"fuse" poems
I've always had itchy feet
Never can sit still
Or let the soles of my shoes fuse to the ground
I keep my home around my neck
Wear it in a golden heart shaped locket
I misplaced my compass but never lost myself
I crave the ground passing beneath my feet
Beneath wheels and airplane shadows
I measure my age in miles acquired
I've seen the Milky Way from every angle
And swam in every sea
I keep going, going, going
And I never stop to wonder what I'm running from
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
That appalling desire,
makes your heart beat so fast.
It’s an unsettling ritual,
which refuses to pass.
The nagging need
to feel something,
and make yourself bleed.
You must act and do it now,
you wait for the great release.
One slice turns into more,
and you need it to hurt.
No one must notice,
hence the morbid allure.
You can’t stop the impulse,
once the fuse is lit.
You tremble with sickly delight,
after every slit.
For now you’re done,
carving your skin.
Since the need seems gone,
even though it doesn’t last long.
But at least in those moments,
you feel that sweet song.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 11:15 PM UTC
My heart I bequeath you
O’ stillness of my universe
I bequeath you my sanity
Spreading this cloak of being in your dust
I bow to your twinkling stars
To the waxing sun and scented grass
I bow to your springing rivers
To the parched grain and blossoming flowers
I bow to the warmth of my lover
And want of my beloved
I bow to your saccharine figs
And honeyed nectar in chalice filled
I bequeath my mortality to your transiency
Blinded by this light in game of ruse
Into your cohesiveness, I fuse
In blinkers to win the race
Espying a king in glass
Presage of being a slave
Yet when darkness falls
I furl my cloak and solemnly rise
For I bow not then
To your barren fields and waning suns
I bow not to your garish colors,
To the cloying drupe and wilted blossoms
Bracing my feeble transience
With my tenet and trail of faith
I bow to the King of kings;
Whilst I beseech for emanating hope,
In my tigers clasp, my God’s rope
I beseech,
Till the noise becomes music again
And as I gaze in the glass now,
All I espy is a beseeching slave
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 2:17 PM UTC
The warrior furious,
and fearless.
Her eyes full of justice,
and trust.
Raising her sword
at her enemies,
showing she shows no
fuse.
She fights with grace and
skill.
No expression,
no care.
Her glowing eyes,
made her foes fear her.
Her sword raises as it slashes down,
onto the foes.
She is known as a mysterious,
hero.
The warrior that was silent.
She showed no mercy on
those who are,
displeased.
The Silent Warrior,
is the one to be.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 2:29 AM UTC
By Arcassin B
Tell me,
tell me that your home safe asleep,
in your bed,
sometimes you would call me
just to come over instead,
maybe if it was settled then
me and you could hit the movies,
doing what teenagers do,
poring organic fuse,
driving those stylish cars,
doing things we can't refuse,
i swear to god i love you,
if you wasnt so beautiful i'd braid it,
knowing you,
probably hate it,
but i said it once before,
we go greatly together,
for what we have in store,
she puts all of that together,
this night was so glorious,
think i mite live another one,
promise that your social insecurities,
wont lend me none,
you made my life go astray,
like becoming a non-virgin,
didnt think that over anyway,
at least my cell phone still workin'.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
Cast out were his alien dreams;
Aspiring and confident he did leave.
Fiery ground of thunder burnt his home;
As he alone cast out for that void,
perceived through his singular glass dome.
Adventure had caught him lonely
But peering out from his craft
his pupils did glow!
Circling fiery molecules hovering to and fro!
How could he now transmit and show
Reflection of scale small and macro!
Fumbling, his fingers did try
To articulate the machines
Imprinted of his native language.
"Calling Cpt. Crow!"
Sending the signal the results did show
A break in the wire and a fuse did blow.
Barricading that soul far and deep,
A minuscule solar flare
Emanating a glow!
And from that earth looked upward team and crew
Saw idle in that gigantic void a singular golden hue
Distant but true was the connection they all knew.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
*shadows casting forward
pastel edges
of water colored nebulous scenes
once known
i fuse with deja vu
in its feather-like fringe
i beg for the meaning
of history reliving
perhaps it’s a maze
tho’ previously scripted
funhouse mirrors silently mock
our own carnival
or is it a wink?
the north star is nodding
a slight innuendo
we’re not lost at sea
perchance it’s a hint
it is all an illusion
a glitch in the matrix
the black cat walks by
i grasp for the answer
and peer at the ghostly
parchment paper dream
as it dissolves to thin air
©2018janetaylor
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 3:05 AM UTC
A duality of elan vital, two people
Spectres of emotion
Intertwined by a fuselage of bruised skin & tendon
Tissues become orbital, gushing towards grafts
Helixes of snot, **** and lymph
Boy & girl
As they embrace the animating principle and eachother, they fuse
A one piece tapestry adorned seamless with no hem, beginning or end
Always was, always is
Patiently turning to liquid as their being unzips
Lying figures of runny makeup and genetic *****
Quintessence, a texture of synaptic potential
Corpus Callosum
An entirety of self, lost in imbued disintegration
Theory of mind, looped & bound
I will water the thought
Roots envisaged in dystopian amygdala
Piercing data packets with a frost-like intensity
Forgetting our obsolescence moments ago
A neuron dipped in nylon
Theta waves and the non-euclidean crux of dissociation
Ghosts in the machine, your macro god
The sympathies of fractional distillation
Digitised/assimilated unto the nanosphere
Cold hands and brass backs galvanised in oscillated tears
Commodified, sold out and bought
Stretching, from purple, white and black
slowly losing its colour, amorphous in shape
brushed across a smudge, ambiguously chromatic
Monetised flesh god
An eternity bathed in starlight
Cutting an incision in the sky to allow entropy
Divided dimensions of energy
Fleeting and intangible
No longer a delirium of seperation
All semantics become light
As a rusted vehicle passes overhead
And all the worlds questions fade out of existence
Flutters of red tape and foregone growth of practice
Sinew flayed, integrated towards information
Our minds shared
In circuits and resistors
Photons and electrons
We radiate
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
(Villanelle)
It takes patience to wait for the perfect light.
Glance away and the image can disappear.
And sometimes the background isn’t quite right.
The moment missed is like a face out of sight
That against all logic we hope will appear
From around a corner, bathed in perfect light.
Or a pause in the music on a moonlit night
When hesitating lips touch, and love leans near,
But voices whisper that something’s not right.
Technology offers consolation in its sleight
Of hand: Digitally correct the analog *here
And now*, counterfeit the perfect light.
Yet we want more than the mastered byte.
We want the flash between the waiting and the souvenir,
The instant when self and spectacle fuse, reality felt right.
And so we hold on to what’s passing out of sight,
The collision between soon and too late, the sheer
Thread connecting to the perfect light
In which the background is precisely right.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
Under the parabola of a ball,
a child turning into a man,
I looked into the air too long.
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open
Behold a gift designed to ****
Now in my dial of glass appears
the soldier who is going to die.
He smiles, and moves about in ways
his mother knows, habits of his.
The wires touch his face: I cry
NOW. Death, like a familiar, hears
And look, has made a man of dust
of a man of flesh. This sorcery
I do. Being ****** I am amused
to see the centre of love diffused
and the wave of love travel into vacancy.
How easy it is to make a ghost.
The weightless mosquito touches
her tiny shadow on the stone,
and with how like, how infinite
a lightness, man and shadow meet.
They fuse. A shadow is a man
when the mosquito death approaches
8.5k
Nine little candles
Standing strong
Against the wind
Through the night for so long
Three white candles
Three extinguished toughened fighters
Because one black candle
Had to burn brighter
The one black candle
With all these tricks
Blew out the three white candles
And then there were six
Six little candles
Melting down
But black candle's light is growing dimmer
hope is no where to be found
Black candle's not a candle now
Now she's just a lit fuse
When time runs out until the explosion
Then she will know what it's like to lose
Six little candles
Has lost all but two
The former black candle
And one white candle left too
But even flames can whisper rumors
The burning fuse is done
She lost the other eight white candles
And then there was one.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
Sweaty shuffle, gloved hands
light fuse, twitching in countdown
until heels spark trigger,
cannons drumming grass
driven by bellows,
magnesium snort
in wind-whipped ears
until gunshot
snap:
shell bursts,
shattered tendons
man falling into dust
while fragments *****
burning air, tearing turf
as cheers become screams,
awaiting another bullet.
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 4:00 PM UTC
Loyalty
They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.
They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.
Glocks aimed at cops,
Glocks aimed back at someone’s pop,
Many lives have been lost over Gaup.
Gaup that buys whips and thots.
All got something to prove,
But to who?
All got something to lose,
What will you choose?
If money equal power,
Than why is the taste so sour?
After all the castles and ivory towers.
You’re left a lonely dragon like bowser.
Loyalty tell me what it means to me?
To hang with royalty,
Or help those in poverty.
The place I used to be.
Helping people like me.
That society has coated with a cloak of invisibility.
Because they can’t stand minorities.
And that’s why we can’t stand authorities.
A toxic cycle that stems from a different ideology.
Instead of equality,
We have uniformity,
Instead of democracy,
We have white supremacy.
Instead of loyalty,
We have hypocrisy.
They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.
They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.
Too many broken promises,
I feel like James Sie,
Losing all his cabbages.
But since we are deemed as savages,
All the damages attributed,
Are treated as shenanigans,
Instead of answering calls to action,
We have a government completely dumbfounded.
Instead of compassion,
We are harassed and hounded.
We still got all lot of work to do.
And I hope one day we’ll have a breakthrough!
For we all got something to prove?
But to who? Maybe for me or for you!
All got something to lose,
If we never take the time to put on another’s shoe.
So, what will you choose?
Will you help light the fuse?
Or treat this issue like your alarm clock,
And put in on snooze?
Who will you be loyal to?
Your heart? Or to your privilege?
Hmm…
They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.
They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.
Jun 16, 2021
Jun 16, 2021 at 8:26 PM UTC
The robotic surgeon didn't blink
Smoke, swear, or fool around;
He was the newest design of science
His metal feet firmly on the ground.
Robotic surgery was the latest
Improvement over the manual kind
There were no variations in technique;
No reliance on flaky mind.
He was diligent and precise
Cutting flesh to invisible templates;
He never erred and he never missed
Never once paused, to vacillate.
Trusted beyond the regular surgeon,
Using his fragile, shaking hands;
The robotic surgeon could do anything
Because he wasn't just a man.
The newest miracle of science was hailed
As the end, to the older style;
But one day the program blew a fuse-
And he cut her head off, by a mile.
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 8:20 AM UTC
1687
The gleam of an heroic Act
Such strange illumination
The Possible’s slow fuse is lit
By the Imagination.
7.2k
I stroke your skin like a leaf
and hold it up to the light,
allowing fingertips
to go slow from root to tip.
to sew the lining where two unlike materials meet.
to code this friction into tactile intuition...
And yet--
I am afraid.
With this and all acts of temptress divination.
I, I...am afraid.
I want to read our intersection.
I want
to see in your life-line.
myself.
First, I will find the highways of your pulse-
watch as they
give way to country roads.
Dissecting life-ways into bi-ways
where I can go slow from
root to tip.
rise
Feel the land
and fall.
from grass
to hallowed knoll-
Throw me dirt and blow out your windows.
Take me slow
down the side roads.
Next, I consult
the creases of your open fist.
Gone are the fine blue lines
-the tomographic
Heat, and its rhizomatic
beat.
Instead, you hold me in this underpass
[the clamminess and opposite-land of passion and speed]
where
[shadows cling and relationships keep].
You hold my hand.
To leave, and blast!
- to stay, I will need a map.
Hide me here long enough to find beauty
in the fine etched lines
that paint the walls in broad swoops of graffiti:
those cryptic tag-lines that advertise your witty, poetic celebrity.
from finger to wrist
arc
the to the thumb
the pulse that could run
on and on.
[our] distant reflection
-a mirage in the rising sun.
where
the earth line cuts off the air line
to fuse the heart- and the head
-line.
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 10:51 PM UTC
she expected
f i r e w o r k s
when she first kissed him.
little did she know that she was going to become the fireworks.
she was an easy target, and he had good aim.
as soon as she f
e
l
l
into his grasp, he was quick to send her back from where she came.
crowds gathered.
fathers' hands silenced their children's mouths as his loaded her into the mortar.
mothers' hands covered their children's ears as his lit the fuse.
she was shot forward by a merciless puff of dragon's breath,
and as she looked over her shoulder,
she saw the ash leaking from his nostrils.
stars beckoned to her.
glimmering, shimmering, shining stars extended their fiery hands to her already outstretched ones.
she rose higher and higher,
filling her lungs with the last bit of oxygen that was left,
and screamed.
he screamed.
her flaming body parts rained down in the form of asteroids, striking him.
stars spelled out her name and pulsed weakly like his dying heartbeat.
they both went from "are" to "were" in a matter of seconds, and everyone knew that their chemical reaction was triggered by fireworks.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 10:25 PM UTC
I want you to know, I want you to see
I want you to look beyond your own eyes
Past your afflictions
Do you really care?
can you not see?
can you not hear?
Sometimes the silence is better
I know you will never understand
I know you will never see
you''ll never see how badly I hurt
you will never hear my screams
I'll light the match, the flame, the fuse, the bomb
rescue the world from your word's
I want to torch it, burn it, scorch it, end it
watch it as it blows away
I won't let you poison me any longer
A prisoner no more
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 8:16 PM UTC
a new blueprint to future improvements
truth and illusion, rooting down to it
using my muse to fluid the movements
i do what i do and only i do it
i choose true views, crucial exclusives
a brutal but proven fuel for usage
a fuse for a boom and a noose for a nuisance
tooting no horns and soothing no prudence
a truant from the school of muted students
an astute pupil when getting down to it
using pure fusion and never diluted
i do what i do and only i do it
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 8:00 AM UTC
The left of center
are in north bound throes of a dupe
and can't begin to forecast this wonder of polluted marvel,
in the morrow
my optics discharged in a catastrophic traversal
While whimsy and accidental feels like I've taken pills
a power rain this sobbing has spilled
No longer to be contained based on sheer will
Attacked by neurotic transcending
While sifting through files and photo stacks
Came across multiples of your smiling face
From when I shot you, a couple hundred miles back
No one would dare debase the abundance of your emitted grace
Bloodshot mist eyed and blind from tears
control lost during transport steer
Drips off my cheek pouring down my chest
Could make great sense to don a life vest
Filling up floorboards like a spraying firehose
Shattering cascades diamondize the windows
A single glance at an image turns farmland into rural seaquake
If they interview my lifeless corpse what a headline this will make,
turning tragedy into a foolish mistake
people will curse and laugh
Paved over roads now films unseen
when dusk fuse night from the weep my eyes dispensed
Elements effected by incidents
Rising waves climb over to decimate interstate 65
All over a tiny tear drop and her sweet smiling photograph
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 8:01 PM UTC
.
What is a poet to do
when his favourite muse
faints whilst making love,
a victim of passions fuse.
To carry on regardless?
Perhaps slap her lovely cheek?
Mouth 2 mouth no tongue?
Or maybe implore her to speak?
A lesser poet
shakes her anxiously
and writes a verse about prowess and spooning.
A True poet
carries on regardless
and writes a sonnet about his muse and swooning.
© Pagan Paul (23/05/18)
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC
I left the water boiling sanity into the pores of my skin as my face hovered over the ***
My eyes close to the beat of Brick in the Wall by Pink Floyd.
The countdown.
5
4
3
2
I stopped the timer before 1,
Let the water scorch the tea leaves until their screams fuse to a whisper at the bottom of the mug.
I needed my sanity back,
So I lifted the mug and let the flavor of peppermint wash between the chapped cracks of my lips,
Steaming the melody of sanity onto my tongue,
my tea was cold.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Finally this day has come.
To get another go with the sun,
A year has it been since the daylight shun.
The shadows of Mordor were almost to get me done.
What a fine day to have an adventure.
Having to save a princess as a departure.
The signs are being obvious
Birds are flying back to the Mountain,
There is no time to be in bore,
I need to hurry and reclaim back my Erebor.
I’m in wonder of what she is doing.
Probably she made plans already by now.
Or maybe she didn’t decide on going.
Thought that she might be Lonely under the Mountain.
I have to get going to save her plain,
Must get her out quickly of that fiery chain.
But wait, What’s this?
My legs are unable to move.
Why is my heart trembling with fear?
I’ve been waiting for this my entire time,
I don’t get it.
I don’t get it at all.
I’m shaking pathetically,
This is getting ridiculously annoying.
Move it! Why is my body not responding?
I can’t control my body no more
It’s totally stuck!
Is the sun causing this?
But I’m no troll to be affected by this.
I’m the Bilbo on this journey,
I’m the appointed burglar
To steal the precious Arkenstone
So what’s happening now really?
Am I scared that much
That my own body is doing what I should be doing?
If this fear is about the journey I’ll take,
The dangers I’ll encounter,
The perils I’ll meet.
That wouldn’t be a serious problem for me not to go.
But it’s different.
This doesn’t make sense.
I need to get rid of this fence.
But It’s no use,
I’m stuck in this hole in fuse.
Stuck in this Shire,
While that desolator Smaug is causing fire.
I’ve forgotten the time.
The shadows are back.
Here I am underneath the moon’s refine,
Standing still in charcoal leather black
Not resisting anymore.
I completely stood in my own accord.
Tears are spilling down my face.
I can feel in my veins the sorrow,
And thinking about it made me wonder
If I can make it til tomorrow.
Then,
So sudden it came to me in a flash
The reason why I did not move
Why I did not meet her.
It’s because a year ago I was there.
In front of her.
My precious Arkenstone Under the Mountains
The kings jewel.
The jewel that rejected my tiny hands,
That reached beyond the Middle of Earth
Just for her.
The same jewel that replaced me with a greed of a dragon.
That burned the glow of what’s inside me.
And now I remember it all.
Clear as the sky above me.
I am no Bilbo Baggins.
There is no treasure waiting for me.
No adventure as destination.
Because this,
This is just the Anniversary of my Rejection.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
Often does your Purpose seek to Belong
Thoughts your Rebellious Clouds can independ
But just recall your Coins; And after long
You'll realise the Worth which you will spend
Maybe you Decided; Or maybe not
Plans which the Architect will rennovate
It's clearly shown by the Jersey you got
How you love to be an Otaku's Date
I'll complain to the Pug; And must he snub
Even if his Language you will confuse
And why he chose to reissue a ****
When all he could do is ask for a fuse.
Still a Nice Wear you so haply display
Hoping such Good Colours will never fade.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:51 PM UTC
I don’t freestyle.
I write my things down.
Though I wish that I could spit when I talk **** and pitch in metaphors so quick they zip right past you with a swing and a miss.
That’s why I pick up my pen and pad, or my phone if it has a charge,
Go to the memos app and find a knife that is sharp.
Crack open my rib cage and pull out my beating heart.
Squeeze that ***** dry till it bleeds the right part.
But this prune has no juice now.
This prune has no use now.
Its beats have no sync it looks gray, old, and used out.
It burned out its pacer, and its fuse just fused out,
It’s excuses?
That I used it when I couldn’t use it.
I abused and confused it.
It gave me all that I wanted but its plasma was useless.
So much material came night after night.
Every time it gave more. I just brushed it aside.
My table was covered with all my insides,
But none of it perfect. None of it right.
I squeezed and I squeezed till my fingers went numb.
The nail on my index was cutting into my thumb.
Desperate for a punch line to make the crowds go dumb.
Screaming and owing these ******* gonna come.
Too caught up on what they wanted I let my heart dry.
Too caught up living their life I let my heart die.
It turned out that turned up turned into a lie.
I turned into some one torn from their real life.
Now I’m resting my heart for a while.
It’s in the hands of a misses that cares for it now.
That’s why I don’t freestyle.
I write my **** down.
-J.Cruz Hernandez
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 7:51 AM UTC