"obliteration" poems
Extermination decapitation
Nocturnal obliteration
Armadillos anteater bafoon
Typhoon heatwave...
Mr Grim Reaper
DON'T YOU KNOW?
No grave can keep Her...
Men march on as to heaven
Twenty four seven
Three Six five days
Ten different ways
Passionate professional
Daring sharing nurturing
Caring...Monsters within Minions
Amazing people aren't they
There is no substitute for hard work
Just observe Ants.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC
No option, but to be perceived
Violent, Aggressive, Irrational
Identity becoming an other
Words of malice, they mystify
Words of ignorance, they vilify
Subverting consciousness and articulation
Our identities, fighting to be
Autonomous landscapes
Hoping in anticipation for liberation
No real notion of we or me
Implicating it's inhuman to be foreign
When they represent as much of we and me
Scandalizing alternative identities as subversive
Advancing erasures in favor of hegemony
Propaganda favoring what is most white
Amelioration for the obliteration of cunning identity?
No more cooperation, ****** the euphemisms
That cover up, and help justify marginalization
Our identities, fighting to be
Autonomous landscapes
Hoping in anticipation for liberation
Time to **** ****** massacre eurocentric ideology
We preach no violence, being not them, just we
But cannot request to be free, must tear it out by force
Eurocentric ideological pandemic inhabiting, inhibiting the soul of mankind
Unthinkable abomination concealed in the veil of appropriated minds
Necessitating exorcism for the incarcerated conscious mind
When we completely violate mandates of eurocentric ideology
When only we appropriate our own identity
When we all nullify the color of our skin
As profanity or inadequacy
Our identities, fighting to be
Autonomous landscapes
Hoping in anticipation for liberation
Will be awaiting purgation from alienation
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 6:25 PM UTC
On this tan cutting board
You earn your corrupted name:
“Alligator pear.”
The serrated blade
Punctures your hide—a balloon
Under a pin’s pressure,
Shades of green furling out.
I’m sure you’d prefer
Vegetable status if you developed
Self-awareness; or maybe
You’d withdraw from knowledge
Of the human type.
I trust my cooking songs—
Slowdive and Chaka Khan—
Can’t hurt you anymore
Than your predestined obliteration;
Mastication via your domesticators:
It all ends in fertilizer.
(Where you began!)
O, avocado, phantom “fruit”
Born of the self-same Life Source,
Schopenhauer’s Will,
My transient enjoyment of you
Within this vegetable salad—
An Achaean enclosed by Trojan blades—
Suffices for a life of sanctity.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
Come dance the Tandava with me and you too will be free
Creation सृष्टि
I am Shiva’s Shadow
स्थिति ..... I exist to support life’s precarious platform
संहार ..... I feel Creation’s seed.... cosmic genesis
The first wave of flagrant eruption
Ending in the the cosmos’s destruction.
तिरोभाव There exists illusion
Which gives rise to me
The obliteration of ignorance.
We live in times of ignore-ance
Here I have little sway.
Years from now....maybe.
Until then, kali decides to dance with me. Primal संहार Destruction
Bloodlust and Fire
******** and desire
Quantum tantric tangle
***** the world’s funeral pyre
Goodbye beauty, Goodbye love
WE bring it upon ourselves, creating shells and building shelves
to stack the wonton clothes of identity, the context of all hells.
The layers are too many
It collapses
And if not, I'll ******* burn the scaffold.
I know why I am here now.
To destroy tirobhava,
all this pain is an illusion
I hereby release this sickness from the world
in prophetic burning grace of emancipation अनुग्रह is foretold
To dance the sacred tandava
say goodbye once more and end it all.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 3:44 PM UTC
The Eagle did land,
In the Israelites' hands,
The eagle was candid,
When Our Lord landed,
The brain game's the same,
Humans still play it the same,
Weapons of mass destruction,
Hell is obliteration,
We should aim high, Our Father
Would Peace on Earth rather,
Once upon a lifetime,
In an instant of rhyme,
The Eagle was candid,
When Our Lord landed!
,
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 7:30 PM UTC
feed yourself the beautiful dream
one brain wave at a time
so as not to choke on its entirety
or have to suffer anymore.
the entire vibrato you've used
is getting you nowhere, you see.
but soon, you'll be able
to say you're not on the streets to score
*another fix
another mix
of chemical endurance
and obliteration*
step on up, and read the sign
there's nothing left here
just as it was when your father walked
from one end to the other, feverishly.
we're dying out left and right,
but you're sure to make it,
i swear it, i've seen it,
and i'll make it all a reality
*based on dreaming
shaped from cleaning
of the mind
and its impurities.*
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
Lumpenproletariat's
Comprise the population
Revolutionized, new variants
Attempt consolidation.
Socialist experiments or
Anthropology's deviation?
Avoidance- societal detriments of health:
Classism's obliteration.
Nov 5, 2023
Nov 5, 2023 at 12:45 PM UTC
I am adrift in a sea of both rhymes and alliteration.
Of both lies and obliteration.
Of both ties and obligation.
I am adrift in a sea of both degradation and pain.
Of both sane and insane.
Of both space and plane.
I am adrift in a sea of both ideas and emptiness.
Of both of melancholy and happiness.
Of both empathy and cruelness.
I am adrift in a sea.
Feb 17, 2023
Feb 17, 2023 at 4:55 PM UTC
I think we're going extinct
I hate to even blink
...
I remember when we were in sync
But things changed
We will act strange over change
Being caged and attached by chains is voguish
Are we hopeless?
Why can we polish our pinky rings
But leave rust on our linkage chains?
Our words don't bond anymore
Our words are shackles
Our words are like crooked spurs
And unbalanced saddles
Yeah It travels
But lies are to be told
Only to smear what we really withhold
I think that we're going extinct
I hate to blink
As my eye lids flicker
More and more existence spills from our mankind
Man-kind
We're turning into the kind of men
Who emotionally melts when we see celebrities
Where's our rectitude?
I think we're going extinct
I hate to blink
Where's my natural woman?
Every time I twitch
More and more she accepts the word *****
And in no time a guy can become exposed to her hips
Where's our morality?
Are we going to expire
All because we create our entire empire with desires?
Desires and thirst that require us to hurt
We smile and we smirk
We loath from good work
We poke at nerves
We drown our minds to swerve
We absorb potion
Only to tranquil our motion
We indulge in copulation
With a stranger
But somehow for consolation
...
We are endangered
We are a few more trends away from complete annihilation
Eradication
Liquidation
Obliteration
Cancellation
Our tendencies are cancerous and if we keep being patient
We will need medication
I don't feel any radiation
To not become subject to our decimation
I think we're going extinct
My instincts tell me that
Though we're a percentage and a contributor to this nation
We are approaching ruination
My instinct senses that I am one of the few who mentions devastation
And if I blink one more time
And if we keep wasting time
We'll be wastage
We
You and I
We'll be ejected from the race
And they'll use a prosthetic ethnic affiliation for our replacement
Can we come together with cooperation
Resisting this operation
May we all stand up
Before they go through with this amputation !
Blink
Lets see
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 5:55 AM UTC
---
by loving
alienation
by loving
doubt
by loving
obliteration
by loving
draught
by loving
dejection
by loving
wear
by loving
rejection
by loving
fear
by loving
sorrow
by loving
pain
by loving
furrows
by loving
rain
by loving
giving
by loving
both
by loving
living
by loving
GROWTH
soulsurvivor
(c) 2/23/2015
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 7:19 AM UTC
The barren landscape sends me shivers
Further enhanced by the total obliteration
The presence of ghosts still lingers
So many years after the detonation
All this desolation pictures
Like a scene from the apocalypse scriptures
A pale nuclear shadow projected eternally
The perpetual loss of harmony
A remnant showing us our absurdity
Was vaporised by the obfuscating bright
The ashen picture is the last goodbye
Relic of the tremendous light
My moods darken I want to cry
This is the last trace of a human being
a son of someone
prevented from further ageing
That from fate couldn’t run
Like a permanent echo of the disaster
a visual silent scream
like a photograph of a dreadful dream
a shout that sends a warning to us all
As we wish to forget how the balance is frail
It’s easy to disregard the detail
and be united by the same fate
that destruction at an even greater scale
it’s yet a threat not out of date
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 5:24 AM UTC
lightning, thunder
pummeling droplets of rain
vicious, forceful hurricane winds
sweeping, spinning
swept violently away
whipping, ******
dragging me
a helpless rag doll
tugged around
- by my ravaged soul
dizziness, nausea
fractional-seconds, flashes of light
circling; bewilderment
world rushing past
lost in this predicament
having been carried away
so far away
prisoner of this whirlwind
fearsome, raging tempest
powerful and raw
mercilessly desecrated
mindless ****** of innocence
inescapable prison walls
captive of this sociopathic entity
hopeless enslavement
****** over-burdened
foul irony, my fate
- my only companion
pressing, constant reminder
I AM TO BLAME
chained to my own
passionless, encroaching storm -
this loathsome
jerking, twisting, spasm-wracked
hurricane monster
a destroyer -
- my destroyer!
homicidal goddess of obliteration
that I have made
I am my own
storm slave
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 10:28 PM UTC
I have long sought quiet.
And please, let me be clear: quiet.
Not the quietus Hamlet desired,
No “consummation devoutly to be wished” for me.
No, with or without a bare bayonet,
UNBEINGNESS is hardly what I seek.
It is not the predicament of death,
But the quiet spectacle of the grave I envy.
Originally a city mouse,
I am familiar with the urban soundscape.
I know city noise, amped up in decibels.
Noise-induced stress, shrill and enervating,
Add to the mix a working-class neighborhood,
Where someone is always hammering,
Using a power tool of some kind,
Repairing, improving an older, somewhat decrepit home;
But a steal as the realtors say.
Or vehicles, like Old Havana relics,
Held together by secular prayer,
And thriving underground Cuban capitalism.
Then just for fun: *"Let’s send the son of a ***** to war."*
Tympanic membranes be wary and be ******
Stretched and perforated,
Compressed and torn,
Shredded like wheat.
Pummeled by shock wave.
I was Lear wandering the heath,
Your ass-cheeks cracked:
*“Cataracts and hurricanes . . .
Oak-cleaving thunderbolts . . .
Sulphurour and thought-executing fires . . .
Singe my white head!”*
Cue Cabaret music (Cabaret (1972) - IMDb www.imdb.com/title/tt0068327): “Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome . . . to Indochine,”
First a Weimar-Saigon suckee-fuckee,
Then out to *The ****
Mind-numbing concussion,
Reek of jellied gasoline,
Charred meat,
Assorted red entrails,
Obliteration of thought complete.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
the inky black ocean watches, silent, as judgement day's unfurled
unaffected by the passing of time, by the anarchy below
in silk soft silence, chaotic is the death of the civilized world
the once calm waters of the void, now are swirled
smothering the fires of armageddon with its inexorable flow
the inky black ocean watches, silent, as judgement day's unfurled
silver pinpricks of light, into the infinite waters, are hurled
and liquid orange pigment leaks forth, ever so slow
in silk soft silence, chaotic is the death of the civilized world
around this blue and green marble, the vast water is curled
undisturbed by the hate and rage humans show
the inky black ocean watches, silent, as judgement day's unfurled
news of paradise's destruction throughout the heavens whirled
obliteration of one another the human race did bestow
in silk soft silence, chaotic is the death of the civilized world
the vast expanse of the ink black ocean is purled
as the earth was torn asunder with its final death blow
the inky black ocean watches, silent, as judgement day's unfurled
in silk soft silence, chaotic is the death of the civilized world
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 1:15 PM UTC
I looked for a word to say.
but I could not find one today.
I had hoped to find a word that would stay in your heart.
That would show you exactly what tore us apart.
I hate what you did... I hate you so deeply.
I hate what you said... I hate you so passionately.
I hate what you made me... I hate you so sweetly.
I look at you and I cannot tell what is in your eyes.
I speak directly to you but all that comes out of your mouth are lies.
I see how you hurt.
I see how you hurt me.
I just do not understand.
All your true feelings are kept and safely hidden in a far far away land.
Is this a land we call love?
And now it is a destruction.
A land God has made from above.
And now we call it seduction.
Its true in a way we both long for each other.
But we both see to long for another.
Another human being we both thought we were
But now it seems that this human being I thought you were is now a blur.
This is a bitter sweet heart
That will end in eradication.
This is a bitter sweet part that needs some construction.
Why I hold on?
I do not know.
I probably will never know why.
I should move forward... Yes
But I feel like I would rather just die.
You caused obliteration deep into my heart.
You caused obliteration because you thought it was smart.
I hate what you did... I hate you so deeply
I hate what you said... I hate you so passionately.
I hate what you made me... I hate you so sweetly
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 12:10 AM UTC
Running Blind Madness
Eyes Wide Heart Pounding
Spirit Lifts Senses Live
Theres Thunder IN THE Atmosphere
This IS A Free Arena
A Gateless Auditorium
Open Fields
Open Wide
Forking Lightning ON THE Horizon
This Natural Inebriation
IN Dynamic Resonation
Anticipation OF THE
Consternataion
Hells Beasts Abound
Snarling Snouts Sounding
Heavy Hoofs Pounding
Crazed Dashing Hounding
IN THE Chaos That'S Surrounding
Hells Beasts Abound
Torso'S Writhing Flailing
Grit Bucking Flailing
Crimson Flow Tailing
THE Gore OF THE Impailing
I'M Knee Deep
IN A River OF Blood
Fleshen Heap
IN THE Reddening Flood
Sodden WET Flesh
Whip AND Turn
Trace THE SKY
With THE Carnal Rain
WET THE Earth
With A Reddened
Stain
Sodden WET Flesh
Whip AND Turn
Trace THE SKY
With THE Carnal Rain
WET THE Earth
With A Reddened
Stain
Sodden WET Earth
Besot With Death Mirth
Drown THE Earth
IN THE Afterbirth
Every Beast THE ****** Herse
DON'T RID ME OF THE ******* Curse
IN AN Ever Rising River OF Blood
Causing Chaos With NO Remorse
I AM Power IN Full Course
Wreaking Havoc
Sump
WET
Dripppin'
Torn
This Bloods LET BY MY Horn
I'M Sopping WET
MY ****** Horn
I Feel Like I'M NEW Born
Drumming Quakes Pounding
Shaking THE Foundation
Lifting Spirits IN THE AIR
I AM GOD Everywhere
Helter Skelter IN THE Chaos
This IS Pandemonium
Freedom Forms
IN THE Void
Electric Flux Obliteration
Pure Intoxication
AS Evil Incarnation
This Revelation
IS Anihilation
Apr 10, 2021
Apr 10, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC
We are a generation,
Indeed, a nation,
Raised upon foreign warring.
Scapegoat aggravation.
Bushes and *****
Clamoring for horror and hoarding.
Conspiring against a population,
I watch through youthful aging.
With my childlike eyes, I see
The target they're blaming:
Afghan families having more
in common with me,
Working class American,
Than those transparent heirs
With the world's wealth and arrogance,
Ordering for the villagers' obliteration
Through boys from our nation.
We are a generation raised
On media sensation
Of militarized devastation;
Animal exploitation;
Technological manifestations
Providing privacy infiltration.
Material attainments;
Mental frustrations;
Fiat debt enslavement;
A nation entranced by
Senseless parading.
Tempting decadence and
Announcements with no evidence.
The September bounty of edifice
That fell with no hesitance
Still echo its unfounded,
Preemptive pretenses.
This murderous reign;
this senseless parade;
Advertisement cyclical
in their game of charades;
Dog on a chain;
Famine causing no pain.
Permissible opinions
To be solely maintained.
The damage, the waste,
The heinous race and class chase.
Oppression remains thoughtlessly dangerous,
As moral responsibility brings no attainments.
Chowing down on maimed millions
Bellowing from enslavement.
Fortunately, elder,
Rothschild, Rockefeller, or
Those above them whom
Remain blackened, faceless:
Resistance shall come
From all places, all ages.
Such as this generation of mine
Inheriting increasing complications,
With the type of America
You wish to keep in rotation.
I'll carry the flag containing
Your mistakes as a symbol,
To remind those behind me
What not to rekindle.
To the Boomer who stews
In your white collar suit,
Still refusing to shake
Your destructive pursuit,
Still asking me to lick
Off authority's boot:
Growing up in this nation,
With childhood innocence,
I grew increasingly aware
Of the land of such ignorance.
I had such thoughts since
Early adolescence,
I was not blind to larger lessons.
Only since supported by
Actual, factual supported confessions.
To the Boomer tied to his convictions,
Now will you see-
That isn't going to work
For us or for me.
I'll bring to this world
Whatever I please.
Which so happens to be
Truth, justice, and peace.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 1:20 AM UTC
I shed everything but
the pencil skirt and stockings.
I suffocate and sundry and
drift into my boy's case of
suede leather, where he
trusts me to miscalculate
his competence and its
Saturday, the morning,
and he says, I love you
in the morning, Sarah.
There's stroke and nip,
at every turn of the trail
an adoration for what
he calls my soul, and
he asks for the routine
obliteration. A violence
always whispered.
I'm velvet everything.
Velvet tongued.
Velvet pussy'd.
Each portal and contour
a soft place for him to
land, to dispose of his
fear of death,
but what am I supposed to
do with it, the fear of death?
But this is my burden
with the light skipping
through the blinds. Simpler
times, there were, I think.
And a last name he means
to hang on me, always soon
and very soon. Dishes in the sink.
Eternal moonbeams and sun rays.
This is it, I'm afraid.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
Click them off like
rosary beads
with accossiated prayers.
Smudge the dreams
into the eiderdown,
And divide them down
in ironed out
layers.
Line them up and
gobble them with listless
tea.
I am your prediction!
(said in shushes,
quite benediction)
I want to drop like stingless bees.
I am Addiction to Tranquility.
How jealous I am!
Watching him fall on his ****
as I begin the solitary farce
of trying to close my
eyes.
I watch his chest slowly sink and rise.
How beautiful -
to be cut down,
like grass.
Flophouse drapes of
cigarette smoke
hang from the ceiling in
billows.
A headache clings and
holds me close as
daylight stumbles
like a ghost,
and settles her questions
on my pillows.
The tragic thing about each morning
Is that I greet each sleepy dawn
with the dry and
pinkened threat of tears.
Sleepers – do you know the
might of what you do
each ******* night?
The oblivion in half your years?
The fiction of your wild frontiers?
The obliteration and presentation
of all your garbled
Freudian fears?
Do you know the glamour in what you do?
Do you know what I’d give to be like you?
To live and somehow not be here?
To close my eyes?
To disappear?
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 9:24 AM UTC
Surreal!
The silence is interlaced with notes.
Phantom notes that don't exist and yet are as real.
Colorless and yet shining in the most awe-inspiring light.
I rise with one
and there is another to catch me like a trapeze artist
before i sore again.
so in tune.
I feel detached from Time.
I used to wonder whether -
time is the proof of my existence
Or my existence the proof for Time?
But the cynic in me is now drunk in tranquility.
Ineffable...
Yet i try to bind this experience in trivial modes of expression.
I have felt this before and am feeling it now,
My consciousness stretched across time;
a sphere that surrounds me.
In this state I AM -
creation and obliteration;
order and chaos;
knowledge and ignorance;
reality and imagination;
bound and liberated;
the experience and the observer;
here and everywhere;
and NOT.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
you are refreshing water to a parched throat;
providing a stinging remedy that works in a painfully slow way.
strangely, the ache is what keeps me going.....
the more it hurts, the more pronounced the longing.
maybe you haven't realised,
but you're the water to a desert:
so precious, so wonderful and treasured
running down my throat, so pleasured.
but maybe you're a mirage in a parched desert of all life devoid:
an illusion, so hopefully, deadly beautiful
for believing this is true: oh, what a fool!
oh woe; avoid, I say, avoid!
the imperative words fall on deaf ears,
as I plunge headlong and deep
into a never-ending abyss of quicksand
into the obliteration of infatuation!
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
I accept atheism, agnosticism,
Transmigration, reincarnation,
Obliteration and nothingness.
These beliefs include all religions,
Yes, Voodoo, Satanism, Witchcraft,
Judaism, Christianity, Muslim, Hindu,
Shintoism, and Buddhism
(even Scientology).
Some sects aren't polite.
I won't mention the one that rhymes with:
Vileness, truthless, bias, noxious, menace,
Hubris, vicious, **** prejudice, malice,
Callous, darkness, heinous, carcass or badness.
I might lose my head, or something.
But all the others,
They're based on humanitarianism,
And isn't that what it's all about?
Us,
Not them.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 3:07 PM UTC
Undecided frontages in the back of the garden
bleeding orchids look through you with
shots refired and rewound
through time slowly i see
i want to become what
reality has plunged
me into broken
clocks and Time
defeats me
crushing
me
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 10:37 PM UTC
in a dream, you were a nuclear bomb and i was a village
and you blew me all to shreds
i mean complete obliteration
in that same dream, i was waiting for the Man
and i was at the bus stop
i mean i don't actually ride the bus
in a dream, you were a grown woman and i was a man crying
and you held me in your hands
i mean we had rough *** for hours
in that same dream, i was lying through my teeth
and i was a trigger happy ***** cop
i mean i didn't actually take the money
Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 12:59 AM UTC