"landfills" poems
Blue skies and apple pies
Football games and guns to aim
40 hours of work and fireworks
Heteronormativity and conformity
White tranquility in the midst of police brutality
White terrorism claiming nationalism
What is the American Dream?
Shutdowns and cages and riches for ages
Fascism raises from hateful rampages
Families taken away from their own
These are a few of Trump's favorite things.
What is the American dream?
A flag always at half-mast
In preparation for the next mass shooting
Killing the poor with a minimum wage
That can't even afford rent
Mocking the people we stole this land from.
America the land of the free
Construct of the patriarchy
Thousands of dollars in medical bills
Treating our oceans like landfills.
Oh say can you see by the dawn's early light
A country so broken the end is in sight.
Capitalistic ideals that possess the rich
Destroying the poor as we're thrown in a ditch
Together we must rise above
And show Trump's cult what we're made of.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 10:02 PM UTC
Concrete full of blood
Skies, smoke-filled clouds
Poison, don't you see
INDUCING VOMITING
Of every freedom you hold
Incubators, landfills
For
Food deserts
Soul Scavengers
Bullet and knife showers
Parentless parents
Starving children
Hotbeds for addiction
Metropolises
Harvesting humans like ants
Where democracy manufactures
Oppressed consumers out of the masses
Majority starving for death
Poison, don't you see
INDUCING VOMITING
Of every freedom you hold
Those borders you revere
Hijacking your body and mind
Legislating no burning of the flag
Where they clean their blood-drenched hands on
Can you tell what side your on
When you agree, they hold a different nationality
When can there be actual solidarity?
Profets of freedom, alienating OUR power to be
When in doctrine, legislature, and policy
Hierarchizing who deserves to be free
In contempt, not compliance
In pain, not numb
Reactive, not inactive
Burning, boiling, shivering
Out of injustice
Poison, don't you see
INDUCING VOMITING
Of every freedom you hold
How can you keep suffering,
When you face the truth
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
What could be worse
Than a garden
Full of gnomes and trolls?
Is it:
Lawn jockeys and yardells;
Chuck adjusting his carb every Sunday afternoon;
Bathtub ****** Marys beseaching us to love;
Metal flowers on outside garage walls;
Fish ponds with gills in the filter;
Red gravel flowerbeds with little white fences;
Cosmetic door knockers;
Swimming pools without diving boards;
Mirrors on fences;
Burning ******* in fire pits;
Backyard landfills;
Icicle lights;
Weedy neighbours and an east wind;
The screech of tires;
The thump of metal;
The sound of screaming;
The absence?
Yeah. Plenty could be worse.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
you’re my cup of coffee at 6:45 AM
smell dancing like incense in the middle of pooja
warm as the sun peaking out shyly behind the horizon
richly sweet caramelized sugar pearly cream
and bitter like the small things i dont know about you yet.
but when you touch my lips
the bitterness i can swallow with the sweet
and the sweet i savor with every taste bud on my tongue.
before i head out the door at 7 AM
i kiss your forehead and wash out the emptied mug
but the taste of cappucino lingers at the corners of my mouth
as i wave good day to you.
and when i return at 5:30 PM
limbs pathetically sown on with prayers
empty rivers landfills of worry time ticking like a heartbeat
the aroma wafts around me again like a scarf.
in your embrace
i fall asleep with dreams of whipped clouds and
love at the cafe.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
"What are toxic time bombs?
I wonder, with no aplomb,
Old garbage and refuse tips,
Legacy landfills, full of blip,
Damaging environmentally,
So much for sustainability,
All the overflow of society,
How do we correct such wrongs?
All these toxic time bombs..........
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 5:25 PM UTC
another
smothered lover
in the Hollywood hills
unbag the bottle
crack the seal
oh the appeal
of intake
for the sake
of intoxication
so meek and unique
in gurgled screams
a pixie in the hand of a king
compelled
to discretely
capture the beauty
in eternity
expelled
i just felt
i had to nest a shell
and befell
clearing her residual
flirtatious signals
even in the squirms
and even in the squeals
even though i know
she yearns
to be hooked by her gills
dragged through landfills
in a projected field
where she would yield
and kiss me.
i'm gonna pretend
to love her
as i tenderly
shove her
in the river
of our love
take her under
my loving thunder
and plunder her
when drugged
dazed in her wonder
i hold her under
from above
if only for a moment
we locked eyes in love
she fit me like glove
remnants
disposed of
in a rug
posed so beautifully
for the smack
hack and rip
one pretty *****
dumped
in an irrigation ditch
triumphed
our wordless
relationship
its over *****
move on with it
in the mouths
of varmints
oh
charming
as im clicking *****
on key chains
sticking misfits
with loose lips
usually homeless
decoys
here to destroy
nothing
in my twisted ploy
to employ
maximum points
conjoint
my addictive anger
to something a little stranger
im going to dangle
her entrails
in front of her eyes
while i'm bangin her
shes looking so surprised
from every camera angle
the mangled piece of ****
what a lamo
hypnotized
in the passing of life
in the
blood
the ***
the ****
and the knife
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
Gravel mounds in the mist
Are the mountain ranges of fantasy,
Spring green, eerie seen
Through commuter train windows.
Pitched roofs recede
Into infinite distance,
And junkyard parking lots are legion
In the gray suburban obscurity.
Factories and landfills loom,
Monuments and mausoleums,
The labor and the leavings
Of the little colossi.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
This circle must complete
With each of Earth's orbit
It's a cycle that will repeat
But when global warming
Triggers mass glacial melting
From ozone layer's depleting
Where oil spills can ruin an ocean
Being used as garbage collection
Causing every ecosystem's suffocation
More landfills from over-consumption
Still, we opt for deforestation
Resulting in fresh water reduction
In disrupting her delicate cycle,
Can we understand that excess is not natural?
Wounded, it takes her longer to heal!
Like our mother, she has borne us all
Give her love! Must we watch her fall?
Open your eyes! Let's heed her call!
© 2004 - Pres Hello-Poetry.com - All Rights Reserved
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 10:06 PM UTC
The underlings stare
In submissive awestruck
Subjugation in landmine-filled
Landfills, are stuck
In the trenches, the feces
The carcass-strewn muck
Where the vermin-spawn ****
As they're taught how to work
And to fend for themselves
Like the Fall of Dunkirk
As the imminent doomsday device overhead
Incapacitates them
As mere prey to a web
Of a global dominion
Ambition connection
Subconscious hive-mind
Buzzing out the objection
And phobia-spreading
Pandemic misanthropy
Greed in disguise
Subsidizing atrocity
Not for me,
I am
The justified treason
The reason the man-hunters
Close open season
The cease-fire peacekeeper
Proliferation
The water war's rising
Desertification
An MIA runaway
AWOL defector
Still haunting the tombs of detente
Like a spectre
With what I assure
Mutually in the end
When I send go-aheads
On the ICBMs
And avenge the dependent expended
Caught in
This crossfire for-profit
Arms race it has been
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 3:33 AM UTC
There is a place where the birds go
When the air grows heavy
And it is not South
It is here that I will find you
When the dust has settled
You say you want to sing my bones electric
You want to whistle from the rafters of rainclouds
Become the weight of the rain
The kind that only comes
After the locusts have gone
And we are all waiting for something new
To keep us inside
This century was the moment
In your late-night lunch break
When you got so close to the end of your cigarette
That you wish you’d left the filter on
We are one race with seven billion shotguns signaling GO
Still we spin
Like tornadoes in plastic bottles
Cursing hands and the landfills we all fall into
Eventually
We might stumble into sanity
And mistake it for a honeybee sting
Resurrection
Is breaking past the parasitic anchors
In your skin
Propaganda over-fishing
Sinking 5th dimension realities
Into yesterday’s tomorrow
I will dig you out of this town until my fingernails are black from trying to touch every color at once
Hold me steady like September
The birds do not need compasses
But I do
You asked to leave the lights on
That night on the forest floor
The canopy rising and falling in the rhythmic breath of night
Tracing a circuit on the inside of my spine
The curve that proves that
We do not belong in boxes
With straight edges
Learning to breathe does not become easier the second time around
Catch my breath in a butterfly net
Send it back priority
In some other city
You spend the night with my footsteps
I spend the night folding swans out of your conscience
Jimeny-cricket style
There is a place where the birds go
When the air grows heavy
And it is not South
It is here that I will find you
When restlessness tempts you to fade
See you in my sleep
See you breathlessly awake
And shaking at the pearly gates
Because excuses were the birds
That flew from your chest
when you put regret to rest
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 6:44 PM UTC
There is something about them
Isn’t there?
There is love and tension at the same time
Harnessed and so vulnerable,
Like wings, like music.
There are so many things
That can bury,
That can bruise you
But not them.
In fact it is like they never touch you
Even when your hands are touching them.
Something so soft it can only be held
But never hold.
But they are never really there,
Are they?
Even when you have it with you
It’s only a replica, a reincarnation
Like wings, like music.
And it too will die soon,
Cause only death can hurt it.
And then it shall be gone forever.
Except for its fragments,
That harnessed what we loved about it so much.
Those pieces live ignored,
The colored open shell-
Splatters in landfills,
No one thinks about that,
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 12:34 AM UTC
What is it with the Americans-?
With their endless cups of “Joe”
Starbucks on every corner
At least it seems that’s so.
Those who overdose on coffee
Are always on the “go”
With palpitating heart beats
And hands that shake like so.
Billions of cups consumed yearly,
The landfills awash with debris
If only my Dad had a Styrofoam mine
Imagine how rich we would be.
Chocolate is much more civilized;
antioxidant rich and sweet.
They say it’s a mild aphrodisiac
and a laxative for the effete.
Those people addicted to coffee
Wake up “Grumpy and groaning”
While those folks addicted to chocolate
can be sure they’ll be coming and going..
Dec 29, 2011
Dec 29, 2011 at 8:32 AM UTC
In 1968, she poisoned her father,
1970, her mother-in-law
and 1971, her husband. 1986 was
her boss-turned-lover-turned-boyfriend
and by 1989, her attention was
focused on her second husband.
Exhumation became so common
that the local cemeteries were
renamed as her landfills.
She sits across from me–shoulders
squared and gaze relaxed–waiting
for any question I might come up with.
What ran across your mind the very first time?
Her breath flees from her lips
and she says to me
freedom.
I look her in the eyes–
see a monster.
She looks me in the eyes–
sees herself.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 3:22 PM UTC
at this very moment
as you are reading this poem
people are getting
***** and
children are getting
abused
a cancer patient doesn’t
know if he can live for
another day and neither does
the girl who
can’t choose between
a bottle of bleach and
a noose.
our problems seem like
landfills to us
but in this world that thrives on
affliction and suffering
we are as insignificant as
the infinitesimal leaves on
canopy trees
seven billion of us
desperately clinging on for dear life
only to wilt,
fall from a living hell to
one for the dead,
and then be replaced.
what are we living for?
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 12:15 PM UTC
We are drowning ships
crashing planes
falling skies
We are tragedies that never got
written
in ink
but blood
We are disasters they forgot
to record
or observe
or announce
or save
or help
We are train wrecks that needed saving
Instead you covered your eyes
Shielded your children
Dumped the wreckage into landfills
That are eating away at our plant
Ours
This world, it is ours
Yours and mine
It is not a kingdom that is your
birthright to take
to force yourself on
your rules
your mistakes
your judgement
your hearts
We are people
Collapsible
Collapsing
At every turn
every word
every day
every breath
We are still people
still alive
still able
still fighting
breathing
belonging to a world that has never accepted us
made space for us
let us belong
But we are belonging
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 12:04 PM UTC
These words
Are no longer
Inspired by you;
Not written for you.
Entitlement lost,
Only barren hills and valleys remain
Empty landfills scatter the surface
Deep cracks and frayed edges
Slowly engulf the pith
My ties are broken
The sea has stolen
Your heart adrift;
Answer the siren's call
Stow away beneath
The once beautiful horizon,
Your body slowly diminishes
Erased from the sky
Waves rise,
To crest and fall
Inflicting damage
Undertow
Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 12:00 PM UTC
....and who are we that Eton,Harrow do not see,
we are the sinking of the sun,the wreck of the S.S Great Britain has come.
Where once we were the universe,rulers of lands and seas,we have been brought down to our knees to slowly, slowly sink.
Drink and drugs the slugs and snails what ails us,do we know?
Council blocks and towers knock us down to build new towns and the green belt gets much tighter,landfills full up to the brim the doors of opportunity are locked,we can't get in,too fat,too thin,old school ties and gold tie pins and who are we?the
disenfranchised and despised by those that do not see the rising tide of poverty.
Those we passed on our way up are those who put a penny in this beggars cup and wave goodbye,the sky has dropped, the horizon dulled,pulled this and that way,can't pay the bills,drink and drugs the only thrills and betting on the three fifteen to race along another pointless dream,
horsemeat in the freezer section,the four fifteen was my selection which fell at the final fence.
Prozac helps us to relax,fuck the council tax and income band just put two blue pills in my hand and make it seem like it's a dream and we're not sinking,what a scream,a film show,I should go and see the launch,exercise to lose this paunch.
Tomorrow I may rise to see my ship Great Britain back at sea or I could stay in bed and thread excuses on a needle,sew myself a sweater,keep the heat in,can't afford electric fires not like those out in the Shires where logs are burnt,money earnt is money burnt in my opinion.
Back to basics,Luddite hills and give me two more small blue pills,put them on the bills of lading,degrading I can do,but you have so much more and it's ship to shore on the radio,rise me hearties off we go,one more mad dash to make some more cash,undeclared that's only fair,
the revenue can go and ***** and spin upon that middle digit,fidgeting?it must be fleas,do fleas get brought down to their knees?
You see,
in this last scramble to the death I ramble on with my last breath,they haven't taxed my fresh air yet but I bet they will,drink and drugs for one more thrill,up anchor as I will at will to drift away into the sinking of just one more day.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:38 AM UTC
The sun set upon this world and in the morning again it rose,
monuments towered the crust, but all life was somehow gone.
Panning through the downtown streets, there were no people in this land.
The ocean depths were devoid of life, and the polar caps lay silently ******
The Vegas strips were dead and still, the lights we know were dim.
New York was a desolate wreck, buildings crumbled and toppled in.
The Statue of Liberty stood tall, queen of all beyond her eyes.
She saw what had happened that fateful night, but she did not blink or cry.
The Eiffel Tower stretched into the heavens, king of all of grand Parí.
The Golden Gate Bridge connected two dead shores, silent as could be.
And what of this lovely place, where Big Ben let his hands tick away?
The world was so deathly silent; his ticking could be heard in Bombay.
There were no fish in the sea; they had perished in the night.
There were no gulls on the beach; hushed were their cries of fright.
There were no mummies in the tombs; the riches they had gone to waste.
There were no people in LA; to a silent crowd it roared and quaked.
There were no ***** in the sand; their scurrying feet were still.
And a pest control had done its work for there were no rats in the landfills.
There were no worms beneath within the earth; no birds to pull them apart.
There were no roaches in the dumps; no crying kids in Wal-Mart.
There were no ants within their dens; no eaters to pry them away.
There were no bacteria within this world; no viruses now, much to their dismay.
The plains were barren; there were no trees, grass, ferns, or weeds.
The tropical forests, the coniferous mountains, all rocky as could be.
And what of this once lovely planet? It spun through time and space.
Once so full of beauty and life, now completely laid to waste.
The Earth stood still as it raced through that void; all life stripped from its crust.
Still it never knew that we were gone, and so it spun finally hushed.
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 11:00 AM UTC
Death be nimble, Death be quick.
Walls of decaying urban brick
rotten scars of surfaced pain
scratched away by city cranes.
Landfills and houses fill the rest
behold the putrid angels nest,
mayors of blind, children of deaf
tongues removed from gifted chef.
Brothers and sisters fade alike
rusted daggers flawless strike
Hearts of lions dull alone
Hard men's withered fingers groan.
Light forsaken in cities dead
plagues of sorrow swiftly spread
today is dying, morrow's sick,
Death be nimble, Death be quick.
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 3:00 PM UTC
'Dutch Bakery' in purpled-neon, lights of the cross-street behind slink outward vis reflection projected unto Liquor Plus, Empire Theatre. Kind and married-typical common law couple with a fellow looking feel-low sits with pack atop his lap, tapping bottom, fidgeting leg. His partner whispers 'shall we go for coffee?' and he seems a little fizzled to respond with 'yes, ha ha, yes!'
They all look tired on the bus and I'm wired on the bus, a psychoactive passion for coffee in all forms the general complicit in my make-up brazier. The fuzzy-muffled image in the dark beyond the moving windows are like ground-level star-scapes hopping from eye-to-eye. No one here can see they're part of the greatest story ever told. Part Ten I etch unto a sketch upon a smartphone, I won't forget this moment and neither will the world. All of them I love, they love me back in some corrupted way. Won't admit the night is bright with kisses and arms up past the hemisphere.
Noting every quick fix is a way of ****** Brooklyn ****** 'MOI-da,' counting ways to be defunct. It's a long day every day, some days are handfuls and others vast oceans wherever. Spliced and shared between the masses, each mass correct of parts who think the masses are a giant individual with a fluctuating waistline depending on the era.
You can't help but come and ask yourself, 'whatever became of me? whatever began in hoping? whoever saw land in site?' before the histories rot in landfills, nothin more than sun-drenched wood-sheets, sketched-out symbols on a saw. and this, and this, and this
and this, my friends, is how the story told itself again
again
again
again
again.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
False mood enhancing pills and miscounted tills
Cracking windowsills and burning windmills
Long forgotten skills and justified kills
Overflowing landfills and spreading chemical spills
Freezing chills and oil-stained gills
Empty grills and shredded hundred dollar bills
Cheap family wills and expensive thrills
Broken Jacks and shattered Jills
All of these **** still.
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
Star Shooter
Why, of course why baby, I can see it in your eyes you can’t live without the star in your life
but it passes by, I guess the star shooters aren’t aiming for your life at this time
and time is all you have, you gaze amongst the clouds waiting for their time to flow away
I guess the pictures they create aint something you care for today
you prefer the brink of the night where light is preserved by milky ways and Hercules
you haven’t seen one move yet but you know you will and when you do you’ll move with it til its still
but the star shooters don’t aim for the landfill of broken feels
so you watch space hold the light still like a vase with daffodils
its beauty is sacrificial as the night heals
tell me how it feels as you waste the time that kills
its the pain that drills your mind, so close to the bottom line
I see the picture in your mind, you feel he’s one of a kind
like the pain you agonize will disappear like the summer flies
but his anger flies by you, you can’t accept the fact he’s bad for you
his personality was the way he was issued, like you subscribed to a life that was made for you
he gon' break your heart again and tell you what you need too
you fall into his trap of thinking he’s a good man
let him convince you’re broken and he’s got what makes you whole again
let him change your perception on love between friends and let him get to you at 2am
let his hands push past boundaries you said he would never cross again
then let his body meet yours and let him tell you its out of love and this what it means to be fulfilled again
so you break your morals while he breaks the floor boards, you broke your promise, while his love was anonymous
you threw your self respect out the way, so he could change your for a day
now your days are limited from the moment he took and ran away
you couldn’t ever convince him to stay
now you sit and stare out your window waiting for the stargazing to shoot one your way
but you haven’t seen one yet but you know it will and when you do you’ll move with it til its still
but the star shooters don’t aim for landfills of broken feels
now your light that was once held still is casting shadows of an image you want to feel
tell me how it feels, the time that kills, is the love still real, or is everything you felt like a shattered vase filled with crushed daffodils
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 3:16 AM UTC
I saw a figure today
Standing Alone
in a world of hate, crime, and
Empty promises.
I cried for this lone being, for he showed me how
to live life in a more
Peaceful
way teaching others how to
Love.
this "someone" is always
Alone.
they speak of how he's a
Burden
how they should cut him down
and let his
Wise
mind rot, in the landfills of today.
will we let him
Die?
are we so cruel of a race as to let others
Perish
for our own benefit?
won't you allow my willow tree to
Thrive
for awhile longer?
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 9:26 AM UTC