"incineration" poems
Why is it we cure pain with pain?
A burn with utter incineration?
A cut with mortal stabs and fatal slices?
A tear with larger rips and further shredding?
A break with complete shatter and growing fractures?
A love with a deeper, truer, more honest and raw love?
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
I wrote a letter to my 12-year-old self and
It went something along the lines of
“Love Yourself”
but counselling office posters read the same
things so I ripped it up.
See, I used to think that I could fly into the
Sun and it would feel like a warm hug, nothing
So drastic as incineration
Then I saw what could happen to pallid skin on
a hot day and my mindset changed.
I wrote a letter to my 10-year-old self and it
Was more like a warning,
(a red light is flashing, don’t fly into that tower)
Don’t let yourself become cynical
Don’t forget to call your grandmother
Don’t get so caught up in making money that
You’ve forgotten what it means to be a kid
You should be doing loop-the-loops around
That tower,
Roll upside-down, see your city like a bird.
Don red, bleach your apron, do something
Radical to it.
This has become the unsung song of your life
You’ve forgotten to live.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
Incineration
Decapitation
Mutilation
The Veneration
And Sublimation
Of a Freethinking nation
The Devastation
Of Liberty
Comes with the
Consuming identity
Of Religious
Indoctrination
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
Etymologically,
paradise
is inherited from the Latin
paradisus
and the Greek
paradeisos
and ultimately an ancient Iranian root --
pairi daêza.
In theory, paradise is a religious term. By that definition, paradise is a place in which existence is positive, harmonious and timeless. It is conceptually a counter-image of the miseries of human civilization; in paradise, there is only peace, prosperity, and happiness.
It’s absurd, though, how we provide ourselves with such a convenient idea, a carrot for all mankind to share in our relentless drive towards death. It’s absurd that we must rely on such nonsensical ideals to inspire us to adhere to literal, arbitrarily-dictated morals. “Thou shalt not do things we say you probably shouldn’t.
Except sometimes.”
“Actually, whenever, as long as you feel bad about it and spend a moment kneeling quietly and thinking something along the lines of ‘So, like, sorry -- my bad. It won’t happen again, unless it does.’”
The fundamental mistake here is attempting to delineate the existence of Man with an old book and relentless propaganda and childhood indoctrination and threats of post-mortem punishment, but more on topic -- why can’t one just live the right way without this kind of artificial motivation? It’s a juvenile concept that we’ve taken much too far. It marginalizes the human race -- “listen, Man, if you eat all your broccoli, then you can have dessert.” But what happens in this situation, when the dessert isn’t real?
What I mean to say is that maybe you should eat your broccoli because it’s healthy, and because, besides what society has attempted to instill in you, it might actually be tasty if you give it a chance.
Live for now. Care about people now. Because you don’t get anything afterwards; however cynical it may be, dessert is just a cold grave or a flame designed for whole incineration of your being. Paradise is now.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
Oh, what I would give to be nine and benign
Because as I grow older the flow of concepts grows heavier
And swirls around me rapidly
Creating a whirlpool
I can feel the world pull
In the gravity of ideas
Given weight by words
That brings down birds
We look up only to see Jupiter
And we live on the Earth's back
Weighed down like mules by it's presence
Carrying conflicting considerations
Ideas inflicting incineration
The rain precipitating from the clouds in our minds
Develops a lofty humidity within humanity
And the leaves on the trees point downward
Erecting walls
To trap us in our gravity garrison
Plotting ways to crush each other
Time becomes the most effective method
As we wait to weigh down wanderers
With a point of view
In our gravitational pull
To make them our mule
Carrying our concepts
To strengthen our impact on the maelstrom
As our brain gets bolder
The water gets colder
But this ocean keeps spinning
Keeping the frigid water from freezing
And the gravity of what we think
Is the gravity that makes us sink
From concept cradle to gravity grave
Tranquil transcendence is what we crave
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 8:12 AM UTC
A lone dewdrop from heaven falling down and down, no idea where it shall land-
Would it be the beak of a bird, quenching its overnight thirst, diminishing itself for salvation?
Would it be on a red rose, waiting to be plucked by a lover for his love, wiped by the lovely hands?
Would it be the blade of a grass, perching atop, paving way to the eternal slide down to non-existence?
Would it be the stinky gutters, where a war rages: purity against the filth, a lone drop against the gust?
Would it be on the web of a spider, when an endless wait begins, incineration by the cruel sun?
Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 6:51 AM UTC
Their lives bleed into mine
What am I becoming?
As long as I'm bleeding in line
I can hear war drums drumming
I feel my purity and youth leave me
As their lack of couth feeds me
And their sweet tooth bleeds me
Until eventually I too am greedy
In this ****** atmosphere
Our ***** past is clear
Inspiring future fears
And hardened tears
Drowned by beers
And empty cheers
Through the years
Until we're here
As a ****** stranger
Head banger
Teenager
In Jesus' manger
This blight
Of life
As a simulation
Of assimilation
Into a nation
Of incineration
In a ****** mire
Lit by the fire
Positioned higher
I call my sire
I fidget in the cage
Of this pivotal maze
Called the Digital Age
I'm in need of healing
From this dark feeling
That I'm an innocent child reading
A book about a grown man bleeding
Always met with a hateful greeting
While sympathy is fleeting
Being replaced by our own jadedness
After living with those who hated us
We develop defensive thorns
Resembling demonic horns
To match public scorns
My first love
Drew first blood
And I couldn't halt the blood loss
Exacerbated by the mud toss
Of the sinister town crier
Exposing my heart's desires
So I said never again
For the bleeding to stop
When dealing with men
Is like meeting the cops
Aware that I'm defenseless
They start beating me senseless
So I become a judge myself
Part of the sludge for my health
I won't budge unless it's for wealth
Accepting the cards I was dealt
They bled into me
Now red is all I see
No way to get free
So I follow their lead
And choose to bleed
As they pray and plead
It becomes my turn
To cause the burns
That I had learned
When I was spurned
And lost my purity
Now blood cures me
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 5:09 AM UTC
Burn so brightly elements of yesterday
Locked in a peculiar orbit, they say
The largest star in any sky
Burning the hottest before it dies
The intense blue of sublimation
Black holes envy his degradation
Far past when molecular oxidation occurs
Into great fires smoldering for her
Countless planets revolving over
Hopelessly caught in his supernova
The atomic incineration of time
All through ionized helium lines
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
you have entered the realm of life after separation.
gone are the daisies she tucked behind your ears. it’s autumn now.
you are getting older. your boots are heavy and your chest is heavier.
you were given something gleaming, but it isn’t yours,
anymore. you seethe in your own ache.
this is your first silver october. the blushing leaves have gone greyscale,
like an i love lucy rerun. they evoke a stab of grief between your lungs.
you have to rewrite the story of your life now,
go forward knowing that everything after will be somehow
lesser than her. no person will reach into you the way she did.
you are a lost girl. resignation is all you have left,
resignation and streets bitter with dead leaves, streets where you run and shout
a silent prayer of loss.
but then:
but then.
you are reciting a poem for a room of people and your words
belong to your body now. a deep glow has fallen over everything,
right onto a girl you’ve only seen once before.
front row. face open. taking in what you are saying,
your retrospective sorrow, with a particular kind of attentiveness
you have needed all along.
everyone is listening, but she is hearing you.
in that moment, when you are raw and earnest,
you think that perhaps there’s something different about
this one. how even when you are done, she still seems to be
hearing all the words you cannot say.
and then:
and then.
spring is thrusting its way out of cold dirt
and you are twisting and breathing and this girl,
this girl, she is one million ******* shades of red. all you can do is
look at her without turning away, as if you could do such a thing
even if you tried. maybe this is how rembrandt felt
when painting night watch.
full of thick, rich burning too immense for language to hold.
this girl, this girl in the midst of life after. this girl so good
she’s put meaning back into the messy coming of spring.
you have learned not to trust. not to believe.
to love with a window open, a hand on the door,
in case of incineration, ready to run.
but this girl, says your heart,
says the peachy light bleeding onto her lips and nose,
this girl is not like those who came before her.
you’ve been a stranger to yourself for so long, but this girl
is reintroducing the two of you, rubbing you raw with longing.
do you understand, you want to say to her,
how stunning you are.
standing there like that. in your sincerity and laughter, as it weren’t
breath snatching to witness. as if it were commonplace,
unexceptional. as if you weren’t the tenderest work of art.
do you.
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 12:43 AM UTC
watching for air a mad thing of static to do
unwashed i hold it all foreign my perspectives clothed as the enemy
an agreed muscle of tension with pockets fracked into my hands
i look out the window wide agape guidance invasive drills of heat the giving sunlight ; punishing,
a tree, the grieving buildings
the whinging of cicadas
and here i am watching for air
one point for the weather
one point for the view
one big point for my ****** condition
one point for the passers by and their galling dramedies
and there it is ; the wiry plan that's built
from one small tickle of wild thought
formed long ago
trickling to the current day
some whipped wit of poisoned psychology
fed to the inbreed (welcome you panting imp)
decades of saved up fatty layers
a deed of habitual sediment
retching until the tide laps become still
a cured and congealed gladness
marbled, a butcher would say
i am full and hearted and heated and padded senseless
turned under a heel with my wastrel history
i’ve accomplished this a stifled condition
of poisoned obscenity
seated deep almost fully incapacitated
in my armchair on this chummy day
my leisure clothes greasy sluck against my blemished hide
a packet of cigarettes to my side
rounded upon by sounds of the neighbours affairs
with a gasp of energy i 'skin one off' vigorously
my system trembling with years of hard liquor
borderline to a state of unconscious whelm
retained final prime for ignition
i could manage a spectacle
a blinding flare
a glorious incineration
and the release
of my true oder
i light a match for my cigarette
May 29, 2023
May 29, 2023 at 6:54 PM UTC
Piercing your eardrums
Cower in fear as you hear
the deafening howl of a hellhound
Echoing of deathbrought crying
and screaming of banshees
Body burned from the inside
incineration by the infernal flames
burning from the black flames of hell
While being immobilized by
the cold lifeless kiss from death
Pain?
None come close
to that feeling
when you find out
that your loved one
loves someone else
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 7:07 AM UTC
Come and tell, what do you fear?
The end is indecisive, trapped between now and coming;
But let's see it close, it leers at you, we want to hear.
What do you fear?
A man's rise, we see; the incineration of stagnant fears,
the will to understand what was once to hate.
A long path remains, but we see a man's rise, near.
So what do you fear?
Do you despise the bonds that keep you strong,
do you loathe the lives you must forgive?
Do you feel alone amongst the lovers, who show you how to live?
Can you speak, fool, can you speak your mind?
Do the shadows of time deceive you, as they have done every time?
Do you dread the betrayals following to your pyre?
Tell us, why do you cower?
Do you deserve the warmth, the conditional unconditional?
Do you feel pity for those who see not your visage beneath the mask?
Your treachery in friendship,
Your misogyny in love,
Your refusal to see answers to the turmoils and turbulence, to accept, to ask?
Do you fear that you'll hurt them,
and they won't understand?
Do you fear your solitude falling through like sand?
They see your isolation, they pity, they help;
they know not the darkness you call home yourself.
You love them, you cherish, you help, and you leave;
you know not of the ashes smouldering in your wake.
The scars dealt by your denials, too deep to conceive.
The hands that remain, you stay too weak to take;
The ones you choose to spurn - aye, yet another mistake.
You embrace the destiny of a lonely fire, with no warm breath to keep you near;
You've fought to love the isolation, so tell us,
Is this what you fear?
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
Let me be the first to warn you:
I am wildfire and catastrophic destruction,
I am consuming fever and searing passion,
I am possessed by infectious radiation, a contagion
for all things surreptitious and sacred.
I will vacuum the oxygen from your gasping lungs,
blister your lips,
and plunge you deep into my inferno.
I will gallop as chopping thunder across your oceans,
etch lightning streaks zigzagging behind your eyelids,
and illuminate veiled dimensions of your incandescent spectrum.
You will know me,
in flares sparking your night sky
into snapshots of opalescence and shadow.
You will know me,
in relentless flames licking your woodlands
skeletal and hollow and barren.
You will know me,
in remnants of cinders, ashen palms,
and smoky ribbons evaporating through your skin.
I am celestial pyromaniac:
daughter
of Hephaestus and Artemis,
incubated
in the womb of a supernova,
birthed
in the creation of Andromeda,
purified
by internal cycles of eruption,
hurled
through the cosmos by shooting stars,
magnetized
to earth by gravity and destiny, carried to you by entropy and choice.
I am volcanic and heaving
beneath the crust of the planet.
I am ultraviolet hallucination, I am firework destruction, I am spontaneous combustion, I am electric incineration, I am smoldering embrace, I am all things cataclysm and rebirth, interlaced.
And when I pierce molten and ecstatic and untamed
through your reality, you will know
what it means to drown dancing in flames.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
Flames will fade too,
Burn bright and hot until a smolder
Until fleeting breaths of wind or water
Put out it's last embers.
And I, I am this fire
Ceaselessly burning,
Incandescence,
Flames twirling,
Dancing as if nobody had extinguished me yet
Until someone does.
Until the water is splashed
And my fire dies.
But as oxygen is to flame,
Willpower is to determination
And my embers will not be put out
I will burn what has given to me until incineration.
I ingest this wood, these obstacles,
As a hungry child
I engulf forests for breakfast
Because fire is natural
And you cannot tame what is wild.
You can douse the coals after my destruction
But I can rip through your town
I will sear your very existence
To the ground.
I can be put out, as if I was never there
But the grass around me
And what I have left in my path
Is not the same, nor will it ever be.
Oh yes, embers die, too, you know-
But keep in mind that while you may strike the box,
I'm sure that you never lit the match
With the intent to start a fire.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
They raised me to be who I am,
And I could never have been any different.
They spent countless hours nurturing me and cherishing
Every achievement throughout my life.
I loved them so much, and I'd have done anything for them,
Will still do anything for them, because I knew they loved me back.
Until they pushed me away from them,
Sent me falling through the sky and got the hell away from me
As though I was nothing to them anymore,
Never had been their little boy.
And I fall through clouds like they don't want to be near me,
And I fall until the details below me come into focus.
I cry when I see the city, the buildings, the people.
I cry because I know now why I was created.
They come closer to me as I move closer to them,
And I can feel my insides start to churn,
And then it burns before I've even reached the ground.
I'm blinded by the brightness of my own incineration,
And with my last thoughts I beg everyone below me,
Though they can't hear me under the roar of death,
"Please don't look at the light."
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 3:37 PM UTC
*She was like a candle.
His touch set her ablaze.
Illuminating her present by incineration of her past.
She burnt and burnt till there were ashes at vast.
He tried to hold her, but through his fingers, the ashes slipped.
She was finally free, free from confinements of her sins.
His fire made her pure.
Released her soul from the impure.
The fire was the end of her, and she swallowed it right the abyss of her soul.
The fire was her redemption, which made her whole*.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
I Warrant that thy lack of care
Is bound within a hard restraint,
Bound within thy calloused fist
To disavow convention’s taint.
I Warrant that thy steely eye
Hath fixed upon the prize of yore,
Hath disregarded consequence
In disinterring mankind’s law.
I Warrant that thy wall of pride
Hath steeled thy arm of self regard,
In keeping thy momentum’s rush
From dissipating conscience hard .
I Warrant that the breath thou breathe
In staling air of all contrite,
Contaminates the very heart
Of those who roar “Seig Heil” to *****
I Warrant in the dead of night
When phantoms stalk thy peace of mind,
Incineration souls aflame
Might cause thy yellowed teeth to grind.
I Warrant that through centuries
These ghosts shall ride thy spirit hard,
And man shall weep in horror when
He looks upon thy cruel regard.
Marshalg
Warrantor to an indiscriminate other
24 February 2012
© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 10:47 PM UTC
When she runs out of hydrogen to burn, she evolves off of the main sequence, climbs the sub-giant branch, and becomes a red giant. Her helium core will continue contracting and eventually, ignite.
Of humble beginnings: birthed in light.
The surface of the sun expands, cools down, turns red. Death of a low mass star. Above the wooden clouds. Whittled to form a sketch of a sky, screaming to be perceived.
Monuments to an era
With less fabrication,
And more speculation.
Four hundred exhalations between ten million years of innovation and instant incineration. Goddess of life itself. Betrayal. Though her temperament lacks spite.
And is Wrought with inevitability. Everything evolves.
Visual constants.
All that is exalted. Our stagnant star suffers, a main sequence departure. Reincarnates herself. A hydrogen Lazarus. Painting for us a portrait,
Of a humble ending: death by light.
Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 2:14 AM UTC
paper and pen
haven't been very acquainted
in this home
of all the things
I'm trying to remember
& starving to
forget
I whisper all my unused
& ****** words
into the depths of my
bones
where they'll swim to
the surface
just as the harvest
begins
& the sun sings on my
bare skin
with the melody playing
in lightning clouds
& midnight skies
you're holding my patience
for ransom
& you don't even know it
you are one
carefully crafted glance
away from
mental incineration
if the mild winter lasts
much longer
we might break away with some of our teeth left
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC
Internally we see the thoughts of grown incineration
A challenge of the right for pure chaotic contemplation
To replace the patterned reverberation of the status quo
Into the things we strongly talk about and often burn to know
Not the fodder that wastes the precious ticks upon the clock
But those of substance that provoke intense curious thought
No more sticking birded heads into glowing TV filtered sand
Now is the time to hold ****** dreams inside your very hand
Gone are the days of holding smoldering feelings in silent
Now we see the weaknesses and now we see the triumph
For we each imprison the Brightness that burns in the ever dark
Forever-hunting shadowy places just to bring a light's spark
We fight unto the darkness to remain inside the light
Within the very soul of us, not merely day or night
As we try to fall away from dark world bent on decay
We bring the light by eating spoonfuls of sun everyday!
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
hey again you lovely sun.
my love and captivity
has begun.
immovable to your disposition,
I cannot get any closer.
immovable to your glare,
does my passion deem me a poser?
your dichotomy of warmth and incineration
to the cold soul you cause me to be.
you take me for granted
and many others fall to your gaze;
my love for you is in a daze;
your warmth carries me away.
needless to say,
I need you.
do I dare move to farther poles
in darkness cold,
just to satisfy my churning heartache
for your beauty?
the heat inside is anything but sinister
it's what makes you alive
in my eyes
your uncaring rays to fellow garçons
burn my retinas.
a star among myriads
you only matter to me.
you're all I need.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
The sun wants to eat us all
The sun wants to eat us all
It would have happened quite some time ago
If the Earth wasn't quite so small
The sun wants to eat us all
It paralyzed my love, as
She stepped in view of the sun
I ran to save her, but I fell myself
Is my spirit strong enough
Is my spirit strong enough
I panicked at the thought that
You might lose your light
I was aware that my body was there but
Yours wasn't by my side
Yours wasn't by my side
So I pushed my arms
And legs to the limit
I was traveling at light speed
But couldn't do anything to
Bridge the galactical gap between us
I couldn't keep up with you
It’s like you travel at lightspeed too
We flickered off and on with the
Enormity and heat of the sun
Then her outline flared as the fire and air
Overcame everything she was and
We were muddled up in the sun
It was a fiery faceless sea
But there’s a part of you I recognized as me
That made incineration feel like ecstasy
You did away with my egoic truth
I was content to think I’d be consumed
Until out of the miasma as two beams of light
We sped through outer space to what we left behind (as us)
Instead of the intensity of being one
We chose the selves we couldn't stand to lose
Not to the fear of our impending doom
Jun 28, 2021
Jun 28, 2021 at 3:03 AM UTC
Break me
Shatter me
into a trillion pieces.
Throw me into the wind
like ashes,
let me fly away from life.
I’ll glitter the way stars do-
Brilliantly.
Just watch me light the sky
On fire.
Instant incineration.
Only particles of dust will
Remain.
Watch me burn with a grin.
No regrets.
Wear the smile that was in my mirror
Like a silent farewell
As I glitter and shine,
while I turn
To dust.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 10:42 AM UTC
Go ahead Darling,
dolly yourself up,
climb up on your platforms,
tighten those jeans around
your nice lady-hips.
Spread some hot pink
on your ruby red lips.
I think you are the bomb!
O let me,
O please let me,
light your fuze
when your ready to explode,
ready to explode
with me.
It's incineration time.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
we always seem to want or be in want or having something anecdotal, if not witty to say, and we rarely have the opportunity to say it, but more chance to write it, with the allowance of it being by nature synchronised to the least favour of it being said in the first place, and as such not said to the extent it was wished to be communicated; to deal with delaying a saying is the art of aphorism stating, which i'm sure nietzsche greatly borrowed from you: so instead of itemising life for all its empty and emptying poses of the tier tongue filling a righteousness of some sordid familial pedigree given easy sway to decay by modest man's standards defining perversity: speak into the grave, and let us hear the bone rattling ganges incineration maracas shake shake shake urns of defacement: for honour the bleakest of all humours bleaker than scandinavian as that be english, bleakest. i never troubled myself juggling ******* and alcohol problems, i just took to beer, whiskey and coca-cola, so sugar me up dahling... i'm ready to tiger pounce on you and grow a magic fern from my ******** for a bouquet of piñiata of halloween trick-or-anal as the fudge packing inverse **** of a baseball baton lubricated into me: circumcise the flares! i think i see titanic sinking! ha ha! all in all too many maxims were written, many of which are untrue, and if true, then they're never written: you only write truths for people to make mistakes to prove them; you never write truths if they're properly adequate chess of senior pieces moving pawns, you keep such truths ****** prone, ****** for a purpose of dark-ethical cloning in the familial bonds of dynasty.
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 9:17 PM UTC