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Aaron McDaniel Oct 2012
I’ve been labeled with a term that begins with P and ends with oet
But I owe it to to those listening to explain the steps I’ve taken
225 days of mistaken tippy toes and battles fought arresting a demon to keep him caged thirsty
He stays thirsty
Drips of thick liquid that bring cure to others make his body sick but his mind goes at ease
The random shocks of pain that jolt throughout my body telling me to get more is a reminder that this struggled battle will never be over
This devil on my shoulder is whispering terms of endearment while the angel is tirelessly hanging off my biceps trying to whisper his words of truth
There’s no other way around it
I live by the standard ‘once an addict always an addict’
I am an addict
Before that fact jumps down your throat to join the heart that jumped up in it, let me explain
Addicts like me work long *** days breaking their back to break bread and emerge victorious in their ocean of mistakes
Instead of treading H20, it’s theraflu and pepto,
I used to be drowning but now I’m only waist deep
Slowly, day by day, the drain taking it away makes the level of pepto low
Soon, maybe I’ll be able to say I’m in a puddle getting my tippy toes wet in OTC’s
Then it’ll dry
My tongue shall stay dry
Like that of the demon that stays
Caged
Thirsty
Waiting for a day that my mentality meets frustration so great that I’m attempted to sling that syrup down my throat so suddenly that my stomach acid is left in wonder
Silently slipping into a comatose state that no soul may recover from
To prevent this, I’ll pin praying hands to my nose and speak to a God that I’m not even sure is listening
As I apologize from straying away from the path he’s set for me, I’ll look forward and realize that the hurting is gone
Indeed, more will come
But there is no fear in these eyes
My mother’s soft touch on my shoulder
Friends cementing their hands to my spine to make sure I stay standing
I feel safe and secure to stand on a cliffs edge while the oceans muddy water rushes at it’s walls
I will not fall
Because I just showered
And I intend on staying clean…
Gray Dawson Oct 2019
Dribbling down the sides of my head
It drops clear
And drips red

Drop
Scream
Drip
Cry

Rippling waves of rejections
Then self corrections

Don’t try to make sense of the process
It’s nonsensical filled with paradoxical decisions

Just let me bleed H20
Ki Danshaku Sep 2019
She...she responds to a soothing bath.
He...he prefers a different path.

They each disrobe from the day's affairs,
the formal restraints they each do share.

Their clothes lay scattered about the floor,
both stand naked at a tiled shore.

She eases herself into this sleeve,
a temperate knitted liquid weave.

He guides the stream from it’s perched spout,
the water finding the perfect route.

His face is wet, his eyes are shut tight.
She prefers ambient candle-light.

She gently sponges her supple skin.
He grips the soap...oh, so masculine.

She contemplates his rugged terrain,
he puts his hands out to feel the rain.

His caress yields a lathery foam,
her fingers begin a downward roam.

He too diverges, or so rather,
deviates from the task to lather.

Much attention in just one region,
cleaning can’t motivate this legion.

His thoughts of her, and her thoughts of him,
nothing stops what’s about to begin.

Tremors start from her head to her toes,
a smile blossoms as she plateaus.

He feels the pressure stiffly increase,
it brings to him an immense release.

She savours the last rippling quiver.
His knees weak from such an endeavour.

They catch their breath, and resume their chores,
have they been remiss in these detours?

Excuse the news they misuse shampoos,
they choose to amuse with such taboos.

One can’t ignore in the aftermath: he takes showers
... and she takes a bath.
Written by request for an anthology of like-topic stories.
This poem is dedicated to the molar mass of 18, and is 18 syllables wide and 18 sentences tall.
This is my one and only poem.

'One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
Two can be as bad as one
It's the loneliest number since the number one'
Poetic T Oct 2019
He was the child with the magnifying glass that lingered
in the exhalation of the heavens. Always holding it on
those of weaker statue than himself. Insects were his
starting point, as they were barbecued under the influence
of what was focused between light and glass and what
lived became inanimate just a blackened smear that he
smothered words into the dirt
        
                           I'LL BURN THE WORLD,

His parents saw this and in jest laughed it off as the
Immaturity of a child's frustration. That all was but a
a boy finding his place within the many echoes of manhood.
A child was maturing, and they assumed that he was not
ready for the collision of what was in-between the moments
of childhood and adulthood.

One cold and sodden night where the only things that were dry.
Were submerged in the cover of roofs and foliage.
But even the penetrating raindrops gathered in haste to soak
the earth beneath the leaves protection. All drowned within
nights flourish of immersed air. Where it felt that breath was only
in-between the flurry of h20's deluge.

Within the house, within the rooms crept a silence.
            It wasn't alone, for it wept unseen streams between the  
crisp white borderlines,  were doused in clear liquids,
Draping the curtains in non received  heavy remorse,
the only things that were burdensome were the drapes as the weight of the liquid pulled at the seams holding them aloft.

Remorse was neither felt or given. just a feeling of accomplishment.  
Felt it in the moments that succeeded between this
gathering of dead lights as a flame was lit.
But not a whisper was echoed this flame was lifeless
in the eyes of its beneficiary.
But it lept upon the walls like a ballerina, gentle,
and dancing within the confides of its given dance.

He stood in the hallway the flashback was unexpected,
but he still stood there gazing and the beauty of something
given with such frailty that a breath could extinguish
its potential. His parents had no idea, they were slumbering
within the confines of blankets that entombed the warmth.
Clasping hand even in sleep love was a subconscious yearning.
The thing with these old houses some had decretive metal over
the wind bars in beauty crafted to keep things out.


But this was his plan, what cant get in cant get out.
He'd gone in there room and stole the key.
He took a last glance, and said,
             "I Love You
,Before sealing them within. The flames were silent like
a stalker watching waiting, till the inevitable conclusion.

As things started to burn more passionately, caressing every
thing it was touching. So the smoke started to thicken like
A heavy smog it got into places the fire had not reached.
Moans could be heard, then screams at the realisation of
what was happening. He Could hear them, he could see them.
For even though a teenager he was intuitively cunning,
tinkering with everything and anything.

And small cameras were dotted around the house,
looking listening to everything that was seen and spoken.
It had come to fruition due to one such thing he had heard
being discussed by his parents.

"I saw him in the woods,

                 "Doing what darling?

"He didn't see me but the neighbours cat,
                                  "you know soot,

"What did he do, nothing bad!

                "He tied it up,
"Then threw what I thought was water on it,
                  I thought it was nasty but then!!!  

"Then what, your scaring me,

"He lit a cigarette, I didn't even know he smoked,
  "Then he discarded the match,

       "
The cat, oh my god the cat,

"
But he recorded its screams, he recorded it dying,

"
I couldn't move I was so angry, so humiliated,
        "
I wanted to throttle him there and then,

"
But ill phone the police tomorrow,
                  "He's not right, who would do that,

How dare they think that I can just be fobbed off,
         discarded.

                                             I was making music,
the screams were a delicate symphony,
            acoustics that's couldn't be reproduced.
It had to be from the source.

That laid, the plans for what now enveloped that house,
recording every noise, every scream. But what he needed
was for them to burn, to release the music he needed to
hear to complete his work. And they like parents gave it
there all, he had goose bumps as he heard there terror.
his eyes welled up, not in regret but the beauty that his
parent last words were given to him, so personal was this
moment that he'd never forget it.
                                                        
                                                                ­          "Thank Mum & Dad,

After this he released a mix tape, that could be only
conceived from an artist, in the womb of excellence.
That's the reviews he had, it brought shudders to your
heart and mind. It was if your humanity was crying out to it.

As so forth and more were sewn in the adulation of his work.

Now he needed to make more music, but he needed more
screams to make his next piece two were not enough..

So he wandered the night, dressed in unclean wear
so not to be confused with who, or what he was..
He hung around the homeless parts of town,
plastic sheeting for roofs.. and combustible bedding.
It was as if he'd planned himself. but he had to be smart.
for this was if ill planned he would have a needle in his
arm within the year. But he took his time tiny cameras
recording visually and sound.

He had gathered the combustible elements needed to
make this a orchestra of his needing, not a duet like before.
He didn't down play his past offering, but this would make
an album of despair and monument to the flame.

It had been raining, but only lightly as he needed some
dampness in the air on there sheets cardboard mattresses.
So not to raise suspicion on the dampness of there homes.

As they moved away from the embers of barrel fires,
yes he'd thought about that. Not every home was a
crematorium a cardboard and plastic coffin of there
choosing. He waited clasping his hands together breathing
on them as it was cold night. He liked to watch, a voguer
of sort, but his wasn't the fantasy of death it was to hear the
music that was about to be sung with smoke filled lungs.

He'd set up a unique but rudimentary way to light the fire,
a small gas hob with liquid within. it needed to be a certain
temperature ignite, he had tried it before in a field out west.
Deserted he'd made a mock up of this humble place.
And he wasn't mistaken it was fascinating, the flame spread
like the wind enveloping everything but, it was a dull for even
though the flames wept of everything, its tears turning all to
ash..

It was silent, deafening, he cried for a while, there should never
be censorship of the flame, for what is a log fire without the cracking of its inner self being consumed. This was just smoke
and regret. But he now looked down at the camp, his watch
counting down the precious moments.
                                                             He whispered.
                                              

                                                  "Thankyou,
­
And then like a super nova the darkness was ingulfed in
the aurora of flame, gliding over the ground as if a stream
of conscious reckoning. Those near by the civilians that were
                        across the street were transfixed.
As screams embellished the flames, this was my orchestra
of light and noise. Those across the street were either screaming
or videoing the scene.
I looked at them and wondered where there humanity
had gone to, as to film this moment rather than to rush in
and save the few that they could.

I watched as the engines came, extinguishing my masterpiece
choosing the night was always preferable to the day as flames
dance better when there is less light to contaminate there beauty.

My music, I had become quite the remixer, of vocal and rhythmic
sounds.
                               Within a week I had mad nine new songs.

I named them each as deserved, making them in memory of
those who perished that dreadful night.
            It was well received, a few thought it was a haunting
melody of humanity's struggle, while a few thought it was
over ambitious, and lacked the passion of my first piece.

All together it went down well, and the adulation of the
flame was kept, to honour that which gives as much as
takes the breath of life away.
A year had past and the door rang, it was an officer.

                 "Could you come to the station please,

Had I become the victim of my own success, had someone
broke down the acoustics of my music and realised what
they were?? So many thoughts went through the calm
exterior of my persona. But inside the flame dimmed,
had I lit the last candle. I was taken in to a room,
and questioned evasive not to the point but gathering
speed to the answer, where were you on the
                                                             ­       30th April 2019.

Alabi's were a fantastic thing to plan ahead, I had laced
my date with sleeping tablets to leave her in perpetual
slumber. And got back before she awoke, we made love
we were the flame and the wick.. and our sweat was the wax dripping from our form. The next week I dumped her.

They asked if I recognised a picture, blurry and ill framed
but I could make out the figure was me. No sir I don't why.
This person of interest is wearing your jacket, your logo!
I smiled and was truthful to a degree.
                                                             Planning is everything.

I threw maybe fifty into the crowd when I did a concert
in the city, when we drove past some homeless persons.
We donated what was left to them, do you realise how
cold these streets are, who am I to steal warmth away.
I don't wear my own merchandise what do you think I
am egotistical, no I wanted to help those who I could
have been if not for my music. I lost my parents I know
what its like to be alone.

I think the show went well, as I was released before
reporters even got a sniff. But I knew that my time
was a wick trying to keep the flame lit but dying out
anyway. I had made preparations for this time.

I had brought a club only for gigs, cheesy as hell but
had that 80's disco vibe the entire floor was light up.
But I had brought  the ingredients for thermite,
amazing what you learn in school and the internet.
But I never used mine different libraries in different
cities so not raise suspicion. I  invited the music critics
and others which I had personally disproved of.
its was going to be free drinks and themed 80's night.

Who can not want free drinks, well I wasn't going to be
disappointed 90% came, how lucky the few.
Phones were confiscated, no video, but more
importantly no phone calls to the outside world.
I told them at the end of the night that I was realising
a new song, they were like vultures to flesh.
As the night progressed some wanted to leave,
but we offered them the VIP section also lit flooring.

Now was the time, I had put heating elements under the floor
to ignite the thermite. A supernova of heat even though brief
would ignite the choir of harmony needed. I asked them,
                                                           ­ "Are you ready,

And then silence, I put on my welding glasses,
                                                        ­         I wasn't stupid.
Never look into the heart of the flame unless you want
to be blinded by its beauty.
I pressed a button and it was magnificent, it was like a tide of sunlight, they tried to scramble but all exits were locked.
It was like the wizard of Oz, and the witch I'm meltinggggg..
But this wasn't a fairy tale.. The adulation I had for these
chosen few. What excitement the others had missed.

I'd made my booth flame and smoke proof, I had my own
walkway but I knew that this was the last time I could pay
homage to the flame. As the screams died down.
The wicks smouldered and the floor looked more like a battle
field of  WWII. I began I knew I didn't have a lot of time.
But this was just a single I'd already got the backing music
ready. And as I worked away, I could hear the banging on
the reinforced doors. They gave me a breather to get my
work fulfilled.

I heard the doors start to give way but no matter
I'd only needed this time to tweak the music.
Given I'd started this over an hour ago, it was good
on my part for this not to be broadcast till I saw fit.
As the police burst through, gazing at the flaming
effigies that lied before them, some threw up, gross..

While others saw me smiling I pressed the button and
my new song was word wide.. its was called the critics
tried to burn me down. The response was gratifying.
Likes reached the hundreds of thousands in mere minutes.
Well it was only three minutes twenty five seconds long.
As they shoot at the booth I wiggled my finger at them.
I do like to plan ahead but dam was that loud against the
glass. Got to be said some had wicked aim, made me flinch
a few times.

But alas all things come to an end, I uploaded my videos
of what I had done. I was proud of my contribution to
my legacy and empowering others with my music.
As I looked down at the puddle, I tap danced in it for
a moment and then lit the lighter, I looked a them
and once again waved, I was like a funeral pyre.
A crematorium of silence and then I was gone.
                                                I didn't scream,
I was in her embrace and had done her proud.
h20
it charges me like, the devil connected  to the back of your head. Unplug your brain; don't be half dead! They want you to hate me, like kids hate thier Father. Why even bother? Bother the fact; you're already born broken.. In a world so perfect. Perfect enough to tell you all you are is a Slave, behave &do; as your told. Only be submissive while we rob you blind.. Don't move! Stop right there! Put your hands behind. My body is a solar panel, you can never handle........ ME!
nico papayiannis Jun 2016
THE RAVE DAYS

                          THC
                          H20
   ­                       Ecstasy

       Recreational            Dreaming
       And                         And
       Very                        Yes
       Excessive                Screaming

      HAVE LEFT AN AMBIENT HAZE

        Heavenly                  Limbo
        Acidic     ­                  Elation
        Velocity                    Futuristic
        Er­ratic                       Trance

       Acrobatic                   Artificial
       Nonchalance              Manipulating
                           ­               Bass
                                          Intelligence
         ­                                 Eternal
                        ­                  Narcotic
                                      ­    Temptations
                          
                      ­    Hacienda
                          Astoria
                  ­        Zoo
                          Enclosure
Christine Sep 2010
My shallow breaths
Not in enough, not out enough
Drown me in oxygen, not h20.
Forgetting what "slow down" means
Is a dangerous thing.

And my hammering heart
Too fast, too hard
Pounding out an imprint on my shirt
An engraved bloated pear, for all to see.
Does it starve when not in love?

And you, there.
Slowed down, not as time
As an individual. A marker of time.
A maker of metaphor.
Remind me to breathe
Remind me to
s l o w d o w n.

And me, here.
Too fast, too slow.
A potato imprint
Of changing, of change.
A penny for a thought
A nickel for a word
A quarter for a second
Stolen from my mind.
alexis hill Dec 2014
H20
what does love
feel like?

-like swimming with
eyes open.

visions a blur
but he's right
there, in the

clarity of my
treacherous waters
the pressure on my lungs//
steals my breath// away//

so I come up for air
inhale// exhale
and he's still there

still treading similar
waves// saves me the
trouble of worrying
and wondering if

I'll be out in this ocean forever,
****** in by
the riptides
of emotion

but he's still there
wading in the
fluidity of this abyss,
with me.

the currents pull
and part the seas
so much motion

yet he is there// too//
swimming with eyes
open.
MM Jul 2021
H20
You, a free flow

Calm as the sea when the sun shines,

and as ferocious on a stormy day

Know this,

You need not a savior to reach the shore

nor you need a boat to keep afloat

Once, he might have been the drop of water

you desperately needed in the middle of a desert

Or the sprinkle in summer

that you've waited for in the scorching sun

But you must remember,

he is not your salvation, not your reservoir

no one is better equipped to ease the raging rainfall than you

to end the drought in hope of spring



It is in learning to calm your own storms

That you won’t find yourself drowning when he leaves
Anais Vionet Nov 2023
It’s Harvard VS Yale this weekend, the vibes are just starting now. Everyone - and I mean everyone - has been asking about my game tickets, because guest tickets are $25 a pop. I’m more interested in the parties than the game, so I donated mine (Students get 1 free ticket and they can buy 2 for $15 each) to Lisa (one of my suitemates) for her family.

Lisa, Leong, Anna and I are getting ready to go down to the dining hall. Lisa asks the room, “Harry Styles’ new buzzcut - Yes, or No?”
“No,” Leong said, not looking up from her teen fashion magazine.
“Oh, no - God no,” I answered, “The worst decision of 2023.”
Anna blows a raspberry, “I think he’s trying to ditch his ‘pretty boy’ image and go hard rock.”
Lisa followed up, “And?..” “And NO, disaster NO, jump the shark NO,” Anna answered.
“I’m a NO also” Lisa admitted, and she’s a h-core Styles fan.

Later, Lisa was reclining on my bed, using every pillow I own to turn it into a chaise lounge that wouldn’t wrinkle her outfit. Her heels were on the floor and her bare feet were dangling in the air. Her toenails were a French tipped twinkly-pink.

She was slurping on a Coke-Zero - again - for a much-needed kick of caffeine before the night's events - which made me feel guilty, because she picked that up when I took her to Paris last summer. I’ve told her (a million times) how bad it is for her metabolism and endocrine system.
“How could you do this to me?” I asked, as if exasperated - which is currently our in-joke for everything.
“Now-now-now now-now,” she says, in self-defense, “what SHOULD I be drinking then?”
“H2-oh,” I say. “H20, as in water,” she sort of inquired, she then asked, “What’s the ‘2’ stand for?”
“Twenty,” I think, snarking back.
“Oh, you fancy, huh?” she laughed.
“I’m in college.” I shruggingly bragged.

I was shuffling through my closet, trying to pick out an outfit that would, at least, look ‘ok’ next to Lisa’s ‘in your face’ fun mix of pinks and purples sprinkled with neon greens.
Barbie herself could never.
I doubted I could keep with the theme.

My secret to dressing for these endless ‘theme’ parties, is to just tune out the noise and focus on your feels. If you give too much weight to how others will judge you, it’ll ruin the moment. I ended up wearing a vintage, deep blue, Betsey Johnson dress with matching tights and black ballet flats. Glittery, smokey-eye makeup and messy curls completed the 'très bien ensemble'.

I looked in the mirror, hoping for glam, and shrugged, “the scene’s going to be moody-lit anyway,” I said, as an excuse to the universe.

“You’re going to ******-der-der,” Lisa pronounced, as we gathered our bags to leave. “******-der-der?” I chuckled.
“******-der-der,” she confirmed, as if it were obvious.

h-core = *******
Revise the shortcuts to closer ends
Grains of wood brushed upon earth.
Sponges **** away H20 to a bitter explosion.
The remarks are unbearable as if I did the erosion.
Coils twirl away after being delivered.


The Sunset would never downfall appointing us glitter.
The wonders of “it” erased invisible
BladeRunner Aug 2017
H20
On a good day
I could say I'm swimming
under the water

Compared to my usual
days spent in the bottom
of a pit
drown as a stone

<I wish to breathe
and one day maybe
float>

Lift the pressure.
Fly.
Rae Harrison Jul 2015
The bad memories flood my head, but i know now that I can pull the drain plug
It all goes swirling;
a tasteless tornado
an H20 hurricane
a liquid life ruiner
I know that water is that vital, but these fluid fragments wont provide me any good if I drink them back up
So, I drain the bad memories and drink up the good ones
and ****... they go down easy like cold water
Jayne E May 2019
PRELUDE
________
[ I would engage but disengaged
enamoured masked fetid cage.
To sit spit splutter to cough it up
spit it all out
all over the pensive penners page
words turned ugly fugly loves pup ]
_________

Alla allua all al alala allis all is
Well that blends the well,
Wait! Wait!
(bit nipply in here)
nope that's not quite it, try,
All is ill that bends will..ok
One more go,
All is well that ends well
Right?   rite!  write? ok, ok,
this has been happenin for days,
pen sieves    
spent    
spinning lines
All over the place,

Whirling dervishes spinning fine
lines crossing, sparkling, in my kind
mind, finds the bind, blinds, then unbinds
Better yet     Get    in     behind
(Aussie shepherds call out)
Oh holy **** dressed up like a duck
Ok..I got this, really I do,
let's seem to find a seam take two,
better yet...mark it...scene set & action!

Bn California dreamin
stealin,
creamn,
little kittys pretty
Vannah & Clementine
their morning rituals feeding lines
a ***** pushing
faucet fed H20
odd observations
one kink 4 kitty cat
prefers to take her water right on tap
still my keys go  
tap   tap   tap
Queen Vannah aloof saunters to lap
to sit to think,
not counter fed drink,
she's way too cool for school,
what were we talking about?
it gets little hard to think
you standing naked
smiling
by the kitchen sink

Ahhhhh...love..the emotions spout,
refer crazy prior lines
fed by loves fire,
tossing feelings
up,
down,
in and out,
twist it,
turn it, up, down
shake it out

there is love of lovers,
there is love of mothers,
there is love of others,
sisters, cousins, friends, brothers
those kind of others
the cliché would say...
"It finds you when you stop seeking"
or,
"expect it when you least expect it"
usually historically my reply maybe,
yawn -
mass conditioning speaking

funny tho how things work out,
how someone says
"how you feeling"
transmutes transcends
to not ok...
then,
just flat out ascends
to big bursting clouds  
bountiful love reeling in,
from a kind word uttered
love
begins,
again

the hearts flower slowly opens
it's the hope
love carries upon it's soft
scented breeze,
it's the joy
love communicates
whilst on her knees,
and the tenderness
felt between them
she, he, the we,
in the squeeze

bunches of fist clutched sheets
bitten lips my heartbeat
thundering in my head
language of panted moans
native to our bed
fingers pressed
the the back of your head
your features lost
between my legs


ahhhh, yes, yes, yes!
loves steady heartbeat
the     thrum    thrum      thrum
wondrous beating
upon loves drum,
and how each new fresh
transformative experience
of love
transcends the past,
as again we relish,
the skipped beats
warm moistened seats,
the play the foray
a new wave way

as sweetly tendered lovely love,
delivers up finely sublime
all soaked delicious
steeped in rhyme,
that elusive now found,
brighter sunny day.
so, to end, what of love?
well,
Id say,
let it play,
oh all for lovely love,
let it play!

J.C. "honey owl" 28/04/2019.
Not my 'usual' style this one hmm...has double roots, it's of endings, and new beginnings brought in upon lovely new loves wings and how love can hit you like a freight train when you least expect it..or when you are not looking for it...and how it can to a degree addled your brain lol
Isabella H Sep 2012
I am sorrow,

Overcast-ed by droplets of H20
and a grey outlook,

From an island of depression
By not able to withstand the voices of the house,

I'm from an unknown land
Where my forbidden thoughts linger,

I'm from bed to chair to walk,
Secret tears on the isolated
Bare floor,
Waiting to vaporize into
The thick oxygen,

From arms to legs griped together,
From dreams to nightmares,
From fiction to reality.
Alyssa Yu Jun 2013
The ocean is swallowing you whole
It is cold
So cold
Your arms flail in vain for the surface
But your numb legs have stopped functioning
And the fish are deaf to the fear in your eyes

You wish you could follow the bubbles
As they ascend to the patch of light overhead
But the only thing your flooded lungs can do
Is sink
It is a terrifying moment when you cannot even scream

Darkness closes in
Though you can no longer tell
If it is the depth of the sea
Or your dying mind
You
Cannot
Think
Anymo...

The human body is 70% H20
But as you sink down into this watery cradle
You are reminded once again
That even too much of a good thing
Can ultimately be fatal
Second in a series on natural disasters.
Matt Jul 2015
It's a 6 hour
Youtube
Mozart mix

Yes I need my classical fix!

This life
Is some kind
Of tragedy I think

Once I ****** right
In the sink

Wandering here
Wandering there

And who really gives a care

Reading about Camu
And the absurd

I embrace the absurdity
Of it all

And from my Christian perspective
I believe man has had a great fall

From His purpose the Creator intended
So divine
This little light inside
(Im going to let it shine)

The problem is
I just don't care
About the American way

American dollars
Are ****** worthless
Okay!

And so I refuse to work
At some type of job

I think I will sit in my room
And sob

Life is a problem
Don't you know

Some softcore
Pornographic images
On the computer screen

Lustful indulgences
Fail to satisfy it seems

That woman I saw
In That old school 80's ****
What a *****!

I wear the same
Sweatshirt

About everyday
Just forget fashion,
Okay?

Shelter, food and water
Is what I need
I am not filled with greed

I don't need the Mercedes SUV
That guzzles gas
Yes indeed, I think I will pass

A nation of consumers
Programmed to consume

We ruin our environment
This will be our doom

If it was up to me
I will drain those
Huge swimming pools
Of every friggin'
Celebrity

Those massive homes
In the Hollywood hills
Waste a ton of H20

California is in
An extreme drought
Don't you know?

And all that space
Is a waste too

Humans ruin their
Natural environment
And this makes me
Quite blue :(
Personal
Poems
Break
Glasses
In the
Sink
Sink
To drain
Your
Dream
Dream
Tim
Are we
C'mon
C'mon
This is
The Day
The day
To Seize
Aqua
H20
For
Another
Twenty
Eclipses
Postal Leo Jan 2019
Tries to disappear, to a world of drama. Shocks real people far to much, end that **** with a comma. Confused by reality, diluted by hate. Wasn't given a real chance, no no, just told he could be ******* great. And he talks big ****, and acts real hard, cause he's afraid of dying. But I'll bet you twenty-five and a subway ticket he spent all last night crying. You don't gotta talk mad, for me to believe that you can punch my lights out. If you talk big game, what can you really be all about. Nothing, and let me tell, there’s nothing to make me angrier, so thank Saint Peter, that your protected by the power’s that be, is, isn't, and forever will sing!

As the world ends, and the chess board clears, fat man sings, then chugs a few beers, I’ll still exist, left behind by the rapture. No heaven for me, God’s light will never be captured. Yet I look around, and still see all of you. Even his people, have no clue what to do. Because all of us are with fault, unworthy of his plan. So he’s remaking the flood, just to deal with man. No rainbow to stop him now, he’s to go all out. And in heaven he’ll stay alone, his personal hideout. For he threw the souls back down to earth, he grew tired of them, but ghosts aren't real, cause I've never seen one man. Just saw a vision of the woman, who was meant to be my wife, hung upside down, taken her own life.  

So, as we waste away my dear, let us promise to never leave the other's side. For I refuse to be responsible, for your acts of mass homicide. In a kiss we bind our tongues together, now able to determine truth from lie. And now, just like late Sir Montague, I drink the poison, die. And then reach for the sky, see a man in blue, don't want to die. So scared of getting shot, it makes some grown men cry. Am I part of the system, of “systematic oppression”? I hope that it doesn't exist, and my kids learn the lesson. For it’s to late for me, i'm all out of ideas, and hope, and love, and anything to keep the world moving.

Tell my father, I'm sorry, I was disappointing. But let him know, he has a soul, worthy of voicing. Tell my brothers i'm sorry for being a bully. Making them backed in a corner, make em tumble down a gully. Dear sister, im sorry, i never understood our fights. Two top dogs always trying to say their right. If i, could turn back the clock i would. Because together, we could have owned the block, the entire neighborhood. And mom, we have had many a word. But i feel pride to call you mother, the same a gnat would a bird. And I all hope that you accept the one i choose. But I think still lose.

The world becomes unfamiliar, and i become filled with doubt. Not knowing who i truly am, something you know nothing about. When it all becomes against you, and your completely filled with fear, you begin to lose hold of everyone you hold dear. Then maybe you'll have an inkingling of what it’s like to be me, alone, afraid, all hope is lost, and you would make it better, at any cost. It’s just called emotional distress, and i'm under complete emotional duress.How can you find me this way? Acting like i got drunk, without a party underway. If I’m so lost without you, what's the point of sobering up? I think have nightmares of you, because your the reason i end up at the bottom, of a red solo cup. But in my nightmare’s there's a light that begins to destroy the darkness. Does it have a name? Is it coming for my carcas? Am i even of importance, to it’s omnipotence?

How does one even discern the inconceivable mass that is knowing all, being all knowing, rather, not being free, and never again having the chance to learn anything. It’s a, sad state of affairs that we’re in, when you have nothing else to live for expect living itself. Breathe. What does it mean? H20, science terms, and a few other things. But if you bridge away from your omnipotence, and look into the human mind, you’ll find, breath, means to live, live fast, strong, hard, and quickly. And that’s something omnipotence would never get you. Human emotion is far too complex to ever truly understand. Therapists, they make what we call, educated guesses, and listen to you speak to find the root of your problem, but beyond that….
I got a bit heated with this one, i suppose. Please suggest tags. Feel like this is one i want to update, so, look out for that.
Poetic T May 2016
Whispers of this place echoes true,
contradictions where we were was blue
oceans H20 as far as these many eyes saw
splendour in beauty gazing in such awe.

We immersed ourselves in what we could see
thinking all places must be like this to a degree.
Hovering we slid upon air, to our bewilderment
what we saw decimated, natures tears on wildlife.

These rains fell on this barren now empty expanse
littered where carcasses of life, trees they hadn't a chance.
Why would something do this, we saw smoke,
We glanced and saw humanity had become broke.

Killing it lungs of which its breathe lingers on,
drowning its oceans in plastics it feeds upon.
There we those who were trying to change,
but greed a stupid conception, was the exchange.

We sent a galactic postcard out, what was seen today,
two contrasts of epic beauty and ravenous decay.
We wish to come back in a hundred years or so,
hopefully they'll have changed, can they though.
Aliens visit and are confused by our two ways of thought destruction for profit which is so outdated and the beauty we cling to keep.
allissa robbins Aug 2014
"Love" is the tide.

We are simply parts of

The shore.

Our hearts are grains of

Sand, collected and becoming

A shared entity.

“Love” is the tide.

We lie around waiting,

Waiting,

Waiting

For the waves to take us

Over.

Waiting

For the salt to kiss our lips,

But the taste lingers a

Lifetime.

When the tide gets high,

That’s when we lose ourselves.

We drown in the salt and

Sea plants. The weeds

Wrap around our lungs

And take our oxygen.

The ocean conjures up

A storm of

Stinging eyes and

Dry-heaving.

“Love” is the tide.

We long for it to sweep

Over us—

To consume us. Waiting,

Waiting,

Waiting

For the breeze to push it our way.



But humans don’t

Have gills.

We can’t breathe beneath

Masses of H20.



So we drown within

It. Blanketed in the waves.





A.R.
Jayne E Jul 2019
PRELUDE
_
[ I would engage but disengaged
enamoured masked fetid cage.
To sit spit splutter to cough it up
spit it all out
all over the pensive penners page
words turned ugly fugly loves pup ]
__

Alla allua all al alala allis all is
Well that blends the well,
Wait! Wait!
(bit nipply in here)
nope that's not quite it, try,
All is ill that bends will..ok
One more go,
All is well that ends well
Right?   rite!  write? ok, ok,
this has been happenin for days,
pen sieves    
spent    
spinning lines
All over the place

Whirling dervishes spinning
fine
lines crossing,
sparkling,
in my kind mind,
finds the bind,
blinds, then unbinds
Better yet     Get    in     behind
(Aussie shepherds call out)
Oh holy ****
dressed up like a duck
Ok..I got this, really I do,
let's seem to find a seam take two,
better yet...
mark it...scene set & action!

Bn California dreamin
stealin,
creamn,
little kittys pretty
Vannah & Clementine
their morning rituals feeding lines
a ***** pushing
faucet fed H20
odd observations
one kink 4 kitty cat
prefers to take her water right on tap
still my keys go  
tap   tap   tap
Queen Vannah aloof saunters to lap
to sit to think,
not counter fed drink,
she's way too cool for school,
what were we talking about?
it gets little hard to think
you standing naked
smiling
by the kitchen sink

Ahhhhh...love..the emotions spout,
refer crazy prior lines
fed by loves fire,
tossing feelings
up,
down,
in and out,
twist it,
turn it, up, down
shake it out

there is love of lovers,
there is love of mothers,
there is love of others,
sisters, cousins, friends, brothers
those kind of others
the cliché would say...
"It finds you when you stop seeking"
or,
"expect it when you least expect it"
usually historically my reply maybe,
yawn -
mass conditioning speaking

funny tho how things work out,
how someone says
"how you feeling"
transmutes transcends
to not ok...
then,
just flat out ascends
to big bursting clouds  
bountiful love reeling in,
from a kind word uttered
love
begins,
again

the hearts flower slowly opens
it's the hope
love carries upon it's soft
scented breeze,
it's the joy
love communicates
whilst on her knees,
and the tenderness
felt between them
she, he, the we,
in the squeeze

bunches of fist clutched sheets
bitten lips my heartbeat
thundering in my head
language of panted moans
native to our bed
fingers pressed
the the back of your head
your features lost
between my legs


ahhhh, yes, yes, yes!
loves steady heartbeat
the     thrum    thrum      thrum
wondrous beating
upon loves drum,
and how each new fresh
transformative experience
of love
transcends the past,
as again we relish,
the skipped beats
warm moistened seats,
the play the foray
a new wave way

as sweetly tendered lovely love,
delivers up finely sublime
all soaked delicious
steeped in rhyme,
that elusive now found,
brighter sunny day.
so, to end, what of love?
well,
Id say,
let it play,
oh all for lovely love,
let it play!

J.C. honey-tiger 02/07/2019
Ok this is an edited added to, respaced rewrite...of an earlier piece.  It still may make no sense to anyone but me lol.
Crandall Branch Oct 2017
oxygen
molecules
h20
o2
co2
its overwhelming sometimes
how things can combine
to make new things

chemistry
biology
aquatic biology
its overwhelming sometimes
how when you think about new things, you have questions
and those questions turn into answers
that only leave you with more questions

books
magazines
newspapers
peoms
its overwhelming sometimes
that the written word, a beautiful method of self-expression
has been corrupted
by Them

The ones that manipulate
that scorch
that ravage the land

we must stand up
we must fight
and only then
can we be free
can we be underwhelmed
we will be strong
with everyone fighting
forming a human wall

we will be stronk.
please comment and feedback below! thanks :)
Aiden Jan 2017
Cool water seeping through my socks.
Footprints thundering on the rocks compared to
the soft swish of water as it slides over
the smooth crystal sand.
The sun,
even though it is 92.96 million miles from earth,
I can still feel it’s blanket of warmth,
that makes me feel so safe.
I hear the birds,
their piercing calls
do not damage the silence.
But those footprints,
always the footprints,
a soft marching on the ground.
Marching to an unforeseen beat,
a slow beat,
a fast beat,
a quick beat,
a quiet beat.
I witness a mallard duck
stirring up the water while entering the cold fluid
that covers what used to be a place of evil
and greed.
Fish now swim on that place
and geese call it home.
I also spot a wood brown rabbit,
nibbling on some dandelions
that feed off the fluids nutrients.
That H20 amazes me,
it’s a murky aqua,
almost like the sky on a bright sunny day,
it gives life,
and laughter of the children.
Which reminds me of the slow beat,
the never going,
never ceasing,
making my mind crazy beat,
that never goes away.
But in this quiet place
I can look overlook the beat
and instead hear
the birds chirping,
the water swishing,
and the wood brown rabbit nibbling
on the soft green dandelion leaves.
Ryan O'Leary Nov 2019
Net nitrate spume
coagulates aquaduct
          drinking water
tapped at source
Waldo Apr 2017
I'm searching for a solution to  the issues that vex me
I speak of global issues, not my own pitiful emotions
The Earth is dying
And we humans will stomp on her perishing corpse until every river is dry
We will pick at her wounds until they fester and ooze
And we will die with her
As she withers

You see the future is not set in stone
It is forged with our daily thoughts and actions
Like the flow of a river we can redirect its path, we can dam it
But we're damning ourselves in a different sense
For our daily actions are that of a suicidal species
Or one that is hopelessly ignorant
There is no more time to waste
The river of time is flowing quickly  towards the era I speak of
A time when the Earth will be barren
When her sorrow will manifest itself as drought and famine
A time when your children will cringe from the pain of starvation

Now I do not say these things merely to spread dismay
Rather I'm writing this to provoke thought in the only way I know how
With brutal honesty
And you should already be aware, honestly
That half of our oxygen resources are gone
And half of our fresh water
Half of our O2 and half of our H20 means half the food  
So what do you think that means for humanity?
I'll spell it out in case my message was diluted
It means that half of us have to die for the other half to live
This is truth. Harsh truth, but truth nonetheless.

So I ask myself, where can we go from here?
Action can be taken to save lives
But the actions must be drastic
And we must realize that we, as in we the common folk of this world, are the only ones that will stop it
Those at the top have no issue with ****** Mother Earth for their profit
With pulling our puppet strings towards destruction
And they will do so until every soul in this world is suffering
There's so much more I could say
So much more I could add to this picture I'm painting
But I'll end it with this
Just try to remember the river of time and how it can be redirected
We can stray from this path were on
But it starts with you and I
With us uniting to heal this world
It starts with simply consuming less
LESS OF EVERYTHING
Infamous one Jan 2021
H20
Learning to be a parent dealing with kids. They are fun when they don't go through your stuff. You try to understand their needs and wants. Dealing with crying trying to understand is a foreign language. Seeing them grow up missing them young they are getting older and complicated over time. Hoping they'd out grow these little setbacks and bad behaviors
Qualyxian Quest Aug 2020
Attempts and more attempts
But for God's sake no system

Contradctions and love songs
Please let them know I'm with them

Music in the night
Libraries all day

Iced caramel macchiato
Newman Center to pray

Trapist 1, Trappist 1
Water in the Way?
Michael John Aug 13
poetry is a very wide stream
like being amusing
or write about death
but the two are not mutually
exclusive-the same h20..
if you will..

you might be accused of morbity
or trivuallity
sometimes you can´t win
i mean what actually is the point
i can´t feel your pain
perhaps i lack empathy
you pay the bill..

what you do is what you do
one of seven billion
i write and read on a completely
personel level-an artist..
you are a soul sure but so
am i..unless we have talent
we don´t..simple..
Qualyxian Quest Dec 2022
H20
The cabbage is symmetrical
Which gives rise to the thought:
Is God a Mathematician?
Does is lead to ought?

I took calculus in high school
Did not do that well
137
Death of Ishmael

Pythagoras transmigrated
Said he was a fish
She and I in a future life
Istanbul my wish

Invisible threads are strongest
I still pray for her daughters
Exoplanets spins
Si, I'm still haunted by waters

              Europa Report
Qualyxian Quest Aug 2021
The isolation rarely breaks
We live and die alone

But i thank you, i do, dear reader
With my little phone

Poetry so ancient
Long before history

I admit i have the wish
Wish for mystery

Water on exoplanets
Maybe Trappist 1

I use my Star Wars stamps
My boys have a little fun

               Tears do run.

— The End —