"gasses" poems
I woke up this morning and I was tired.
what was I tired of....
I was tired of waste
hunger
greed
humiliation
global warming
ozone depletion
pollution
guns
deforestation
extinction
mining
disease
overpopulation
terrorism
selfishness
destruction
war
mining
green house gasses
religion
cruelty
I am so tired of being tired.
I am a planet that is tired,
it is time to rid myself...... of the human race.
I am the earth I am alive,
and the human race is a parasite.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
Perhaps the earth is floating,
I do not know.
Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups
made by some giant scissors,
I do not know.
Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear,
I do not know.
Perhaps God is only a deep voice
heard by the deaf,
I do not know.
Perhaps I am no one.
True, I have a body
and I cannot escape from it.
I would like to fly out of my head,
but that is out of the question.
It is written on the tablet of destiny
that I am stuck here in this human form.
That being the case
I would like to call attention to my problem.
There is an animal inside me,
clutiching fast to my heart,
a huge carb.
The doctors of Boston
have thrown up their hands.
They have tried scalpels,
needles, poison gasses adn the like.
The crab remains.
It is a great weight.
I try to forget it, go about my business,
cook the broccoli, open the shut books,
brush my teeth and tie my shoes.
I have tried prayer
but as I pray the crab grips harder
and the pain enlarges.
I had a dream once,
perhaps it was a dream,
that the crab was my ignorance of God.
But who am I to believe in dreams?
14.1k
Loving and talking to you is like loving and talking to a blackhole—
useless!
Every breath is a hot mess of wasted gasses.
Every wail is a vain attempt to be heard.
You devour everything
and let go of nothing.
I’ve tried leaving it alone.
I’ve tried letting you go.
But this grudge of mine draws me in,
a will to exhume those white skeletons
in your black closet of a heart.
Pointless;
but I’m caught in your arms
that pull me in to the point of singularity.
I know you’ll rip and tear me to shreds
and then tear those shreds to dust
and dust to particles.
My ghost won’t even be able to escape.
. . . Stay away. . .
. . . Stay away. . .
Maybe someday I’ll watch the massive riptide turn
and become a warm star I wish longingly to orbit.
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 6:46 PM UTC
The expansions of space
the matrix we learn to re-create
lucid dreaming conquers the mind
lust drains the mind rendering it blind
past issues fade like clouds
pedestrians pass in the confusion of time
inner thoughts expressed aloud
surrounded atmosphere all around
limitations is what keeps humanity underground
infinity: a number of fantasy
kept up like gasses and when the bubble pops acid drops
slipping into the abyss till gravity stops
amid the ashes is where life crashes
so long as it stays concealed in darkness
everything comes out to light
in such sparkling moments
in energy in rebirth
the fallen jaguar rises taking the form of night
chosen by the stars
given divine right
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC
No!
All is havok
All is pounce
Brush a bruise over your eye
You're filthy
Whore's eyes
Some men hit
Most men will split
Show them your good side
****
Then shower
Gravel built from monuments
In the catbox
The meat you eat
It has a funny flavour
Cars sure are fast
Say
All your words slurr
All your friends purr
Mud lava
Twig cities
Wonderous beings
****** gasses
Double as a president
Gore
And sublime bliss
A rock of ****
Space rock
Bile gravy over turkey
Make baby sleepy
Another night down
And another ***** in
Your body.
May 5, 2010
May 5, 2010 at 4:37 PM UTC
You: A nebula.
Vast and far-reaching.
Ionized gasses, pink and blue
An ode to passion, and depth.
You. Are. Unfathomable.
Nestled in your tendrils,
A cosmic safe harbor,
I am born a star.
Consuming your words like hydrogen,
I shine bright,
Radiating warmth into the cosmos.
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 10:35 PM UTC
I lay and wait to sail the seas of infinity
Black fabric catching nebulous breezes
As an ancient god of mythology sneezes
The wooden ship creeks never stealthy
But noisy as hell seeing the cosmic swells
Of eternity’s well
My skin burns with the razor whips
Of solar ray that phase through
Time and space
Razing all darkness in its’ way
My vision once darkened by the void
Now explodes with spatial wonder
My skin is shredded by the fury
Of burning nebulous gasses
Particles of space dust envelope me
Incinerating every cell of me
I burn in orange, brown, purple and blue hues
Spiraling vapors consume the ship to
No howls of pain echo in the vacuum
There is no struggle
My hands hold tightly to the sword of my youth
I wear my rigamortis with pride as I slide
Up and into the gates of Valhalla
A white and fluffy faced man stares at me
Laughing half heartedly
And says
Hey you got the wrong gate
Valhalla loads down the ways at station eight
This is the Judaic station
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
The condensation slowly begins
To eat a hole in
The cotton of my jeans
And I've been through this enough
To know
I'm not alone in it
But I can't help but feel empty.
The dripping grass emits it's gasses
filling the air with the sweet smell of
freedom and October;
The plants releasing their last breath into the world
before the snow comes
and brings death upon us all.
Even in this facade of freedom I feel trapped
Caging myself within the confines of a small
One-bedroom apartment that's supposed to be "home".
The soaking corpses of thriving flowers
and the sweet tickle of chirping crickets
are drowned out by the overwhelming sadness
that's begun to overthrow my lungs,
echoing throughout my limbs as it
sloshes through my eardrums and soaks my shoes
Dear god, why am I still hurting?
It's been 9 years and I still can't escape.
This depression has stolen every last part of me.
Until it's all I have left.
And yes, out here, I feel free
Away from the judgement
Where no one can touch me
Connected with the Earth
Simply observing all that surrounds me.
And of course I can hide from my anxiety
But even feeling the cleanest sand between my feet
And deafening my mind with these crashing waves around me
I can't run from the demons eating at the tatters of my soul
Because they will find a way to lure me back in
To disconnect me from the beauty that surrounds me
Leaving me dying alone on the cold, dark concrete
that lines my broken memories
Bleeding out these sins until I no longer feel empty
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 8:24 PM UTC
Gilded cage so small and tiny
Even singing comes out whiny
Stinking of fake fresh and piney
Tis the season
Leaking water warm and briny
With good reason
Christmas cheer and glasses toast
Loved ones smile and laugh and boast
I sit perched upon my post
A tinsled column
Invisible reluctant host
A heart that's solemn
A longing for a love so distant
The melancholy is persistent
A smile could erase it in an instant
On a face cherubic
For my heart is not resistent
It's theraputic
So that smile that is perfection
Is mirrored in my own reflection
Without a thought about rejection
Hallucinations
About the subtlest inflection
In Salutations
Surrounded by the merrily intense
With drunkard tendencies immense
A bar with all accoutrements
They pound tequila
Drinking away the sacraments
Oh yes, I feel ya
Merry time with old Kris Kringle
Guests all lubed enough to mingle
Mistletoe hangs and sleigh bells jingle
Gifts homemade
Tables adourned and glasses tingle
Gold brocade
Still I sit all caged and flightless
Blind to joy all sad and sightless
Drink could make it hurt a mite less
I'm going backward
Laying here all limp and lifeless
Broke and fractured
Surrounded by the fake and vexing
Artificial and quite perplexing
Reality they are rejecting
The devil may care
Bellies bare and muscles flexing
Lost underwear
So ******* dancing to the jukebox
Lost alone here in the boondocks
There is no snow upon the rooftops
Ahead they forge
Find a room before that thing pops
It's so engorged
Neighbor ***** all dressed in orange
Wearing gold to make the poor cringe
Stripping time to fill her syringe
I'll be her hinderance
Still too drunk from her last binge
Faulty remembrance
Ridding riff raff from the party
People still drunk on Bacardi
Noxious gasses burp and farty
With toilets makeshift
Worn out makeup on the smarty
She needs a facelift
Time to let the people go
Too tired to keep watching the show
Drinking hard and walking slow
Verbose yet listless
Honey I don't want to know
It's not my business
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
Toxic ads live-streamed through your wires and the airwaves
As though it's perfectly legal to pump out poisonous gasses
Straight into the public domain.
With democracy comes hypocrisy;
Biological warfare declared on
Innocent civilians whose vote matters,
And that's all that matters.
They reassure you with charming grins
While their eyes tell tales of all their sins.
The noise does not stop as they pay fortunes for
Propaganda time.
Hate spewing, gut-wrenching, fist clenching games
Held for the purpose of heading a nation in the right direction.
It's a shame that the game takes a toll on the soul,
No one stays the same when faced with the poll.
Enter the maze innocent, eyes a-glaze
Then when it spits you out
All that remains is a name.
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 7:56 PM UTC
May 27, 2013
I let it take control of my mind. Disappearing in a mist of haze; wandering for days. Searching. Seeking. Finding. Fitting into my piece, so I could spread amongst the rest. So I could fit and be apart of it: the Great Mystery. Truth. So I can understand the meaning of life. Is my path determined? Do I have free will? Can I escape this? All I know is that everything is connected. Earth is a single component; a mere microscopic portion of the entire universe, which is compromised of more than the human mind can understand at this point in time.
A little stardust.
How is it possible that less than five percent of our oceans have been discovered? Are we ignorant to the fact that when earth started experiencing life, it was in the depths of the ocean. Hence, all production of landscape, the animal kingdom, primitive and current **** sapiens, technology, advancement, and discovery of our past is a creation from the sea billions of years ago. Everything on earth is composed of gasses that came from the universe: what simplistic thinking.
Humans fighting against humans, to taste eachothers blood in the name of “victory”, a game to exploit and prevent eachother form an equalized entirety. When will all work towards progress, instead of the demise of the "other". When will we realize our brothers and sisters are not our enemies. How connected the human race is as a species;
does anyone realize?
Class Mammalia, which consists of over 5000 species, is a single group of the animal kingdom, yet humans are classified by each other on basis a of enhanced melanin, and physical traits. Do dogs laugh at us? Ah, I used the term race and everyone decides to think it means colour, or some stupid stereotype!
what have we come to?
When will we reach our heads out of our ***** and realize what surrounds and encompasses us as a whole? A consistent river that flows with time, shining mortality by with plenty adventures, constantly writhing. No control. Like I am a mere droplet in the ocean, licking the coastline, bathing in the sunlight. Creating, and being created.
Its amazing isn’t it?
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
He sweats when he poops,
Not just any old ****
A **** of glory,
A **** of a lifetime.
The kind of **** that jacks your heart rate,
The kind of **** that makes you breathe heavy,
A **** so intense that your bowels moan,
And generate a need to remove your shirt.
The cold, yet intense sweats of this ****
Cramps in the lower abdomen, sharp and warm,
The sweet relief of tension, when that one big log comes out,
All hot and steamy.
Followed by a stream of liquidy brown,
He wonders how his body even operates,
The unholiness of what exits through,
That holiest of holes, next to the birth stump and boulders.
Pondering the consumption of two nights before,
He sits bare-assed on this porcelain mouth,
Ingesting every bit of solids, liquids and gasses,
That exit from his **** canal.
Clothes tossed onto the floor,
His ******* harden from the unpleasant draft,
Caused by the perspired glands,
That shiver from trauma and nightly air.
Nov 25, 2023
Nov 25, 2023 at 6:52 PM UTC
January 16th: I am running in circles.
January 17th: Reality is just a figment of one's vivid imagination.
January 18th: The exit of the co2 from my lungs, to my mouth, and then the atmosphere. Expand and contract my brain. Expanding is new found knowledge and contracting is the loss of knowledge. Thus, my intelegence is relative to the amount of gasses in my brain.
January 19th: Secretly, you control me.
January 20th: Over the next two hours, you slowly drift back to reality. The once sea bound boat is approaching land and, with each passing wave, you are coming closer to sobriety.
January 21st: What is this love you speak of?
January 22nd: A numbing sensation has paralyzed my arms. I can feel a million little creatures with in me. While they crawl beneath my skin, they leave their path of serenity. The ecstasy, that races to my heart. To touch my blood with a soft kiss and slowly warm my frozen body.
January 23rd: We will be forever hoping, forever wishing, and forever praying to find love. A feeling our primitive minds will never understand. In this age love will never be found because the passion that created us, has left this world.
January 24th: Sometimes I feel like:
I am exiled by my own people, searching for another lost soul in this desecrated world. The only remnants I have of people are the skeletons of wanderers from long ago. Each lonely corpse I see I become more and more afraid. In fear, I run through this land of broken dreams. I am running in circles. I am lost. Back to where I began my quest I realize this land is hell and I am alone. In time I will soon become another lost soul. My desire to leave this place motivates me to keep walking. This keeps me sane. In the distance I see a figure shinning through my haze of hopelessness. Is this a hallucination? Or am I not alone in this world?
January 25th: Sights are sounds and sounds are sights.
January 26th: I am falling to apart trying to fix your broken heart.
January 27th: **** and be ******
January 27th: The warmth of a fire can warm the coldest of hearts.
January 28th: In the rain, I carry no disguises.
January 29th - January 31st: I am relapsing
Mar 16, 2012
Mar 16, 2012 at 1:50 PM UTC
venus
morning star
lucifer f a
l
l
i
n
g backwards and forwards in time
in rotation
in retrograde rotation
(“the fall of lucifer” painted darkly against the bright spot in the sky)
((i see myself in the
shadows beneath
his tumbling figure))
light-bringer
dawn-bringer
the rising sun in the east
a supernova exploding in the background: there are subatomic particles
bigger than what i can offer
there are greenhouse gasses that
give off more heat than my body
will ever be able to produce for anyone
day light
night light
the setting sun in the west
a constellational birth in the foreground: there are
not enough moons in the solar system
there is not enough space
between planetary rings to explain
gravitation and the human body
(aphrodite tell me: is this sin or is this love?)
((i will dip my toes in sea foam
until i deteriorate
i will put my ear against conch shells
until i can hear your answer))
venus
evening star
lucifer pouring sulfuric acid into the car vents
the air ducts
the atmosphere
it becomes the thick dark clouds that obscure
my vision of myself from reality
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
Blasted together
in the wake of dead stars
New life is born
From celestial suicide.
Say goodnight
Drift into star dust dreams
It fills your mind
it's you after all.
Your hands came from andromeda
Your eyes were born from hera's milk
Stone exploded for your legs
And gasses mixed inside your chest.
You're gonna die
You're gonna die.
Nothing can stop your inevitable suicide.
Say goodnight
Drift into star dust dreams
It fills your mind
It's you, after all.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 9:51 AM UTC
trailing like meteors
ash flicks of embers
that tumble through darkness
and no one remembers
dissolving in liquid
like powdery pigment
that forms and then fades
in less than an instant
its all spreading out
like scatter star skies
each as the other
in dark and disguise
molecular symphonies
energized masses
that circle each other
like sublimised gasses
a hailstorm of being
a meteor shower
reactive conversions
of matter and power
its all spreading out
like scatter star skies
each as the other
in dark and disguise
Apr 12, 2010
Apr 12, 2010 at 5:53 AM UTC
I'm a hunk of flesh
A few pieces of calcium deftly placed
Tubes, fluids, electricity
Gasses, elemental compounds and chemicals
I sound more like a science project
Than a person
Grey sponge in a skeletal bowl
Completes the blueprint
This is **** sapiens
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
.
Light sparkles in the clover,
Yellow and blurr of bees
Are honeyed in the sun
And robins have come,
Yanking in the gasses,
So green is the moisten
Of the painting of the dew
And all is lolling in petrichor,
The soils running with slow
Time so shortly experienced,
Oils of wood permeate the air,
Lapping brooks bream into light,
The loft kestrel swirls in meadow
And chipmunks scuttle at base of tree,
Even the wind does freshly quiet, crisply,
There as a hug waiting for body and spirit,
Patches of white are disappearing, they know—
That one day we must all return, after winter snows.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 2:40 PM UTC
icecaps come undone
crushing into the ocean
as she sheds her frozen tears
penguins and p0lar bears shudder
as their habitats recede
like the snows of Kilimanjaro
volcanoes explode
spewing smoke and ash like billowing pillows
into the stratosphere
diffusing sunshine's heat
like a cold compress
floes of lava melt glaciers
rivers of mud cause flooded folks to flee
fissures crack and snap from her pressure
towns and countrysides split
floors rumble and roll like the ocean
walls tumble, crumble and roar
bells toll an all too familiar melody
families cry out, wailing and ranting
chanting dirges of great loss
an inconsolable cacophony
rubbled lives lying in ruin
but she is not to blame
the earth is a no fault state
this is our doing
ecology's consequence
greenhouse gasses and other pollutants
have given her a fever
her pores are opening to vent the warming
she is not angry or vindictive
punishment is not her goal
and evil has not played its hand
the planet is just cooling herself
it's how Gaia gets her groove back
Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC
time does not heal,
and love does not conquer all
though many of you would feel
cozy and comforted by such knotted notions
time’s honored contract with chemistry
gives us but rust, and dust
words roll off our tongues
into the air, for unsuspecting ears
perhaps to allay our deepest fears
that we end as ***** of dung
effluvia from noble maggots
the last gasped gasses
from creatures without
the fear of failure
or the ken of death
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 9:29 PM UTC
he sat bedside with his great grandmother
stroking a hand laced with what he saw as
tiny blue rivers, flowing from a thin wrist
dammed by ancient knuckles
boulders chiseled by eighty-four years
he read from his book while Mommy
dozed in the chair, and nurses squeaked
in and out, all with half smiles he could
not decipher, for Grammy was sick
and when his mother was awake, she cried
he hadn't seen her tears before;
he tried not to look, preferring his book
with its pictures of the sun, orbiting
planets and mazy moons
and spaces in between where heaven might hide
he understood most of its words,
and none were of heavens--unless noxious gasses
and swirling clouds of dust were the winds which
whipped through the pearly gates
but his seven wise years knew that was not so
when he turned to the page of the
penultimate planet from the sun,YOU-ruh-nuss
he discovered it took four score and four years
to orbit our star once
math's mystery may have eluded him
though coincidence was not yet
in his lexicon, and now he knew Grammy
had her times around the sun, her eighty four
equaling one for the great tilting Uranus
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 11:54 PM UTC
Sleep.
The vast world of dreams, leaden as oceans deep.
In the depths we find our dear prince, but this time—dreamless—in a place of ether and temporal energy.
Woven throughout a nebula are paths of light leading to distant gates and far off doorways.
Plinths of stone floating about… Orbiting…
On one such path our prince finds himself, his means of arrival… not remembered.
If this is not a dream, then how can I be drawing breath? Where am I?
The luminous pink and blue gasses impart nothing. The twinkling dust scattered all around only twinkles.
This place is beautiful… and has such strong magic, on a scale I have not seen before.
Calypso looks to the path on which he stands. Made of energy, it winds, curves, dips, rises, and connects with many others. A few end at what appear to be large doorways… portals…
He starts to walk down the path.
With barely three steps taken, Calypso senses something… a slight breeze… he stops and turns to see a storm.
A massive squall line of dark rolling clouds with sporadic flashes of light emanating from within.
Thunder, ominous.
What brought that about?
No sooner had the question formed in his mind than he realized the speed at which the storm was traveling. In a mere minute, it seemed to have moved a mile closer; another minute and he will be in its clutches.
Tracing geometric patterns in the air with his hands and using words of enchantment, Calypso creates a sphere of magical energy around himself.
The storm, an unstoppable force of magic and nature, consumes the prince.
The shield, conjured by one of the most powerful sorcerers, holds.
There is darkness…
The clouds move around Calypso’s magic sphere, lightning flashes nearby and everything is lit for an instant. A moment passes, and the hairs on the back of his neck start to tingle…
And a massive bolt of lightning connects with his shield, turning its blue hue to fiery orange—and another arcs into the path close by—Calypso, eyes closed, is thrown from the path by the shockwave.
Through space, the prince flies…
On stone, does he land…
His shield, gone.
The hungry wind starts sweeping him from the plinth—lightning flashes—he finds a hold and grips the stone with all of his strength.
But such is the strength of the wind… Is this it, then?
And in an instant, the storm passes, the wind moves on…
Silence.
Calypso pulls his battered body to the middle of the floating stone and stands. His wonder, greater than anything he had felt before. Moments pass… he senses something…
A slight breeze…
He turns and looks.
Out in the distance, in the void between the stars… a silver sail.
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
Here to wake up
Standing ground
Militaries lost
and found
Destroying greenhouse gasses:
The round archive of saving
Moving toward negative cost
Clean energy boundless
Morality's ascent soundless
When true sustenance is found
Aliens: our next hound
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 10:54 PM UTC