"poisoning" poems
Our hearts and souls were so blessed to fast Ramadan sincerely
To be enlightened by its super mercy and extreme prosperity
purity abiding around my heart, kindling my every part
a gift from Allah came along to bless our hearts
to spread peace and love, to dig faith in each part
A blessed bounty to wipe away our tears
to zest our souls and vanish our fears
to sparkle with faith with our keenest beliefs
and twinkle light in our bright smiles
oh dear eid, you can't help it but sowing seeds of joy,
Capturing joy and happiness in every single countenance ,
of a child's enthusiastic joy kindling a thriving inner radiance
joining hearts and souls with the deepest crystals of love
revealing such a fancy artistic touch of a peaceful dove
feeling the gratitude for Allah's super merciful blessings
praying to pluck the roses of peace each single moment
pounding hearts of affliction and yearning
missing your everlasting passion getting sick of poisoning
yearning for their peaceful deliverance
to catch glimpses of happiness
that once has been hunted by a sudden death of a loving part of soul
until Allah will send a cheerful hope,
just be patience to get over all the mope
smile and share the joy of eid and love ,
work even harder to cherish the heaven above ....
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
Depression is hard to understand. The dictionary naively refers to it as, "feelings of severe despondency and dejection." But what does the dictionary know about depression? I think depression is more complicated than that. But I don't quite know what that consists of. I've been trying to figure it out for months now, and I just can't seem to understand. I don't know what depression is, but I can tell you what it's not.
Depression is not polite. Depression doesn't knock before he barges in. He just lets himself in, unannounced and unexpected, and leaves me gasping for what little air is left in the room.
Depression isn't clean. He doesn't tidy up after he makes a mess. He comes into my life like a hurricane, and leaves me to pick up the crumbled pieces of my rubbled life.
Depression isn't moral. He steals my happiness and kills my spirit. He doesn't abide by any common rules or laws, he makes his own rules and I have to play by them.
Depression isn't popular. The only "friends" he has are his victims. He drags me away from everyone who used to love me, and leaves me isolated in a cold, dark place.
Depression isn't respectful. He claws his way into the lives of so many genuine people and drives them to the brink of insanity. He has no regard for my thoughts or my feelings, stomping all over me until there's nothing decent left to salvage.
Depression isn't creative. He tells you everything as it is and makes you see all of the terrible things poisoning the world. He doesn't sugarcoat the truth, no matter how much it hurts, and he helped me clearly see even my smallest of flaws.
Depression isn't nice. He calls me ugly and tells me I'm worthless. The words he whispers ring in my ears: **** yourself, **** yourself, **** yourself."
It's hard to define depression. It doesn't fit into a small box. I've practically driven myself crazy trying to figure out what it is and why this is happening to me. I don't understand depression, and no matter how hard I try to define it, I always fall short. I don't know if depression can ever be defined. While I try aimlessly to define the undefinable, depression ruthlessly takes advantage of me. I can try as much as I'd like, but I don't define depression, depression defines me.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 7:05 PM UTC
Hands shake after intake
of brown and green.
Catch the breath
keep it till it leaves.
Pretend, through the muddle,
that this hasten heart beat
isn't bumping blood cells
filled with defeat,
that the O2 isn't poisoning
the alveoli that absorb it,
sending this brain, and all
it entails, straight to
hell.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
Such vulnerable desire.
Eclipse pupils, wide like the moon.
Corrupted mind, wet with **********
In this darkness will you know me?
Touch me, I am here.
I cant bother my time with a creature that left me stricken, yet I want you still, even after all the agony you dragged me through.
There’s something in your eyes that I need for myself.
The night is my relief, take me as I am.
Trust for me…feel for me…down on those knees for me.
Claim my name again.
I want to hear it dripping from that perfect mouth of yours.
The wonders I’ll perform on you.
I want to hear you whining.
I want to taste your disease poisoning my lips.
I want to see deliberate submission.
Having you under me, having you for myself.
To have my way with you, to want you this bad.
Staring into these hollow eyes, you’ll be crawling towards me again.
Begging on the floor.
Begging for me.
The view below me so pretty, your body so writhing.
My mouth on your neck, come weak for me.
Hands on your throat, I feel you.
You are my obsession, release yourself.
You belong to me.
Oct 18, 2022
Oct 18, 2022 at 5:28 PM UTC
I'd like to tell you a story
It begins in 1492
When dear old Christopher Columbus
Sailed the ocean blue
He landed on what he thought
To be the country of India
He stumbled upon a group of people
Who appeared to be indigenous
Because these native people
Happened to be where he thought he was
He called them all "Indians"
&& somehow that name stuck
They welcomed his group with open arms
Even offered them their feast
Unaware that deep inside
They were but wolves, dressed as sheep
Columbus && his crew
Soon ravaged the land
They took what they saw
Then they took full command
Of the people they found
On the land where they landed
They felt they should rule
So they stepped in, heavy handed
They murdered the people
Who had taken them in
Set fire to their villages
While the victims watched with their kin
Flash forward to the future
It's now 2016
It's been over 500 years
Since the overtaking by the regime
Future settlers decided
To let the survivors live on
They designated them small areas
Of what had not yet been robbed
These Native Americans,
Generally keep to themselves
They get by living off their land
But now they need your help
The Sioux of Standing Rock
Are being horribly mistreated
The state of North Dakota
Is poisoning them without reason
A pipeline has been built
That runs through this Native territory
When Bismarck residents didn't want it
It was rerouted, how discriminatory
People from all over the country
Are seeming to agree
They are making the commute
To protest peacefully
In defense of an oppressed people
Who only want to live
But the government is stepping in
Even blowing off some limbs
"Let them die, they're not like us"
the message the administration is sending
It seems that after all this time
The battle is never-ending
What exactly does it take
For people to see eye-to-eye?
In the end we're all just human
We kiss, we laugh, we cry
So if you have a heart at all
If you know that this is wrong
Please join the Sioux in their mission
By coming together, we can be strong
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
i am the naked eve of your imaginary garden
with a touch that bring a promise to revive its dead leaves
weaving songs like a siren
that lure you to the shores of paradise
where your lust like restless waves
shall crash and find its peace
my gentle kiss that stir ****** dreams
is the poisoning of your thoughts
as you desire for nocturnal release
the night grew darker, the moon and her
cold stare glow brighter
wishing for the sensation to last forever
embrace tighten as your love expire
my pain - your pleasure
like a barren earth to a weeping sky
that drained her nectar dry
i await as you fall deeper into slumber
my ****** - your slow death
as i stab you in your sleep
awake - my puppet
with my strings around your neck
i fly as i watch you gasp for breath
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
Melting down, crossing barriers, breaking out, stepping round.
Pieces fragmenting, character isolating. Green-acid, hair follicles, white is the blank slate, painting blues with reds.
Freaks from a sideshow, muscles in the sea, six-packs in a grog-shop, dancing improperly.
Beguiled by your bounce, sleep-walking this town. Fine is the white wine, poisoning the liver, spining on a sixpence, ********** follows dinner.
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 12:53 PM UTC
Good sir, one thing I owe to you: to tell you that I hate thee true.
Your sly advances show for real that I am but your body's meal,
to be deliciously consumed, and have my sanctity be doomed.
Repent, oh Devil, back to Hell! Sink back into your slimy well
where from its spout burst tongues of fire to feed your wretched, black desire.
And if you do not go today then under Earth and dirt you'll lay.
I'll see that you ne'er have a breath until you've met your certain death.
You call yourself a pious soul, yet crying's God's name you take me whole.
You choke me up in your embrace, and tell me I'll be filled with "grace."
Thy love is but a dark snake's skin, which when once shed shows what's within.
Thy hands like teeth about to clench. The stink from out your mouth doth stench
-just like the rotting fumes of graves and poisoning the prey it craves.
Ah, sir, if you are even that. You pull your tricks out of a hat.
But I can see the trickery and magic so it's plain to see:
you do not love me for myself, you'd use me; put me on a shelf
- another token that you've won.
But put quite simply, sir, I'm done.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC
What is happiness?
Happiness is a smile plastered across your face.
Happiness in you is seeing happiness in others.
Happiness is accepting who you are.
Happiness is love.
Happiness is being content with what you have.
Happiness is knowing that no matter what,
someone is there to hold you tightly.
Happiness is money.
Happiness is your house.
Happiness is your car.
Happiness is the parties you throw.
Happiness is the girl you met last night
the girl waiting for you on your bed.
Happiness is solitude.
Happiness is not poisoning yourself
with everything in the world around you.
Happiness is keeping the door shut.
Happiness is keeping the world out.
Happiness rolls down your cheeks at night.
Happiness pins you to your bed.
Happiness holds you down.
Happiness tells you that you’re not good enough.
Happiness lives in the rope swinging from your ceiling.
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 5:31 AM UTC
Features, my reflection—
subtle hints stare back offering wordless reply,
their evidence a betrayal of age.
A wrinkle looking deeper,
mane of face, of head—hairs
fresh lacking pigment.
Vain attempts made to mend heart,
to sooth soul's dread.
Testimony of experience
of wisdom, persistence, perception,
an impotent contraceptive, the argument
aberrant.
Regret to cloud memory, my youth
seeming a flesh and blood cliche.
Tiny footnotes heavy with prose,
words in bold
to distract mind's eye—a demand of attention.
Edging out tomb's more beautiful weight
of love and heartache
of passion's attempt failing,
to try again, sinking before succeeding.
An era's dusk and dawn anew, life's advent
unpredictable—without cause changing.
Notion hanging lingering, poisoning future,
the venom of defeat an insidious invasion.
This new age creeping toward night
in this stage my life's sun less bright.
Maturity's introduced responsibility,
some enjoyable while others to own hostility.
A brigand mugging freedom—time for leisure.
Spurring combat for what remains of youth,
fingers wrapping air in futile seizure.
The inevitable to command subservience,
presuming ownership of life, though the mature
demonstrate the defiance of the immature.
Objects, activities, music assaulting ear,
their manner,
symbols of strict adherence to who once was—
a spiteful surrender refusal.
A piece of me defining me until no more,
years holding power—threatening
to change who I am at very core.
Canvas construction the colour of murre,
rubber toe caps the shade of pure.
Design worn since youth, dead and resurrected;
a million mile shoe of valorous resistance—insurrection,
a Converse rebellion.
In torment of age's scars,
I'll never be too old to wear my All Stars.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
Taste the sin
Breathe it in
Feeling the sting
Of the poisoning
May the rage
Never fade
May the truth
Be bulletproof
Let it just fall
Simply lose it all
Why try to stay
If you're pushed away
Love the contract
Eternal contact
Such a great lie
You'll want to die
It hurts to be
Giving in totally
To the darkness
You'll be worthless
But it's all necessary
For liberty.
For what is light
With nothing to fight?
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
bowling pin serenity
white and controlled
everyone loves the separatism
as it is encouraged and propagated
revolution as a fad
for ****
right to buy, die, fry, and try
skin-color guarantee
Paul Mooney, “complection for protection”
meaning my pigment protects me
from what….
I experience the loss of loved ones to cancer and illness
I suffer years of addiction and the lasting effects of liver damage
I am poor, was raised in poverty
my skin means nothing to the bill collectors
or the tax man
or the capitalist system
do I not suffer the slow poisoning
of industrialization
of globalization
infection
rejection
……
We all sit as slaves in this new America
I just happen to be in the front of the bus
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Narrowed visions of the limitless heights of hope
Dreams deferred not dashed or shattered like glass
Head held high to the sky
Feet always grounded never caught off guard
Hopeless
Dark clouds Dark Thoughts
Altered by substances poisoning the community
These hands Those hearts hardened by this cold existence
His hands Her thighs Their minds killing the hopes of the future
Savage
The stench of failure and poverty reeks throughout the streets
Hunger pains and dope fiends screams vibrate the streets like a sick beat
Cries of the children young and old scatter the air with grief and unbearable pain
A young man dead A young woman ***** harsh realities simmer in this mixing bowl of misery
Numb
Hopes Dreams fears ignored by the outside looking in
The mindset of a hustler taught to struggle and fight the hard way
A better life shown in the gleam of a child eye
Reality worsens with the smell of death
Ghetto Dreams
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
the bad news is coming in
we are being radically changed
be realistic
stop poisoning the air and water
stop soil erosion
stop degrading forest ecosystems
stop seducing children
stop buying politicians
realism
informs us
in a cuckoo clock
we
need a coninuous supply
of indifference and violence
toward people
all of us are suffering
recreationally
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 8:16 AM UTC
How do you explain that your bones are the coal used as breeding ground for a fire? How do you explain that there's a fire raging inside of you, setting every inch of your body and thoughts ablaze? Like a wildfire destroys the forest, this pain is knocking me down and smoldering me.
But how can you say you're in ashes when your body is unbruised?
No collapsed limbs, no heaving lungs, no unconscious mind -only puffy eyes and a tired tongue?
How do you explain that the tightness one gets in their throat upon hearing unexpectedly terrible news is a common feeling of yours - a side effect of the blood that runs through all of your veins? That even though you know you can do something, the words 'you physically cannot' are flooding your brain like a drug and poisoning every choice you try to make?
How do you explain that every move you make feels like walking on a tightrope that seems to never end. How each step sends a shiver down your spine; trying not to fall, trying to finish the task, trying to stop the anxiety -but you can never reach the end because your destination keeps switching from left to right despite the progress you've made.
How do you explain that you're dying when everyone see's you as perfectly alive?
NJ2016
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC
This is what she looks like when she's sad:
The human condition effective immediately.
Winter shades shift side to side,
exploding out of each iris.
Skin falling off,
when lunging forward to kiss me.
Fingernail daggers dig into my pores.
I'll bleed under her fingernails,
if she'll drag them down my torso
until her knees click the floor.
This is her tongue inside of my mouth:
We taste each other before we waste each other.
Hip bones parallel and our eyes rubbing shoulders,
my hands surfing her rib cage
and it's all the rage because she moans.
And when she moans,
color tones orbit around her head.
Planetary tumors dancing around her skull;
jump roping with her hair,
eating morals and removing plurals.
Those are her lips around me.
Her head moves up and down
but her eyes focus on me.
She makes eye contact
and I empty my dreams
into her mouth.
We are a public forum.
I ache with alcohol poisoning
and liberal undertones.
The terrain that is my face
bleeds oils that would lubricate
the axle of the car that she drove
into the tree
that we carved our name into.
Come back to me.
I miss you so much.
I watched you die.
I watched you die
and there was nothing I could do.
They told me that she wouldn't make it.
They told me that she might make it.
My hand gripped at blood stained blanket.
I think she said my name under the air mask.
I could tell if she saw me;
her eyes rolled back into her head
after she gazed a thousand yards away
into the field of black
that sheltered the tall grass
that we would chase each other through
and get lost in
as we got lost in each other.
I love you! I ******* love you!
My back, a membrane coil
that rises my stiff neck
that cares my head full of memories.
I turn on the light and you're not there next to me.
I put my hand on your copy of The Thornbirds
and know that you've read it more than the notes
I leave in your inbox,
hoping that it'll say that you have seen it.
Walking to your grave,
I am a darkness that the abyss has swallowed
and I have followed myself into nothingness
that is such bliss
that I forget
your kiss.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 1:01 PM UTC
Trippy. Trippy. Trippy.
I was gone of everything acid.
Acid Rain.
Acid Drugs.
Acid Love.
But most importantly your acid words.
Your words had me trippy
They were bittersweet to my tongue
Slowly poisoning me
Yet they were addictive to my heart
Trippy. Trippy. Trippy.
Acid Smiles.
Acid Hands.
Acid Movements.
But mostly your acid everything.
Your lies had me on cloud 9
They were psychedelic to my soul
Slowly killing me softly
Yet I continued to trip of of them
they were addictive to the mind body and soul
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
I am a ghost.
For I exist but do not live.
We take these bodies as if some host,
That is not us; Not even close.
I continue moving through the waves of contempt, battering against my soul like waves against some ancient ship.
This old vessel is coming close to a breach; What it needs is to find some beach. The rough waters of life are tearing it apart, turning brilliant blue to as black as my heart.
Poisoning every drop that washes against the body of a man who cannot ever win. If he does nothing he will surely drown, but any effort will also bring those around down.
So this ghost haunts the vessel, and at least for a time, he watches the world slowly fade to black; as he exists in a life upon which he turned his back.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 4:39 AM UTC
Animal Crackers and my soup
Undigested in my ****
All the food I ate today
Coming out in the same way
Uncontrollable urge to strain
Even though it causes pain
My poor sphincter it does burn
And my guts just churn and churn
Pepto Bismol my old friend
Go right now and put an end
To the horrible, rancid flow
Burning my **** as it does go
Cramping spasms all day long
Something I ate went horribly wrong
Could it be the salad or bread?
Or maybe something not quite dead?
Perhaps it was the chicken or stew
Or the fish, boo hoo hoo!
I'm just praying for an end
So my **** can start to mend
And then suddenly to my surprise
That nasty flow simply dies
Gleefully I start to wipe
But then as I start to swipe
I hit a very tender spot
That feels like it is now red hot
Now the Charmin feels real rough
Like tree bark or abrasive stuff
I finish wiping with great care
While the pain I grin and bear
At last I stand and flush with glee
That nasty stuff that came from me
A moment later to my shagrin
I feel the urge to sit again
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC
The twisted words claw their way into my head
planting themselves into my thoughts,
growing thorns instead of roses,
but these seeds are special.
You see, these seeds are coming from my own mouth.
These thorns are feeding on the words that slip out of my mouth,
Like a cancer cell that is constantly looking for a new cell to
feed on and take over.
These thorns rip their way down my throat,
spreading through my body
like the black plague,
feeding themselves into my lungs; making it hard for me to breathe.
Poisoning every inch of me
and in a way it is the black plague.
It’s a plague that can’t be seen.
(S.J)
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
my tainted love affair
a blood covenant
continues negative on the balance sheets
a constant power struggle
my soul and unwavering obedience the prize
secretly a grudge grows
(encouraged by continual love famine
inclined by love withdrawal punishment)
poisoning the source
uncomprehensible to me
why i am always found unworthy
fathers love, blessing and protection
unattainable
withdrawal, nonacceptance and deliberate bad wishes
fertilizes the acre
what will the harvest be
tug of war for my sanity
my Heavenly Father and mum
vs
the enemy and dad
forge in this firepit
born among ashes
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 2:40 AM UTC
Gunboats ahoy there’s pirates about
Speeding from Somali’s shore,
A fast flimsy boat and some black skinny men
With grenade launchers, cannon and more.
They’re coming to capture the tankers
They’re coming to capture the crew
They’re coming to take you hostage
Because fat cats will pay cash for you.
It’s happening more every day now
Ships are held to ransom for gold,
This contagion is out of hand now
The Somalian pirates are becoming so bold.
Hard men in the west prepare crackdowns
Gunboats sail for the Gulf as we speak,
With instructions to shoot to **** now
And make eradication of pirates complete!
But you ask, why is this happening?
Why does a man, a pirate become?
What instigates this crazy morphosis
From fisherman to pirate with gun?
Somalia has no Government to speak of,
It collapsed and went long ago.
No law or army in place here,
Life is dangerous, chaotic and low.
Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They ditched toxic waste in the sea
They irradiated the coastline region
Making this a poisoned place to be.
The coast folk were dying in thousands
Sick mothers lost babies and kids
Black illness spread madly in villages
Then blind panic and pain hit the skids.
Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They trawled the coastline clean
Somalia’s fishermen were destitute
The catch went from vast to lean.
The villagers were starving and hopeless
And what was pain became death.
The leaders appealed for salvation
But those with the means, had turned deaf.
Who would take this problem on now?
Who would make these ******** pay?
Most turned around and shunned them,
The world had turned and looked away.
So hit transgressors where they’re vulnerable.
Strike in sea lanes where it’s free.
Hit them near the Horn of Africa.
Attack with blades of piracy.
Hooray for the small man’s justice.
Hooray for his skinny, black shanks,
Please God help their quest for deliverance
For the West has arrived with their tanks.
Now I ask you, in all fairness
To stand back and view the scene,
Where the richest and most powerful
are doing something that's obscene
For not only are they poisoning
The most vulnerable race on earth
But compounding it with genocide,
And I add, for what it's worth,
The West, in righteous arrogance,
are crushing poorest fellow man
In his struggle for survival
Against their mammoth, global hand.
Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
25 April 2009
Jan 19, 2010
Jan 19, 2010 at 7:33 PM UTC
tucked in, nice curtains
frame the photograph
while i google syntax
and superlative,
conjunctions, filling.
forgot the dentist appointment,
another dark mark on the horizon.
lead soldiers may cause lead poisoning,
the line come longers, the family taller.
yes, it was a lovely day, pat.
sbm.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 2:37 AM UTC
⊙
*Luke 12:49
“I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!”*
This wasteland, desolate vegetable garden
No crops will grow, no sun will shine
No cool breeze to clean the air
of the smell of decomposition
Just dead things, the decay of man and dreams of hope
Which my black boots stomp on
I walk the ruin in silence
I walk past a monster sleeping by a tree
Turning, frowning
The monster is me
Its eyes are as red as judgement day
As red as the faces of the condemed
Those who stare at the 144 000, wondering if they are worthy
As red as the blood ********** in this ancient garden
This is a battleground
Oozing with pain, pleasure, splendor and misery
Even if Pythia already circled the loser's name in bright red
Allowing the victors to trample holy ground underfoot
Before they disappeared
But me
I stood here
Feeling all feeling being drained out
I walked past a monster weeping by a tree
“Everything good must come to an end,”
Mystery says
Pursing her lips
“And so must everything wicked
But the memories
Those which encircle their victim
And slowly tighten like great snakes
Suffocating their prey
Those last forever
And if those memories last forever
Then how can one remain pure in heaven
Without thinking about sin
Temptation must surely creep in
Poisoning the mind until it is consumed with the idea
Who is pure anyway?”
I know she is lying
(Turning)
But her words are surreal, slurred, seductive
(Frowning)
I look inside my heart to reassure myself
(Turning)
There is hope
(Frowning)
But there’s nothing there
(And the monster is me)
In the vegetable garden
A ruin
A wasteland
I stand
Not really existing
⊥
⊣⊙⊢
⊤
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 2:07 AM UTC
So this is melancholy
That bittersweet taste every time
We part ways
That deepest sigh I always utter
Whenever your lips touch mine
Because I know in a second or two
You will be gone
I have never looked forward
To our meeting
For you have always
Left me breathless
And wanting
This is insanely foolish
And I know soon
I’m about to face my doom
But every time
Your fingers
Trickle my spine
Or your breath
Suffocates me
Or your taste
Numbs me…
I find myself
Completely giving in
Until your whole being
Inhibits my system
Slowly poisoning my veins
Until my blood ceases to flow
And my heart resists pumping
But there I go again
Poisoned from the reverie
Of you and me
The car engine starts
I know this is goodbye
So long then
Until the next confluence
Of our thirsty mundane
Incongruent lives
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 12:52 AM UTC