"landmass" poems
time and tide waits for none
nor does the soldier of the battle won
swift as the light that pass
the mist crept the landmass
thunder and lightning left out
when the major called out
ahoy! all brave men
the sons of the Ganges terrain
reach out to the far north
where the enemy slept forth
show no mercy for you'l receive none
feel no pain and march as one
here's the ensign to raise up aloft
think of the weary deeds that you've got
let the din of cannon shred
the rhythm to carry you in right tread
never panic when the men grew wear
wave the standard to shook the fear
never misjudge the foe as weak
but remember your oath to our peak
never fall when ponderous struck
never halt when stark strike
fight till your warmth is turned icy
then the hawkish eyes will see
the unbeaten soul stamped on Indian lads
the mortal's robes you 've clad
holds the blessings of thousand
which will retain your soul and
spirit even when the tricolor is laid
on the honored graves made
hold tightly like limpet
till success is met
march brave Indians with gusto
and show them you are a maestro
draw your sword across
to pierce the devil's heart across
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 4:08 AM UTC
*in the land of the white
live too the black men
apparently with equal right
but with covert disdain.*
why couldn't the world be one place
when we are all from common gene
where humanity is the only race
across the color of skin.
*in the land of the black
live too the white men
apparently of the same pack
but on a different plane.*
why couldn't the world be one landmass
when we rose from one origin
where being humane is the only class
across the color of skin.
*in the land of the white
live the white men
among them aren't equal right
exist disparity and disdain.*
why couldn't the world be one unit
when together we all once had been
where brotherhood is boldly writ
across the color of skin.
*in the land of the black
live the black men
among them oneness they lack
the inequalities still remain.*
why couldn't the world be one creed
where mankind lives as one kin
the white and the black can only read
love across the color of skin.
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
Don't call me a volcano,
I don't want to be a volcano!
Sometimes active,
Mostly dormant,
A stiff peak with indigestion,
Birthing igneous isles
across the seas,
Starving for eruption,
Hardening.
Waiting.
Call me a hurricane,
Say it with a tremble.
Never expect me,
Dread my return.
Never dormant,
Always hungry,
Carving my path,
Landmass by landmass,
Conquering, Striding,
Devastating.
Get your facts straight
Before you call me a disaster.
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 1:38 PM UTC
I seen a empty bottle in the trash.
There was also napkins next to the trash.
I wondered how many people use these napkins..
It's stated recycle. Recycle what ? Trees? Regurgitated garbage we eat over and over again ? How do we still have a mountain of trash. Plato and Socrates knew something. Perhaps eject it to space. Maybe we can **** our ozone if we just burn it. Cause earth swallows anything including pasts and futures. Who's in control of Earth's health. Cause we **** on it. And that bottle... Of course is full of **** and vinegar. Release all tension and let's rise to the stratosphere. Floating cities above Earth's gravity.. no pulling of our new system down. Elisium on the moon. Perhaps a ride in a roller coaster to the darkside will thrill you more. Maybe it's not as cold and chilling as we thought.. and Earth's warmth and feelings will make a change like a landmass arise or one to fall..
I've fell many times. Now I've married the other half of my mind.
People climbing out of oceans asking about ships.. but my dreamscape makes me the hero in my pirate flag informaniac boom. Cannons and truth. My voice in thought and control of the room.
I blow horns like harps of trains and riots of mind boggling facts. I am and Lord knows Jesus will help me like a snub nose I tuck. I'll play gangster while my inner ghost fires the bullets..
I'm not violent as what sin runs in his blood. I'm just everything else and it's time I leave after passing and giving peace to my son. His family is mine and we deserve heaven.. same as 144 thousand.. all for order of the Bright Apollo flights and fry minds in a hystaria historical society of terror. Longer days hotter with white out snow. Raining tears and explicit when our children explore.
Yes I ********** .. it's better then the alternative.. making more humans live... rebirth and love now Is in a different narrative.
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 4:24 AM UTC
I am water
homeless,tireless and
yes,I am always free
and this freedom of mine
defines my identity.
During primal times,
when the Earth was violent
and raw lava flowed madly
across the land,I was born
from the dilapidated womb
of Nature to alleviate the
chaos that prevailed.
I suffered,I suffered a lot,
the pain was acute
and the fiery battleground
mocked at my presence,
but then I realized my essence.
That I can rise,above the pain
above the world,above gods even,
to change my destiny as I like.
For I know, in the end all that
would be left off is me and there
lies my deepest secret.
I can engulf the whole of landmass
if I like,rage titanic waves to obliterate
everything in my way,but to what end?
isn't it true that I can bring smile in the
face of a thirsty pilgrim,wash away the pain
of mortals through their tears,nurture the
flowers so that they can bloom with passion.
isn't it true that I have a rare gift to create
life,and so I create,tirelessly and randomly,
each shape and form unique by itself from
where life thrives.Know that I am the only
one who can offer the natural world a sweet
taste of my immortality.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
Hey, I'm not a lumberjack, or a fur trader there's only one pelt I'm interested in....
I don't live in an igloo or eat blubber, or own a dogsled Global warming has taken all the snow away....
and I don't know Jimmy, Sally or Suzy from Canada, i do know Partel, Kareem, Xi Chein and Steve
and they're really really nice.
I have a Prime Minister who is ******** not a president.
I speak English and a little French, not American though we like to mock southern accents...
And I pronounce it 'aboot, not about...
I can proudly sew my country's flag on my backpack along with with motorhead and misfits patches...
I believe in peace keeping, not policing unless you count the G20...
diversity, not assimilation, unless it's the borg...
and that the ****** is a truly proud and noble animal and a bald one is truely a wonder to behold...
A toque is a hat that douchbags wear all year round, a chesterfield is a couch that my dunken friends sleep on,
and it is pronounced 'zed' not 'zee', 'zed' unless its Zebra because Zedbra sounds stupid!!!
Canada is the second largest landmass that can be pilfered by multinational conglomerates!
The first nation of hockey!
and the best part of North America... except vegas!
My name is Josh!!
And I am Canadian!!!
EH?
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
I'd rather
chill in some place
and burn an L
with you,
than let my tongue
get live
in any other
larynx
that never knew your name,
I'd rather
read a bad book
in your name
than a good book
in someone else's,
I know
that I was looking
at a landform
and not a landmass,
a being
more
than a thing,
what I want to know,
is why we leave each other alone
when no one
is an island
and there are no boatless
harbors?
I'd rather capture
your laughs
as I cup my ears,
and your tears
in the stern
of my fears.
I'd rather be
a relic
and possibly
a fuel
rather than
a nautilus
with nothing in its shell
to give.
I've taken the boat out
and the oars
trip up on grass
as I paddle through the bay of the asylum
across lime oceans
contracting scurvy
from too much fertilizer
and not enough fruit.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 8:20 PM UTC
My ancestors (i hesitate to even call them such)
came to this land centuries ago
they came with nothing
hoping to start a new life
but this is not about my proud heritage
not about immigrants following the
American Dream (Nightmare would be more accurate)
No
my ancestors
my White Anglo Saxon Protestant ancestors
descended upon this pristine landmass
like so many parasitic WASPs
injecting their prey (the people, the land) with venom
laying their eggs that would **** the hosts upon hatching
No
my ancestors
who helped perpetrate an ethnic cleansing
the likes of which 20th century fascists could only dream of
did so under the title of Manifest Destiny
divine right
their religion masking opportunistic genocide
No
my ancestors
laid the foundation
for the greatest country in the world
where ALL (White, English, Heteronormative, Cisnormative, Land-owning, Slave-Owning, Women Hating , Native-American-Murdering, Capitalistic, Perverted) MEN are created equal
No
my ancestors
partook in genocide
condoned slavery
oppressed women (and every other divergent identity)
destroyed the environment
and did so with such arrogance
such unheard of righteousness
No
my ancestors
were the lifeblood of America
the lifeblood of oppression
and that blood runs through my veins
the screams of American-Indian Warriors
of African Slaves
of Women labeled Witches and Gays and People of Color and anyone who opposed the hideous behemoth, anyone who dared to be different
their screams echo in my head
and i am ashamed
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
Those of like mind
Stepping down corridors
Toward blurring red signs
Each extrusion an exit
Hapless movement
Containers transported
Memories and anguish
Containers transported
Into meadows of ease
Between trees minus leaves
Nothing but a reflection
Degenerated façade
Ashes vaporized with
Consciousness, my boiling
Water
Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 7:55 AM UTC
Just imagine there are no countries
Instead one big landmass
Where the people live together in ease
Surrounded by peace and harmouny
Just imagine all the people living for today
Creating history everday.
Just imagine sun rising so beutifully
And at night the moon gleaming beutifully in the dark night
Just imagine for one moment
The darkest moment of your life
Lightened by a smile
And more brighten by a smile in reply.
Just imagine every extraordinary innovation
By a life time of preparation
Life is full of decision
Everday the community is developing
Just imagine your self
Flying among clouds
The wright brothers did
And they were right
Just imagine a simple word
That you have never heard
Can change your life
It’s a small world after all
Just imagine your so close
Yet so far for your self to be expose
Make your parents proud
You make god proud.
Just imagine someone knows
Deep inside your heart
How hard you worked
To reach your destined goals
Just imagine you tried your best
Yet you failed even with every step
You gave it all till nothing was left
Seek out the strength within you to victory
Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 10:04 AM UTC
"I wounder what the world would be like from an aerial view.
Laying here on the grass,
On the rich soil,
The breeze carrying the rustic scent of the nearby
Eucalyptus trees.
Why don't we take a trip to the clouds,
I see a dragon there.
You know,
Making shapes with your mind out of the clouds.
It's only necessary,
Other than the usual grass rash.
Those are certainly a nuisance.
Or when you lose sight of your precious dragon.
Well...there goes our ride.
It's okay though!"
Pop up onto your feet.
Look forward.
Well, there really isn't much in front of you,
Besides clouds and other floating landscapes.
You live in the clouds, remember?
Carefully peering over the edge of the floating landmass you reside on,
You take a look down and imagine what it's like down there.
Lush canopies, vast meadows filled with raspberry reds
And vanilla yellows.
Dandelions rustling carefully,
As the wind carries them to their next destination.
Where they'll make use of their surroundings,
To flourish once more and carry on their subtle legacy.
"I want to be like a dandelion seed,
Flowing seamlessly through the air;
Carelessly carrying my legacy."
You think to yourself.
If only you had wings,
Then you could certainly pull it off.
Let the air carry you,
Caress you, delicately;
As if you were glass fighting gravity as you dropped towards...
Not inevitable shatter, oh dear no.
Simply to float unto the soil of the imaginary landmass at the bottom
Of the drop.
A dream drop.
Falling through the clouds,
Seemingly eternal, the drop I mean.
Then you notice you're falling,
And it feels weightless and beautiful.
You reach your hand out in front of you,
As if the orb of light before you was the size of a dove.
A dove.
Soft and smooth,
Their feathers may be.
Stroking slowly in an up and down motion,
Caressing every feather between your fingertips.
Feeling the gentle heartbeat and warmth of the bird,
Gazing at your with it's powerful green eyes.
"What am I doing?"
You think to yourself, in the midst of your fall.
You open your eyes once more to find yourself
On what seems to be a cloud.
Your hand outstretched, caressing something soft
Like a dove.
Only to find yourself holding a fairy,
Gleaming in iridescence.
Softly giggling to yourself,
You roll out of bed.
Taking one more glance
At your little teddy bear resting on the pillow beside where you were.
A pendant open,
Revealing this fairy.
She's certainly,
One of a kind.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
I angle my upper body forward from my reclined seat back,
To gaze through three panes of a frosty porthole,
To view a blanket of lights on darkened earth.
But they're below me, I'm distanced.
I'm thirty thousand feet in the air.
Incandescent highways splinter and mend like aimless root networks,
Funneling wingless fireflies like worker ants. And I, here,
Hoping your luminescence is, too, wandering to your hive or elsewhere,
Hoping against hope that you notice me in transit.
Though I'm thirty thousand feet from anyone else.
At least, but likely closer to the distance between our moon and sun,
Hurdling through galaxies at the speed of super-sound,
Sure that even at the end of space, past comets and nebulase,
That even if I get turned around,
I'm thirty thousand feet from anyone else.
As the lights ebb and dim from outside my window panes,
Gradually giving way to blackened earthly landmass,
I will recline my seat slightly and rest my eyes,
Hoping the steady burn of the plane's fog lights guides you,
Thirty thousand feet closer to where you need to be.
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 10:20 PM UTC
*You've healed me in more ways than any drug could...
sealed most of the cracks on my broken heart
without leaving spaces like an artist does fine pottery
you've freed my chains and rescued me from self-slavery
but still stretched and touched the depths none could ever reach...
restored the courage that I once possessed...
and made a man out of that little boy I was
I'm a knight in shining armour overcoming my wars
because of you, you've showed me the roads I never knew existed
exposed a spectral beauty of the world I could never see
and rescued me from totally drowning in fantasy
You've helped reality and I come to terms after a long time
and seasoned my happy poems with spices of rhythm and rhyme
you've helped me cross the many unstable bridges
and to the broken doors of opportunity nailed new and stronger hinges
you've brought an aura of peace to my soul, the moon and the stars
I'm bleeding naught in love for most of my wounds are scars
you've loved me even better than my mother did
firmly held my hand and led me out of the dark caves I was hid
and propagated a light finer than all illumination,even the sun
you've given me wings and even cautioned me not to burn
like Icarus did fatally flying too close to the magnetic sun
you've taken my heart, filled every canyon and gaping hole
and I'm remorseful for believing the broken don't whole
you've showed me kindness above the good Samaritan level
connected the island I was to the landmass of your affection
and kicked out the cold of loneliness with warmth and real attention
like no one could,above all you've fostered my survival
you've heard the loud whimper in the silence of my shout
and answered my questions beyond the point of doubt
you're the Angel even those in paradise wish they can be
sadly the universe and destiny sit right between you and me
albeit I can't savour your seemingly sweet scent, my heaven sent
you have always felt closer to me than any attire of mine
for your kindness sparkles brighter than any star will ever shine
and you're beyond the normal lass in any lad's dream
yet this isn't close to being the reason I love you,creme del a creme
my love for you is beyond the measure of human reasons
beyond mortal seasons, and what's more?my love's incapable of treason*
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 4:23 AM UTC
the Übermensch anomaly was short-lived
in Europe, it was never going to be an
idea with a survival instinct for longevity
in Europe, just like Copernicus became
defamed by Galileo...
the Übermensch idea was prescribed to America,
what with their Superman and Batman,
and Spiderman... Nietzsche didn't
include America for a reason, you could
speak of Emerson as the zenith of American
intellectual output as the reason,
but that's hardly a reason...
tourists to the Caribbean will know,
Americans think they're super-human...
i hate the American accent, it's like a mosquito
buzzing in my ear, i just call them
the spaghetti swindlers of tongue, gluttonous
harp players... and because Nietzsche didn't
mention America, America is his most fertile
and therefore most arable landmass...
i mean... Nietzsche reached pop culture status,
just because he didn't mention American culture
in his writing... and that's how the Americans
see themselves, the righteous inheritors of
the post-Nazi mindset... Übermensch Staaten Amerika...
hence the reason they're on the gold medal leader boards
at the Olympics... i.e. if those ******* aren't doped
then i'm doped...
not doping athletes makes chemists redundant,
dope the whole lot of them, let's make it fair.
yes, i know it should have been written as staaten,
but i like my diacritical arithmetic, and given the
umlaut, i count that as a hidden extra a... so from
staaten into stäten;
oh yeah... and **** your "perfect" teeth;
or the Penguin cover for Philip K. Dick's
man in the high castle, the red & white stripes
with 50 swastikas.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 8:21 PM UTC
The wind is a slack freeze billowing
across the low structures of the ferry
as it floats indelibly towards the coastal
island landmass once known as Quadra
and Vancouver's Island, now maintaining
only the former prefix as if either dub of
the landscape was a 'fix' at all. There is a
Canadian flag tangling with itself in the cold,
wound around a metal cable wire on the top sun
deck reserved for smokers avoiding the crisp air
for the formaldehyde devil they already know.
Waves ripple through the fabric flag above and
the fabric water below, both tossed by the same
heavenly forces forever wafting throughout the
globe as if all the steam ever boiled never truly
left the biosphere nor converted back into liquid
but instead became yet another one of many
unforeseen
byproducts
of our
oh-so human
participation
in
existence;
yet another
one of many
unforeseen
consequences
left to ring in
our ears til we
cease as observers,
thus ceasing to
observe.
“It is above as it is below”
and
“there is no difference between
the observer and the observed.”
Not my thoughts, nor I doubt
anyone's thoughts
in particular.
Snow dusts the caressed peaks,
valleys, and crevices of the
Pacific Coastal mountain range,
each geological mound standing
shoulder-to-shoulder looking
across the withered liquid mounds
in quicker motion atop the Georgia
Strait below as if watching a child
relative playing with new toys
received on
Christmas morning.
I have no words
adequate enough
to express all this
beauty.
All I can do
is help you
read my mind
and hope
my
wordless words
equal
poetic telepathy.
The wind is still a slack freeze as I exit the ferry.
There's no one here but all of us,
hello!
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
suddenly, and with incredible momentum, times changed
evidence of the past was soon to be forgotten
oceans evolved into landmass
rivers flowed uphill creating waterupfalls
mountains eroded in reverse gaining magnitude and significance
Toilet paper turned into sand
what is the reason
will this paradox ever be solved
it happened, can it reverse back
oh wait, that's what a paradox is
Brian Hill - 2020 # 77
Mar 17, 2020
Mar 17, 2020 at 11:01 AM UTC
There's a hint of melancholy left in my breath,
a hint of cold in the summer
It's staples of nourishment that has lighted
pathways to salvation,
lighted pathways to safety and a distance from chaos
places like this on the horizon and a day's sail further
exist in a iridescent dream in my recollection
Islands of landmass proportions that rival the wonder of planetary revelations and celestial events that streak through the sky,
float among the ocean currents along side the ring of fire
The children of the Pacific remember these fiya skies and
praise those little portions of stardust lingering on the breeze
that create it.
The saline air collects in my lungs
beautiful coastlines with saltwater clouds 100 meters above the cliffs are home to those that ride on air gusts
they nest with their young hidden in caves a ways above the pristine and rugged rock face
the sun hits them quietly to warm and she leaves them the cooler at dusk on the ridge
Children of the Pacific all know this to be truth,
we established this fact through generations of life
It is how we ensure our survival as a people,
It is community collected lessons that we feed on and digest daily, to share this with the world is our privilege and responsibility,
one that we take seriously...
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 9:22 AM UTC
Beaches are created when currents force sand
and various other sediments
across offshore rock formations,
resulting in erosion
and slumping along the edge of the landmass.
When monitoring the shoreline from an elevated point
at the correct angle,
one can readily observe the land rolling
back out beneath the waves
each evening.
In the mornings when the waves recoil,
strangers are generated with a frequency
of intermediate
to large cities.
Alive.
Human.
Could end up one,
and not the other.
Work cut out
to keep from abandoning both.
No point in making it if there’s nothing left
when you get there.
When survivors get caught smiling
we don’t believe them.
For they had something, now gone.
No matter how much loved, hated, or bickered.
All that’s left now is blood,
and sand.
Each day does not hurt the same,
but then not every day hurts different either.
The gruesome ballet continues on
and the weight really starts to drop off.
There’s all the makings for it to rain.
But it won’t.
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 2:07 AM UTC
I was born in Africa
A sweet but bitter home
Crafted out in beauty and splendor.
A place by nature
Dash in wealth and bliss
Yet, it's ruined by monumental penury.
A place that has fallen into the rut of laziness,
Having fertile acres and hectares
Yet, starvation knows its name -
billowing: "Africa, Africa"
Oh, what a pity!
Africa is where
I was born
A continent that has its glorious hope
Held by the uncertain hand of fate
Authoring for it a very sad story.
A continent full of heads
That are conquered by the West
Heads that are void of positive thoughts for their continent.
Africa, Africa, Africa
Oh, it is a landmass that's venerable
Virtually every border in it
Is opened to deadly sicknesses
like ears unclosed to good news.
Africa is tagged
"POVERTY-STRICKEN CONTINENT"
But this is the place I was born.
Here, we hail thieves
Here, impunity thrives
Here, we celebrate deceivers
Here, the complexion of our skins reflects the color of our minds.
Black, black, black
Here, we don't think positively
Here, ignorance befriends our minds
And so, our minds are used against us
As the greatest weapons of our oppressors.
Ah, but this is the place
I was born: Africa!
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 10:17 AM UTC
Each full rotation of wheels,
Like screws,
At sixty mile per hour,
Serve to crank and coil,
Until the arm reaches for a cigarette,
Roaring across a scenic landmass,
Oblivious to its picturesque landscapes,
Alive to fear and war,
A fight for space most near one's core,
The motor coach speeds,
But the mind, it races.
Past experience spy-hopping from the deep,
No rolling hill,
Or tropical palm,
Can disengage such focus,
Cure the self.
Curse myself.
The chaos beaten down with effulgences of affirmation,
Like bubbles of light emerging from a tar pit,
Fueling this crusade,
For something good.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
Less than a drop in an ocean
than a molecule
than a single explosive atom
in an ocean
in an abyss
in a universe.
More than a landmass for a billion bacteria
a colossal energy machine
a life-giving, life-taking sun
a universe
an abyss
Just enough to be
human.
Jan 22, 2025
Jan 22, 2025 at 5:45 AM UTC
I don’t want to miss my morning kiss
The bliss that strikes when I feel your lips
The warmth your body brings to mine
The composure you instill into my mind
Being addicted sounds wonderful
When the drug is molded into you
The effect upsettingly powerful
I can’t seem to have enough, can you?
Am I being foolish, now?
Am I unconsciously only gazing at the surface
To avoid thinking about what’s actually happening deep down?
Is the drug rather love and you my methadone?
The only treatment I need, my antidote
To a disease I would recommend
To anyone, man or woman
I could be lost anywhere
Be deprived of a map or compass
Alone somewhere on this restless landmass
Food or drink would be nothing but secondary
I would have only one priority,
I'd know where to go,
I’d find a way,
It’d be easy.
Feb 28, 2021
Feb 28, 2021 at 3:17 PM UTC
The necrophilia
obsessed landmass
consuming those of latent movements.
Just consumed
touched upon over time
intimate details decayed within its touch,
I'm standing on a graveyard of pasts.
My hands as a child played in their essence
this tome of a world
where the living
play upon the reflections of deceased memories.
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 6:33 AM UTC
oh, because i'm callus -
which means half a continent
is worth missing;
and the random *****
and the tired buckle of
feminism... because i
swear that's how you
get your girlfriend and
your third wife...
to ********* and
assure you
as more than just
a Chinese peasant at
your job;
which you aren't,
which you will never be.
fancy being the one investing in
cabbage... looks like
you're the idiot after-all:
till the ******* landmass!
oh no, wait, you won't,
you'll just wait for the Lithuanians,
only because you think
your people are oh so special....
they are... as doughnuts;
so much for having detergent,
so much for having clarity,
so much for having thought,
every day i wish i wasn't here...
every, single, day...
**** my dumb strength to
be fed the residual.
thus came: y attache j
as =.
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 8:21 PM UTC