"incalescence" poems
Heat
Calcification
Incalescence
Swelter
Suffocation
Arctic circle above 32 degrees Fahrenheit in December
Leaking lakes of Methane gas in Siberia
Scientific data to price
Changing 2 degrees
has caused mass extinction
Melting glaciers
Oceans 7 centimeters higher
Drought in the Amazon
Changes in migration
Disruption in pollination
Heatwaves:
high death tolls
Decreased plant growth
Zika in Florida
Ignorance from the government
Refusal of proof
Nonbelievers in the White House
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 12:12 PM UTC
Ascending to the second layer,
a stench of nauseating breath
expands across the zephyr.
I attempt to avoid a cough
and the opaque fog thickens
as we reach an abrupt drop-off.
Depicted below are frantic beings
who have only the remembrance of
anxiety, torment, and panicked feelings
hiding amongst the remaining rubble
in a soft whisper they beg for mercy,
neglecting against their fatal,
violent destruction on the vitality of the innocent.
The scent swells to an intense sickening
along with the dryness of incalescence.
A low growl begins to rise!
Traveling across the infinite distance,
a foul creature comes to brutalize.
The petrified beings cower in their hideouts
and I hold my breath carefully as
three giant, damp, and cold snouts
emerge from the heavy smog.
A rush of frigid wind washes over
and I come to realize, it is the Watchdog.
One risks a dangerous error
in the act of running to the void, but
the motion distracts the devious hunter.
He strikes and pins the immoral,
viciously tearing the flesh to pieces.
Finally, taking him in the muzzle
Cerberus violently tosses the limp body
for it no longer contains value nor interest.
And I ask my Lover very faintly:
“What becomes of the one enduring torture?”
And he, nonchalantly: “Don’t worry, my dearest.
They have yet to regain their composure.”
As we escape from the horror below
to the unknown exceeding cruel,
the dying mortal begins to regrow.
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 7:26 PM UTC
Time goes by slow
When it's cold
My heart beats sleepily
To snowflakes falling
I bury my feet
Feel myself sinking
Ice coating my face
Frozen in place
Footstep falling
Getting closer, calling me
Go to look,
But nothings moving
Now we're face to face
Peering inside of me
Radiating like the sun
Warming everything
I find myself falling
Can you hear me calling?
Breathing smoke into my chest
You pull me back
Wrap me up in your wool coat
Arms around me
Pain is surrounding
Frozen nightmarish dreams
But there you are
With a cup of hot tea
To dull the memories
Taking me back,
As I was supposed to be.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
my nails scratch the surface of the sun
digging to find a nest within
somewhere to hide from
the biting breeze that my lips kiss
until they are frozen blue
but i can’t tell whether
that chill is emanating from the clouds
or from me
so i peel myself back
remove all my layers
searching for the raw
the undefined, the genuine
me beneath my own skin
in order to attempt to grasp
the colors of my breath
the incalescence of my words
the petals in my bloodstream
and my need to
tear at the seams of everything
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 11:56 AM UTC
Within our souls we discovered,
Each other,
In the fever of such an occasion,
As our fervor blazes on,
As our tongues pummel to excavate,
Unearthing the burrow of our feelings,
To touch and hold,
As the invisible boundaries between us,
Are no more?
Enthralling me with sudden desperation,
Squeezing each other just enough to,
Lethargic our eupnea,
As we are subdued by incalescence,
Of ecstasy,
As expectations of red hot feeling arise,
At this juncture our souls slip away,
Into an eclipse asphyxiated into,
Another dimension,
Distending every fiber of our beings,
Into a captivating moment of pleasure,
With a passion so strong it is scorching,
Once more the flame grows,
Just then Passion overbears us,
As we tremble in a moment lips clinging
Arms steadfastly hugs persist,
As our souls depart in euphoric elation,
Prolonged for that last moment of,
Ardor passing what seems to be our,
Lifeless bodies,
As it synchronously constraints us,
The fiery searing subsides,
We feel this need ever stronger,
To pursue our SWELTERING LOVE,
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 3:54 PM UTC
Arm trembling no longer holding up.
Spasms.
Pain.
Feverish commotion moved unsatedly. Longing already before their departure from the knowledge of it to come.
Anguish in sorrow of sobbing
and self-quenching.
Two hearts’ Life has been made, disgustingly ripped away
and then at all costs retrieved
through the cold,
shame
and flame of ashes.
A chain memory
gaining its voice,
shaping into separate mind
and place.
I’m in torenness.
‘ve been through a lifetime and act,
never allowed to come back again
to the same (whirl of trepidations
and convulsions).
I tamed yet another fox
and have to deal with the tears
of the ends.
Tear away someone else’s presence
from me
and so shall be no difference.
I’m in hurt as in loss.
Losing a precious to me
foreign presence
will feel even greater
or have I just lost one,
with a piece of myself
alongside?
The binding isn’t locking away
one’s memory for a story,
it is giving them a person
called “Story”
and stealing their porcelain pieces
with its charm and frazzleness.
That’s why I account Literature
into sacralities
of my astrality
and perfect chosen arts of being.
Their non-verbal is
my most cherished music there is
as in Phronemophilia
or feelings,
a form of incalescence and confession made between a pair of words,
plucking the perfect chord
of comprehension
and Heart’s painfully sweet thrillance
and, between the verses,
speaking the ideal maternal language
not yet known to Mind.
As a Book contains all millions
of little aspects of moments,
words,
flesh,
tiny traits,
demeanour,
beginnings
and endings
and middles,
as it throws a wave after wave
of conundrums
of alchemy of emotions,
of all the unnameable things
of acting/being/breathing/affecting…
it is a Person.
One of many supposedly
not ones in Me.
Sorry, plushie dearies,
it will be the faux-Victorian tale
of volumes and affection
tucked close to my chest
tonight,
you rest next,
aside me.
Спокоиней ночи,
всё кто живет во мне и не.
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 7:46 PM UTC
The blistering heat of my dark magic,
the sharpness of the cold winter air,
sends my body in a shivering frenzy,
one I hope
never ends
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC