"hydro" poems
My Favorite Pokemon as a kid was always Squirtle,
I always named him Squirter,
Not knowing anything about how ****** it sounded with my 7 year old mind,
I was always in the backseat of the car saying things like, oh no Squirter died,
or yes my squirter learned hydro pump!
and my favorite, I’m gunna give my Squirter one rare candy.
I always caught girl Pokemon,
Mainly because the symbol for the Gender looked unique to me..
So I would never catch Mewtwo because it was never a girl.
Once I learned you can cheat in Pokemon,
I was getting ready for every gym leader like a high schooler preparing for Spanish Test.
Pokemon levels the same number as the grades of the Spanish Test.
As time goes by you can realize pokemon can be like friends, you can’t catch them all, especially when their falling.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
I'm giving up the rat race
gonna quit my job
Gonna go live off the land
an organic enviro-snob
Gonna grow my own potatoes
carrots, peas and beans
Live off fruits and vegetable
eat lots of salad greens
My food will taste like proper food
not of wax or pesticides
And every day I will receive
a big thanks from my insides
I'll generate my power
form a windmill or two
then hydro bill and services
I'll say good bye to you
For work I'll tend my garden,
chop down trees for fire-wood
I'll be getting so much exercise
I'll never have felt so good
To relax I'll keep on writing
poems such as this
telling of the good life
sharing all my bliss
Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 4:06 PM UTC
_[northern hemisphere: on a beach above the 50th latitude at the end of winter]_
_(Winter-export)_, the beach frosted by fingers of polar constellations. It’s too cold to walk without huddling, but we do it nonetheless, because we only have one more night together. Your frothy hydro-rhythm spears into pith, irradiance; I breathe again, deeply. _(Thick lips; quick still-hunt.)_ I rivet fronds of dependence into the seams of your boreal palms, never planning to return the floating colony of barnacles I promised I’d throw back; you, never planning to catch the sun bored through salt spray, clasping crisp foreheads, stitching on glistered lips and froze-shut lashes. And on a day when you didn’t rise early enough, I was left out in the water until my chest was steeped deep in ice over the thought of losing you. _(Glimmering isle)_; my hair disheveled in sea-foam. Annular light. You pushed me in, and I relented. My isotherm sent chthonically. But you, in your legendary mantle, adapted my eyes to see the light hidden deep within your belt; such pinks and fuchsias I have never seen before, suddenly inverted. At absolute velocity, I cut my foot on sea-glass, bleeding blueshift, aligning to the colours of the zenith. You take me back to the starry house and we struggle with your parallax, a nadir inseminated on the celestial pole. _(Parsecs quaking.)_ You whisper, I’ll heal you. I’ll heal you, only if you let me. Only if… you let me… Over and over and over until it’s as mundane as the crashing coast, and unrivaled, I concede to everything and wake up deep in redshift, the whole universe escaping, warmth-ribbons suffocating the abyss: without you, alone on the ecliptic at last. In the spring-sinking, you order me a silver sword, sharp in starlight; to remember you. You stand a guardian, beyond the sun, flinging tiny ice-hot rocks _(freighting gemstones)_; King of the Heavens. I submerge myself into the bathic depths, skulking in aestival despair, as you trade the night for day. Little do you know, my resurgence is also in your hands.
_[i watched Orion slip from view every night this spring. No doubt he’ll return next winter... it’s sad losing a friend like that, for so long]_
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
~
*Another green world
reels them in
unfledged
lovers
they yearn
to be hydro-electric
cascading over
emerald and stone
floating along
with the water hyacinth
where they evaporate
but do not falter
in the naked spring
of continuously November
jumping off
a bridge above ecosystem
a new frontier
under their nose
as souvenir:
pioneers to the fall
and yet all they really
need to remember is
this is where they
first made love*
~
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 1:21 PM UTC
Bumping the hydro
On the 64 impala
Straight out of cail
With all the homies
Hitting up the club
Like we do every
Weekend in L.A.
Leaving the impala
Low so low its
Hitting the floor
Lowrider hitting the floor
Staying to the floor
Sparking up the night
With the candy paint color
Girls always looking
Trying to get a ride.
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 9:30 PM UTC
My name is bill, no capitalization, required,
the Writer will be ill, soon, once he gets me,
or my friends in the mail, my cousin e bill.
Won’t be far behind, a marvel of technology!
I am famed and legendary, but be wary,
we attack in groups and bunches and
don’t rely on hunches that you settled with us.
We don’t make a fuss or a muss, we will cut
off your cable, and internet, see?
Hydro and Natural Gas you can ill afford
to miss, we do pay dates, instead of play dates.
So if you don’t pay up we are through
with you, hope you can find your self in
the dark, call us and we will talk until your
cell phone loses power or they drop your
call from their towering collection.
So with affection,
from us named bill,
make a plan and a will,
to pay us on time, after
all it is your dime, until it
is ours, all ours.
You can take that to the bank,
but we will do it for you too!
Save you the trip...
signed the
bills
P.S.(we were going to list a few,
but we don’t name names, we
just collect Presidents and Prime Ministers,
they may be dead or royalty, but they are
acceptable to faceless nameless ones,called
bill(s), Thanks!)
©DWE042013
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
a loop of spume immune to fumes of eastern tombs
a burnin'; a mad flash of candied wrath
and junebug randy newman;
what rumbles jest in vestments yet
to loom a knit or pearl two... a ****** crest
of ***** wrecks and rubber necks
to view you...
a nop of lopsy,
fever pitched in thicket rich begonia;
and roman roads
too golden
kicks
from hydro
in
your hedge
row.
a droop of noon in cool remove
from gypsum dim sum laude.
a drowning witch on boney creeks
of needles and salami.
untongued. a pool of fringe
rhymes with orange,
yes a door-hinge,
off it's moorings...
off it's Meds
death beds
for trampolines
in petrified forests...
a nop of lopsy, frogging Gatsby,
greatly famished to the Nines;
an olden toll of wish fits
then nothing
comes.
and that's
Life.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 2:11 PM UTC
**When I was in an abusive relationship, I told myself I deserved it. I told myself I should be more obedient, as if I was a dog. My leash was held so tight that I couldn’t muster any words out even if I wanted to.
When I was in an abusive relationship, I soaked in every insult and only ever released apologies.
When I was in an abusive relationship, some days I flinched when he raised his hand or began to speak and other days I just sat there waiting for it. When my mom would ask about the bruises I would be surprised because I didn’t know my body was still reacting to it when my mind wasn’t.
When I was in an abusive relationship, tying nooses was a nightly thing and nothing to even be alarmed about, blood stained sheets were the norm, and suicide notes were just normal letters.
When I was in an abusive relationship, I took many different kinds of drugs throughout the day and didn’t really know which combination would **** me. Would the coke, Xanax, and alcohol **** me? Or would it be the alcohol, ****** and oxy?
When I was in an abusive relationship, all concern for myself vanished. As my addictions to many different pills such as Xanax, ****** Hydro, Oxy and many more grew, I started to smile again.
When I was in an abusive relationship, being asked how many drugs I was on was not rude or unexpected.
When I was in an abusive relationship, leaving permanently just didn’t seem like an option.
When I was in an abusive relationship, I had unconditional love for my attacker and always made sure he was okay even after he hit me.
When I was in an abusive relationship, one day, I had a revelation and found my voice.
Now, I am no longer in an abusive relationship.**
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
**The fairest hair, peroxide blond
beer shampoo feeding the roots
primped and pinned with paperclips
blown and set as candyfloss sticks.
Hydro-pack cream erasing the pouches
colourful lashes, stuck to the lids
with copyright brows by electrolysis
both almond eyes are now penciled in.
Lines of life filled with putty
trowelled in layers, foundations built
delicate cheeks, powdered, pampered
rouged and shaded, giving them youth.
Clinical lips, Botox injected
tattooed outlines guiding the brush
the budding artist colours by numbers
pouting, she paints in weatherproof gloss.
Turtleneck sweater hiding the wrinkles
genuine paste, drawing the eye
both purl and knit-one inside the jumper
pulled and snagged by glued on nails.
High heel shoes, stretching the sinews
of Lycra clad legs, holding them taut
a girdle of whalebone hugging the figure
gently molding, the form to behold.
With grace we age throughout the years
a time filled life, craves respect
hairs of grey are marks of distinction
an occasional blemish, a beauty spot.
Tiny crow's feet, signs of good humour
experience of life, lines proudly worn
for with laughing eyes and glowing smile
who need wear a plasticine face.**
... ... ...
Apr 30, 2011
Apr 30, 2011 at 12:15 AM UTC
Mulling about
The muck
The haunts we are hardbound
Foggy fetal leavings by the sea
Right before the light;
The days of purple haze
Of sallow street cars, street lamp, amped up
Yet dampened loss of desire
Pop another oxy-hydro-fire.
To be able
To muck about
With inner abandon
the abandonments deep
Numb battlements / "Hoorah!"
Semper Fi the pain
Only significant
With derivatives
From ******* plantations
Opioid addiction’s contractually binding
Lingering love notes
A vice grip on idle minds
So many now that prey
But with a side affect of
Try holding in your ****
for three-plus days
So as not to feel
Not at all
Not even the rage
We keep anxiously pacing
Clawing at
Nonexistent strings
A Beast inside our cage
Forgiven by preacher men
Proclaiming to hallelujah
Change
At war with illusionist
Freedom
The boys fight for still
A country of patriotic pill poppers
Believing in heavenly kingdoms'
Healing
Secret silent pleading
Because nothing takes away
The pain
Like Hydro Oxy foxy pills
Self medicate down wind of will
If unaffected "consult your physician"
He’s at the edge of the stage
A Spearmint rhino making it rain
For Peaches
From patient list of his *******
The business of lust
Is feeding the loss of will
If you still feel lost -- and war sure did
Give them nothing but
PTSD & bad dreams
Machine gun migraines
Pop another pill
Jagged little killer
Softly knocks you off your feet
Black is cheaper
Smoke out not to feel
The muck-about days of
Constipated pains
Reader Digesting heavily,
Numbingly unreal.
Casualty of a nameless waste
That’s his deal / what it's like :
Most fecund
A life on the toilet
In wait for relief…
Get off the ***
Can't give a ****
Like this bowel movement
His heart has called it quits
To all this unholy *******
Veteran
Patriot
Manhood’s defeat
Damnation
Mucking about...
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
Life, the present tense
Pleasant and promising
Singular & plural
Fair blend of gender
Active noise, passive voice
The grammar of life
Life is intense,
Glowing and glorious;
Blue blown umbrella
For wide void exposure
Feather touch weather
For cool n’ calm respite
Illuminated one half
To eke out living
Glittering dark on other half
To rest and recuperate
Aroma of smiling flowers
Multicolor corona
Green rich panorama
Overseeing mountains
Rousing roaring oceans
Patrolling Hydro Power Puffs
Add bonus to the bevy
What a glamorous globe in space!
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
Feilding in another state of mind
beyond the unforgiving realms of time
they play their little games
at the casino cosmology
They like to hit the wheels first
you know, just to get things spinning
then they hit the full of crap tables
yet whatever they do, they are still winning
Some of those chips they have laid down
well by our cameras they are fake
here in this place we mastered human biology
you are in our town now , the casino cosmology
Get your hands on the table
you are not playing with that deck
give us what you owe us
you know friends , we take checks
No fun in quantum mechanics
or hydro dynamics
no use of theology
without casino cosmology
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
The vile gas in my ***
would create a concussive blast.
Similar to the cast,
"Go Squirtle, Hydro Blast!"
Jan 25, 2010
Jan 25, 2010 at 9:27 PM UTC
I just watched a news report:
there’s a heatwave in Europe
over 41 degrees celcius!
Forests are on fire,
people are uncomfortably sweltering,
the old and sick are dying,
climate change is happening!
I wonder
when will society
become desperate enough
about dangerous climate change
to stop using carbon-emitting fuels
and instead use renewable energies
like solar, wind and hydro?
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 10:21 PM UTC
We live in a world of noise,
of parallel and asymmetric movement,
where nonchalance has become the norm.
Sweet, melodious and pleasing
is our phony makeup.
We are animals that reject our animalness.
We dread nuclear, secular, red lights, cockroaches, love,
threats and non-threats alike.
Fear has taken us on its morning stroll,
and predictably we bark.
(The sun is almost up)
We are turned on and turned off
by oil-, wind- and hydro-powered switches
that respond to clapping.
There are beige, mauve and burgundy
curtains to choose from,
and supersized french-fries, pots, and cars.
We have lost ourselves in a mess of options,
and strive incessantly to complicate.
We fly in formation
and flow through carefully placed
and beautifully colored rocks made from Styrofoam,
down an improbable slope
of over-romanticized hypotheses.
We are ******** ego-centric and nepotistic,
and asexually multiply.
Thought and all other wasted rationality
keeps the axes of our unsustainable and fanatical wheels
from breaking loose (into free space and true autonomy).
We create meaning where there is no meaning,
and scientifically and thoroughly flout
god and the truth,
whilst we absorb, photosynthesize, bear fruits and grow leaves
(we are still, essentially, vegetable).
With every step we go deeper, and faster and better,
and farther from our selves.
Hence, we barely feel.
We are deaf and blind and mute
and approximately frozen;
and dance, swirl, sing and scream
in our vague, whimsical life,
till we fall.
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
Although I’m on hydro’s
Its not enough to pick me up and
Lay me on the pavement like
Your warm arms used to
After all I’ve drivin’ miles upon miles
Halfway with my eyes closed because I dream
Of that exact moment most often
I run a marathon like that finish line
Is laying on a bed with you
Please, return the favor
By waiting
Giving prayer a purpose
I believe that God has the power
To make your arms surround me again
I want the road to twist
And even with a seat belt
Break right through the glass
Breathing is a wreck
For this brief moment suspended
In the air; due to how fast I was traveling and gravity
This feels like flying
It scares me that I could beat my wings
Although it’s already too late
You’ve taken what’s left of the hydro’s
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 1:31 AM UTC
In 1850, the first white person visited Yosemite
Native people lived there for 5000 years
Lived with the environment, not against it
Sixty years later, we destroyed a pristine valley there
used as a bathtub for water
for thirsty San Francisco
Yosemite: the only national park
with a hydro electric plant in the center of it
I am ashamed
of my people, our priorities, our endless need for destruction
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 1:54 PM UTC
High in the mornings, high in the mornings;
I'm yawning throughout the day.
I'm going throughout the day with my
head in the clouds - not with my
head on the ground. I don't like
when my heads in that place.
Me - I'd much rather stand
out from the crowd, you always
have a clear way. Cloudy days
*** me out like nothing.
**** - I hope it doesn't rain,
but it might though.
It might just pour like hydro.
But I hope it doesn't stay.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
fairest maiden watcher of the skieswhile I wrote this I was so highon that tropical grass that knocks you on your assoh phisher of the skies and creator of alibisgive me a simile to communicate the feelings I need to say. It’s the mushroom tea, the pint of lean, and all this **** that keeps recalling the collective unconscious of my childhood memoriesand it makes me see the path in front of me and the relationships that made me what I am. A man that can’t be soberdue to the decisions I’ve made latelyits plain to see that this ecstasy has made me quite stupid.its like a mountain breeze that moves through youlike the good vibrations humans create while love makingyou waltz across my mindo’ keeper of timeascending towards the stratosphere you glidegently back to earth to find a pipe loaded just right packed fat and wide as SPM’s chromed our spinnersplatinum grill and plasma screens fallin’ I dream for serendipity to overcome me while im covered in your ecstasy
Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 10:09 AM UTC
The realist idealist
Marxist on acid
Unruliest Julius
Social class bashin'
Hash waxin' Jet Jackson
I'm back in it, packin'
My 9 days of fastin'
And rockin' my Rama
Like Lama of Dalai
To Burma, Malawi
I'm thirsty for Mali
Diwali to light up in spite of the plight
From the right, I'm so left that it's theft
All I own is the night
I been deep in the jungles
Apocalypse Now
Reading little red books
About chairmen named Mao
But like Gandhi's ahimsa I'm teaching them how
We make no man's land peace
From they cash Curacao
Where I see water everywhere
But not a drop to drink
Just hydro-frackin' krakens
They're unleashing on your kitchen sink
And still the rising Apartheid
Brings death before the dioxide
Insecticidal suicide
And herbicidal genocide
Colombia? That's classified
It's why I build my ark from FARC
Embarking on my Narcos kick
A fix fit for a Bolshevik
For now my journey never ends
Until I cure this homesickness
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
Are you proud of me darling
That I didn’t give into the flesh
Even with those pills popped
Her pants dropped
I still had the fortitude to deny her requests
And in that moment I was so high
Off of prescriptions I was too drunk to pronounce
I think they were hydro- wait
hol-holdup
hold on a secontt
No, I can stand just give me a-
I’m not even that draank calm down
Even with the room spinning
My consciousness fading
My heart closed my eyes and turned me around
Sweetheart are you proud..
That the list of my goals and ambitions
Is stained by your lipstick
To be honest, all of my dreams are too hard to see through these rose colored glasses
But they’re my greatest asset
And if I ever removed them...
Even just to catch up on some sleep
I might give up.
I might give up on you
and my family and friends
and life
and my cat- I know I don’t have one yet
but these rose colored dreams... so delightful-
sigh
Alright, I’ll remove them for a verse
Kiddo, am I proud?
No.
Absolutely not.
I am not noble in turning away those who show interest in me because..
Because you aren’t even mine
And I’m stuck in this delusion that everything will be fine
If I give it my all and move to LA
Chase after rose colored dreams until they lose their color someday.
And maybe
No- I know that I could waste the entirety of my existence chasing after your perfection
You’d think by now I would have learned my lesson.
But if you really do admire me like you say
And if distance is the only thing prying our hearts away
Then I’ll throw away this life-
I’ll turn down tempting lasses
And I’ll chase after you with my rose colored glasses
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC
It was one of those bad weather days
You know the stormy, flying monkey type
Where you end up chasing garbage cans
And watching the world wash down the pipe
The trees were whipping everywhere
Dropping branches, clipping wires
They were also downing hydro poles
Cutting power, starting fires
The rain ripped like small razors
The hail sandblasted exposed skin
The sewers swallowed slowly
They could not let the rain come in
My windows shook like aspic
Distorting all I saw outside
My house was all in darkness
Time to hunker for the ride
The clouds moved like a time delay
Three days compressed all into one
They circled and came back again
They blocked out all hope of sun
I thought of Margaret Hamilton
Flying above the world of Oz
It was just a random thought I had
Just an image, just because
My yard was now a shallow lake
The ground could not absorb the rain
It would break for a few minutes
Gather up and start again
Each storm it seems is harsher
Than the last one to come through
I have even thought that I should
Gather animals in pairs of two
At the end of every rain storm
I was taught to look and find
A rainbow in the distance
A light diffraction in my mind
I went to my front window
Looked and saw one in the sky
At the end there'd be a leprachaun
with gold a mile high
I watched the news that evening
saw the damage that was made
And at the end of my storms rainbow
They showed a PRIDE parade.
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 7:44 PM UTC
More moisture helps
the ******* of dirt
become a purification element.
The hydro-logic behind that
is completely fluid
and misunderstood.
Water is much like a brain—
it makes these connections
between polarizing elements
that will take eons
to arrive at a universal understanding
of how or why they were made.
As poets we work with the earth
to try and make sense of things—
like why exactly the purest form
of water is shed from the soil
that springs with infinite life.
The single most important aspect
of connections that contribute
to the everlasting growth of meaning
is that it's right beneath our feet,
which is probably why we
continually walk right over it.
What springs from the soils surface
is a constant cycle
of unearthing meaning.
Which is why there will never be
a shortage in the supply
of what provides us with life.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC