"obliterating" poems
I gaze into my crystal ball, discern amidst the haze
A world so far removed from that of now, it would amaze,
Where catapulting incidents collide like billiard *****
And sense defies belief as renaissance makes the calls.
Blueprints fresh from Internet supply the suitcase blast
Where the terrorist’s, simultaneously, ignite in cities cast
From Moscow to New York, Beijing to Berlin
Gay Paree to London town then way out east again,
Budapest, Jerusalem Calcutta burning all
And Tokyo is levelled in a ghastly nuclear pall.
Kneejerk reaction triggers contrails in the blue
Crisscrossing all the continents obliterating through
An overkill so vicious that in seconds it is past
And the living cling in horror, bearing witness… aghast.
Restraints are erased as the opportunists dash
Flotillas from the Spratleys sprint to occupy and cash
In on the minerals, oil and potential food supplies
Of uncontaminated nations found beneath Pacific skies.
Hindi, Jew and Muslim settle scores bereft with years
Of resentment accrued in a flood of blood and tears.
A sudden realisation of immensity of loss
Curtails the destruction in retrenchment across
The habitable outposts, the dearth of supply
And the daunting prospects of a nuclear winter sky.
Global collapse of all electronic gear
No power, no phones, and no cars now…for years.
Electromagnetic impulse put paid to all that
And the day is as dark as the cold night is black.
And here all we sit, in the here and the now
On the verge of catastrophes’ teetering tower,
With a fools pudgy finger just inches above
The nuclear button…and all that we love.
……You fear the insanity, sense the insane
Knowing that people like this are holding the reign?
Knowing that volatility strikes
Like the shot of a gun and the ****** of a knife.
I don’t have the answers to hand
But someone out there, knows how…and can.
The sands of time are running thin
URGENTLY needed a LEADER...to WIN!
M.
Planet Earth
6 March 2019
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 12:46 AM UTC
people **** people
with nothing but fingers and hair
and their very heavy breath.
their breath like a crow beak
before crucifixes of straw. like a tightening banishment of a lung.
remember when we would blow it
onto our car window and create that
consistent mirth of fog to
begin in?
the bodies riddled with bullets that flank
the highway are no such thing.
the schoolchildren lying face down in the corner of the closet are no such thing.
they are just winter coats with schoolchildren to fill them
for the time being.
no amputation of what’s mine
will aid them into the grave.
no mass communication grief. so
why would you call it a mass grave when in truth it was just a pit i dug to fill with crowds of people who died under the pretense that they had previously done so,
that nothing was new under the sun.
and when people **** people like people
do with their instruments
as ways of extending themselves into the world and into the marrow of our body
obliterating organs of people with their stretching of the muscular rib, shoulder.
one eye closes firmly.
it’s nothing but a hand gun
as if to say a hand eats the gun
and makes it whole.
as if to say the reinforced metal door
exit plan for people who are being killed by other people clicked shut and locked
15,000 years ago and i can’t quit slamming what’s left of me into it.
your kid is very dead.
but then again so is mine.
suppose they killed each other.
suppose they both made the mistake of dragging their small, stupid bodies through the trajectory of another body in the first place. in the chip aisle of a gas station maybe. in theaters this christmas.
in the midst of a good song that began playing on the lobby radio
just a minute before,
oh yeah before,
things really got going.
i saw people killing people
on television the other day
with their
whole bodies,
devouring themselves like surgical gloves
slick with oiled consumption
and bleeding out
and i could do nothing.
some kids died just because
and they told me so and i was told nothing could ever help them because they were just people and they were dying.
“breaking news” ended up just being people again.
in those moments, i was eating breakfast.
our houses were very quiet and needed me in all of them, grandfather clock over CNN, clarifying what has already been
committed and committed again.
the cipher was others lost blood.
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 12:24 AM UTC
The intolerable cold wind had sprung out,
obliterating anything on its passage.
The hours Spent outside felt more extenuated as you walked on.
It wouldnt be long until you'd feel your own audable behaviror freeez -
but vanish.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
this constant
invitation
into stark mystery
is a story
i flounder
to find words for.
~
a glance,
more
than eyes looking.
beholden
entrancement,
upon feedback's
looping.
~
i am a crippled logician,
wrought with wonder
in the thrashing
static jungle,
of no conclusion.
~
this is a flash
this here, the flesh
a blinding
binding light,
obliterating,
without solution,
a living,
i tremble in.
~
i am stumped
i am little
so small
hung
here
in the
sky.
~
a suspended channel
of ideation,
filling, with
empty utterance.
~
i am confounded
i am large
too grand
to
get
ahold
of.
~
breathing
multitudinous,
full, with
contradiction.
~
a grandiose
enigmatic flux,
miniscule
and massive.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 5:21 PM UTC
Black hole swallows all that is beautiful
Black hole furiously obliterating every light
Black hole seeking to destroy all it touches
Black hole will always be alone
For black hole is just that
Black hole....
What is more powerful and mysterious
destructive
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 1:40 AM UTC
Why are people intentionally cruel and malignant?
Are they too blind to mistake their Achilles’s heel for their forte?
Or do they intentionally enjoy obliterating anything that comes their way?
Indubitably, reeling into their self-destruction and collapse as the roof caves.
Repelling any benevolence into their lives,
They will close all doors with their narrow minds.
Atrociousness will prevail and set forth unfathomable tongues of rhyme.
Seeking insatiable supremacy governing in disguise.
Clearly oblivious to the detrimental exploits they expose,
They will lead a life that is solely self-imposed.
Cultivating an environment of animosity is not astute you see,
People will always revolt and eventually be set free.
Unless you morally evolve and realize you have wronged,
You will embark on a journey that will negatively consume your soul.
It begins with your physical state, depleting with every irrational action you make.
Ultimately, deteriorating your body into an anemic vegetable state.
Reeking of insecurities through the infusion of wretchedness and despair,
your life will begin to turn inside out transforming into an eternal torment of misery and hell.
However, it's never too late to change your tyrannical direction.
It's only compassion, empathy, and altruistic love that will be your salvation.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
it is just enough,
too many in depth lessons.
pain always asks for something,
fear has run out of options,
joy wears light dresses
loneliness refuses dinner,
despair sits at a crossroad.
these are just contours of events
obliterating "the vital impetus"
as in a probabilistic game
or in the second law of thermodynamics
blissful equilibrium is just a special retreat
some form of inner spacial homogeneity
this is just a moment
before dinner is served
on a peaceful evening
by a lake
catching the last rays
of the singing sun
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
*On the top of rationality
Remains an abyss to insanity
That I persist to climb
Until I reach my prime
Until I grasp all the rains in my veins
Until I rein the reins
As I contemplate all the plains
Of grayish fate, thru trees of clocks
Leaves of wish and apples of Eve
Thru rocks weightless as chants
And thru ants and doves verging chess
Hazy mortals with gloves of hate
Lazy and crazy mortals,
In such rare lands of bliss,
Obliterating the glow...
**So, I knead the canvas with my bare hands
And threw myself into the abyss.***
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
patterns reflect patterns reflect history repeating itself
I see problems in humanity because humanity corrupts
seriously, we can't have a movement for "better" without making it worse
listen, slavery, right?
whites hated blacks
deemed them lesser
deemed them nobodies, nonexistent
that's putting it generic
so what do we have now?
an era of white-haters!
so many "minorities" standing up and saying
"I hate the whites"
we have done a 360 and it kills me
it was supposed to be about blacks being seen as equals
being seen as people instead of blacks
and now, yeah, I'm going there
gays
I love gays, man
but y'all are killing me too
this is what I see
gays oppressed, dismissed, told they're sinners
unholy, bad, gross, wrong, backwards, ugh
they were beaten, bloodied, bruised, murdered, silenced
so the gays stand up
what do I hear?
"I hate Christians"
"I hate straights"
"I hate everyone who is not gay"
people hating on macklemore because
he tried to stand up
for THE PEOPLE!
they say
"a straight white man cannot represent the gay community"
I'm sorry
WHAT????
we act like no one has gone through HARDSHIP
we act like if you're white, straight, and a male, you're golden
free
happy
perfect
wake up.
what no one discusses
is that the issue is right vs wrong
right vs wrong
right vs wrong
I'm not a straight white male but I know right vs wrong
I'm not an Irish Jew but I know right vs wrong
I'm not a Haitian Creole Indian goddess but I know right vs wrong
you don't have to BE the oppression to SPEAK on the oppression
you have to know right vs wrong
I say macklemore knows
I know
you know
let's speak up
what is wrong is discrimination
what is right is taking a stand to end it
so please
blacks,
gays,
minorities,
whites,
humans,
majorities,
stop obliterating good
or else you'll be confined to the chains of oppression and silence until the day you die and so on amen
I'm a human being
tell me what I cannot speak on
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC
I dream in synesthesia…
Every synapse a new white breath of creation,
A universe spinning free from entropy’s oblivion
I dream in synesthesia…
And see a warming freedom that no body can measure,
A movement of thought erupting from nothing
I dream in synesthesia…
And taste life obliterating reality’s edge,
As it bursts into the expanse of forever
A beginning no body can destroy…
I dream in synesthesia…
And feel the grace of infinity giving way to split atoms
As femtoseconds expand to light years speckled with dust and gravity
I dream in synesthesia…
The sweet smell of passion pouring forth
Riding vehement pulses of fiery red light
I dream in synesthesia…
And hear the heartbeat on my skin,
As creation goes forth and breaths white once again…
I dream in synesthesia…
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 1:14 PM UTC
I’m the worst **** in the world
No one is worse than me.
For my next bride,
I shall marry the Queen of She
Ba (Academy presents her majesty.
Nominee gushes.
Audience applauds exhaustively.)
She will manhandle me,
Liquor on her breath,
Feathers framing ******
Inflamed blossoms drenching submissions
She told me to delete
The photographs,
Even though there were many
Caught her beauty in amazing graces.
She hated me
For putting up so little struggle,
Obliterating her splendor
Indifferently.
I wanted to prove
Deserving of her love.
she dilly-dallied, distracted.
I cried pitifully, “Where’s my girlfriend?”
Chain of events to nothingness
My desolate existence
One deficit after another
Honed to fragile cutting-edge.
I wanted her to pleasure me
With subtle painful tinge.
She brilliantly found fault
Every conceivable way to blame.
She accused, “you fiddle in noodle factory.”
She was the true artist,
Dissatisfied with the sound
Of my heart beating.
You want to play hardball with the big boys?
You better show up with bulging intelligent creativity.
You complain about
Every infinitesimal gargantuan thing.
Nothing makes you happy.
I will always love you no
Matter how impossible.
Looking back,
You were an impossible chance.
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 10:28 AM UTC
The destination of a questing flame,
The concealed invincible core.
No longer able to hold back the emotions,
that once the flood has subsided, herald a new future .
Your concealed invincible core
fidelity arrives, bearing trust,
that once accepted, will not end.
Obliterating sadness, magnifying love.
Fidelity has arrived. Take his trust.
It will erase the confusion, you know what you feel.
Let it obliterate your sadness, magnify love, and pleasure.
The wheel of doubt and accusations, stops right here.
You can erase the confusion, you know what you feel.
Fostering love, when you need it more than everything.
The wheel of doubt and accusations, stops right here.
you are destined to rise up to the zenith.
Let me foster love, when you need it more than anything
Don't hold back your emotions.
You are destined to rise up to the zenith,
the questing flame of love, has arrived at your core.
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 8:57 AM UTC
Pondering if I can be forgiven and free
Knowing I deserve to be drowned in the sea
Searching for something to assuage the pain
Hoping out of this something beautiful I gain.
Mistrusting of people around me everywhere
People only curse; not love, not care
Bewildered why I must go through life alone
With paralyzing silence and no friend to phone.
Yearning to break free of my destructive addictions
Rebuking Satan's false and furtive jurisdictions
I embrace the crucifixion and fall to my knee
Beholding my King who died to set me free.
Then kneeling at the cross, the sky breaks with dawn
My tears and my pain are surprisingly gone
As the Son bursts forth in glorious light
Obliterating the dark and malevolent night.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
If showers are man-made rain, then
you are a man-made hurricane,
obliterating everything in its path
while people take photographs
and storm-chasing is a sport
that people will die for
and storms are named after people.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
****** against the cliff
caught in a vortex
whirlpool of relentless force
pulling me down, down, down
Sound...deafening
Obliterating all sense of direction
I succomb to the waves
****** out, pulled in.
Riptide determined to
pull me under
spared by the mercy
of an upper current that
carries me weightless out and
over the break
Impelled by Grace
greater than the Power at hand
My body finds the sand.
I lie upon the beach,
all fight left behind.
The Ocean claims my strength
No question who has won**
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 12:26 AM UTC
Millions of years of existence
Earth carries layers of history
Abundant and bountiful
They thrived during their peak
Happiness and coexistence
Turned to rambunctious ambitions
Valiant hearts turned violent
Severing the ties of humanity
Colored the layers of history in red
Tyrants and traitors marred the existence
Of the beautiful fabric of mankind
Stained fate, never to recover
Sometimes nature turned foe
Obliterating life from this Earth
History is the silent custodian
Testimony to the many facets of humanity
We bring our downfall
Mired in controversies and revenge
Saga of shameful acts and own dereliction
Sifting through the layers of history
It’s not for the faint-hearted to endure
The rough tales of disasters and annihilation
Millions of years and many more thereafter
At the crossroads of humanity
History is waiting to add many more layers
To the annals of its testimony
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 8:17 AM UTC
Surprise shadowing
the Sun's unknowing
pain; Capturing wonderment
indicates reassurance
The unknowable Star
kissing the Earth
birthing her descendants,
singing longingly;
magnifying her Beauty
Alas,
Obliterating affliction
Prohibiting pain
with maniacal ciphering
of experimental earnestness
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 11:01 PM UTC
Call me stricken
by her
my favorite color.
I want to fill my ears with static
to give my thoughts some room to move
and my eyes monochromatic
with an artistic side to prove
She writes
like shes giving
Noah Webster a *******
her labyrinthine constructions
of consonants and vowels,
leading in circles
obliterating disbelief,
and I
AM
the words.
She tastes like ***
and nostalgia
nauseating my pages,
wearing thin over keystrokes,
repetition,
the mother of decrepitude
so my muse
decimates my thoughts
one in ten
one in ten
one in ten
CRACK
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
Anxiety is a loaded gun. Once provoked, you **** the gun.
Your emotions crescendo as you pace the floor with your finger on the trigger.
You anticipate the moment you have the chance to pull it.
As pressure builds the tension rises, building and gathering.
POP!
A flash of light as your anger is released.
Your stress has reached its ******
That split second can influence the rest of your life.
The trigger has been pulled.
You feel a sense of exhilaration.
Energy is finally released.
The ammo hurdles out at untamable speeds, obliterating everything in its path.
The damage is done, and can’t be taken back.
Hurting yourself is the least of your worries as you start to see the pain you've inflicted on others.
The recoil leaves you tender and vulnerable, Open to the repercussions.
Even after all has calmed the smoke will linger on as a horrific memory of an unforgettable scene of mayhem.
As you try to fix the wounds of others you notice yours start to weaken and worsen.
How could you let such a doltish petty thing effect the life of you and the lives of others?
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
caked on makeup, lyrical lash lines, clear
thoughts for the first time; trying so hard to type
out the right words to make the world stop spinning ten
times too fast in the wrong direction. can't you see it's making me ill,
the way you casually can't decide and lean
on calves of glass and card towers of achromatizing dust?
I am a kaleidoscope of many other ashes to ashes to dust;
cut across from rib to rib and leeching out the clear
air you breathe. I am perennial, the one to clean
you up when you fail to break the mold and fall back on type-
casted stereotypes of who everyone else thinks you should be. still,
I am the one who doubts and falters, often
has the idea that we are erased and quick forgotten
the moment our idiosyncrasies peter out and dust
replaces bones we came to know. I am shrill,
and I talk too loud at all the wrong times; I can never clear
the plates I stain with blood and pile high with subtype
after subtype derivatives of things I should do and glean
vivification from carefully, anxiously. you have this lean
skin and enviable, insouciant lilt to your walk towards me at ten
o'clock when I can't see straight anymore, can barely type
the last letters of my poems. your eyes are clear
and you're free of that indestructible and obliterating dust
that clogs my lungs and makes me feel so ill
so often. shallow peaks of your shoulder blades, time at a standstill
when I merge into highways of veins and clean
breaks from responsibility, softly tracing jawbones that clear
my head for just a moment; hands that tremble to fasten
the world back onto my hollow aches and faltering nervous system. I dust
off your window sill and think maybe you're the type
that complements an irrational daydreaming messy busy type-
writer kind of lover. you know, the kind that hates to pay the bill
on time because that's another deadline to miss, who lets dust
fly around because vacuums interrupt abstract art and lean
cuisine, who likes cats and very, very often
misplaces her phone somewhere on your clear
floor nothing like the type she has, like the type I have, like the way I lean
toward your infrastructure to hold me still; darling, you brighten
my mornings of habitual stardust and glass not quite clear.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 6:21 AM UTC
*Let us send mosquitoes into exile,
To the obliterating cold of Antarctica,
In hope that the stars will take refuge
In this corrupted Archipelago, till then
We shall tire this full moon, lay our lovers down,
And burn the shadows
As a campfire of our love.*
© 2015 J.S.P.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC