"pollute" poems
Reunited
Walking down a path, where no man should ever go,
its dark, cold, damp and I'm moving very slow.
Feeling the walls that are covered in slime,
too many things happening at the same time.
So much hidden deep down in my soul,
not sure if I can escape this black hole.
Things I've done can never be told,
Sometimes life gets put on hold.
If only these things, I could mention,
it would relieve so much tension.
So many things, I just can't say,
if I did I'd be put so far away.
I've reached the point of no return,
next one who gets in my way, I'm gonna burn.
Getting more angry by the minute,
bought some guns in case I have to shoot.
This giant duffle bag is getting quite heavy,
I wish I still had my 57 Chevy.
Back then life was great,
Wife, kids, house, fence with a gate.
Then one stormy night, a car went off the road,
since that night my brain started to overload.
Fell into a deep depression,
lost my job, thanks to the recession.
Lost my house, lost my car,
all my dreams are now to far.
Walked into the place, I used to work,
hated my boss, he was such a ****
Grabbed my guns and started to shoot,
all the blood was staring to pollute.
Shot as many as I possibly could,
don't know why, just thought I should.
Losing everything drove me insane,
I'm not making excuses for my brain.
Not long after there were hundreds of police,
there was no offering of a sign of peace.
They barged in and I resisted arrest,
I was shot several times in the chest.
I wanted to die, but always in style,
all I could see was my families smile.
Now we're back all reunited,
I have never been more delighted.
No one I shot that day ended up dying,
just some blood and a lot of crying.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC
Is it true what people say
did the Earth have trees
and oceans
did life run free
for as far as the eye could see.
Is it true what people say
did Humans **** animals for fun
pollute the air they needed,
did no one listen to the warnings
did no one stop them.
Is it true what people say
did we leave Earth
because we killed it?
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 10:42 PM UTC
Oh you a gangsta now?
Let me guess cause you got those "hard" tattoos
Jordans as shoes
And blow more green in your in between time
Oh you a gangsta now?
Cause you fight a little bit
Stay on that corner and quick to pollute your nation
With the wicked ways of degredation
Oh you a gangster now?
Cause you roll with a clique
To weak to stand on your own
But there validation gives you the courage
To steal without hesitation
Peddle drugs with no reservation
Take life as quick as a minute passes...
Well I hope those tats come with teflon
Cause while you out here playing the don
There's plenty associates that'll aim at your head
For your place just to save face with a few so called good men
I hope that corner has insurance or at least comes with benefits
Cause as past gangstas before you predicts there are only two outcomes present
Lifetime in a 6x8
Or 6 feet under while your soul patiently waits the outcome of where it will spend eternity
I guess this is what our forefathers gave their lives for
For this ignorance of the so called gangasta
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 9:08 AM UTC
I waste myself for you, oh page.
I battle sleep and demons and
Face what I would otherwise
Curtail, for the simple act of
Filling you up.
I trap everything that I am
Within you, page. A web for my
Foggy thoughts, dew caught like
Tears, crystallising the opaque
Within my life.
You are the recipient in my mind,
Oh page. Brain chatter forced into
Structure, a soldier. Almost a child.
You **** me like an alpha, my borrowed
Pleas at your feet.
And so I tread you like infant snow.
Each print a scar, each word a brittle
**** stem. Your silence a truth beyond
My own and whatever I say
Will pollute it.
So I walk round in circles. Tiptoes
Like sparrows, piecrust shapes in
The snow. I walk in circles to not
Carve a path. To hide my meaning.
Don’t follow me home.
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 7:53 PM UTC
Dazed.
The stars never seemed so far away
Lying with hopelessness sleeping next to my pillow
In the arms of seclusion, still I lay
After a long night we formed a *********
No strength to pray
Withing my carapace
I inquire a reason
Of why I'm so numb
Where is my lighter?
Concealing my pain
Where is my grinder?
When life is like a sudden rush of fresh air to
A raging set of flames
Savagely searching for an euphoria
But it's the impossible to maintain
Longing for an escape
Only in sweet serenity
But when 5 fingers deadly hugs your heart
& wrings out your
Innocence, happiness, and tranquility
You are forced to watch them leak
Decrepit
Reaching for a lighter to blaze the leaf
Because in the sober mind
You Are Weak
No that is me.
So I begin to pollute my temple
Taking it all into my bloodstream
With the exhale of a breath
In the mist of a cloud
I release my exhaustion
My emotion and my temper
Enhancing my inner being suddenly,
I know with facts that I am steel
Making it through another dreadful night
My wounds are temporarily healed
But
When there was no soul to console
No arms to hold
No pen to make art
No illumination from the dark
Only the flame that I flick
Which forms so beautifully &
Dances in front of my eyes
Offended that beauty could destroy so ruthlessly
A killer in disguise
Or ruthlessly be destroyed
In this life full of void
Consumed by the misery of all the screams
All the noise
When the Sun's job is done, it hides from the World
Full of hatred and pity
Another night comes
Captive in these four walls
No where to run
Now I'm forced to look at how far I've come
I could have died in insanity
Arson my soul
Plead guilty of ******
A Killer Upfront
If I had not match all those nights with all those blunts
Copy Right 2013
©Patty Ann
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 5:08 PM UTC
You are a tornado.
You spin anyone too close to you, leaving them in a dizzy fit.
You break them before they break you.
No wonder I thought I loved you.
A tornado like me.
Promising trouble at every turn.
You whispered, "I love you".
Presenting it with secrecy.
Holding me hostage with twisted logic.
I am a tornado, I admit it.
And two tornados only bring more chaos.
I'm self-destructive but, you're too much for me.
Your lips were drowned in chloroform.
And I kissed you for the burn.
The same way I smoke cigarettes to pollute my lungs.
We drag each other to hell.
Shoot each other's hearts.
Naming it love, so we don't have to call it "just ***
You were always too much for me.
Too much chaos.
In return, I was presented with such little love.
We wrapped up each other's hearts.
Hid them in the shelves.
And danced away our summer days in my sheets.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 12:21 AM UTC
Decorate this Diwali
with the depth of relations,
Not with the height of
decibels in explosions.
Let's spread the fragrance
of mutual joy and laughter,
It's unfair to pollute with
the smoke of *******
Let's make noise together
when our country shines,
Let's not annoy the neighbors
with the unwanted sounds.
Let's scatter the light
of love and care,
Let's illuminate the heart's
with concern and share!
Let's respect the five
valuable gifts of nature,
Freely available are fire-
water-earth-space-air!
Volunteer for safety
health and friendliess,
In this way "HAPPY DIWALI"
makes a true sense!
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 10:02 PM UTC
Hungry filthy eyes
From every corner
It spies
Lustful desire ignition
Hardly any blinks
Sparks temptation
The growth of hunger
On youthful body
Deludes my anger
It hunts upon everyone
Especially the feminines
Carrying a gun
Streets pollute such eyes
Some cross, some straight
Most full with lies
Each day my eye meets
Such perverts
With viciously lustrous greets...
©sim
Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 4:17 PM UTC
Freedom is premium priced,
At the casino of the world nations throw the dice,
The tables are rigged by the fat rats and mice,
Girls in curvaceous miniskirts on poles entice,
***** laced drinks and cancer sticks merrily fleece,
Fizzy burgers are served filled with crucified cheese,
Layers of salt and blood and veins congealing with grease
Are the fillings inside the consumed meat,
Come to the sale of the century and let your life be diseased,
Take whatever you want and still you will never be pleased,
Remember, one day all will be held to account, so all evil immediately cease,
Do not make the mistake to ********** the legend of glorious Hercules
Or pollute and sell the message of almighty God so cheaply.
©Rangzeb Hussain
Apr 16, 2010
Apr 16, 2010 at 3:40 AM UTC
I think perhaps as a writer, we seek the adventure, the unknown, the destructive, not only to know we are alive but to know what it is to live. We live fast, we love without restraint, with impulsive desire. Are we the tortured, the wounded, the broken, abused. We have lived a thousand lives, loved a million times. We dream, we idealise, we fall in love unintentionally, we make mistakes, we endure deep suffering and we fall to the hands of lust within a heartbeat. We choose to show our ******* our ***** our hearts or our souls. We refuse to sell our mind, to which we must always remain held to. Our body is a vessel, one of productivity made victim to abuse. It's such neglect, despair, that leaves us enveloped in patterns of trauma and deeply embedded psyache. Once touched, our bodies remember as an elephants mind always will. We are tainted, scarred, stained by another's love, lust, cheating, lying, crying, kissing, losing, dreaming. We are the risk takers, the ones who dare step into the unknown and often don't adhere to rules and regulations of societal ideals. We crave love. We crave endless excitement. We crave the adrenalin rush of a new lover. We don't settle. Wanderlust writes us. Each journey shapes us, choosing a new direction, experimenting with style, fiction, autobiographical tones. Landscapes colour our pages, pollute the rooms with a myriad of paints, smoking out those who don't endure, slaves to the written word, a pledge to keep reading pages of paper, dusty from step ladder high book shelves. Finding joy in limited first editions, autographed and locked behind glass doors. Fairy tales whispered by Hans Christian Andersen - The Snow Queen in a pop up book laced with glitter and scintillation. Falling into stories, Alice's rabbit hole, lost to liquor saying drink me. The young ingénue, naïve and shy, her first role acting, embodying the spoken word through the masters written script.
© Sia Jane
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
She said to me:
"Don't you wanna go on an adventure?"
Literally seconds before taking the wrong turn.
I always remembered our car rides for everything they were not.
Trips down to the convenience store felt like driving down the highway at a hundred miles per hour,
With a view of the entire cosmos to our left.
They felt like driving through the night only to watch the sunrise pollute the ****** sky with it's pink and gold hue of sheer contentment.
It is looking up at the sky to find the purest of cotton candy clouds.
And for some reason, I always picture you trying to take a bite out of them.
If this is what a trip to the convenience store feels like then I can only dream of what Route 66 holds.
On our adventures I catch myself looking at you with joy in my eyes,
I want to say something but I do not know what.
All I know is that I am glad you were in the passenger's seat.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
Everything is broken. Broken clocks, broken doors, broken spirits. Struggling just to softly breathe your name without my voice breaking. Shredded letters, meaningless scripts to highlight just how much my life is a cleverly constructed piece of satire, poorly printed on a newspaper page that no one reads, tossed to the sidewalk and stomped into fibers that do nothing but pollute the already ***** puddles on the side of the street. The words upon that parchment, the ink within the pages, is insignificant. I am insignificant. I am a vagrant. I am a knot in a tree trunk, and when a tree falls in the forest, it screams. It silently screams to be held back up by it's brothers, by its friends, by its family, but none of them move. They let it fall and they watch it rot.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
Open, oh eye of ones heart
The spiral of desire continues with no end to it, if lies are to pollute the world it is time to purify yourself from them all, one by one.
A hearts eye, sees through lies, but that is not its only purpose in a chest full of light and compassion in which it can greatly be found,
It serves so much more, all sealed uner a truthful surface and a righteous core, careless about anothers looks, the way they speak, superficiality such as shallowness are wiped out by it completely,
The hearts eye sees anothers soul and what they truly are, a judgement far away from personal preferences or falsities caused by instincts of ones heart which are likely to bring light headed frivolity,
It cherishes the good, the beauty of the soul except for wealthy appearance, mavelovence within greedy devilish behaviour and spite,
Projected like a story, the fear of what they see is but of themselves, if such an eye hits a devil right on the head, exposing his treaciousness
What lies behind such a courtain of darkness, may it be good? Evil ?
Come pray by my side, if you shiver from that far away I cannot help you, as sadness clouds your vision in a courtain call of pure grief,
Let me open your eyes, so your wounds may heal.
~ Umi
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 6:19 PM UTC
In this day in age
we blame the generation
that comes after
for the problems
we created for them
We start devastating wars
and pollute the world
and then leave it
for the kids we have
to solve our problems
_What gives us the right_
_to leave problems and blame_
_on those that come after?_
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC
I had once been in a church to drink a beer
Behind the pastor seat
A risk I took with no fear
Ends me a back seat.
I wonder who reported me
For I was sure all doors were locked against me
I was sure the gate keeper didn't notice me
I guess the walls have eyes
Oh, maybe holy spirit really exist
But why did he have to show up then
I was in the same spot sweating in prayers
Crying rain seeking for a divine help
Nobody reported me then
Is this not a case of betrayal?
People, they just love being messengers of negativity
When I was sweeping the altar, dusting this same pastor seat nobody shouted my activities.
Wait a minute, what was I thinking
Why should I carry a sin in a bottle
Straight to a supposing holy temple.
Holy? Is a place I once caught cockroaches making out holy?
The venue where our tithes and offerings are being pocketed by the church hierarchy still holy?
Even as that, I don't suppose to join the crowd to pollute the Lord's place
Truly I deserve even behind the back seats, yes I deserve the shame.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 2:24 PM UTC
darkness consumes all
the black night swallows our thoughts
Vomits back our fears
Shadows pollute minds
Specters of the past revive
They taunt tease and laugh
We give in so quick
Victims to our own morals
destroyed by self doubt
Quick to love others
so fast to hate ones own self
So slow to forgive
The mirror whispers
The wind curses so sweetly
The blade kisses you
It tenderly glides
Slides against ebony skin
Gaping rift remains
Scarlet life erupts
History of an empire
Contained in those veins
Osiris Horus
Pharaohs Gods ,and rulers.Kings
Contained in those veins
Isis Hathor Bast
Greats queens, protectors, healers
Contained in those veins
Garden of Eden
Cradle of our mother Earth
Contained in those veins
Newton,King,X,Parks
Men and women with Brave Hearts
Contained in those veins
Swift minds,Diamond tongues
hip-hop jazz blues rock, our sound
Contained in those veins
Firm hands,and strong arms
The power to hold the world
Contained in those veins
A deep rich opus
there is his story and hers
Contained in those veins
Our blood stains the soil
Why destroy the tapestry
Contained in those veins
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 10:05 PM UTC
Sleepy daze
Lilac light
Bright
In Deaths Valley where purple petals and purple lips
Part at the touch of His skeleton key finger
That turn chests wide open
To release souls from their broken captors
Dissipate
Not even a firework show for good effort
Eyes wide open and I see everything you can’t seem to say with purple lips so cold and frightened
There’s a thousand white dots and a thousand sound layers beneath the color
Endless
The red veins floating amidst your token bad eye staring straight into the ceiling fan
As if it’s going to lift you up, spin your brain
And attempt to unjumble the jigsaw puzzle of different words and phrases and opinions
That pollute you
Uproot what you’ve known to be true
Since your slate was paved
Since your fingers touched the invisible air
Of unwritten possibility
The wall is grey
The lilac sits on your chest
Its purple and I’m as blue as the deepest corner of the skies rocket ship neck
That crevice fingers pet to coo goosebumps out from their nervous cells
Where I’m hidden
And quiet quiet quiet
Don’t part your purple lips
I’m hidden
Your fingers graze the bed
Like it’s planning on plotting seeds
That will hopefully grow
And I’m alive I’m a life I’m enlightened
I’m not growing you said
I’m crooked you said
I’m not well rested you said
And the lilac sits alone in your bedside garden
Where no other plants dare to sprout
And your hands turn into stray roots
That weigh heavy like limp corn stalks
Frayed at the edges as they approach your ghastly cemetery
And all I can say is I’m sorry
Futile words from purple lips that Death doesn’t silence but caresses
With his skeleton key finger
Pursing them into a tight grip
That lets you know but doesn’t let you go
I’m sorry
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC
WALLS (Verona)
Mon ami tu vas
where star-crossed hearts' confessions
hides your saint in bricks.
NAPE
Warm whispers of lips
down smooth meadows of your neck,
my familiar bed.
VATTO
Gang signs, ink, and blood
****** in a low beamer
Cool kissing his gun.
BIGOT
Burning up with hate
like an oil spill on one's soul
heartless mouths pollute.
NIJINSKY
So divine such grace
words not made to embody
Ballet when God speaks.
OSMOSIS
Blossoms in winter
bursts of Japanese kisses
how to love haiku.
BLUR
Tears are no longer
loose and quick to disarray
how sight understands.
BARRIER REEF
Great walls dividing
Vast cold deeps from Summer seas
"Hail Metropolis!"
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC
I want to be loved for one night,
then I shall be content in isolation,
comfortable in the lack of weight
on the other side of the bed.
One night, to be kissed brand-new
by foreign lips; a familiar fear
as she leaves her dress on the chair,
and our inhibitions on the floor.
Absence of physical touch, heard words;
no tangible proof I exist, or should exist
at all. I miss the fatigue. Brief sensation,
some energy - our collective heat;
the way we sweat beneath the sheets.
The way you need to call out to me.
I have not heard my name in weeks.
I want to be loved for one night,
then I can return to pollute these pages
with something beyond conjecture,
something worth holding on to.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
I sit on a droopy windowsill and gaze out
at the stars above me in the stately sky of coal.
I let the smoke fill me, pollute my corrupted lungs,
‘til it plugs me, completely consumes my sticky soul,
and midnight sorrow blanket hugs the heart in my hole.
I sit and I consider the sky
with its million-and-one jewels
that adorn the vast carpet of night
and its one, lone cloud that slowly drools
fat, drippy drops of deep fed'ral blues.
The ashy, burnt taste is still in my throat;
it lingers- a dull, cloying candy cane.
The muted flavour chokes and jabs and pecks
persistently, in the back of my brain
and leaves a steel blue/gray trailing stain.
Vague memories of fourth-grade English lessons
take me with a deep sigh to forgotten thoughts
of Roger McGough and unrequited love-
dazed recollections of school poetry taught
in obscure slate-blue classrooms, littered with blots.
It seems feeling unreturned affection
isn't quite as great as I’d thought after all.
I must've been wrong, all those hazed years ago,
when I yearned to feel unrequited love’s fall,
convinced it would be a wondrous, dazzling ball
Instead, I'm just ******* in the pale-ing sky
that seems to be growing into lighter hues-
the navy’s turned to electric, to powder,
matching the sapphire in my soul of glue.
I'm suppose I'm feeling somewhat, slightly blue.
.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC
Who do you think you are
to pollute the air I breathe?
It smells like dead toes,
You smell like ****
Costs a ******* fortune,
Why are you doing it?
Go find another ******* window,
Window of a fellow smoke.
Maybe they´ll join you
And together you can choke
Your filthy ******* lungs
With instant cancer joke.
Aug 29, 2022
Aug 29, 2022 at 1:51 PM UTC
The excitement built as I approached the station
you could smell the smoke from the engine.
Before you entered the stations enticing doors
you could see the shunter's in the sidings.
Black smoke and steam rising blending into one
the joy of the impending journey had begun.
Our memories are often all we have left
of the days we were young as age creeps on.
Bad thoughts fade as you only think of the good
steam trains dominated when I was a lad.
Boys then all wanted to be the driver of the train
in the early days of Elizabeth's reign.
Far less roads and motor vehicles to pollute
the countryside was ****** more rural.
An era when trains had more lines to travel
a pleasure for everybody to go roving.
A special treat to get people to the coast
an adventure not something to boast.
Looking at the chaos around us now
my young days were glorious.
Before the innocence was drained in the ether
simplicity the key to sanity.
A day train spotting was the weekend treat
then was very hard to beat.
The holiday to the Isle Of Wight by steam train
then across on the ferry I remember.
When my special mother was there very much alive
the past is the past now my memory.
Unique I learned I am not, millions feel the same
staring at a faded picture in an old frame.
Rekindles that long gone excitement.
The Foureyed Poet.
Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 4:11 AM UTC
If only we could fly like
those that tweet or hoot
without aid of jet or
parachute
For I sure don't like
wings that boom and roar
just so they can take off
and soar
Ah, to fly without petrol, diesel
or fuel
Oh, to halt that taloned midair
duel *
Birds they don't pollute
the air
nor need they any airline
fare
So if only I too could rise
and glide
and let the wind be my
sole guide
I'd be happy to fly all the
way to 'em' faraway stars
if I was assured I'd risk
no charring scars.
Flying without aviation
formalities
I could be sightseeing
many more cities
Ah I so wish to fly just
like a jay or jackdaw
Then I'd fly across all and
every border
For I'd know nor follow
no man-made law!
If only we needed no darned immigration pass or visa
We could have visited so many more touristy places
Say even the spectacular and popular pyramids of Giza
And we could have known different cultures and races
Ah, a stylish photo next to the leaning tower of Pisa
And return with exotica like a framed pic of the Mona Lisa
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
We put on snow-white dress
and camouflage blacks inside
Best friend is the worst enemy of man!
Leaving with a lot of do's and don'ts;
Deformed envious man pluck blooming flowers
to pollute the blue sky!
Though viruses fly around like fern spores
How orchids can bloom without care?
Poem 24
Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007
Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen
Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh
ISBN 984-8700-82-X
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC