"infiltrates" poems
A loaded gun behind the perfect shot,
infiltrates my mind with memories I forgot.
Pills and potions couldn't help ease the pain,
the man with the mask I can no longer keep sane.
And in the bleeding sky I saw,
scars I've encountered once before.
The depth is scary, but I can't look away,
I dive and drown in this red ocean every day.
I close my eyes and hum a song,
trying to outshout the things I've done wrong.
It's a suicide mission to try and win this fight,
so I'll just get lost with the strangers of the night.
On the gleaming tracks I run with no goal,
it's just an endless journey within a distant black hole.
I'm just a fraction of something that could've been great,
but, I know it's too late to change my bulletproof fate.
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
“death everywhere, not age or ancient, just an infiltrated lack of life”
a puzzling, troubling line in a personal message,
instantly isolated for further review,
needy indeedy for a second medical opinion,
for it’s a description of two,
an actual place and a state of being
a place where death seems more commonplace,
not from agedness or honor,
but from a madness drunk from a special cocktail of
heat, guns and pseudo-rock stars, with beer chasers
imbibed by those who imagine themselves INRL
in a movie genre of specialized urban cowboys,
subset horror flick,
self-appointed angels
part of a world view
so pervasive that it infiltrates the mental water supply
and modifies the pure children early on
demeaning existence, with a sense, a sendup,
life is unreal, cheap, so taking it-is ok,
justice delivered, for we angels,
are subset,
angels of death
in a country where
seven out of ten believe in angels,
and one in four confident that
the sun revolves around the Earth
look to blame
polluted water
the ever-overheated atmosphere,
bringing typhoon and storm,
I do not know
*how be sun and water,
the essences, the originations of all life
today come to the planet days still
clear and warm,
yet can not infiltrate our personal mystery,
respire, re-spark the notion of the spirit,*
the simple sanctity of life peculiarly human
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
I know her intimately and not at all,
Her fragrance infiltrates, chases me,
A whiff off the tips of my fingers,
The smell of her is hunger,
It makes me wont to wolf and devour,
Her flush on the flat of my tongue,
Her angel whisper,
Our quiet choir a pleasure,
A harmony,
A crescendo until we seed and mute.
Between us,
Our damp swap,
A no man’s land,
A moist design,
The map of lust.
The art of love is always,
In its stains.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
I live in a fairyland in heart.
A place divinely orchestrated
with Gods hand.
Where sun shines every moment
and hearts are filled with compassion.
I live in a fairyland in heart.
A place where light infiltrates dark
and peace echoes.
Where truth vibrates every moment
and spiraling energies of love blossom.
I live in a fairyland in heart.
The place I shall go to often
The place I wish to be.
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 10:02 AM UTC
slow tiredness infiltrates my body
dulling the senses.
and dragging my limb downs
into the abyss
darkness surrounding me like a blanket
taking away my thoughts
numbing the feeling
it's a complete shutdown
the crown has fallen long ago
so this is no longer my town
just a ruined place
that lost the race
it couldn't keep up the pace
a place I dare not show my face
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 4:11 AM UTC
He told me we were hanging out with a group
but he came up to my door alone
said the others couldn’t make it.
I said okay and we went to the moonlight playground
as he poured ***** down my throat.
my body was urging the poison back out
as I cried. I ran and I sprinted
but the fence seemed enclosing
I was stuck in a nightmare all I had were the stars.
after that night I didn’t like stars as much.
alone I lay there in the wet brown grass
rain joining my teardrops I couldn’t see
I couldn’t scream. When I thought it was over
people started looking at me. they thought
I was the ***** and he just hit it and quit it.
Haunted by a vampire
draining truth down my throat
I lost all pieces of myself
offering my roaring willpower to him
the sweat of his touch infiltrates
my defenceless skin
but I didn’t scream
his ****** hands dragging as if I were *** on wheels.
and one day I will be oh-
so tall and with my gathered tears
i will build a water wall
nor paddle nor wind for I
will be flying
with a cast of all those with prisoner tongues marching behind me.
Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 6:40 PM UTC
sonic
bridge,
seismic
convulsions
a desert for us and them,
you can do many things with a blank canvas
--maelstroms, blaze dispersions
a line allows progress, a circle does not,
infiltrates the surface,
flashes into steam
our red cathedral,
our furnace lake,
the promised land in spiritual drought
this catatonic
heaven, a thirst for something more
Aug 16, 2023
Aug 16, 2023 at 1:50 PM UTC
I am selling away these board games,
The Sorries, the Troubles, and the Twisters
On which I struggled competitively with you.
My yard sale stifles the lawn,
Pours over my patio and infiltrates my porch swing.
I am selling each game piece, each memory,
Each pair of dice and their two-sided arguments.
They are thrown from my mind once they are carried
Away by strangers who thought them a bargain.
I am selling our immature conflicts,
The jail in my Monopoly
And the alarm clock in Don’t Wake Daddy.
Even Candy Land for me is age appropriate no longer,
As you continue to barely meet its mental requirements –
“for ages 3 and up.”
So I am selling away these amusements
Stacked firmly upon cheap plastic tables,
Feeding my palms with the richness of your absence.
Perhaps your game of Life will entertain one of my buyers,
Taking your cardboard words of wisdom
With an appreciation that I no longer have.
I wish them luck with their future mind-Scrabble,
As their pursuits will be a Risk yet unknown.
Sep 26, 2011
Sep 26, 2011 at 11:37 PM UTC
I want to see you in the summer
Sitting at the edge
With our feet in the water.
The ice creams in our hands melt
As the temperature gets hotter.
We don’t speak as we eat,
But we don’t have to,
Because the silence between us is not uncomfortable.
I want to see you in the moonlight
When we would walk so far that my feet bled,
Our eyes fixed on the road ahead-
But you walk close to me
And turn on your flashlight
Because you know that I am scared of the dark.
I want to see you in during autumn
When the leaves are the color of your hair.
Your words are so carefree it’s not even fair.
We look cozy in sweaters;
I’d be cozier if I was closer to you,
But you forge a path ahead,
And I follow you.
I want to see you illuminated
A dim glow cast on your features
By a 1980s horror film.
It doesn’t scare me, yet I wish it did
Because then maybe you would hold me,
But I wouldn’t pretend, because to you I would not lie.
This is just a movie between two friends: you and I.
I want to see you in the wintertime
Red cheeks and nose
Mine are too,
But not from the cold-
I think about these things as I’m hit by a snowball from you.
You laugh while I pretend to be mad
As the cold infiltrates my shirt,
But I don’t feel it,
Because we all know that I’m burning for you.
I want to see you every which way
Dressed up, dressed down;
Distressed or acting like a clown;
Excited, acting with reckless abandon;
Content, allowing me to see you undone.
I want to see it all,
But right now, I want to see you.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 10:55 PM UTC
the more i try the more it just feels false
my words come out and just like that I freeze-
i regret what I say and keep silent around everyone
then the silence catches up with me
and infiltrates my mind
why did i speak why did i have to be
me, what is it about my existence
that makes life so ******* difficult to
to speak to think to form a sentence or two
why is something so simple so complex
you have kind eyes
i’m not saying anything more except
that’s
that’s what attracted me -
not in a romantic way or
any way at all
just a friendly way i guess,
so some sort of way it turns out,
a really random way or
completely accidental or
oops there goes my mind again
but i can’t help it when there’s someone new
who tolerates me to the point of tears
then drops me on my *** and forgets
i’m even here
i dont trust very easily but i want to trust you,
my eyes want to cry and my mouth wants to speak
but see what happens when the two collide?
this.
this is what happens and
this is how i lose people and
this is how i live
because i’m afraid of being left behind or disliked
because it’s not every day someone with kind eyes
shares an ounce of of their kindness by looking into my
own
kind
eyes
dear god please don’t **** this up
i know i’m an atheist but
****** atheists have some kind ******* eyes
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
The candles are new and burn brightly,
Set on the windowsill high above my head.
Gingerbread is fresh, and the taste
Lingers in the warm, toasty air.
Cousin Kyle lifts me so I can hang my annual ornament,
And Great-Grandma smiles from her armchair.
The candles are a little shorter but still burn with fervor,
My fingertips just reach the windowsill.
The gingerbread is just as good as last year,
And the smell permeates my pink sweater.
Cousin Kyle lifts me to the top of the tree,
And Great-Grandma smiles from her armchair.
The candles are burning determinedly and pushing their last
And I playfully plaster their wax over my gradually growing fingers.
I help make the gingerbread,
And am covered in flour the rest of the evening.
Cousin Kyle and his girlfriend help me hang my ornaments,
And Great-Grandma smiles from her armchair.
The candles are almost nonexistent now,
And I light them for my mother.
I accidentally burn the gingerbread,
And the smoke infiltrates the whole house.
Cousin Kyle doesn’t want to help hang my ornaments,
And Great-Grandma sighs from her chair.
The electric candles blink in the window,
And I replace their bulbs with care.
The gingerbread doesn’t taste as good as it did when I was little,
But it brings back a heavy wave of warm nostalgia.
Cousin Kyle is off in Afghanistan,
And Great-Grandma sleeps in her chair.
The magic of Christmas never fades.
Sometimes it’s just buried deep in a box of ornaments
Or sitting in a quilted armchair
Waiting for that little girl
To remember.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
Image based, and
position placed,
to keep society spaced,
image of peace erased.
Individuals put in groups,
separated by bodies,
as Congress lobbies,
preparing forbidden fruits.
People told to turn a blind eye.
Focused on the one atop the pyramid.
"Spend greenbacks, don't sigh!"
These are government truths!
Not a marketable lie!
Human soul for sale;
morals thrown out to no avail.
Industry infiltrates and states:
Conformity: You'll win, not fail.
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 3:34 PM UTC
the harmony of discordant tunes
infiltrates mind
closed to thought
strewn against wind
in the onslaught of scattered
steely voices
attuned to this one alone
messages of self-loathing
that medication covers over
the bandage merely adequate
a stale, small blanket
wooley
euthanize thought
unapologetically strident
so that this one
can finally
sleep
dreamlessly
Feb 7, 2012
Feb 7, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
***"To all the fallen Kids, Heroes and Sheroes that fell victim to the massacre of June 16 1960, Sharpeville, Soweto…
Callings for new Seeds and Haloes, we pray for new Victors and Messiahs…coz still we ask “So where to?”***
Worthy knowledge deserves the one who will acknowledge, it found another, he was in shortage, threatened, he found joy in carnage.
Retaliation turned sour, as we shed tears for fallen heroes. Rest in peace to all the Petersens, the Malcolms and the Bikos.
Great minds edify and think beyond limits and sky.
This systematic routine of life laced with politics and economy infiltrates us numb, living in a liberated space and yet at times feeling so dumb.
To equip oneself with the truth, the past, broadens the mind with a quality that will seize to last.
A continent, must be God’s definition of art, beautifully authentic ancient dark civilization…envy must’ve burned the heart.
Propaganda made victims, a disease intended to chronic; now all that’s seen is reversed conscious, invincible and sonic.
Pride is you, continent, head up, chest up, we becoming confident. Mother of the soil shining naturally yet shining somewhat redundancy.
Reconciliation over retribution, an astounding virtue, still forging a social democracy.
Peace will be hard to find in this pandemonium world.
True healing comes from divine providence, I was told.
Male and female, human beings, we need to perceive each other like nature, true identity knows no stranger.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
weathered fingertips in sensual crescendo
arouse blitzing keystrokes to commove
wild Js and Zeds, Ks and Is too.
harmony of the king's three-thousand acre jungle
swallowing the stormy orange cyclical stew
and tantamount to its feral cavities
thrushes whet jagged spinal bones to split
news of the no-rhythm, sambas of new religious canter
infiltrates the **** cavernous walls
This inner ear and greater sound
knew to find sanctuary here.
Lends its awesome craft to the next
And next, and next, and next;
beautiful unboxed melodies
new unused sweet single-reeds
threading that 20s centrifuge.
Saxophone. Incantations unfolding
Aloof in its ***** it unwraps
The veil of green, a costume of black coffees
Cigarette stained curtains exhumed to greet
Thick plumes of albicant sinewy smoke
At the heap of its glorious song
Uniting the funnel of eardom to consecrate
Bliss. Intrinsic and purple
An irrational knot of Portuguese drum
Met over by African toms and rattles
A glue imbued into those unmistakable
Chakras of this spell of mourning and reversed
Names of starlight girls and their other'd selves
These are the weapons of our new key strokes.
And upon the cortex it reveals this lift anew
Where death greeted me to intervene a place
Where sound and silence meet, and new strikes
Put my hands in halves. Pear-shaped birds pecking
At the joints, and where bowl-shaped tones bring
Their impeccable limbs to atone with auburn and cerise soils
Beneath the high ridges of doom- the empowering backspace
Does not exist, only new nothingnesses and their hooves
Splashing into each step into the next, and the next, and the next,
And the next.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC
It is a murky unsympathetic night; the air is dense but so brittle. The city’s lights are glaring while the buildings are pellucid. The clubs are radiating with pandemonium most can’t seem to ignore. It’s a Friday night, a chaotic age restricted night. Both predators and prey invade the avenue. Walking through is Jane Doe. Tall slim and slightly inebriated. Attached to her skin are stitched together materials snug, satisfying but fleeting. As she prowls, the materials bind and elevate revealing her dermis. Beyond the noise, she hears phrases towards her, rotating her abdomen as she becomes livid but intimidated. Jane accelerates but the stilettos restrict. As she walks faster so does the brute, until finally their paths collide. Jane meets his cold malicious iris. Before altering directions, his callous filled hands swiftly but suddenly snatched her confidence and depth. Her figure jolts as he infiltrates her physique. Others observed nonchalantly and attentively whispering “she has received the appropriate consequences” based on the apparel draped over her figure.
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 7:46 PM UTC
We consume this negativity
we inhale it like air
it inflates our lungs
our veins our heart
and it smothers it’s beating
controls it’s feeling
makes a hole in the middle of our soul
and infiltrates our mind
we stop thinking rationally
and start hating passionately
desperate to rip apart
anyone that seems happy
in our path
it makes you spread dismay
and ***** out gossip that decays
rotates, and changes an opinion
of a person
of a group
and it spreads like a disease
like a virus from mouth to mouth
ear to ear
hand to hand
we don’t understand how it began
it just evolves
until someone’s resolve
crumbles
because we tore them down
chewed them up and spit them out
that’s what negativity does
it drowns out all the happiness
that was in ones heart
it blackens the soul
until its done its part
then it leaves…
washes away with the eve
and your left standing with a guilty plea
of…
‘I’m so sorry’
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 5:17 PM UTC
I open the night with a cigarette.
The only thing throwing light on my face in the dark, falls like stars on the broken, walked tiling along blind alleys.
My kiss with the cigarette is more intimate than with his lips, more affectionate towards my inner than his touch.
If the sidewalk was a metaphor it would indicate my thoughts spoiled walk.
In the darkness I find peace in the chaos we created.
I become a chain smoker when he infiltrates my night vision and I forget where I am walking.
The only road home is through ash clouds searching for the light at the end of the tunnel.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
Chili Powder infiltrates my kitchen
Oh boy Oh boy This is bitchen
I Flip the switch to Domestic Housewife
sharp knifes and measuring cups
I reach untop of the stove
to Find my Spatula
Flip my meat I got cooking
check the clock
as my buzzer rings
I stir the crock ***
My onions are suateed
My face is melting
But cooking
relieves me
I know that this will all pay off
when my friends walk in
Super Bowl Sunday
Even Jesus would sport sweatpants and his favorite teams Jersey
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 2:56 PM UTC
i know your demons,
and I kiss them on their pale and
broken foreheads to appease you.
i know the map of your skin,
of your bones, like white gold.
my hands are shaking
as the stars collide and
the dust of them lingers in
your eyelashes; and
i should detest you
by now, but you have
this way of consuming me
with the shadows in your
irises, but i
exhale- a breath like the
million before you came,
a plume of smoke,
radio static.
smoldering desire lights
upon my tongue and
infiltrates my thoughts.
and it is overwhelming,
everything at once;
our love may be a chronic
illness, but
the delirium is
hauntingly
beautiful.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 12:08 AM UTC
Across the dung smell
I pick the fungus
She taunts me,
Yet I only want a snack.
As the reddish horizon sets, far away in the distance, I shine…
This mildew infiltrates-
Sets its sites on my stomach
Oh, my intestines
My eyes
Widen
Heaviness ventures fourth-
This burden I carry,
Shares the land among us.
The complexity of nature calls to
Me.
Only because I found her…
My eyes now see the stars,
Glowing, shifting, & reminding me,
Of what it’s like being one.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 7:30 AM UTC
skyward certified ledgers keep track of all the godly, gritty details we can’t bring ourselves to believe. just throw some words together and make it count. the dust between our fingernails flavors the few crumbs we have left with the taste of a world that turned it’s back on us. honestly, the real apocalypse is just simply going through the motions. only we’re not as important as i’m making us out to be. sometimes (mostly on nights where the cold infiltrates your bones like an incurable disease and the rain is hitting the roof so hard you think that maybe this time it all will just finally come crashing down) it feels like we were designed for eachother. excuse the sentiment, i know it’s not me. i still picture you in the under-renovation-library thumbing through indexes for facts or truths, or maybe even just a semblance of hope. but that’s just the kind of punch drunk love ******** that keeps me ticking. my smiles come and go with the knowledge that you collect expired medicine and listen to mp3s of seismic waves from beneath the earth’s surface. you’re that special kind of weird that only makes sense in the way you can’t even play a game of monopoly without falling apart. a true rivalry is the greatest form of love. i’m stuck somewhere in between holding on to a grudge. you’re at my throat, i’m in your head. i swear i’m trying to regulate my sleeping patterns again. but the autocorrect on tumblr tried to change “mp3s” to “mumps” so where does your allegiance really stand? melatonin nod. glasses smudged. overedited and overanalyzed. linking words is the slurred speech of typing. or something like that.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 12:55 PM UTC
Stony yet soft.
A two-edged sword.
Giving, taking.
Man's relentless disease
infiltrates the land
and swept into the creek,
leaving behind secrets,
tales, laughter, crying, pain
hidden beneath the creeks mud
Vomiting up stench
from years before
when the land was walked.
And w/o warning a
precious soul is tossed
onto the creeks stream.
Why?
We question the gentle
creek turned to rage and
relentlessly removing, destroying
all in it's path and a precious soul.
A sacrifice, a forgotten respect,
from years before waiting??
And we question.
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 11:25 PM UTC
I set my alarm for happy.
Hope I don't oversleep.
I set my alarm for dreams
hope the ring tone makes me dance.
I set my alarm for love
hope it wakes up heart.
I set my alarm for harmony
can’t wait to hear it.
I set my alarm for smiles
hope its infiltrates waking moments.
I set my alarm to peace
as I attune to music of heart
Alarm to call angels
for their unconditional hugs.
I set my alarm
to be walking lighthouse of love.
Alarm to shine
as divine being of song.
I set alarm of senses
so I may be authentic self.
Alarm to be
shining lighthouse of color
anointing all.
I set my alarm
to merge with all I see
Alarm so human vessel
can awake to let freedom ring.
________________________
Feb 3, 2020
Feb 3, 2020 at 11:07 AM UTC