"nullified" poems
Stricken by the absence of color,
and the absence of rainbows that once sung to me.
Nullified and numbed by the irrationality of my ego,
and my hatred for sanity.
These are punctured wounds by the hands of the stained glass,
as this shattered hourglass speaks gibberish to me.
I'll take all the blame,
it was all my fault anyways.
As if my world wasn't trippy enough,
the only thing standing in my way is you.
So let violence sing one last time...
Scream for me poetry.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
The tenderness as they described it is circumnavigating more than the ******* and the roundness of my protruding *******
Perhaps by tenderness of the breast, what they really mean is tenderness of the soul and the emotions one hurriedly tucks under the crevices of their *****
If one imagines how ******* are anything but tender, with their ferocity of nurturing life and their wholly encompassing nature to weigh and weigh and weigh
Weight carried by a mother,
Shed off by her daughter,
Caressed by the one she lies with in the crevice of her soul and the gap between twin XL bunk beds and walls full of picture of people who no longer weigh her down
It's the feeling of nostalgia and nostalgia feeling this tenderness growing from one's *******
Growth of the ***** of life as a life imagined is destroyed, nullified, kaput.
But most of all she feels nostalgia.
Nostalgia for the people whose tenderness she felt,
Nostalgia yes for her brother and grandmother cloaked in love around her neck like crystals from an iridescent silver clasp
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
1279
The Way to know the Bobolink
From every other Bird
Precisely as the Joy of him—
Obliged to be inferred.
Of impudent Habiliment
Attired to defy,
Impertinence subordinate
At times to Majesty.
Of Sentiments seditious
Amenable to Law—
As Heresies of Transport
Or Puck’s Apostacy.
Extrinsic to Attention
Too intimate with Joy—
He compliments existence
Until allured away
By Seasons or his Children—
Adult and urgent grown—
Or unforeseen aggrandizement
Or, happily, Renown—
By Contrast certifying
The Bird of Birds is gone—
How nullified the Meadow—
Her Sorcerer withdrawn!
6k
Confined to eternal asphyxiation
They live a suffocated existence
No hope to regain what they took for granted
They showed no regard for earth, air, or water
This polluted wasteland, their planet
They cannot love each other anymore
Their punishment is solitude and xenophobia
What privileges they had, once upon a time
Affection and love, and interpersonal immersion
Now doomed, forever, to be alone
In this world destroyed by greed, desire, and lust
For power, the human beings atone,
They do not deserve to be alive, let alone
To walk aware of their wrongdoings
They should have been erased
I would have loved to be the executioner
Of billions sinful, lying, cursed, wretched,
Vile, incessant, promiscuous, vicious, insidious,
Slimy, wily, evil creatures humans are
Instead I have become their saviour
I feel no pity or sympathy for the Devils
They became in exchange of their materialism
I see them walk in masses of melancholy, loneliness
As I once did for which they showed no regard for me
And heartless, I ignore their silent cries for help
You are sentenced to life in prison, one like no other
Free to live in a society which shows more confinement
Than any man-made cell or coffin
Elements you took for granted shall be stripped away
Your sinful quest for immortality has led you accordingly
It is forbidden to breathe the air you polluted,
Drink the water you tainted, eat the fruits of the earth you destroyed
Your senses will be nullified and your spirits
Crushed as this planet was insufficient
For your corrupted existence .
Dec 3, 2009
Dec 3, 2009 at 11:38 AM UTC
A mirror is never just your reflection,
My mother once said
The mind has this devilish way of
Twisting
Things around
Making then a lot more or a lot less
That what stands before me
Suddenly
My face isn't my face anymore
Instead
I stare blankly at a blueprint
Society itself has hand-sketched
For me.
Post-it's on where things had gone wrong
Scribbles on things I needed less of
Highlighters on places I needed
Brighter brights
Thinner thins
And I just stood there
Watching
As these self-proclaimed architects
Unraveled
The plans they had for a body that wasn't theirs.
Accepting
The new rooms they had drawn next to the ones that already existed,
The ones that were always there
The ones I made a home out of,
The mole on my ear
That never seemed out of place
Until,
The impact of a critical post it told me so.
The place where my thighs met
I've always ignored,
Assuming I was normal
But the scribbles that
Begged
For less of me,
Proved otherwise.
The marks of stretched skin
I considered battle scars over a few calories at a buffet table
Nullified
By society's architects
Disapproved
As if it were up to them
Invalid
Like human came in the form of overruns
But I stare at this blueprint that suggests to change me from
Floor to floor
Head to toe
And wonder
If the one who owns the lot in which I am
Wonder
If He wanted to change me anymore than them
If He liked the original rooms
More than the ones carved to fit the trends
If He wanted me to ignore the architects
And the drafts of copies
And copies
And copies
Of different versions of me
Didn't He want me to accept the mirror for who I am?
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
In the glimpse of the hovering nightfall
When thee haste, being terrified
The manwolf craves to see the moonlight
from the crevices of the skies
In the glimpse of the incoming blizzard
Thee run across the moors
Only to find yourself
trapped within the mighty doors
In the glimpse of the shattering light
That shines across the Alps; so bright
Thee love to gaze through thy panes
as it briefly begins to drizzle, to rain
So terrified, mortified and nullified it seems
Shivering through the ghastly dream
Felt within to be untrue once
But alas! Woke up to find myself in the midst of one,
holding my darling’s hand, step on step; we dance.
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC
It's torture,
The way that he stalks her,
Mina, Mina,
Like some childish chant,
He calls her name,
We chant too,
Master, master, notice us,
Love us, want us, worship us,
Because we worship you,
And I have seen seasons pass in an unblinking eye,
How can I sleep when you are always awake?
Entertaining guests in the parlour room,
My pallor turns deathly when you speak her name,
Your next engagement is the chill in my tomb,
The fear I feel in her heartbeats makes my teeth hurt,
They turn into fangs with the bitterness I spit,
When you take her throat, I see red,
But I cannot admit these things to my absent soul,
By you I am vilified,
Like Christ I'd rather be crucified,
My wedding dress you nullified,
Let light stream in and burn me alive,
Burn me dead,
After aeons since the first I thought this bond was unbreakable,
1, 2, 3, women you have guided into your hell,
Still your thirst is unslakeable,
- But what did I expect?
Denn die Todten reiten schnell.
(Translation: Because the dead travel fast.)
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
Arrow upon arrow the stricken heart endured,
Strife and doom its woeful dream ensured.
Vile phantoms of creed with deception en route
Intended to thwart, unveil their wicked fruit.
Satan had withered our spirit's joy and flame,
And gathered an earthly militia; among those to blame.
A maze he encrypted, the heir's light yet unseen,
All prospects stolen, great efforts wiped clean.
Creative their mind twilight art they presented,
The Sphere's evil hosts all reflected and resented.
Lost was all hearing, faith and sight,
Misplaced sense of wonder and good sense in flight.
"I worship nothing!" His heir once preferred,
Such was the spirit in high degrees deterred.
"Paragons of justice, will I ever get to see
The day my misfortunes cease to be?
They shadow, entrap and starve my soul
Of love and joy and all control!
So tired I am, and tired I shall stay
If purpose here is merely to convey
No purpose at all, except for one:
To enslave the soul, casting punishment for fun.
My simple wish, then, is simply to impart
An end to this misery and to my sanctioned heart."
His despairing heir put in motion so
An idea most frightening, its telling shall forego...
Immerse in their demise, allow for stricken grief,
Then foresee the King's love and His graciousness in fleet.
He gathered around, with love He replaced
Satan and his minions conspiring in space;
The King broke off the heir's chains with great might,
He enlightened our spirit, who had not known the light.
The heir's desperate cries reached The King's vibrations,
He released the heir and nullified all limitations.
Profound divine wisdom our heir now espies;
Seeing The King's glory and the through destroyer's lies.
Great wisdom and revelation now fill this mended heart,
But it's a tale best left for another form of art...
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
I've bent my mouth up to my ear
Believing in the stuff belief is made of
Milk replaced by silky biers
Losing my fingers to the Barren Baron Dove
Hurts to admit I'm stealing away
A curly knife held to my ear
Simple, crimpled, waning days
Throw unto the heart of the pier
Lark and tumble
Bark and fumble
Still those tired eyes of dust
I have found the beveled rhythm
Among the pristine clouds of rust,
Entropy's daily rhythm
Wake away the roaring morning
Rising heat in waxing dawn
Spend the many days adorning
The beating pulse of the fawn
Stupefied, nullified
Numb and in crumbs
A stump to the vein
A lump of sweetened pain
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
Sometimes when I rise out of the nebulosity of my ego, I can see dead leaves on the ground.
Above I feel formless, Uncrippled by any precursing contingencies.
Disturbances are nullified by the rising and falling of my breath.
I am no longer a keeper of anything.
I feel as I've been left to float inside a vacuum that requires the complete disassociation from anything that I have ever known.
Everything here is gentle, && welcomed.
vibrant and healing.
perplexing to those that aren't ready to let go, salvation for the many who are.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
Eat.
Study.
Pray.
Top.
Everything else is rendered nullified and voided.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
he goes searching for love in the wrong ways
guided in directions by bedsheets and lost
by indulgence in the temporary
decadence and narcissism
-
a mapless journey lead in the retrospected
direction of peer fulfilled gratification,
met already past the point of no return
by a social gathering of perceptions
and conceptions towards a tangible
reason
-
the smell of sweat,
consecutive exhales and inhales
pinpoint reminders after the fact,
held tight by only bedsheets,
watching her get dressed
pulling what she wore out
that night over a coiffure
of tangled penitence
as it rises above the
neck of her shirt
-
sitting admit the marrow
of vision lies an exiting
woman, usually
brown hair, sometimes blonde,
behind the marrow lies thoughts
of penance that digs and widens
the crevice of perception
deeper and deeper
-
at times of stagnant intimacy,
intimacy that redefines ephemeral,
retrospected notions replay
and stain the mind of
women,
usually brown hair,
sometimes blonde
-
by this time
he rode the the wrinkles
on the bedsheets too far
destined to temporarily
subside the loneliness,
only to find out in the present
that the destination reached
has a population so nullified
that where he came from
was far better off.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
Ocean waves lapping the shore.
Everything faded out leaving only the crash tsssshhhhhh of the waves nullified in the sand.
Drowned in the rhythmic arrangement.
Coconut trees in the distance rubbing leaves like the supporting instruments on this beach orchestra.
And then there was you.
And me.
With only the moon over head.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 7:48 AM UTC
I am sorry for what we have done to you
I mourn the loss of your short lives, nullified for our barbaric arrogance and gluttony
Your children taken to meet the same fate as you
Your bodies eviscerated, never knowing the hand of compassion or a ray of sunshine
There are no merciful abattoirs
No red barn with it's open doors, and no motherly blue sky
There is only brutal indifference
Mechanized slaughter
The lies we tell our children and ourselves will breed this hell on earth into our legacy
And we who see ourselves distinct from beasts prove with our actions otherwise
This is not food
This is war on the sanctity of being
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 11:03 AM UTC
Like old
mean beetles,
like old
men in battle,
like egos: solid anvils,
like families: lethal weapons,
like these: them,
begotten sons
who begat daughters
of a land, of a bordered plot
on the globe, the dirt,
the house, the property
which begot
them
both,
these two
bitter enemies
from two
separate places,
furiously blaze,
as the time
for darkness,
is far
from arrived.
And the sun
quakes,
in its heat
rippling sights
and
knocking particles,
which deter the next
knocked,
and which enforce
the continued sensation of
warmth
continued,
of aversion
continued,
rising,
screened,
for its impeccable quality,
against
nobody in
general or
specific
to announce, or to gain
against
consequences, which are
soothsaid
in time,
nullified.
Partners afflicted will be less opportunistic
and more egalitarian,
but are sworn,
like the sun,
against the monotony,
of repetition,
of indistinct days;
like these:
them,
the enemies,
they
are
engaged,
aged,
unteachable
and
spoiled.
They are always
immersed
in
vexed
states,
always in competition.
Hope
is
the
souls
united
never again
as much
as the static,
single dimension,
alone,
impeccable,
impossible,
for its possibility
is drawn by He
who
spews forth
lumens
next to card sharks and Amazons, knowing these
will have to suffice, having no escape
from the projected
source
of energy.
The metal heads
of garden rakes,
weapons
thrown
at devils
in the sweltering heat
of hell,
the Inferno
that holds a
first-person
point of view,
a dream, alongside
superheroes, allied,
but who are,
nevertheless,
without their unique
and exceptional powers,
pros and willing deviants
from the celibacy,
the weight,
the unoriginal paint
that collides
in
each
stroke,
making what
appears
null,
and the array
but one,
and supposed,
so that then
are the weary
and soulful mergers
which corrupt
and meander throughout,
polluting,
as
it
were,
the tranquility,
the wrenched service,
of the destined
machine,
of a million
trajectories,
homespun threads,
woven
into
a
million
miserable
microfibers,
unanswered
queries
that were
held back
in
fear,
and
were
never
asked,
and remain
even
now
sorry.
Jan 17, 2010
Jan 17, 2010 at 7:49 AM UTC
Do I dream of you, fair maiden?
You who brought warmth to a cold heart,
Calloused, writhing in disdain,
When neither mountain nor visions
Could soothe the emptiness and sharks
Swimming freely in the temporal ocean.
Yes, fair maiden, I do dream of you,
And I would trade all thoughts and all moments,
For but another glance from your eyes.
What radiance you saw in me, I myself could never see
And even now it is hidden, veiled,
But holding your favor, if only for an instant,
Nullified the demons, and unveiled the face of God.
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 4:58 PM UTC
Clouded formation of inner color control mechanism
System synesthesia pulsing eyes and dull surroundings
Float in gently woven tapestries that make the atmosphere
Dig into a solidified and nullified enigma
Decisions though no comprehension brought to life like a golem
The line that I cross between focused and lost has me open
Smooth and calm status accepted and enjoyed
Fellow interlocutors debate and compare wisdom
Rowdy and open to suggestion, I share freely
Less inclined to anxious thoughts
Like spiders creeping in the dark
Mysterious and unfamiliar persons are simply characters
As I weave a tale after my own interests
Nothing to fear in a world where I am capable
My guests are strewn about
The ruckus scattered and cluttering
Thumping walls of a thought tank desperate
Hydrate-Revive-Rejuvenate
Rebuild by burning like a forest fire
Cycles become me sadly
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 5:33 AM UTC
As I lay dying from across the room, bleeding from across my heart.
I said I swear, I hope to die.
Didn't know you'd consummate my request.
With strained, staring eyes and with my last will I reach to you.
Back demolished, lungs collapsed, brow furrowed, hand imbrue with my A positive evolutionary force.
Drip.
And drip.
Hand, now algid, now violaceous.
Can't. Engage. Muscle memory. Rigidity.
My limbs are limp, my last sacrifice for you.
I never told you that I can see your soul, your aura.
In this very second, as I lay fixated on your glaring portals, your broken windows, I am the one who procures this victory.
Because even though my mortal being is becoming nullified at the expense of your hand...
It was me who broke your heart.
It was my touch that pirated your soul and you will die.
Your energy will never be able to speak another's name again.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 3:23 AM UTC
Off to dinner tonight,
This is starting off like a journal entry
I often wonder if I'm meant for someone else
Here
In this world
Or is it bigger than that?
Dinner tonight
Not romantic
Far from it
Discernment
Priesthood
And please don't mention *** scandal
Solo until the day I die
That's what I'm looking at
But my scope is so...
Narrow
So...
Earthly
Instead of a father of offspring
A father of peoples
A father of the church
A person who can set people towards a righteous path
But let's be honest,
I'm far from righteous.
I talk a good talk
But my walk is a sad limp
I pray before I eat,
But "forget" in the hustle
and bustle of work and life
If Christ is supposed to be my center
I'm way off target
Another god seems to follow me
Another trip to Target
I'm consistently surrounded by choice
In the day to day
But instead of choosing right
I go with **** what the haters say"
I could have bleeped that out, you know
Nullified it,
But I'd rather be raw
And let you see that side of it
This is serious business,
and no less a journal entry
I tried to change it into poetry
but I'm way off target
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
The national pride is nullified by the constant buzz of shores
being broken down and beaten with patrol boats
scouring the waves for lame boats carrying
malnourished passengers to a land of plenty.
With searchlights and stern rugged faces
blue uniformed and well fed, border patrol
scout out the weary travellers braving the high seas
and sharks to find a safe heaven in some hidden cove.
Pest control is serious business. Unlucky to be caught
and housed in centres with rationed food and worn clothes
herded into bare camps, often deported back
to home turf, the pest control cycle continues.
Take heed. A nation is built on pests., working hard, saving
every cent, running against the clock, against government agencies, starved and poor, defeated in justice, welfare,
community, papers, education and livelihood, slinking through
alleyways of paper networks, low paid, often beaten and bruised
packed in housing crates, stacked storeys high, nation building
begins at the journeys first step away from regimes too busy amassing wealth and wonder for themselves.
Nation builders are the pests you want. The pests you spend your money to keep away from your own backyard
for a vote for safety.
Pin up a country that did not grow without these
masses of refuge pests?
Not one.
Author Notes
Migrants are nation builders. Check it out.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
The blackboard
I often ask myself when
When it was that it started to end
My greatest fear realized
Clouded judgement
Forgiveness , loyalty ,
Love
Like a wand made out of porcelain
Chalk
Filling the blackboard with memories
Moments , blocks , and bricks
That formed the horizon that was
"Us "
For everything my love , is , was
You
But slowly ,
The wings of chaos makes its presence
Unveiling what lay beneath my love stuck conscious ...
Maybe it was the time you lied to me for the very first time ?
Maybe it was when you were unfaithful ?
The only loyalty you showed was for your own self preservation
Instance by Instance ,
The pieces of the picture nullified,
Erased .
All the un answered odes
Empty calls
Under appreciation ,, met with a pre occupied heart
Or a wintry response
Slowly the slate surface of the blackboard pushes through the cloudy remnants if the "rubbed out"moments we had
Forgiveness , met with a cold heart
And a pile empty sorry's
For her heart, has become as hard, and cool as the blackboard itself
And now it is an ashen pile of clouds
A remnant trail from the eraser
As " we"
Slowly faded away .......
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
A prejudice, an assumption
Devil is black and black is Evil,
White is Pure and so is your navel.
And in there I lie helpless,
A pit of flesh where my solitude rest,
White lies and Black Apathy,
A perfect mixture of hyper sanity.
A tunnel vision directed, Focused and justified,
A reason, bottom line, nullified.
We need to stretch every strands of time,
to review each present and presence of mind.
once heaven is touched by the hands of god,
it'll rain bullets from the skies above.
And then there was Red.
A scythe and a knife,
an eagle beheaded,
and a blood red river ravaging,
thundering, rumbling. . .
and then god finally created silence.
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 10:28 AM UTC
karl marx wrote in 1844 once i have money i am no longer bound by my individuality i am ugly but i can buy for myself the most beautiful women therefore i am not ugly for effect of ugliness its deterrent power is nullified by money did you hear what he said? i am ugly but i can buy the most beautiful woman written over 150 years ago but it’s still true women are commodities slaves provider has too much money used to getting his way wants control yet intended outcome is reversed recipient grows sick of accommodating provider’s demands eventually no *** nobody wins how many gorgeous women are lonely untouched longing? truth is provider is too insecure to allow possibilities experiment ok you be the man ok let’s both be the man woman whatever we live in primitive time karl again if money is bond binding me to human life binding society to me binding me nature man is not money bond of all bonds? can it not dissolve and bind all ties? is it not therefore universal agent of divorce? women get to point where they just expect cheating betrayal beatings i don’t understand how does a person believe that’s how life is explain inversely if you really want a guy treat him like **** this **** has been drilled into us hard-wired ingrained deep down in our psyches even long after you were gone i was still doing stuff trying to please you
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 8:37 AM UTC