"incinerates" poems
my skeleton never liked me
very much. it cracks in unusual
places, ribcage poking out of its
skin prison, the frailty of it
breaking beneath the musical
whispers of the wind through hollow
spaces. i see
light bursting beneath the flash
of a camera and my skin
incinerates - do not look do not touch
do not look - and the charcoal in
my lungs is set on fire. i wake up
with ash beneath my tongue
far too often. my skin
despises me now that i have
bruises in places no one could
kiss better. there's this scar above
my right knee, which dislocates when
my life falls out of its socket, and it
reopens and blood pours from the
renewed wound too often. i think
i have a body that likes to believe it is dying.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
the wind whispers to you in furious ways,
ominous notes, like a dusty violin
stenciling finality into the air.
the percussion
of foot-soldiers trembles the grass.
you have grown, my war-child,
from the days of ****** tea parties
to a diva guerrilla,
terrible and well-rehearsed,
your bulleted libretto close to your chest--
and as trumpets sound in the offing,
the curtain draws back.
AK-47, pizzicato--
gasoline breeds fire, incinerates woodwinds,
the wine of the coloratura soprano
melts into blood.
witch, ***** daughter of gunpowder,
bella contralto, your
deep and tremulous vibrato is a
grenade,
and as death crashes to a crescendo,
mortality in the tin frequency of cymbals--
the only armistice
is annihilation.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC
Brainwaves like the cosmos
giving birth.
The bang of my nuclei expands
beyond the earth.
My supernova incinerates all in its path
My black hole engulfs all light
E=MC²…..
The birth of the atom
Concepts like myriad mushroom clouds
Visions of explosive aftermaths
Mind games played out on a grand scale
Random radioactivity
Permeates creativity
Defying gravity daily
Like a river
I flow
I bend
Sometimes a gurgling stream
Sometimes a raging torrent
No more hurricanes……
I am serene
Sep 4, 2009
Sep 4, 2009 at 10:25 PM UTC
Cadaverous crotchety gouged out eyes.
Scalped trite and malnourished minds.
Where am I? What has this land become?
My vessel is gutted galled and splayed out upon the enflamed remains of our democracy.
I try to embody the equanimity peaceful qualities of the lulling Gandhi characters before me...
But **** I am angry, jolted and saturated in shock in fear.
Being an advocate for the people so dismissively marginalized, is what brings substance to my life.
I look into the eyes of my mirthful clients and future students, my heart winces.
How did I allow this to happen to you?
A man who so boastfully incinerates and debased the citizens of our land with his farcical vitriol, is no man at all but merely an unsightly shrew, cozily cosseted in his world of soot and pooh.
The bosky gorgeous land we inhabit sobs in noxious fright.
To be despoiled and berated as some "natural right" splintered and tainted to allow the green cash river flow into the dubious maw of the man with no dignity to show.
A man who preens such a degenerated mindset is only aptest to a society in shambles.
Our global haimish home yearns for the equilibrium from which it was born.
In such a seeded tumultuous time my heart is seeped in reverberating sorrow.
Let your love and purity coat your vessel, do not let this barbaric man permeate your soul.
Hold steadfast to the testament of our land
True revolution is budded from a web of genuine connection, not devise brandished weapons.
Don't shroud yourself in misery, break free and be prepared to encite love with your authenticity.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
Who would I be if perfection is not attained?
A total failure.
Nothing but the absolute best is expected of me.
No room for errors.
One mishap and my world implodes and
Hell fire incinerates the satisfaction of my previous
Successes, meaningless if not prolonged.
Oh, rescue me from my acute addiction to praise.
I need you to tell me how excellent my work is,
Or else I will relapse into insomnia, kept awake
By my reeking incompetence.
I need you to remind me how wonderful I am,
Since achievement equates to my identity.
Strip away the accolades and I am a carcass
Starved by my bulimic tendencies.
Never sated. I must do better. I must be better.
I want to make you proud.
I want to be worthy.
Can’t you see? I live for your approval!
Some say you learn from mistakes,
That they help build character.
Ha! Mistake? What is that? Sounds disgusting.
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 7:12 AM UTC
the pyre of my soul
incinerates my interior
as I watch our flames burn
relentlessly from my lips
like the words that removed
love from around my heart
who would have believed
your whispers would burn
like the sun; singeing my
entirety with venomous
blisters flung with displeasure
bafflement sears...
there's no more emotions,
forgiveness is shamefaced
a misdirection of affections
your misunderstanding
leaves me naked in this
moment, heated in affront
this second fore, nothing
matters anymore
inner abashed turmoil...
roils like a cauldron upon
a campfire, its embered particles
I breathe and ingest for naught
in whimpering gasps
wanting to desecrate that
smirk rising upon your
handsome features; a look
I once found to be endearing
once in awhile
that you took away, too...
your total disdain; dousing
our flame of eternal love of
all that beheld us in God's
light; which, now leaves me
awash in bile, dazed, open-mouth
stares from dimming eyes
is all that looks upon my beauty
with such pain; makes me want
to scream, take me
want me, love me as once
before
re-ignite our flame...
those thoughtful embers are
undirected words drenched upon
an uncaring mind, directing
my soul and heart towards
the moon and the burn of stars
that light up the sky of my
heart and mind as if I could
have altered the course
of your bitterness, until
I can no longer sigh in want
of your love
thoughts of me gone asunder...
filling my lungs with silent
animosity towards all that you
stand for, my only want now
is for you to stay away from me,
allowing me to live in solitude
inside the hunger that pours
like stinging tears from my eyes,
let me be without changing
the sound of love still singing
within my heart
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 3:22 AM UTC
A callous darkness hides in the
Haze of your burnished body
You run your icy fingers through
My gossamer hair and a hazel fuzziness
Leaks through your chocolate eyes.
I mutter silent requests of mercy
As your intrepid skin steals into the
Fragility of my crystal soul, reducing it
To splattered relics of harrowing passion.
Your lust burns like spilled neglect
And tastes like rotten coffee;
With every painful sip that strikes
My lips, it sings like a sonnet of love
And with every tepid sip that incinerates
My throat, it burns like a gentle eulogy.
You’re the parchment, stealing the
Expressions of my artless love, and
the obsidian ink tattooing my fragile heart
With gestures of an intricately
Woven melody of a foreseen loss.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 5:42 AM UTC
I hear you in the early birds' song
a moon's amity in a scorching firmament
I smell you as the flowers tilt from wilt
fragrance that stops time from running
I taste you by the waters of the deep
thy tears drench the stars as they fell
I feel you through the breeze of midnight
your embrace incinerates the numbing cold
I see you from the brink of the past
one from a million yet the best memory ever
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 6:17 AM UTC
LOVE; destroyer of all.
once your bound,
you're finished.
It will make you
forget your plans
abandon your dreams
two personalities
and one reaction
transformed indefinitely.
LOVE it all up
while your heart incinerates through your soul,
nothing else matters
love till you die.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
I Remained silent vacuum
without daring shapes
to show unrecognizable parasites
sleeping in your ******* and your smiles.
I said that no matter,
who despairs,
that incinerates,
that choking...
is flawless silhouette of your everlasting forms
of your solidarity equine representations
doing frills over my magnetism of heat-dog
corrupting my virginal research
and breaking the enthusiasm of my seaquakes.
It has fallen thy angel of the thousand forms,
masks jump over spaces of infamous digital corpses.
shadows refuse to remain shadows
and the big destuctor starts to devour 12-penises little girls.
The actual search of thirst
-Sobre, hombre, cumbre, hambre...
ride furious over my back
spur my libidinous thoughts
memorize my pre-meditated ejaculations
break your ***** against my gloomy loser fingers.
We are alone
lost
but
i
have
said
that does not matter
that choking...
who despairs your absence ...
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
Hypergraphia is lacerating carotid
Finally bloodletting into slumber
Hippocampus that
Incinerates its own
Neuron forest and becomes
A conflagration
Because chars are ruby embers
In nocturnal hunger
Of the lens nucleus
Shaken in the tremors
Deep below tectonic plates
Disjointed in the fabric of reality
Severing the empyreal bonds;
Do not hold back,
But onwards, Horsemen,
Hammer that stampede
Unto centaur constructs
Fleeing from the dreamer
Let them shatter in the cracks
Sinking with the dirt into oblivion
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 5:32 AM UTC
Sun rises on the day,
and incinerates the night before.
Bodies stumble to the kitchen,
jello legs drag across the floor.
Silence hangs in the air,
as we sip on our open drinks.
We hate us now, sick and tired,
but one day we'll think...
Think of the drunken friends,
all the spilled drinks,
all the puked out brains,
all the drinking games,
all the endless laughs,
and all the times we crashed,
and all the love we shared,
under one small roof.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
He was born under sun soaked skies,
In the land of dawn’s rolling mountains,
But this was home here and now,
He was British,
He loved the flavours of his community,
And he inhaled the scent of this multi-coloured nation.
For over seventy years he walked from home to work,
And from work to home, a stone’s throw from a school,
He walked through these happy and silent streets,
He walked that same journey five times each day
To offer up his love and his prayers,
And to give thanks for the daily bread he baked.
Then…
One dark night of the soul,
As he left his local mosque,
And as he neared the safety of his home,
Three infernal stabs came from the back,
Deep, the blade slashed hard and it slashed deep,
Grandfather, father, husband… no more.
He was buried under sun soaked skies,
In the land of green lilting hills,
This was home here and now,
Every speck on the crowded horizon is a human,
The sun’s heat incinerates their hopes and tears,
And the soil wept for justice of a gentle soul.
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
these written words will never
be spoken by me
and life will drag by
like tobacco from a cigarette being ****** in
like death itself.
my mouth breathes in fire and smoke
while my brain crawls out
of the ocean of words i drown in.
I digress for these words
barely strung together with needle and thread.
the popcorn strung around
the christmas tree in the middle of july
october brings weddings
while september brings divorce
stop fumbling with the car keys
not one seat belt is on
"i live life
without coming up
for air."
my skeleton is in shambles
you left and took my spine
the jelly fish seem to have more vertebrae
than me
the smoke incinerates my lungs and throat
trying to somehow fit in
with the torn up pieces of my intestines
they twist and turn with
every word i swallow instead of spit
life is funny that way
storm before the calm
choices make people
&
lives have you
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
Upon fields far from home,
There is blood dripping on poppies,
Young lives harvested before their prime,
Their dreams and hopes seeping into foreign soil.
The sky glows with ***** rage,
Smoke screams upon the stale air,
The fire incinerates the crops of truth,
Darkness reaps a hymn through the foggy fields.
Ravens scavenge for souls,
The petals of truth wilt and burn,
Scars claw through fertile fields of earth,
The teeth of barbarism dig Death’s stinking trenches.
The blood of the Saviour,
High on the highest hill of war,
With nails of rusted meat and bone,
Play the pipes of peace and sing love’s lilting tune.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 5:45 PM UTC
The moths fly in
to catch the
light
because I leave
the windows
open.
I find them
fallen on my
sill,
hard and crisp
as death-
dried flowers
losing color,
fading away.
I always leave
my windows open
and let everything
in.
the animals
the light
the smoke from a
neighbor's chimney
or a fire burning
far away-
the moths
the wasps
the black beetles and
gnats
friendships and
falling outs and
you.
you are not excluded.
I always keep my
porch light on,
my windows propped
up
letting the world see
everything I am,
slither in,
crawl in,
waltz or
saunter in I
still
can't shut
the
window
I'm so afraid of
everything leaving the way
it comes:
suddenly
suddenly
suddenly through an
open window
and here I am trying
not to be a
moth
who looks for the light and a
rip in the screen,
and gets too close
and flies in, head first
without restraint,
she incinerates
Life is so bright and
I am so open,
propped open,
stationary and
liberated
as an open window.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
It is always upsetting
to think you've known someone for awhile
then realize you don't know them at all.
It is even more upsetting
when that person is yourself.
My hatred towards these people
incinerates my feelings towards the world,
bottles up and squeezes itself
into a half-pint bottle
slowly puffing out the edges
until it explodes
and slowly deteriorates the container
that is supposed to hold my emotions.
The light in my life
comes from the small things.
Such as the sunshine,
when you can experience it not only as light,
But feel the warmth as well.
The thrill you get from observing
fear and terror strike another’s life
other than yours. When you can
watch it from the comfort
of your couch, getting enjoyment
from another’s pain.
The chaos inside my mind
Only calms when I sleep.
My swarmed thoughts
are released
and I am free.
Much like the rest of humanity,
I have an infatuation
with escapism.
I swim in a lake of navy blue
suffocating me until it is unbearable.
Other times, I sink into a bed of gray
drifting among the weeks
not feeling anything - no happiness,
no joy, no love - but also no depression.
I prefer
treading water in misery
than my immune grayness.
I think
I am meant
to be alone.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
[January 19, 2017]
An explosion of deadly fumes and toxic volcanic ash incinerates the air
Raining furious meteors of flaming hatred bringing ruin and despair
The seething of the shattered, oozing earth boiling lava and agony
The ground crumbled and shook, only to be consumed by the sea
A haunting fog settles over blackened soot and hardened lifeless coal
Husks of shriveled burnt trees torn away from the memories of living souls
A shallow flame crackles within the hollow roots of a fallen charred tree
Beneath the dying magma hides a secret formed by a thousand degrees
The first sign of returning life, a shimmering mineral composed of chromium
Glistening in the brilliant sunlight, iridescent with hint traces of vanadium
Saplings growing from the scorched dirt, between the cracks of melted iron
Fully grown the trees sparkle glittering emerald, melded by tongues of fire
Life returns to a forest destroyed by the relentless wrath of chaotic nature
Shards of emerald become mirrors into the past, holding visions of the future
Destruction is forgotten, life moves forward in a systematic constant motion
The promise of fulfilling happiness always crushed beneath dooming erosion
The emerald forest reflects emotions of endless sorrow and timeless death
The powerful branches upholding a sacred tradition of short life and regret
Living beings are governed by the trees, draining corpses with no respect
The corrupted cycle endless, creatures unaware of the inevitable neglect
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 1:42 AM UTC
In the middle of the windstorm
You didn't hear the roar
That thundered out across the sky
In the middle of the windstorm
You didn't see the fire
That spewed forth upon the ground
In the middle of the windstorm
You didn't feel yourself burn
Caught in the eye of the inferno
As the world incinerates to ash
Know the seeds you planted
May finally have the warmth to grow
Aug 31, 2020
Aug 31, 2020 at 4:58 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
All at the same time,
all at the same time,
You should have been on your own in the beginning,
The start will never be finished,
hopes and dreams demolishing,
thoughts and conscious make you feel a bit squeamish,
But Hey,
this is the end for a new,
goodbyes , withdraws , incinerates the broken mind.
they've pave the way for us , its time to unify.
you say your breaking even , its about time.
the dos , the don'ts , we simply have to simplify.
you put it together baby.
all the counterparts that made me.
treat people how you wanna be treated.
all the **** compliments are shady.
This is between you and I.
please don't mistake me for a lie.
no one wants to be in the silver line.
a re-imagine of what you designed.
goodbyes , withdraws , incinerates the broken mind.
they've pave the way for us , its time to unify.
you say your breaking even , its about time.
the dos , the don'ts , we simply have to simplify.
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 12:30 PM UTC
when they say that,
"one may be able to make your heart melt"
they may be right
one can crush your heart,
into so many pieces
that it incinerates within the time of utter unhappiness
one can play with your heart,
for too long
that it breaks from the games and germs of the world's love diseases
one can tear your heart,
so roughly,
that you bleed tears of sadness from your eyes
so yeah,
i guess you could say
"one may be able to make your heart melt"
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
Temporary distractions make our existence
A clear breeze as sun burns the skin
A toasty coffee on the lap of a lover
Complaints about looks, money
Just tiny distractions
The world incinerates while we put out tiny fires
The flame spreads as we carry the buckets
We try to delay the boundless dimness
While desire remains fastened to the cages of a few
What do you do when you can't stop staring at the gloom
Watching the city blaze along with the torso
Inhaling gray flakes
Dreaming of the downfall
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 12:56 AM UTC
Far moost o' me
three score minus one year
tethered upon terra firmae where
planet Earth doth veer
(spins upon the global axis
(tilted 23.5 degrees from the plane
of its orbit around the sun),
terrestrial genesis (perhaps accompanied
for Pete's sake by Gabriel
blowing his horn) in all honesty unclear
boot more oven concern
points to thermonuclear
and/or subnuclear
war, particularly at forefront
of thine primate noggin
actively hypothesizing
theoretical armageddon,
when non plus ultra gravitates
with e pluribus unum necessitating
each individual to bend over
and kiss his/her rear
goodbye unless total merciless queer
hue loss atomic fallout immediately
incinerates e'en
the moost savvy profiteer,
which aforementioned prognostication
arose from overbear
ring hazy, hot and humid
dangerous heat spell near
lee approximating insufferable
temperature nearing triple digits
(along Eastern Seaboard
of United baked States
makes this human,
an immediate convert to climate control
(though he happened tubby already)
basking, glorifying, and luxuriating
within delightful 60º Fahrenheit mere
really expressing gratitude for such
creature comfort donning my
stretched out birthday suit,
(yet thee moost comfortable leisurewear
then thrift store "special bag
mountain of clothes
as mooch as Yukon sales,"
no matter mine ill mannered
mirrored reflection doth jeer
at such a sorry sight, and/or
laugh reading interlinear
monologue colloquy,
which message gleaned between lines,
and should this poem be red aloud,
thy ******** passion linkedin
with humming HVAC, ye would hear
courtesy hove cochlear
(hollow tube in the inner ear)
sensitive to deafening sounds...so beware!
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
Those ashes that makes wall ***** white painted
A candle which periled who borrow
that light of the night of mangier
When yesterday incinerates a tomorrow
Numb and I can't fight the fire with fire
A hundred times hotter than the sun
It ravages my skull, my soul's sins
Skin turns like a Blackened yero
which extends to all layers of the skin
O St. John may be it's not time for your festival
This Smokey place smells burnt funeral
houses that unfitted to gift for each
it made the eyes burn and watery
Isn't it about life or pressure cooker
for a new morn and a head with torn
Which full tank of misery and forlorn.
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 4:39 AM UTC
The troubled situation burns up the soul,
Causing pain that incinerates happiness.
Steering to a life of challenging obstacles,
Proceeds to a path which leads to pessimism.
Stress creates tension on the body and mind,
As predicaments frames suffering due to trauma.
A war on misery is needed to battle catastrophe,
Confronting misfortunes through restoring blissfulness.
Fighting shortcomings by attacking complexities,
Guides to victory for winning peace can prevail.
Achieving harmony requires a campaign against problems,
Beating the hurdles of reality by jumping over struggles.
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC