"pesticide" poems
My recollect is of the each,
The Two
And within the Two
One is the One
Holding and using our lead and ink utensils
as if they are weapons for winning at Love,
and reasoning for our written duel
Expressing desires the voice would customarily sever into dissection
Permitting authority to the crafted scripts *********
and may it’s barrier lay
over the possibility of a broken and scattered tongues communicate
Giving our internal intent its day
the way hoped it would speak
Expecting the requited, the return
was a pesticide over wide horizon,
Where the organic surprise of rainfall kept us neutral and thankful
And apart,
our minds maintained with
and of our other
With no need for philosophical proofs only the inner felt proof
Of forwarding shards of sentiment
with compiled assurance
and a dispatched formula
the best way we could phrase
Alongside images
that came in and held tight
in sectors tucked away and reserved from the cherished
to this day are still to be amazed
Spontaneous placement of universally synchronized jewels and stones
Of not have to have
[Only the simplified, pushed down and planted fact]
Of want her to have
So when away,
You feel a personal, singled-out
appraisal of praise
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 9:07 PM UTC
don't
don't make me
don't make me pull the trigger
don't I don't want to please
I'm just
I'm scared
please
my hands are shaking
can't you see my han-
DON'T MAKE ME PULL THE TRIGGER, I SAID
don't please don't move
don't make this hard
just stay still please
you're all insects tonight.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 5:09 AM UTC
No matter how much my body resists it, the internal dialog never stops, cant destroy it. with my cigarettes, or junk food, or my bad attitude, can’t make extinct the thing that’s possessed me.
right in front of you
like a worn out tune of blues,
looking like leftover food, but not so tasty.
it’s a dream of mine, and in time i will learn what it takes to
make the seed grow.
never know? doubt kills like
pesticide,
insecticide,
boys at columbine.
with vicious and preconceived certainty.
no humanity or humility, only cruelty.
like the beast of nature, (pardon me)
nature of the beast.
the nature of the beast
will never cease. like the internal dialog, never stops. can’t destroy it with my cigarettes, or junk food, or my bad attitude. can’t make extinct the thing that resides inside of them, that’s possessed them.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 3:18 AM UTC
American city, your roads make me gasp,
Hold my breath with cancerous anxiety.
Your sidewalks,
Ancient ruins of time passed: A failed optimism for Utopian desire:
A house, a yard, a car for every person.
Now derelict, termite infested, but rented.
Chlorinated chemical water runs through rusted, moldy spickets to
Rinse pesticide seasoned vegetables.
And yet they remain so tasteless.
But who cares?
Suburban middle class zombies?
Created with media placed propaganda.
Born and inoculated with DisneypepsiMccocacola ideologies.
Oh Wal-Mart,
how we love your homogenized Chinese products.
Oh America,
how we love your multi-million dollar cathartic films,
They bring my mind to no place and inspire nothing.
Your theme park inspired retail caters to any identity I desire:
I am a professional,
My wallet lined with the best credit cards,
SUV, Hummer, Super boat, designer label, mall bought,
bleached teeth smile, with slick greasy hair style.
I'm cool, I pay for the gas.
Beep your horn, and rev your engine.
We are at war with each other.
Everyone get out of my way: road rage lifestyle: compete or die.
Big screen television dream.
Bought it at Target.
Open my cupboard: Macaroni and Cheese, delicious.
Ambian, Prozac, antibiotic, Listerine.
Collagen bovine beauty:
Manicure, pedicure, dye and wax
Acrylic nails, hair extensions
And silicone sacs.
Oh, American city
How we want to steal your money and **** your blood.
Chop your trees and cement your grass.
American city you are dead.
Jan 11, 2010
Jan 11, 2010 at 6:22 AM UTC
So what I drink all my calories
I'm sane and you're not, bruh
It's never enough even to wear
what you're wearing and talk
like you talk, do you even care?
Killing myself keeping things legit in your sphere
Black sheep combine forces to feel
wanted, keeping your company
I feel blocked when you're nodding.
Yes, I'm acting just like you want me,
bruh, I'm coming up short to your haughti
ness, blessed with a sense of self
stopping just short of your level and
what the hell, what I am doing here
fighting for otherness, concerned
with the purity of water of my brothers
and my sisters of the covenant
You talk about faith when it comes
to prey that you're stalking, keep
it strong, yolo, fleek, and a hashtag
To be honest I'm scared that my hometown
will be infested with those the internet
claimed and ingest, swallowed with
speed of light, people spit out as pesticide
turning the verdant green such a ****** brown
Yes you're so on top and classy, lacking
purposely the tenets that turn a body fancy
Cool *** beard bro, girl that's a freak ***
hairdo, up in the midst short sides a pool cue
locked in your hands up inside a ******* dive bar,
midnight drive holding a pipe 'hind your
headlights, Yes you're mixing with the best
making them arrogant, such a lens to view
the struggles they been through, Weird queer
younglings in their late twenties and homeless
at some point, only the noise of the sirens
and blue lit bathrooms, keeper of the needle
rights, and happiness,5-0 lights blasting on naito, picking
on the kids white/brown outside washing
the day away with the kiss of the pabst
taking a nap on the grass on the waterfront
blessed with lives with beards and queers
passing by as they want one.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 3:21 AM UTC
We are free like a tree in the valley with nothing to see but pesticide dreams.
If you were free, what you speak wouldn't end with prosecution.
If you were free, you wouldn't be dumbing down your senses with alcohol pollution
When nature provides more than enough to lift you as a clear solution.
If you were free, the green pieces of paper would be "My notes",
and not "Federal Reserve Notes" that we owe interest back to.
If you were free, then the walls of the matrix we could crack through.
If you were free, you would be able to choose who could lead your country,
Instead of falsely participating in which dictator puppet reigns supreme in the best interests of the Rich and powerful gaining land resources and money.
If you were free, you wouldn't be on your knees bobbleheading at all the media tells you.
If you were free, you would not accept any leader who actively kills the innocent, and does not say Why, or even show proof.
If you were free, you would stand up, for what's morally right.
If you were free you would look at those in your peripheral
and join them rather than work against in spite.
If you were free, we could actually pride ourselves for being a country all about freedom.
If you were free, you would say NO to RFID chips, already being used on middle and high school kids in Texas, numb, to what is free.
I can't free you, you must free yourself and wake up to the mirage and bombardment of lies Raining down our existence.
If you were free, you would be a threat, everything they don't want.
It's everything we need, with persistence.
Let go of the fear of fear.
When that time comes, just as a flower becomes unfurled,
There will be a triumph for all that's good in the world.
Open your mind, stop the chatter, and wake up. Free Yourself
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 3:15 AM UTC
Ireland is riddled with
cancer.
Pesticides, herbicides,
fungicides-
Are obviously, not the
answer.
Dairygold® have got
it right. Surprisingly!
Organic pastureland,
green grass, happy cows!
"Golden Valleys,
Growing Naturally" ?
("Logo ™")
without the question
mark.
<>
In the event of Corporate
Punishment, IE, finding a
herd of hungry Friesians
in my front lawn, or my
next organic pizza happens
to be a Crispy Cow Pat with
lashings of Mozzarella, I am
hereby declaring that Silent
Spring lady, Rachel Carson,
was bumped off for making
metaphorical accusations, such
as could be interpreted by those
who are currently involved in
the depopulation process by
way of poisoning the people
via consumer products, that
are known to contain harmful
carcinogenic compounds veiled
by misleading advertising.
natural
adjective
1. her policy of using fresh, natural produce: unprocessed, organic, pure, wholesome, unrefined, pesticide-free, chemical-free, additive-free, unbleached, unmixed, real, plain, ****** crude, raw. ANTONYMS artificial, refined.
2. a natural occurrence: normal, ordinary, everyday, usual, regular, common, commonplace, typical, routine, standard, established, customary, accustomed, habitual, run-of-the-mill, stock, unexceptional. ANTONYMS abnormal, unnatural, exceptional.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 4:43 AM UTC
This sickness has
derailed me.
I've scaled back on
the things that
matter most.
Life has become
askew.
I'm tangled up in
blue and red lines,
back against the
fence.
I'm frozen and febrile.
Insecticide burns on
my spirit.
Pesticide in my lungs.
I'm sick of all
these chemicals.
They are in my dreams,
and in my bones.
Maybe, she is the infection...
Never mind, it's just Covid 19.
Jan 6, 2022
Jan 6, 2022 at 1:32 PM UTC
I would like to remember my grandpa,
as a strong man,
a respected man,
one of the only perfect people I've known.
I will be reminded of his presence
every time I pass a field, cattle, a farm, see a barn, eat fresh non pesticide foods,
anytime I need strength draw from to know that I can be a man,
I will know that I have had someone in my life who has literally lived a perfect life at least for as long as I can remember.
I would like to take this moment to stop my bad doings,
in respects for him,
anyone who has an agenda to do illegal things with me please respect me,
and leave me be.
I realize that I may have been at one point an influence to you or possibly the biggest influence but I'm doing this out of respects towards my family and towards myself,
if you can't respect that then you need to get out of my life,
never speak to me,
don't text me,
don't wave to me,
don't say hi to me,
because I do not need that influence anymore.
Those of you who'm I love and respect should be able to understand.
I need some closure, I need some time away from people, I need some time with my family.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 11:19 PM UTC
Mind like a molecular laser
Even if you get in front of him
he always comes out ahead
His rivals dead
Evidence smashed
with "Magnets"
Chemical connect established
bringing in steady barrels
Cooking blue glass beneath circus tents
undercover of pesticide, and less pretty poison
His wife is a wreck
She's the only one who knows
Sweet Walt the chemistry teacher
Is a freon-blooded massmuderer
Keep the glass coming
Need fast cash
To get established
You can always count
on Skinny Pete and Badger
for comic relief
Albuquerque's foulest
runs every thing he sees
Its guaranteed...
He won't live to fifty-three.
Aug 13, 2012
Aug 13, 2012 at 10:02 AM UTC
It’s not easy to be a bee
Our crowded view of life
Sometimes the only thing I see
Are trouble, toil and strife
We search to find the source of food
Then hurry to the hive
We hype the others in the mood
With waggle dance and jive
The queen, protected and aloof
Not like all the others
She is the sign and living proof
When smoke comes and smothers
Work and waggle, my daily chore
Then search a place to hide
Being a bee is so much more
When dodging pesticide
I’m a worker, and not a drone
I hope that you can see
When you harvest sweet honeycomb
It tough being a bee
Jun 10, 2022
Jun 10, 2022 at 12:33 AM UTC
a shake weight table steak
powdered sugar cigarette
break burning in alcohol
and corn flakes
a big ********* cluster-fuck
of broken noses and carefully
crafted poses posting pictures
of processed hipster's and blisters,
shit-stirrers and culture twisters
jockeying for a spot
all melting in the ***
quiz show **** beads and
fleshlight teenage dreams
soaking through entitled
suburban screens choking
on plastic screams
chocolate dipped cancer fingers
city bus exhaust lingers
prescription bottle salvation bringers
and underneath it all the bible
belt girdles the gurgling masses
of glazed diabetes and frosted
faith pooling in the belly of
America
a fat flabby mess of
snake oil boiling
in stomach acid
and pesticide
"welcome, honey! grab a seat
anywhere you'd like --I'll be
right with you!"
Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 11:51 AM UTC
Heat waves in iced water.
Chilled moonshine on the scorching sun.
Blades of green earth on a long-lit fire.
Fresh-water creatures in the salty sea.
A glow, brighter than, and in the ocean of night.
A rock in the sky and birds that can't fly.
A whale on the beach with the sea out of reach. And Blossoms in a dark room.
An infant on his feet soon to fall into defeat.
Ever-greens in winter and ghosts in mid-day. Lungs underwater and gills in air. Like drugs in one's system that slowly pass through.
Owls at dawn, daylight birds in nocturnal song and eyes staring at the sun.
A snake on smooth surface and a worm on the rough.
Like a house cat in the wild mountains and rivers in suburban territory.
Like pillows stuffed with stones and a child with evil inside.
Free spirits in a cage and prisoners freed.
Like a stick in quick sand, a weighted mass floating on a light surface.
Like a dog, a cat and rat peacefully below one roof.
Like a beaten lion and a victorious antelope.
Like the colour of green against the shadow of black. Like hopping on concrete and civil wars. The hood in a college girl and a college girl in the hood.
Like curtains in the morning and yawning windows at dusk. Like an aged oak in the midst of a flood, like a water lily in the days of drought.
Like a forgotten pearl in a waste dump and fake gold on a woman's index.
Like a loud song muted by those who fear volume and a soft one forced to yell above its pitch.
Like a ladybug on a pesticide- poisoned crop.
Like a polar bear in the African Sahara.
Like a camel by the coast, ants with no work and busybodied sloths. A scarf in summer and crop tops in autumn. Plants dying in September and coming back to life in June.
Like a written-on page on a brand new day and wordlessness when that day is old and weary.
Like a torch at midnight. Like cellphones in a filled bath tub.
Like a fat man sprinting and the turtle losing the race. Like a homeless mother in a mansion.
Like a teenage girl with no tongue, and oppressors with no power.
Like David and Goliath, like a insane Albert Einstein. Like a flame on the ocean floor. Like me in this world, I shouldn't be, but I can be and I will be.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 4:29 AM UTC
*Pesticide is man
Knowing bumblebees can smell
Withering flowers*
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 10:01 PM UTC
soft-bodied succulents
dutifully separating the perennials
organization crisis, preservative induced
chemically altered worldview
shaped largely by food reconstructed
and the public’s inability to unite against imperialism –
daily newscasts give rise to propaganda
water-cooler hype fest
breaking information
leading with bleeding
enveloping the country in irrational fear
unsafe, even with children
constant threat from every direction
insanity has become the home
of Ward and June Cleaver –
glowing exhaust pipe
as all roads lead back
beginnings resemble endings
all things circular
revolving Revolutionary revolted
remembers regurgitating rancid raspberries
aluminum spray from the sky
coated pesticide residue from below
only the hate left is organic
and pure –
immeasurable, time slides away
plastic incorporated into new organisms
freshly evolved bacteria eat the remains
of humanity and its greatness
traceless epoch forever eroded
undiscovered pockets of micro cilium
dine on the fat reserves
stored in the soil
like oil –
returning gods survey creation version Earth
emotionless and stationary
the process is repeated
as it has been for billions of years
single manipulation
recoding the genetic structure
life begins this journey
one more time –
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC
Lilly is a flower by any other name
She follows her group and she is the same
Exterior like metal
Interior like lava
And a heart that is melting magma
She’s never felt anything other than hate
Ever since the grim reaper took her mother on the date
Her father drinks
Glasses clink and crack and
Break like her bones under metaphysical weight
And the constant worry that she will be late
This month like last
Pregnant teens are trash
Lilly is a flower in a garden of weeds
Smoke leaves her lips in white satin sleeves
Leaves bruises on her hips
As his anger seethes
And the high in her brain will never leave
But pesticide is poisoning
And despite her broken voice she will sing
A song from the garden
Her heart will harden much like her exterior
Metal
Treble Clef
Tattooed on her wrist
Treats her skin like a violin
Sawing at fictitious stings
Screams cry out like a canary sings
She hangs by her neck like chains on children’s swings
Lilly is a flower that unfortunately
Wilted
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
I plead insanity. Insane thoughts from a corrupted society are building blocks to thousands of towers of anxiety. Their looming, toxic shadows spewing a deathly breath of pollution across the blue sky of air that we breathe. The pesticide to our seed.
All for the money we bleed, over piles of broken hearts, and shattered hopes and oily seas.
This poem may seem like just some huge hyperbole, to some half-wit **** that thinks more money is the answer to our pleas. I hear wings of freedom span the horizon, and emblazoned with the love and dreams of freed humanity.
Will we ever hear the Phoenix's call?
Will our swelling pain ever be dulled?
Tears of sorrow rain down to the grasping hands of our flawed system.
Ego-centric maniacs crushing our noble opposition.
With open minds, souls, and hearts, love is our ammunition.
These words may seem worthless to the blind.
Flying past the gaze from your eyes.
Weary sighs from the fright. This light shines bright and I'll add a final free thought to inspire, the admiration to inquire a surge of motivation to bring ourselves even higher.
This poem unfortunately, now retires.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
A thumbtack to the heart,
a momentary migraine,
suffocation in a hiccup.
Every few hours
my body sends a meager glimpse
of what's in store.
But smoke
is a fine pesticide.
And the weather is nice
just ask the mosquitoes.
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
Naw motha fkka I
Ain't hot ****
Ain't pompous
Knock nitty gritty
With ****** up kids
I got uh
E mergency
Kit put together
With pipe and tape
From the basement
You need gum
Paperclips
Got a leak
Motha fkkn leaking
Unstable, collect
N assemble new
You wit half ya
Bodyweight in staples
BMI justified
With baggage n
Fix its
It's only a problem
When ya round
Motha fkka I
Ain't hot ****
But I'm one
Of the most torn
Up turned up
******* in the pound
Bombastic sensations
Comin from all sides
A ******
No hater
Trouble you
Trouble me
What's it gonna be?
Depends on your visage
**** I could turn it off
N I do do on occasion
If ya kickin without
The free body vibes
I visit, permission
Can't be a thing
I do wut I want when
I do cause I trust me
You r basic n
Chastened n rope
N chains to the brain
Stuck on level
Seth ***** said
In time you lay stone
Work hurt sometimes
You must crumble
Breakin down
The mortar with
Nightshade in
Spray as pesticide
For the vines tangling
Strangling your
Home, it's unknown
If I gonna grow in
The right way but
I trust me so if
I'm so grown I outgrow
Then I gotta go
No hate
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC
The city's office canyons,
all but deserted
this snow laced Christmas day,
as if a pesticide had been sprayed
during the homing hour,
only to learn one day later
that it works best on people.
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 3:54 PM UTC
Pain is both a pesticide
and growth hormone
It is necessary for all growing things
but not even the bugs like it!
SoulSurvivor
2022
Jan 30, 2022
Jan 30, 2022 at 5:16 AM UTC
Hide inside
Pesticide
Spiders slip
Inside your skin
Strip within
Filled with sin
Oh
Take me
Break me
Fake me
Oh you
Simmer
Glitter
I'm not without a light
Why fight
Fill your brimmer
You glimmer
Why don't you judge who's
FITTER
Don't be so scared
I'm self aware
It's just your faults I blame
I hide inside your light
I beg you, please don't fight
So tell, what's my right?
So tell me, Will. I. FIGHT?
Why don't you
Hate me
Stake me
Fake me
Forsake me
Don't be so scared
I'm well aware
That we are all the same.
You
Glimmer
Simmer
I hide inside your light
You ask me
Am I bitter
I glitter
Sinner
Oh
I beg you, what's my right?
I ask you, do I fight?
I'm not inside your pesticide
I hide inside your rage
I'm not too scared
I shield your glares
They strip aside my age
So, will I
Glimmer
Simmer
I hide inside your light
Do I
Glitter
You sinner?
I ask you watch my rights
Will you
Hate me
Break me
Forsake me or
**** me
I ask you , it's your right.
I ask you, why should I fight you?
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 7:50 AM UTC
I split the world with these words, dig holes with my tongue to make the sea sunk, send waters to hell to drown my demons, start my own revelation and see what I be-come.
You see I have a split personality and people have problems picking sides,
I'm just lucky I'm good with words or they'd think I'm a pesticide.
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 12:30 PM UTC
I’ve made sure the windows are painted
That was step one
I have to open my metal door to see
The world, the dying summer
Because it can’t leak into here
I am so broken I make myself believe this
And that
Love conquers the weak too
Step two is ignoring the bony girl and her crystal ball eyes holding
The pit-bull with the
Bleeding leg
And I believe, because my soul
Has been left in some purse or backseat
That the dog doesn’t know anything about pain
Step three is admitting that I’ve set fire to sunflowers
Because I thought, I knew, they could take it
Step four is putting God inside of an air-seal jar
For 3 to 6 weeks on my bedside table
While I tear into thin laughs
Step five is pretending to know
Pretending there was life in the dead leaves
Burnt orange and burnt red
Step six is climbing from under the bed trying
To be oh so quiet
Because it’s midnight and that
Glass-cut boy you’re ******* on
Isn’t making any noise
Step seven is collecting dust
Step eight is sharing a pillow half-heartedly
Reading about bedbugs at night
Trying to chase the visions of your bare neck
Glowing
Stirring her awake
And go south to fight off winter
Step ten is spitting pesticide on the spring dandelions
They (you) are flowers, they (you) are sycophants
They (you) are beautiful, they (you) are weeds
Step eleven is burning the bridge
Where I had to pull off
your dress to
Keep myself on
Step twelve I’m half-awake
In a puddle of my own fake blood, in everyone’s blood
Calling the doctor for blue-black sleeping pills
You won’t come looking for me
You’re busy
Sleepwalking away from misery
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 10:01 AM UTC