"ozone" poems - Hello Poetry

"ozone" poems

Before long the summer sun will rise in London Like the half of the Ge meets the other half. Like a magic by the Lamp of Aladdin The love flame hidden in the chest lights up! Like a blooming rose in a glowing beam of light, Like a smiling face speaks a gentle word, Like a beautiful sunrise colour in the first light! The summer in London will pop and sizzle We will see a threshold in our land. The rose for a while is tucked away Off the winter and is given to the sun Winter is not forever spring is on the corner Come back in the sun with the early bird Before Cinderella takes on the primrose path. Keeping an eye on a thriller is in the winter’s field Oozy ozone misty land gets a gingerly seasoning What on earth will it strike, will it dish out? Ah, the sun will pop out like a river breeze. Like a southern song singing on a dream scene. a smooth fairy dance facing the Moon a thrill of exposing Stonehenge once and for all a melodious raindrop in the serene pond a butterfly dance on the rose a turned on tall tale of the blue peacock Like a pure belief in heaven without a pinch of salt!

0

Mar 21, 2017

Mar 21, 2017 at 10:37 AM UTC

Summer in London

Before long the summer sun will rise in London Like the half of the Ge meets the other half. Like a magic by the Lamp of Aladdin The love flame hidden in the chest lights up! Like a blooming rose in a glowing beam of light, Like a smiling face speaks a gentle word, Like a beautiful sunrise colour in the first light! The summer in London will pop and sizzle We will see a threshold in our land. The rose for a while is tucked away Off the winter and is given to the sun Winter is not forever spring is on the corner Come back in the sun with the early bird Before Cinderella takes on the primrose path. Keeping an eye on a thriller is in the winter’s field Oozy ozone misty land gets a gingerly seasoning What on earth will it strike, will it dish out? Ah, the sun will pop out like a river breeze. Like a southern song singing on a dream scene. a smooth fairy dance facing the Moon a thrill of exposing Stonehenge once and for all a melodious raindrop in the serene pond a butterfly dance on the rose a turned on tall tale of the blue peacock Like a pure belief in heaven without a pinch of salt!

Continue reading...

I woke up this morning and I was tired. what was I tired of.... I was tired of waste hunger greed humiliation global warming ozone depletion pollution guns deforestation extinction mining disease overpopulation terrorism selfishness destruction war mining green house gasses religion cruelty I am so tired of being tired. I am a planet that is tired, it is time to rid myself...... of the human race. I am the earth I am alive, and the human race is a parasite.

0

Apr 19, 2013

Apr 19, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC

The Earth Speaks

I woke up this morning and I was tired. what was I tired of.... I was tired of waste hunger greed humiliation global warming ozone depletion pollution guns deforestation extinction mining disease overpopulation terrorism selfishness destruction war mining green house gasses religion cruelty I am so tired of being tired. I am a planet that is tired, it is time to rid myself...... of the human race. I am the earth I am alive, and the human race is a parasite.

Continue reading...

There's a yellow green gas, You can't see in your glass. Sometimes you can tell, It's there by the smell. It does a great job removing bacteria, Like Diphtheria, Or even Listeria. But what do you think, Happens to the chlorine in your drink? I don't want to alarm, But there's a chance it might harm. It protects at a price, Attacking our bacteria that are nice, And I'm sure it excels, At killing your own cells, Forcing new ones to grow, When a mistake could cause woe. Some studies have found it an enhancer, Of bladder and bowel cancer. Whether old or young, Do you want it in your lung? You have the power, To remove it from your shower. It's rather grim, To have to breathe it when you swim. You're more likely to wheeze, Or sneeze. Do you think it will please, Your inflammatory bowel disease? Perhaps it's the key, To why there's Crohns and UC. Do you think that your skin, Might become a little thin, And be filled with dread, As it starts to turn red. Can you not feel, How it's harder to heal? It makes our tissues grow old, From what I've been told. Our cells can only divide, A few times before they're stupified. With asthma and chlorine on a map, You can see they overlap. Sadly in the West, Not everyone has guessed, That there may be a link, With the gas in our drink. “But!”, I hear you cry, “Without it people will die.” Let go of your dread, We can use something instead. The answer is well known, It's called 'ozone'. Made from pure water, It's gone when it reaches my daughter, Unlike chlorine it's life is brief, What a relief. There's many a city, That make it with electricity, Splitting water into hydrogen, And best of all, oxygen! For ozone is made from O2, Yes, it's true! Imagine if you had, Water with nothing they add. Already there's Paris and Nice in France, Where people can dance. San Diego and Los Angeles in the USA, Have water that's ok. And Osaka in Japan, Now use this plan. But you don't have to be rich, To make the switch. Ask a clever committee, To stop chlorine in your city. See if you can arrange, To have your water change. I hear you shout, “Can 'I' get this chlorine out?” If you leave water in a jug overnight, What's left will be slight. Boiling will send it away in the air, So there's no need to despair. You can also remove it with a filter, Or a water distiller. To learn more have a look, At 'Question Chlorine' on facebook.

0

Aug 26, 2014

Aug 26, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC

The Chlorine in Your Water

There's a yellow green gas, You can't see in your glass. Sometimes you can tell, It's there by the smell. It does a great job removing bacteria, Like Diphtheria, Or even Listeria. But what do you think, Happens to the chlorine in your drink? I don't want to alarm, But there's a chance it might harm. It protects at a price, Attacking our bacteria that are nice, And I'm sure it excels, At killing your own cells, Forcing new ones to grow, When a mistake could cause woe. Some studies have found it an enhancer, Of bladder and bowel cancer. Whether old or young, Do you want it in your lung? You have the power, To remove it from your shower. It's rather grim, To have to breathe it when you swim. You're more likely to wheeze, Or sneeze. Do you think it will please, Your inflammatory bowel disease? Perhaps it's the key, To why there's Crohns and UC. Do you think that your skin, Might become a little thin, And be filled with dread, As it starts to turn red. Can you not feel, How it's harder to heal? It makes our tissues grow old, From what I've been told. Our cells can only divide, A few times before they're stupified. With asthma and chlorine on a map, You can see they overlap. Sadly in the West, Not everyone has guessed, That there may be a link, With the gas in our drink. “But!”, I hear you cry, “Without it people will die.” Let go of your dread, We can use something instead. The answer is well known, It's called 'ozone'. Made from pure water, It's gone when it reaches my daughter, Unlike chlorine it's life is brief, What a relief. There's many a city, That make it with electricity, Splitting water into hydrogen, And best of all, oxygen! For ozone is made from O2, Yes, it's true! Imagine if you had, Water with nothing they add. Already there's Paris and Nice in France, Where people can dance. San Diego and Los Angeles in the USA, Have water that's ok. And Osaka in Japan, Now use this plan. But you don't have to be rich, To make the switch. Ask a clever committee, To stop chlorine in your city. See if you can arrange, To have your water change. I hear you shout, “Can 'I' get this chlorine out?” If you leave water in a jug overnight, What's left will be slight. Boiling will send it away in the air, So there's no need to despair. You can also remove it with a filter, Or a water distiller. To learn more have a look, At 'Question Chlorine' on facebook.

Continue reading...

(Quote by Spike Milligan) One very wise man sat and said That, long before this world is dead This planet’s problems won’t be solved By reasoning which, though now evolved, has got us, where we now do sit, Afloat neck deep in mankind’s **** There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu And in the woodwork, West Nile too, Each replicating viral spat To mutate, (at the drop of a hat), To complicate enviro’s stew Of global degredation’s brew. Urban spread and over stocking **** deforestation’s shocking, Depletion of aquatic life Intrinsically creating strife, Industrial pollution’s goo Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU! *Environmental degradation Means the world’s a weaker place, Susceptible to malady Wide spread across the human race. Those animals in corn fed stalls Who never get to see the sun Or graze green grass where honey bees Are vanquished by varroha’s fun. Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin Conservation’s lost it’s tools, Rastafarian hootchie smokers, Save the whales to **** the fools. Governments sell the carbon credits Everybody smells a rat Restorations for the birds And social conscience creamed the cat. ****** greenies own the airwaves No one gives a flying **** That good artesian water’s poisoned By good farmer’s leached out muck. CO2 in global warming Sings it’s song of fast decline Glacial retreat a-roaring Bass relief in blood ***** I guess the little children’s future Most depends on lady luck, Humankind in mass denial Most don’t give a flying **** Marshalg In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox. 21 September 2011

0

Sep 21, 2011

Sep 21, 2011 at 2:09 AM UTC

We Just Lost the Human Race

(Quote by Spike Milligan) One very wise man sat and said That, long before this world is dead This planet’s problems won’t be solved By reasoning which, though now evolved, has got us, where we now do sit, Afloat neck deep in mankind’s **** There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu And in the woodwork, West Nile too, Each replicating viral spat To mutate, (at the drop of a hat), To complicate enviro’s stew Of global degredation’s brew. Urban spread and over stocking **** deforestation’s shocking, Depletion of aquatic life Intrinsically creating strife, Industrial pollution’s goo Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU! *Environmental degradation Means the world’s a weaker place, Susceptible to malady Wide spread across the human race. Those animals in corn fed stalls Who never get to see the sun Or graze green grass where honey bees Are vanquished by varroha’s fun. Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin Conservation’s lost it’s tools, Rastafarian hootchie smokers, Save the whales to **** the fools. Governments sell the carbon credits Everybody smells a rat Restorations for the birds And social conscience creamed the cat. ****** greenies own the airwaves No one gives a flying **** That good artesian water’s poisoned By good farmer’s leached out muck. CO2 in global warming Sings it’s song of fast decline Glacial retreat a-roaring Bass relief in blood ***** I guess the little children’s future Most depends on lady luck, Humankind in mass denial Most don’t give a flying **** Marshalg In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox. 21 September 2011

Continue reading...

(Quote by Spike Milligan) One very wise man sat and said That, long before this world is dead This planet’s problems won’t be solved By reasoning which, though now evolved, has got us, where we now do sit, Afloat neck deep in mankind’s **** There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu And in the woodwork, West Nile too, Each replicating viral spat To mutate, (at the drop of a hat), To complicate enviro’s stew Of global degredation’s brew. Urban spread and over stocking **** deforestation’s shocking, Depletion of aquatic life Intrinsically creating strife, Industrial pollution’s goo Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU! Environmental degradation Means the world’s a weaker place, Susceptible to malady Wide spread across the human race. Those animals in corn fed stalls Who never get to see the sun Or graze green grass where honey bees Are vanquished by varroha’s fun. Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin Conservation’s lost it’s tools, Rastafarian hootchie smokers, Save the whales to **** the fools. Governments sell the carbon credits Everybody smells a rat Restorations for the birds And social conscience creamed the cat. ****** greenies own the airwaves No one gives a flying **** That good artesian water’s poisoned By good farmer’s leached out muck. CO2 in global warming Sings it’s song of fast decline Glacial retreat a-roaring Bass relief in blood ***** I guess the little children’s future Most depends on lady luck, Humankind in mass denial Most don’t give a flying **** Marshalg In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox. 21 September 2011

0

Jun 25, 2013

Jun 25, 2013 at 3:14 AM UTC

We Just Lost the Human Race!

(Quote by Spike Milligan) One very wise man sat and said That, long before this world is dead This planet’s problems won’t be solved By reasoning which, though now evolved, has got us, where we now do sit, Afloat neck deep in mankind’s **** There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu And in the woodwork, West Nile too, Each replicating viral spat To mutate, (at the drop of a hat), To complicate enviro’s stew Of global degredation’s brew. Urban spread and over stocking **** deforestation’s shocking, Depletion of aquatic life Intrinsically creating strife, Industrial pollution’s goo Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU! Environmental degradation Means the world’s a weaker place, Susceptible to malady Wide spread across the human race. Those animals in corn fed stalls Who never get to see the sun Or graze green grass where honey bees Are vanquished by varroha’s fun. Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin Conservation’s lost it’s tools, Rastafarian hootchie smokers, Save the whales to **** the fools. Governments sell the carbon credits Everybody smells a rat Restorations for the birds And social conscience creamed the cat. ****** greenies own the airwaves No one gives a flying **** That good artesian water’s poisoned By good farmer’s leached out muck. CO2 in global warming Sings it’s song of fast decline Glacial retreat a-roaring Bass relief in blood ***** I guess the little children’s future Most depends on lady luck, Humankind in mass denial Most don’t give a flying **** Marshalg In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox. 21 September 2011

Continue reading...

enfold me in warmth wrap around me like the ozone layer covering the earth in cloud cover hold me tighter than a toddler grasping their mothers hand, as they cross a road love me more than two lovebirds nesting in spring

0

Oct 1, 2013

Oct 1, 2013 at 6:34 AM UTC

enfold me in warmth wrap around me like the ozone layer covering the earth in cloud cover hold me tighter than a toddler grasping their mothers hand, as they cross a road love me more than two lovebirds nesting in spring

Continue reading...

Tired of the ways of men Desperately I turned toward nature I watched a butterfly ascend Yet I'm a different nomenclature Of a solemn glacier Standing on my own In an arctic cone Not protected by the ozone So I search for a new home But can only find loans My venture for my own real estate Exposed me to the realest hate I'm the roaming gnome With a groaning tone All alone With a roaming phone So I can't call home My will I leave When still I see A killer bee Filling me Willingly Its invasion's Abrasions Left a sensation With a duration Of unending inflation On a descending station Of no impending relation I felt the nature Of a desolate crater When I met a great hater Who told me to get straighter So I could be a steel freighter Carrying my load on my back Without polluting the air I decided to cut him some slack Forgiving his impossible dare I must gather grace At a faster pace To finish this race Of a top notch Hot crotch Stopwatch Ticking down Into the ground Without a sound Or warning Of acid rain forming Until I see myself melting From the savage belting Of your death sting You called the best thing Like a divine blessing Only seen after ********** Like a politician deflecting For the constituents electing To forego dissecting The issue at hand By not taking a stand My world is crumbling Because of you And myself stumbling In society's glue As the sky is tumbling I see I'll lose Yet instead of rumbling It's love I choose

0

Aug 8, 2018

Aug 8, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC

Tired of the ways of men Desperately I turned toward nature I watched a butterfly ascend Yet I'm a different nomenclature Of a solemn glacier Standing on my own In an arctic cone Not protected by the ozone So I search for a new home But can only find loans My venture for my own real estate Exposed me to the realest hate I'm the roaming gnome With a groaning tone All alone With a roaming phone So I can't call home My will I leave When still I see A killer bee Filling me Willingly Its invasion's Abrasions Left a sensation With a duration Of unending inflation On a descending station Of no impending relation I felt the nature Of a desolate crater When I met a great hater Who told me to get straighter So I could be a steel freighter Carrying my load on my back Without polluting the air I decided to cut him some slack Forgiving his impossible dare I must gather grace At a faster pace To finish this race Of a top notch Hot crotch Stopwatch Ticking down Into the ground Without a sound Or warning Of acid rain forming Until I see myself melting From the savage belting Of your death sting You called the best thing Like a divine blessing Only seen after ********** Like a politician deflecting For the constituents electing To forego dissecting The issue at hand By not taking a stand My world is crumbling Because of you And myself stumbling In society's glue As the sky is tumbling I see I'll lose Yet instead of rumbling It's love I choose

Continue reading...

There once was beauty beyond belief In far north Queensland’s barrier reef Beneath the surface of the sea There lay a world of fantasy Amid the shallows of the deep Countless crustaceans crawled and creeped A place so different from the land Until it was touched by humans hand Now polluted by plastic sedimentary and decay Has our only solution been washed away Once a wondrous landmark to behold Gone in a heart beat, the oceans tale, told Although there a politicians that still deny A warming ozone will bid the coral colours goodbye Littered white graveyards accomplished the sin If only we had thrown our ******* in the bin A tremendous story of ecological distress Hopefully we can learn from this disastrous mess /gt

0

Oct 31, 2018

Oct 31, 2018 at 8:18 AM UTC

Coral Bleaching.

There once was beauty beyond belief In far north Queensland’s barrier reef Beneath the surface of the sea There lay a world of fantasy Amid the shallows of the deep Countless crustaceans crawled and creeped A place so different from the land Until it was touched by humans hand Now polluted by plastic sedimentary and decay Has our only solution been washed away Once a wondrous landmark to behold Gone in a heart beat, the oceans tale, told Although there a politicians that still deny A warming ozone will bid the coral colours goodbye Littered white graveyards accomplished the sin If only we had thrown our ******* in the bin A tremendous story of ecological distress Hopefully we can learn from this disastrous mess /gt

Continue reading...

do you even know me? think again. just because you heard some **** about me doesn't mean it's true but thank you for telling me what you heard now that's my definition of you your revenge is not the healthy kind if i were you, i'd stay the **** away from those manipulative minds i know i have my own issues, some i won't admit to but hearing all that like garbage being dumped like the ocean being polluted like the ozone filled with substances to dilute it just breaks my heart. please stop.

0

Jan 28, 2021

Jan 28, 2021 at 4:58 PM UTC

please stop gossiping about me

do you even know me? think again. just because you heard some **** about me doesn't mean it's true but thank you for telling me what you heard now that's my definition of you your revenge is not the healthy kind if i were you, i'd stay the **** away from those manipulative minds i know i have my own issues, some i won't admit to but hearing all that like garbage being dumped like the ocean being polluted like the ozone filled with substances to dilute it just breaks my heart. please stop.

Continue reading...

I. I'm writing to tell you that I've spoken with your sister. She tells me everything these days, though recently I've marked the way her voice conceals a quiet shame; rage in casual tones, and fear in quiet whispers. I haven't kissed her in quite some time. She's thinking of you. II. I'm sorry that I haven't written sooner. This fasting saps volition from my fingers, and the hot smell of ozone still lingers in the air. But everywhere I see you on the news. Has Ramadan been hard for you this year? I'm looking forward to hearing from you. I want to know that you are near once more. Please write. III. I saw an action flick today, and something of you in the way the heroine roared and flipped her hair just before letting a rocket fly. I thought that I would die of suspense until the moment when the hero rose from the rubble to stand above his foes. Crows circled. Credits rolled. IV. Thunder tolls. The atmosphere crackles and bursts. It's early yet, and not even my worst. My warring hands will never give you peace. An endless war-song issues from my lips. You are not brave enough, dear girl, to resist destruction by my hand. The bomb blessed by my lips is indifferent, darling boy. I will consume the gardens planted with your seeds. V. Bismillah, arrahman, arraheem. VI. Blessed is he who cries out for peace. The Lord sees him and sees that he is good. Blessed is she who dines before the sunrise and loses her life at noon, still clad in vestments of her childhood. VII. Eid Mubarak, and peace be with you every year. I've yet to hear from you. I saw your sister again today. Whatever tinged her voice still holds her. She said she hasn't written. It matters who writes, so write a love-letter, I told her. She's thinking of you.

0

Aug 9, 2014

Aug 9, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC

Love Letters for Ramadan

I. I'm writing to tell you that I've spoken with your sister. She tells me everything these days, though recently I've marked the way her voice conceals a quiet shame; rage in casual tones, and fear in quiet whispers. I haven't kissed her in quite some time. She's thinking of you. II. I'm sorry that I haven't written sooner. This fasting saps volition from my fingers, and the hot smell of ozone still lingers in the air. But everywhere I see you on the news. Has Ramadan been hard for you this year? I'm looking forward to hearing from you. I want to know that you are near once more. Please write. III. I saw an action flick today, and something of you in the way the heroine roared and flipped her hair just before letting a rocket fly. I thought that I would die of suspense until the moment when the hero rose from the rubble to stand above his foes. Crows circled. Credits rolled. IV. Thunder tolls. The atmosphere crackles and bursts. It's early yet, and not even my worst. My warring hands will never give you peace. An endless war-song issues from my lips. You are not brave enough, dear girl, to resist destruction by my hand. The bomb blessed by my lips is indifferent, darling boy. I will consume the gardens planted with your seeds. V. Bismillah, arrahman, arraheem. VI. Blessed is he who cries out for peace. The Lord sees him and sees that he is good. Blessed is she who dines before the sunrise and loses her life at noon, still clad in vestments of her childhood. VII. Eid Mubarak, and peace be with you every year. I've yet to hear from you. I saw your sister again today. Whatever tinged her voice still holds her. She said she hasn't written. It matters who writes, so write a love-letter, I told her. She's thinking of you.

Continue reading...

I love petrichor ; The way that seconds after the first few drops start falling ; The scent of Ozone fills the air . I love the smell of fall, The beauty of trees showing us that you can still shed bits of you that have died... Yet still be beautiful. I love the sound of my nieces laugh; The way it steadily always brings me back to earth durning chaos , Reminding me to be joyful. I love the ocean. How beautiful is it from the surface ; Knowing no one will ever see all the beauty That lurks beneath the depths. I love seeing peoples faces describing The person they love. Their features change , they Become alive . I love coffee, and my dog, and my tiny feet, and whiskey, and sportscenter, and lime popsicles. I love sleeping in ,and watching Braveheart . I love love, and i love living . What do you love.

0

Nov 15, 2013

Nov 15, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC

CinderellaWithTattoos

I love petrichor ; The way that seconds after the first few drops start falling ; The scent of Ozone fills the air . I love the smell of fall, The beauty of trees showing us that you can still shed bits of you that have died... Yet still be beautiful. I love the sound of my nieces laugh; The way it steadily always brings me back to earth durning chaos , Reminding me to be joyful. I love the ocean. How beautiful is it from the surface ; Knowing no one will ever see all the beauty That lurks beneath the depths. I love seeing peoples faces describing The person they love. Their features change , they Become alive . I love coffee, and my dog, and my tiny feet, and whiskey, and sportscenter, and lime popsicles. I love sleeping in ,and watching Braveheart . I love love, and i love living . What do you love.

Continue reading...

us humans haven't quite cleaned up everyday we send nasty chemicals spiraling up which invariably stuffs the ozone layer up our polluting of this rim of protection continually goes on we're not holding the pollutants in retention which shows we're damaging its convention there needs to be more innovative ideas developed to subdue the ***** air which we humans keep overly producing here and everywhere so as the ultra violet streams don't not become too extreme they do irreparable harm and give cause for alarm we humans have an obligation to our planet's ozone cover by not sullying its protective sheath with tons of polluting smother

0

Sep 15, 2014

Sep 15, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC

ElizabethSquires

us humans haven't quite cleaned up everyday we send nasty chemicals spiraling up which invariably stuffs the ozone layer up our polluting of this rim of protection continually goes on we're not holding the pollutants in retention which shows we're damaging its convention there needs to be more innovative ideas developed to subdue the ***** air which we humans keep overly producing here and everywhere so as the ultra violet streams don't not become too extreme they do irreparable harm and give cause for alarm we humans have an obligation to our planet's ozone cover by not sullying its protective sheath with tons of polluting smother

Continue reading...

you know, they say oxygen though vital to life is ultimately its very destructor. you see, it burns us from the inside out we willingly take it in let it slowly ravage our bodies and seep its poison into our precious vessels so when we leave this celestial orb we're still left grasping for one last breath. so in a way, i guess i could say i need you like i need oxygen.

0

Jul 4, 2013

Jul 4, 2013 at 1:07 AM UTC

you know, they say oxygen though vital to life is ultimately its very destructor. you see, it burns us from the inside out we willingly take it in let it slowly ravage our bodies and seep its poison into our precious vessels so when we leave this celestial orb we're still left grasping for one last breath. so in a way, i guess i could say i need you like i need oxygen.

Continue reading...

Waiting for the storm to lower its head and charge In ozone incense of unstable air Eons of ions ago horned and heavy negatives lock prey within vortical-eye Angelic flutter of electrons struggling on-- in yellowish friction above... “...Did I tell you?” Love is lightning hotter than the sun! Schism-- resolving in the only way it can a design that cannot save itself! Clouds roar away-- For a minute-- I think that I will too -- along with all these words and rain *“...and did I tell you... how thunderstorms remind me ...of love...the way it should be and the worship after?”*

0

Jun 18, 2017

Jun 18, 2017 at 7:03 PM UTC

elizabeth-balise

The Worship After

Waiting for the storm to lower its head and charge In ozone incense of unstable air Eons of ions ago horned and heavy negatives lock prey within vortical-eye Angelic flutter of electrons struggling on-- in yellowish friction above... “...Did I tell you?” Love is lightning hotter than the sun! Schism-- resolving in the only way it can a design that cannot save itself! Clouds roar away-- For a minute-- I think that I will too -- along with all these words and rain *“...and did I tell you... how thunderstorms remind me ...of love...the way it should be and the worship after?”*

Continue reading...

Coastline, rocky, rugged, proud, Crumbling cliffs in ozone shroud, Sun-kissed drifts of desert sand, Golden frame of a sea cradled land. Fishing village, atmospheric hub, Brass band playing, outside quaint old pub, Boats, all sizes, rest near harbour wall, Wading birds sift through tide-filled pool. Foliage explosion of a Cornish hedge, Country lanes snake, and young birds fledge, Ruminants, punctuating, quilted hill, Buzzards soar and wise hares are still. Tin mine engine house, towering stack, Roof caved in, gorse and bracken’s back, White clay peak, geometrical and sleek, Earth’s riches gouged, canyon deep. Moor-land, open, untamed, granite strewn, Wild ponies dance to a skylark’s tune, Tor and beacon, barrow and mound, You’re in God’s own country, when you walk this ground.

0

Jun 10, 2017

Jun 10, 2017 at 5:05 AM UTC

Cornwall Explored

Coastline, rocky, rugged, proud, Crumbling cliffs in ozone shroud, Sun-kissed drifts of desert sand, Golden frame of a sea cradled land. Fishing village, atmospheric hub, Brass band playing, outside quaint old pub, Boats, all sizes, rest near harbour wall, Wading birds sift through tide-filled pool. Foliage explosion of a Cornish hedge, Country lanes snake, and young birds fledge, Ruminants, punctuating, quilted hill, Buzzards soar and wise hares are still. Tin mine engine house, towering stack, Roof caved in, gorse and bracken’s back, White clay peak, geometrical and sleek, Earth’s riches gouged, canyon deep. Moor-land, open, untamed, granite strewn, Wild ponies dance to a skylark’s tune, Tor and beacon, barrow and mound, You’re in God’s own country, when you walk this ground.

Continue reading...

I seen beneath my eyelids I was a black silhouette of an entity outlined in platinum aura eclipse and the visions fell far & fell hard from a teardrop chandelier hanging from the ceiling in my skull & shattered the crude jewel encrusted crescent floor then thunder roared in the distance & erupted the crown, unleashing a copious explosion of white gold light & my skeleton sheds the snakeskin & escapes thru the hole in my head; just crawls right out, bubbles up & becomes a pink heart shaped balloon & it floats up. out. away. creeps thru one of the holes in the ozone, straight into the sun & burns up. star burst. & that's soul.

0

May 14, 2015

May 14, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC

I seen beneath my eyelids I was a black silhouette of an entity outlined in platinum aura eclipse and the visions fell far & fell hard from a teardrop chandelier hanging from the ceiling in my skull & shattered the crude jewel encrusted crescent floor then thunder roared in the distance & erupted the crown, unleashing a copious explosion of white gold light & my skeleton sheds the snakeskin & escapes thru the hole in my head; just crawls right out, bubbles up & becomes a pink heart shaped balloon & it floats up. out. away. creeps thru one of the holes in the ozone, straight into the sun & burns up. star burst. & that's soul.

Continue reading...

I stand alone in the dark Fulton Street subway station, Breathing in the urine-scented air, Breathing out clouds of steam, A subway train rushes along, Not stopping, Biting at my eardrums, With the painful percussion, Of thousands of people, Silently screaming, I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see, The air fanned by each subway car, Rushes against me, Pushes the ozone and the smell of burnt brake linings, Into my nostrils, Along with the air, ****** through the iron gratings, Along miles of Brooklyn sidewalks, Carrying the odor of a prostitute’s festering sores, And the cries of a hungry, fatherless child in ***** diapers, And the hoarse moaning of a city councilman mentoring a young intern, And the cheap perfume of a fourteen year-old runaway, Turning $20 tricks in an alley, Smelling of stale Chinese food and wet dogs, And . . . I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see, . . . the smell of spoiled cabbage soup, And the rancid remains of a hotdog buried in sauerkraut, And putrid lilies lying in a gutter, All assaulting me, forcing me backwards, Until my back presses against, The grimy once-white tiles, That coldly burn their graffiti on my spine: God is dead, Bake a **** Whitey ***** **** the ******* I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see, The train finally passes, Its red eyes receding into the dank, Dark tunnel beyond the platform, The screeches and screams slowly die out, Their echoes ******* behind them, The smell, Of my, Warm *****

0

Dec 23, 2018

Dec 23, 2018 at 10:54 PM UTC

I stand alone in the dark Fulton Street subway station, Breathing in the urine-scented air, Breathing out clouds of steam, A subway train rushes along, Not stopping, Biting at my eardrums, With the painful percussion, Of thousands of people, Silently screaming, I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see, The air fanned by each subway car, Rushes against me, Pushes the ozone and the smell of burnt brake linings, Into my nostrils, Along with the air, ****** through the iron gratings, Along miles of Brooklyn sidewalks, Carrying the odor of a prostitute’s festering sores, And the cries of a hungry, fatherless child in ***** diapers, And the hoarse moaning of a city councilman mentoring a young intern, And the cheap perfume of a fourteen year-old runaway, Turning $20 tricks in an alley, Smelling of stale Chinese food and wet dogs, And . . . I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see, . . . the smell of spoiled cabbage soup, And the rancid remains of a hotdog buried in sauerkraut, And putrid lilies lying in a gutter, All assaulting me, forcing me backwards, Until my back presses against, The grimy once-white tiles, That coldly burn their graffiti on my spine: God is dead, Bake a **** Whitey ***** **** the ******* I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see, The train finally passes, Its red eyes receding into the dank, Dark tunnel beyond the platform, The screeches and screams slowly die out, Their echoes ******* behind them, The smell, Of my, Warm *****

Continue reading...

The passion of my heart. Could wear the river rocks to dust. Relentless like the tides of moons. The passion of my heart. Could travel any distance. It knows no barrier like the fading Ozone. The passion of my heart. Could melt with invisible fire. Like the polar ice caps. The passion of my heart. Could feed the hungry. Full of Endless substance. The passion of my heart. Could be inconceivably large. Rivaling the Sun and the stars.

0

May 23, 2015

May 23, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC

jack-thompson1991

The passion of my heart. Could wear the river rocks to dust. Relentless like the tides of moons. The passion of my heart. Could travel any distance. It knows no barrier like the fading Ozone. The passion of my heart. Could melt with invisible fire. Like the polar ice caps. The passion of my heart. Could feed the hungry. Full of Endless substance. The passion of my heart. Could be inconceivably large. Rivaling the Sun and the stars.

Continue reading...

you're not doing well with skin like bed sheets ebbing tides in your forehead and the malady that keeps your mind guessing, these next six nights of not having to feel so alone will make you fall back into sleep to grow roots. i'll cut holes in the ozone to put your heartache in i'll walk you to the hospital, i'll wait in a white room, place your sad eyes in my drawers until my hand breaks the universe is twice as big as we think it is and 'you are so important to me' is easier to digest than skipping heart beats i miss you like a dart hits the iris of a bullseye, or a train ticket screams 4:30 at 4:47, and i've fallen in love you're the only one that made that idea less devastating.

0

Jul 21, 2017

Jul 21, 2017 at 1:23 AM UTC

you're not doing well with skin like bed sheets ebbing tides in your forehead and the malady that keeps your mind guessing, these next six nights of not having to feel so alone will make you fall back into sleep to grow roots. i'll cut holes in the ozone to put your heartache in i'll walk you to the hospital, i'll wait in a white room, place your sad eyes in my drawers until my hand breaks the universe is twice as big as we think it is and 'you are so important to me' is easier to digest than skipping heart beats i miss you like a dart hits the iris of a bullseye, or a train ticket screams 4:30 at 4:47, and i've fallen in love you're the only one that made that idea less devastating.

Continue reading...

I write this from a library under the watchful gaze of Voltaire, Having read that the future of Earth's water is being debated in Morocco. Isn't there a Utilitarian part of us all that strives to save our home, And rejects the notion that we must **** where we eat to make progress? Gambling becomes dangerous when you begin to stake declining resources. There is no turning back, and there is little optimism from Millennials who shall inherit the rotting infrastructure. Nothing is dramatic or blown out of proportion when the President can't acknowledge that there's something seriously wrong with a giant hole in the ozone. Herr Trump, where is the ice going? Would you sell the penguins for profit? Tell the Polish Brigade that legal workers will restore this country's ideal greatness. Tell them sincerely. Reagan spouted that it was Morning in America, and I imagine the Trumpites feel the same. What is morning, anyway, when you can't see the sun for the smog?

0

Nov 10, 2016

Nov 10, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC

Marrakech. (On the Future of the Environment.)

I write this from a library under the watchful gaze of Voltaire, Having read that the future of Earth's water is being debated in Morocco. Isn't there a Utilitarian part of us all that strives to save our home, And rejects the notion that we must **** where we eat to make progress? Gambling becomes dangerous when you begin to stake declining resources. There is no turning back, and there is little optimism from Millennials who shall inherit the rotting infrastructure. Nothing is dramatic or blown out of proportion when the President can't acknowledge that there's something seriously wrong with a giant hole in the ozone. Herr Trump, where is the ice going? Would you sell the penguins for profit? Tell the Polish Brigade that legal workers will restore this country's ideal greatness. Tell them sincerely. Reagan spouted that it was Morning in America, and I imagine the Trumpites feel the same. What is morning, anyway, when you can't see the sun for the smog?

Continue reading...

Alice and I were fudged fruiting inside Falstaffian freakish fleur–de–lys: She inside a quack–aztec–tattooed tank, Me inside a pendulous magenta harness with polydactyl–perverted plumes bespattered into it. In the ****** **** of that kaput flophouse We creosoted our conks all the cockatrices of the gorge–de–pigeon, Inside crotches, Jacuzzis and homocentric Action Men. Alice, with the pornographic bend sinisters in the teeth of her poltergeistish fajita crocodile, Smacked of the plug–ugly poofter of a south–south–west by south sackful sandbank. I cemented the jaundiced dangler of an ostrich to my prick. With that and my uncut fiddlestick of knobs I was the idiosyncratic and wholehogging sadomasochistic slapper! We banged the bush streaming proboscis in tentacle Through smorgasbords of hermaphrodites and high muck–a–mucks While Ravi Shankar’s idioglossias and cockchafers juddered our titbits. Our Moonies were classically cracked flabelliform by the time we disinterred them. Alice managed to fornicate incognito white elephant on behalf of myself And we were passionately on the back of the dingdong, naked as our Moonies. We kept one’s pecker up wrapped up in the shadowgraph Athwart ever-strangling girdles of formaldehyde, ozone, fomenter and widow’s weeds, Athwart polytetrafluoroethylene–pricked precipices and then down to the butts Where we both came to a sticky end on our jockstraps and leered at the ballet dancers That we then penetrated rhythmically by elongating tumescent our gang banging tentacles. Through comfortable French knickers I burped, “Thank you for ****** me everywhere, Alice”. In the soporific honeypotspunk, aped on the ooze, I could smell that her **** had made her ******* type soap flakes break the sound barrier, Splashing out a ***** whale seed skirting her jowls. “You’re fragrant, flypaper”, she rapped. The Government gabble that little green men who hammer out the sexagenarians weren’t on board. Inside spleen of the spliffs, inside spleen of my gangrenous Pollyanna, I will over one’s dead body evacuate. I will over one’s dead body evacuate.

0

Mar 22, 2010

Mar 22, 2010 at 4:09 PM UTC

Alice and I were fudged fruiting inside Falstaffian freakish fleur–de–lys: She inside a quack–aztec–tattooed tank, Me inside a pendulous magenta harness with polydactyl–perverted plumes bespattered into it. In the ****** **** of that kaput flophouse We creosoted our conks all the cockatrices of the gorge–de–pigeon, Inside crotches, Jacuzzis and homocentric Action Men. Alice, with the pornographic bend sinisters in the teeth of her poltergeistish fajita crocodile, Smacked of the plug–ugly poofter of a south–south–west by south sackful sandbank. I cemented the jaundiced dangler of an ostrich to my prick. With that and my uncut fiddlestick of knobs I was the idiosyncratic and wholehogging sadomasochistic slapper! We banged the bush streaming proboscis in tentacle Through smorgasbords of hermaphrodites and high muck–a–mucks While Ravi Shankar’s idioglossias and cockchafers juddered our titbits. Our Moonies were classically cracked flabelliform by the time we disinterred them. Alice managed to fornicate incognito white elephant on behalf of myself And we were passionately on the back of the dingdong, naked as our Moonies. We kept one’s pecker up wrapped up in the shadowgraph Athwart ever-strangling girdles of formaldehyde, ozone, fomenter and widow’s weeds, Athwart polytetrafluoroethylene–pricked precipices and then down to the butts Where we both came to a sticky end on our jockstraps and leered at the ballet dancers That we then penetrated rhythmically by elongating tumescent our gang banging tentacles. Through comfortable French knickers I burped, “Thank you for ****** me everywhere, Alice”. In the soporific honeypotspunk, aped on the ooze, I could smell that her **** had made her ******* type soap flakes break the sound barrier, Splashing out a ***** whale seed skirting her jowls. “You’re fragrant, flypaper”, she rapped. The Government gabble that little green men who hammer out the sexagenarians weren’t on board. Inside spleen of the spliffs, inside spleen of my gangrenous Pollyanna, I will over one’s dead body evacuate. I will over one’s dead body evacuate.

Continue reading...

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.

0

Aug 20, 2019

Aug 20, 2019 at 4:24 AM 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.

Continue reading...

Waiting, scent of ozone air thickens with promises and sighs, Watching the skyward giggling for the first drops to fall. Wild hearts drumming, we’re ready to rise, Wandering barefoot, bare skin fearless of it all. Anticipation shivers beneath our fingertips, Arms slowly reach, darkness finding our curves. Aching, we’re eager to taste rain on lips, Alive in the night, bodies as one, careless what observes. Now, the rain’s rhythm is our only sound, Naked, our hands chart each secret trace. Need is the language our bodies have found, Nurturing touch, we fill every empty space. Over us, winter’s chill lingers outside, Our bodies, skin-on-skin cocooned in down blankets so deep. Ours is the pulse no frost can divide— Open your eyes, love, our memories will keep.

0

May 30, 2025

May 30, 2025 at 10:37 AM UTC

GaiasSoothingHaven

The Rhythms Of The Rain Find Our Folds

Waiting, scent of ozone air thickens with promises and sighs, Watching the skyward giggling for the first drops to fall. Wild hearts drumming, we’re ready to rise, Wandering barefoot, bare skin fearless of it all. Anticipation shivers beneath our fingertips, Arms slowly reach, darkness finding our curves. Aching, we’re eager to taste rain on lips, Alive in the night, bodies as one, careless what observes. Now, the rain’s rhythm is our only sound, Naked, our hands chart each secret trace. Need is the language our bodies have found, Nurturing touch, we fill every empty space. Over us, winter’s chill lingers outside, Our bodies, skin-on-skin cocooned in down blankets so deep. Ours is the pulse no frost can divide— Open your eyes, love, our memories will keep.

Continue reading...