, blue and red blue and red
and you sought out yellow,
canary in a coal mine, ***** el dorado,
yellow hope yellow fear
primary colors like building blocks,
carbon the base of the universe
blueredyellow the base of the paintings you inhaled,
blueredyellow and carbon coal.
you were a blackbird and blueredyellow in the reflections of your wings,
oily rainbows on your back
primary colors in your lungs,
and all your gaunt thoughts envelop you you never should have tried
to be beautiful -
a tragic hero can only do so much before falling apart
a tragedy can only go so far before it becomes comedy.
you inhaled all your paintings and they live in your lungs
live and rot and cry because you never painted happiness
{it's hard to paint something that doesn't exist,
it's hard to paint something you've never known -
abandoned orchard you rot beside the highway and cry.
tell yourself happiness doesn't exist,
cause that's better than knowing
it's there
but you're just
not
worthy}
blackbird canary-blood apple-heart
do you even know who you are anymore?
all the broken ***** girls in your lungs
and the crying boys in your mind -
you never knew who you were,
fragmented as you are -
all your masks are just
sick echoes of the parts of you that wouldn't burn,
all your paintings are just sick echoes of the parts of you
scattered over el dorado.
gather yourself up,
knit yourself back together -
make your nest in a flak suit and sleep dreaming of you.
the coal burns around you and you don't stop singing
you will not be the only tragedy in this mine.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC
There was a girl named Nancy,
Her habits were all outgoing.
Once she became too busy,
Directly for nine months.
Thanks to all of her habits,
Blocked're all the incoming.
She did not want PregNancy.
She was impregnated by a boy,
His hormones uncontrollable.
Worked not any of the Pills,
Now busied for 9 months.
Used to each 1 of the thrills,
But none of it was avoidable.
Thanks to her being a tomboy..
Nancy was the girl in pregnancy,
Her repentance was no point.
Old habits are hard to go,
She may not be loyal.
Now she hides it,
For avoiding it.
The insult...
As for the boy here,
Aged just 15 like her.
He fumbled to suicide,
And she was destroyed.
She can't name the baby,
Not now, not now at all.
How will she name the baby?
As it was supposed to be,
She will behave a ******
Will she name him Jesus?
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 5:26 AM UTC
The Flak hits the wings and body of the plane
506th Easy Company
Of the 101st Airborne
The leg bag
Tore right off
They jumped lower than they should have been
Tracer bullets burning holes through the parachute
Tracers spraying around in the air
Firing in every direction
Paul "Buck" Rogers
Lands in a tree
Some worked their way down
Through a farm area
To a hedge row
Easy Company captured and destroyed
The guns at Brecourt Manor
Saving countless lives on Utah Beach
They helped to liberate the Dutch
Angels from the sky
The black and white footage is amazing
The gratitude and love the people show
To the men is wonderful
Finally free after four years
Of Occupation by the Germans
Battling from village to village
Along "Hell's Highway,"
Easy Company crossed Holland to the Rhine River
Nine men of Easy Company
Lost their lives
Battling in Holland
By the End of the Holland campaign,
Easy Company had been on the frontline
For more than 70 days
On Dec. 16, 1944
****** launched his offensive into the Ardennes
The Battle of the Bulge would become
The largest engagement
In the history
Of the U.S. Army
600,000 soldiers would fight in the battle
Easy Company was told to hold the perimeter of Bastogne
Surrounded by Germans
Branches knocked off of trees
Holes in the ground
Artillery attack
88s, mortars, rockets
They jumped into foxholes
He could see all the shells hitting from the foxhole
The wounded got relief from battle
Maybe a ticket home
If they died they were at peace
At Berchtesgaden
They uncovered artwork
In Zell Am Zee, Austria
Easy Company helped secure
The surrender of 25,000 German troops
On November 30, 1945
The 101st Airborne Division
Was inactivated
Day after Day
They fought together
Fought for each other
Knowing some would not return
This veteran said,
"I cherish the memories
Of a question my grandson asked me the other day.
'Grandpa, Were you a hero in the war?'
Grandpa said no
But I served in a company of heroes."
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 1:52 PM UTC
The cursed clouds decide to stay
Through this blacked out phase
So I proceed to play
During darkened days
Swirling black
In a sky of flak
The courage I lack
To counterattack
Bombs explode
Smoke blocks the sun
Now that I know
Dying can be fun
To the finish line I run
After I feel I am done
The sky gets darker
By permanent markers
The sun hides
The dude abides
I am under a curse
Of things getting worse
I look for a nurse
Out the back of my hearse
Love can be found
And unwound
No one is bound
So they leave town
The days used to be bright
Until I found reasons to fight
And the grass died
When my *** lied
I can't retrieve the light
When I am blinded
I'm unable to use sight
So I cannot find it
Darkened days
Block the sun's rays
I can't see through the haze
Of these darkened days
Time passes
Like lightning flashes
And depleting drug stashes
Impeding love's crashes
When I'm burnt to ashes
I don't know if I'm romantic
Or in an existential crisis
But as I become tantric
I feel I must fight this
So I wield a sword
Of tears that poured
For those I adored
Until they brought darkness
Despite my praise
When they act heartless
I live darkened days
Dec 24, 2017
Dec 24, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
On Saturn's day, his body quakes,
the lights go out, and the craters form.
He drinks the rye to ease the shakes
and watches as the cicadas swarm.
His records are warped from cellar air,
his walls are stained nicotine yellow.
The night creeps in from beneath his chair
to taunt and **** this charming fellow.
Fifty years of motherless meals
and fifty years of loveless mistakes.
Fifty years of seasonal wheels
and fifty years of screeching brakes.
Fifty years of challenges met
and fifty years of swallowing pride.
Fifty years and not dead yet,
and fifty more before he has died.
He draws in deep from his old cob pipe
and exhales the smoke toward the fan.
Once the orchards are good and ripe
he'll go outside and tame his land.
Until that day, he's mighty content
with sitting back and wasting his time.
These are the last days before his descent,
there is no call for reason or rhyme.
Fifty years of unpaid rent,
and fifty years of tall tales lost.
Fifty years he can't repent,
and fifty years of permafrost.
Fifty years that won't come back,
and fifty years of worn down soles.
Fifty years of catching flak,
and fifty years spent digging holes.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
A big, dark creature is the velvet landscape,
Perforated, so that tiny origins of luminescence
Freckle the breathing mountain’s gently sloped nape
And validates the distant city’s inner flamboyance.
The spine of wet tar, peppered with lustre,
Arcs the creature’s hunch of a back -
It summons me to the city’s sordid muster
To wean me of myself and to render its flak.
Instead, I think I’ll stay on the footed side of the nameless beast
Where I can soak in my tatters and be but my own, homeless priest.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
Now this topic has ground on my brain lately
but I feel I should discuss it at least once, and hopefully not lengthy.
See, I agree with feminism and I do my best to treat everyone equally,
black, white, whatever it's all the same to me.
So Tumblr feminists, I'm calling you out because being extreme behind a keyboard seems to be your specialty.
You spend days with square eyes
Filling Tumblr and discovering lies
Women this women that
Telling all of your little facts
Now Let's get back on track,
First of all demonizing straight guys won't solve **** and most likely will get you nothing but flak but I guess you can think that all guys are complete ***** I'll give you a pass to that,
Second of all who made up that free bleed thing?
I mean I know that time is unpleasant but allowing yourself to bleed in say a public pool I'm almost positive isn't hygienic
Now before you think I'm some chauvinistic pig,
I do think that the pay gap shouldn't exist, and I do think oversexualization of our daughters isn't anything positive
However I will say that I'm for equality, not matriarchal or patriarchal or giving someone with different parts between their legs special treatment
So stop overreacting on this
Just because you are different then boys on the way you ****
Love your soul and not your gender
Stop making every guy a *** offender
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
What does it mean to be human once more?
To wake up on the wrong side of this floor?
To walk naked through my house on a quest to urinate?
To see differing opinions with nothing but hate?
To work my second nine-to-five?
To sit through another 30 minute drive?
To party at night, with my beer cans stacked?
To awake in the morning with all of my odds stacked?
To plod through the same job breaking my back?
To miss little league games for which my kids give me flak?
To throw money at them hoping they'll take me back?
To display disappointment with my life thus far?
Is this how we display how civilized we are?
How well we can march to the whistle?
How well we can bend in the wind like thistles?
That we are able to make the most money?
That we are the ones who decide what is funny?
That my polo shirt is more expensive than your nikes?
That if I stepped on them you would attempt to fight me?
That the only thing we revere is might?
That we re-iterate things that are bleak and trite?
That we poison our love with the hours we work?
That we would tear your heart out with a rusty fork?
That we're all caged pigs on anti-biotics?
Rather than wild with diseases that frolic?
People say they hate what society has become.
So we look for another public forum to dispose of our gum.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:09 AM UTC
Things we used to be
Or rather that which we are still
We as in I
I as in you
You as in me
Just a pair of eyes
Disembodied, disinherited
Then a word or two
Spoken uncertainly, with imperfect diction
Next came a body coated matte
Appearance totally flat
A reprisal of the reeling mind
Discontented, self remarked
Struck like fells of flak shells
Wrack
Emotive motion to inhale pain pill smoke
Foiled
Spoiled through imparts of ignorance
Palette saturated, severance pre-packed
Wheeze ever
A bio beat box, palpitate off tempo
Disharmony collate
Chaos culture, we the cancer self-castrating earth
Bastardized with sickly sounding mirth
Loudest, proudest, irreverent
Disclaimers
Naked
Reclamation
The origin known as nature
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 7:57 PM UTC
As Refugees,
from babylon,
How will we,
ever carry on?
They're wondering,
To where we've gone,
But we're almost home.
We kept on running,
Running on,
Distanced ourselves,
From babylon,
They must have known,
Just where we've gone,
Still we're
running all alone
Hateful hearts,
fast on our track,
They keep on lunging,
Quick to attack,
Taking cover,
From all the flak,
Keep on moving,
Don't you look back,
Turn away,
And you'll die today,
Then the world forgets,
What you had to say.
Hurt as much,
As it may,
For every man,
Comes the time to pay.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
I'm sick and tired of catching flak for other people's actions.
Just because I'm timid doesn't mean I have more power over other people,
it only signifies a level of discipline attained within myself.
I am tired of being lectured on behalf of others and their indiscretions;
they are not my mistakes to reconcile.
I am tired of being a middleman for the melodrama
of my fellow spoiled Americans.
I've tried to mitigate, but it only agitates both sides
so I say **** it. They're your issues now."
I hope you made good use of my efforts,
because now they shall no longer be imparted in this regard.
My patience has been abused and worn thin;
not just by others, but also by myself.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
|PART THREE|
**THE EMPTY SECOND
BECOMES AN
EMPTY SPACE**
*When it’s all over
forget about courtesy,
grab hold off a shooting star
and ride it all the way
until the photons say the
last word with a pulse of light*
The man is no longer doubled over and
Observable from the window
As a result of his fifty-eight years
the equation of his life
All comes to zero
Whilst the mocking ticking and tocking
Of an old clock knocking minutes like
Nails into the wall—
He disappeared in a puff of smoke,
The ice in his glass melted and the woman picked it up,
Drinking it in a single gulp, the glass comes down as if
Magnetically drawn to the floor, the floor,
Where she lies silently and stretches her body
To get some release, she rubs her face against
The carpet, nothing matters except the next second,
Eyes, behind a blink or two, dart to another part of the empty room
She couldn’t think any further ahead than a second at all
And the zodiac crashed open
the ram sent stars flying
the crab snipped the string that suspended the stars
mars took some flak
and finally the sun was burst
by the horned goat
and aquarius held it
like the final fluid sphere
Stars, burning across the sky like the striking of a match
Those wishing on shooting stars
couldn’t decide what they wanted
many of them flying as there were
As well-known monsters
Weighed down by human hope,
clear out our night sky,
Leaving not a freckle to observe
Telescopes now point into bedroom windows
Shadows portray a sort of life,
Shadow puppets depict death through
Tragedy and lapses in timekeeping and
Obsessions with vanity
Life spends some empty second
Inside your lungs,
Continues on it’s way
To resuscitate a slowly fading knife attack victim
Or shake the hand of a minute,
Time is ticking laboriously by
The light, motherless and lost,
Spat out at as the sun was burst,
It looks up to see
the unveiling of the universe,
Finally,
the oyster swallowed the sea.
—I didn’t want to be a poet by any means. After what happened working on the lifeboats I couldn’t go near the sea, so in a way I chose which parts of it I wanted and wrote about them. It terrifies me and fascinates me at the same time. I fully believe I will return to it only as ash...
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
I never understand.
You're a whirligig, spinning this way and that
on the whim of a breeze or a sunray with me
trailing behind
a demented kite catching the flak
picking up the slack while you fly
free
libertad por siempre
at all Costs
come Hellorhighwater
not for you to pick up the flakslack
leave it to your kite demented
I never understand.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
Crack
My shell; has not been done
Flak
And Hell; saved by none
Save me, save me, cry I loud
I can't escape this evil shroud
Beset by shadow: vile, strong
I cannot hold out very long
Collapsing, sinking in this mire
Lost forever in the fire
Of myself.
I'm falling, dying because of you
Standing there, strong and true
It's my end for I do hide
My plight from you (take in stride)
You're perfect, shining Princess bright
That's why I die alone (all my might)
Because I love you.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 2:03 PM UTC
i met you young
dumb and full of angst
you reached out to hold my hand,
i recoiled back
but it wasn't you
you told me you loved me
i was shocked into disbelief
no, that couldn't be true
i bore the flak
for telling you what i thought i knew
twenty now, a fresh man
i could see how you did
i can see how you can
too bad I didn't know it then
Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 12:15 AM UTC
I am superman,
I don't have his strength,
or his courage,
I have his resistance to pain.
Harsh words bounce off me,
falling to the ground.
They don't hurt.
How could they?
I've heard all bad things that anyone could think.
It used to hurt me,
I used to let it get to me.
Now it doesn't hurt anymore.
I'm in my flak vest,
they can't get through to my heart.
Those are old wounds.
Words can't hurt me anymore,
I've heard it all.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC