"reactor" poems
I'm the Emperor and my face looks like a prune.
I have dark circles around my eyes which also makes me look like a raccoon.
My name is Palpatine but I'm also known as Darth Sidious.
Everybody pukes when they see me because I look hideous.
I was able to trick Anakin Skywalker into turning to the Dark Side.
I actually convinced him that I had the power to save his bride.
I can't believe that I was able to turn him into a Sith Lord as easily as I did.
He actually believed that he could save Padme by killing Separatists and kids.
I thought that my new Death Star was safe from the rebels, I thought that I had won.
But Darth Vader dropped me into the main reactor of the Death Star to save his son.
Luke Skywalker removed Lord Vader's mask and he became Anakin Skywalker again.
I still can't believe that those **** Ewoks were the reason why my Empire didn't win.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
Routine tests
failed
Number Four reactor
Walls melt, floor buckles
Gamma disaster
one half million men mill
by the banks of the Dnieper
Level Seven Event
Unprecedented disaster
Flesh sloughed off
Rounding the corner
cellular structure instantly scrambled
eggs toast and jelly
Gaze upon the elephant's foot
Bathe in green glowing brilliant stochastic calculation
Mutant dogs roam the tainted halls of Prypiat
Disparities reflect
true death toll unknown
Concerned Scientists shed their lights
on the encircling environment
Glittering glass carpets coat abandoned streets
Creaking Ferris wheel slowly turns into madness
Toxic twin of Fukushima
Thyroid Leukemia Cellular Damage Tumor
the caustic clouds still settling today
Generation after generation
dead women and children
Global impact particle spread
none have been spared
even into tomorrow.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
Dear Girl,
I really really love you, yes I do.
Not like it used to be, I'm no longer "in love",
It's something different, that I'd never felt before,
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.
Dear Girl,
I really really mean it, yes I do.
Not "in love" like I used to be, I'm something else,
It's so strange, and I've never felt it before,
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.
Dear Girl,
I really really mean it, yes I do.
Not like I used to be, I've changed a whole lot,
It's different, my heart doesn't want "in love",
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.
Dear Girl,
This poem was a long time coming,
But I wrote the story when I didn't know how to be me,
Now wrote the poem when I grew some brains,
But I always really loved you,
Dear.
Sweet Girl,
You didn't deserve those late nights,
Where I killed your insides, when I made you cry and cry and cry,
They made you love me less, they made you numb, and you fell out of love,
But I really really loved you,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
I've never been anything you deserve,
You had to pick me up off the floor, and it was more than you needed,
You pieced me together, but the person before you, she sabotaged me,
I had a destruct button you couldn't see,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
Neither of us saw it,
We both thought I'd healed, from the awful things that happened to me,
You didn't get to see, but the person you were, you stayed with me,
When I became a nuclear disaster,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
I try not to blame,
But you'll never understand how your mother was the Tsunami and Earthquake, and I was Fukushima,
We both didn't see it, but I was a nuclear plant, and meltdown waiting to happen,
The damage was too great, that June,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
I never understood,
Even my own actions, because I loved you from the start, and I don't know what happened to me,
But in times before you, people built me, and you just became the new plant operator,
You didn't know I was so unsafe,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
Nuclear plants are rather safe,
They just can't handle Tsunamis and Earthquakes, because they're made of materials that crack,
Under that kind of stress, I didn't just crack, I crumbled, I began melting down,
But you didn't know and I'm sorry,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
You've been through a lot,
The Tsunami was hard, but you didn't know about the radiation, that it would destroy you,
You were mutated by the horrible conditions you had to live through,
But you didn't know and I'm so very sorry,
Sweet Girl.
My love,
You didn't know it,
But we were both reactors waiting to blow, disasters waiting to happen, to cause destruction,
We mutated each other until we didn't even know who we were,
I'm so very sorry, so so sorry,
My love.
Poor Girl,
I really really try today, yes I do.
Not like I used to try, but now I try to be strong, and not a nuclear reactor but more like carbon fiber,
But carbon fiber is brittle, since you killed me inside,
But I forever love you,
Poor Girl.
Poor Girl,
You've cleared your rubble,
Growing to be the most amazing and beautiful of skyscrapers, you're an inspiration for the world, you know,
You're so much different, standing taller than you'll ever know,
But skyscrapers can fall too,
Poor Girl.
Poor Girl,
You make yourself content,
Being alone, you tell yourself that alone doesn't mean lonely,
That you find peace in the solitude,
But solitude is an empty thing,
Poor Girl.
Poor Girl,
We can pick each other up,
You don't even know, it's not the same kind of picking up that we tried before,
This picking up can only go up,
Because we don't even care to feel sad anymore,
Poor Girl.
Poor Girl,
You don't even know, how much I want to kiss you,
But it's different than before, it's more like the kisses mothers give to children,
When their children are crying, the kind of kisses that make great statements and tell stories,
The stories only kisses can give,
My girl.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 7:26 PM UTC
The Anger within me is boiling
The situation seems out of control
The fight or flight responses
Is as primal as it can be.
The amygdala, kicks in
And takes over for me.
But why blame it on primal
Cause religion teaches another
Created by the Father
Born of free will are we.
The choice of being noble
Or primal is in my capacity
So I decide to test my confusion
And see who lives inside of me
A person of free will or
A carnal nature of me.
So when I encounter situations
Which would otherwise anger me
I'd like to bellow in rage
I'd like to make believe
Here my animal is taking over
I can feel his grip over me
The struggle within me is stronger
The ground I'm loosing steadily
I laugh! Where are you free will?
See whose got me now in his grip
And then in the flash of the moment
I see the irony!
Suddenly as if the scene's changed
The reactor becomes the actor
Letting go of a long sigh
The drama comes to a halt.
For in that moment, free will kicked in
My freedom I realized
Yes we are carnal beings
And it's not surprising
Because animals behave just as we
But we are armed with an arsenal
To be infinitesimally good
To be heavenly
If only we listen to our inner wealth
Telling us to above all rise
When we give vent to our free will.
It's that moment to decide.
Anger is worst of the lot of monsters
But alone he's usually not.
He has a lot of companions
His minions are all about.
This matter is not simple
Don't get bogged down in psychiatry
Practice makes one perfect
Tackle your fears and threats
Handle each one steadily
Before long you'll know the signs
Arm yourself with humility
His minions will try wreak havoc
And wound your ability
So stop the amygdala from taking over
Ask yourself is it worth?
What is the worse that could happen
if things didn't go your way.
The answer will be astonishing
When you've discovered your treasure
You'll find the demon's flown
What a relief it will be
You'll feel blessed abundantly
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
why i am an only child?
you have to ask the Polish women
who were forced to drink iodine....
1986...
Chernobyl...
it spread to Poland from the Ukraine...
a "rainbow" effect,#as my great-grandmother
recounted...
in the local park?
streaks... of autumnal trees
in their full bloom decay,
and the furthest green in summer...
a strange time...
why wouldn't my mother have
more children?
i guess, in fear of breeding a ******
pro-life, what?!
you raise them!
see how they turn out when
you're dead!
god's "grace"...
you ever curate the fate
of your grandmother?
well then!
now you know!
nature is ruthless!
man attempting to
overcome it?!
you know
what nature does?
i know what nature does...
steam-roller and...
somehow the most vocal speakers
are those daring to
question the feathers
of a macaw parrot...
substituting it with
fashion trends...
mort in concencus,..
vive in conscissio...
i might have been born with
a sibling...
but i wasn't...
the Scandinavian countries learned
of it,
from under, beneath the iron curtain...
and who can actually blame Gorbachev?
when the U.S.S.R. was made
dissolute?
and no war took the zeitgeist
garments of a pope's approval?
no cardinal red,
with Attila's river...
who is to blame,
the scolded transition period of peace?
no one unless my grandfather can
understand the peaceful transition
of the disintegrated U.S.S.R.,
into a Russian Fed.?
no one?
but the women of Poland
and the Ukraine? still had
to drink iodine...
and i am...
i am...
i am...
i will always be...
the long lost cousin of the Chernobyl
geblüt;
there is not concept of
a butterfly effect...
when it comes to the query of an,
atomic reactor!
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 10:50 PM UTC
The regions’ magic carpets are a-beckoning
The brassware in the back bazaars aglow,
Exotic spice is nice
For a very reasonable price
And the camel market’s just the place to go.
But…
Afghanistan’s dark Muslims are scheming
The women folk are sharpening their knives,
When foreign troops depart
The bloodletting will start
With collaborators screaming for their lives.
The children of the Ottoman are smarting
For their neighbours are showing them disdain
By peppering with bombs
Along with Syria’s pogroms
And I wonder why the local folk complain?
Oh the sun comes up with glory in old Egypt
As another national leader meets demise
And old Nasser’s bile will burn
As from his grave he will return
To try to rectify his children’s Holy lies.
There are whispers of a strike at the reactor.
There are reactionary reactions from Iran
With annulment of the bomb
The region should resume aplomb
But I have my doubts this mixture really can.
And it never rains on dear old dusty Cairo,
Here, you never feel the chill of falling snow,
You may stalk the back bazaars
For the rare blue water jars
But you should really buy protection when you go.
And they whinge that all the tourists here are dwindling
That the middle Eastern charm is all but spent,
When the red blood flows like wine
In the good old Bhyzantine
As the peace of night, with gunfire, is wrent.
But…
The dates are really sweet
And the carpetry so neat
And the music is exotic in the night,
And with the flash of Asian eyes
I can guarantee surprise
As you flee for very life…with ****** fright!
Marshalg
From the dark Bazaar
23 October 2012
© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 11:06 PM UTC
I am so grateful for the way
you split me open
like an egg,
and let me run from your fingers
to settle on the cold floor.
I understand, catalysis.
I am both reactor and reaction,
sown from furrows dug
into frozen earth under a blazing sun-
grateful.
After so long,
the echo of my name off your tongue
has begun to feel like
honey pouring
into my ears,
softening every link in my spine,
warming the frozen earth-
grateful.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 2:21 PM UTC
That was then, this is now
Who was where when what was how?
Hear them take their last breath as they're shot down
I scream
Floating in the gene pool, expecting the man who can walk on water to arrive
Sell outs and everyone who has had a bad week even though it's only Monday
Whippersnappers hang their heads in shame
I am one of twelve
So expendable
We live in gluttony
Lineleaders, math teachers, bottom-feeders have no idea
Watch them fall and be forced to crawl on their bellies
We laugh
Lewandowsky-Lutz dysplasia, getting back to your roots
Progeric clock-makers, lying dead on The Yellow Brick Road
Thin-skinned Transsexuals putting bricks in their purses
We live by eight
We die from our weight
And go unbloomed
-Tommy Johnson
Standing in a nuclear reactor somewhere in Chernobyl looking for the truth
It might be in my contaminated endoplasmic reticulum
I am a radiant
Doppler radar
Monopoly dollar
Singing in the shower, amateur hour
Projecting sour notes
Pouring out their hearts and souls, hear them
Trying
Moo-juice nectar, spilling off The Round Table
Blondes in red bracelets, Kabbalah saves them
Henry pays no tax, John Berryman's bats tell us
You are the lunatic
We are the two quarters of a half-wit
This whole thing is insane
-Tommy Johnson
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
A is for atom
Rotten to the core
Melting down
below the ground
just outside the door
Where presidents and statesman
continue to play
with hot core rods
in a box of sand
forgetting where they've buried them
From Kazakhstan to New York
they walk away and wipe their hands
Now all young boys like hot apple pie
but uranium cake is hotter
and those who've tasted such elation
will tell you that it's nearly sinful
the way the warmth slowly infil-
-trates you to the bone
Hear! Hear! A noble cheer
for the best warm dish
served in years...
Soviet meltdown in hot sause
There's a piece for brother and sister and you
There's a piece for mom and dad
who chatter in the parlour
like a geiger counter going mad
Now the nuclear family
eats plutonium pie
and triple scoop reactor splits
melt and drip
from every bodies spoon
Cheer noble! Good men! Cheer noble!
Please stand tall solicit applause
Cheer noble!!
You'll get your rewards
and your just deserts
with a noble cheer
CANDU!!!
Roosty
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 10:07 AM UTC
Health anxiety.
You google one thing and it says another.
You have a headache and it says its cancer.
Countless trips to your family doctor.
The test was negative, you will recover.
Everything is fine but you’re feeling awkward.
Maybe everything IS fine, perhaps you’re like an actor.
Acting out the symptoms you should get an oscar.
Sue me for feeling like somethings not right, get me a lawyer.
To everyone around me, i’m like a destroyer.
I need to rebuild my life from being an over reactor.
Theres a fine line between normal worry and anxiety.
Theres a fine line between being labelled from society.
Theres a fine line between being sick and being healthy.
But even those who are wealthy are not protected from being unhealthy.
And thats where this fear has developed.
Knowing the highest of classes still are not protected.
CEO’s can get cancer.
The president can get Alzheimer's.
Investors can get tumors.
Is it really so peculiar that I fear that this will occur.
Occur in me? Effect my family? Increase mortality?
Maybe i’m not a clinical case of a hypochondriac, but I feel that sometimes I can be.
Maybe i’m not a maniac, but I know I over worry.
These thoughts don’t keep me up at night, but when I’m sick I always think...
What if its this, what if its that, what if this thing can **** me.
But I guess thats just normal anxiety.
Evolutionary instinct.
Our human kind won’t go extinct.
I don’t need to talk this out with a shrink.
So this cold is lasting more than a few days, maybe i’ll just go to a doctor.
Stop fearing that this is the end, see someone and you’ll feel better.
You can get sick from being stressed, or even change from weather.
Its not strange if you catch a cold, no need to worry it won’t last forever.
When you feel like the doctor is wrong, please try to remember.
A runny nose isn’t cancer, forgetting to check the mail isn't alzheimers, and a headache isn’t a tumor.
Those are all just internet rumours.
Google isn’t your doctor.
Worrying isn’t hypochondria, no need to add that to your self diagnoses list.
While disease is a real thing, worrying is the real *****
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC
I want to be a superhero. I want to shoot heats beams from my eyes like I shoot...spit, from my uh, mouth. I want to save people in the burning building. Lift girders with a finger and hope with my words. I'd give food to the poor and teach respect to the rich.
I want to show the kid on the ledge that the bully is the loser and not him. That he has a life to live and what an ******* says is just a bunch of **** And no matter how many times he jumps I'll pull him back on the ledge, show him that the hero he looks up to was just like him. Show him miracles happen and if he's lucky he'll become the hero in his eyes. Show him scars are scars and they're just out battle wounds, that even his hero gets hurt sometimes.
I want to be like Tony Stark. Have an ark reactor in my chest powering a suit of armor. Knowing that any second my heart will be torn apart. Be like the Hulk cause I have such anger inside that sometimes I want to turn green and break things.
I want to have the power of Thor, and show others that despite their expectations that deep down I have something they won't ever have: Compassion.
I want to be a superhero. Because despite my expectations I am a hero in someone else's eyes. In another world, place, dimension I am the hero I want to be. And I know that eventually I will be a hero. I may not have powers but I have enough hope that maybe one day: I will.
But this isn't the future. I am in the present. And right now I am not the hero. Maybe I'm the villain.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
You glow
Your radiated purple hue
Just touching you multiplies my atoms
Just touching your pedal is cancerous
I grew you in a chemical spill
I watered you every day
With my dappling of sunshine
I hoped to elevate your foliage
You kept reaching out
You reached for more nature
Until your sickly festered roots
Tore you in another direction
You grew towards a reactor
Beyond the need for gardening
You grew towards the processing plant
Beyond the dappling of sunshine
You keep growing and growing
But you won't grow anywhere
But further into your toxic
Pedals never face the sunshine
All you want is clean rain you say
All you want is some sun
All you do is lay there in the waste
All you do is wait for it to be done
All you do is grow mutant fruit
All you do is grow your thorns
I'm trying to live in the sunlight here
While a new gardener collects your scorn
I threw fertilizer over toxic waste
I gave it some fresh new earth
I planted roses in your place
I allowed my garden rebirth
The roses are coming in just fine
I'll expect them still next June
They grow towards sunlight every day
They're my positive giving negative prune
I hope you like to wasteland
I hope you like the sun at your back
I'll keep growing my Fresh Roses
I can't grow your Toxic Lilac
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 2:57 AM UTC
I was born aboard an organic rotating spaceship
traveling one point five hundred and ninety eight million miles a day
as I took my first breath of oxygen O2
a 386 billion billion megawatt nuclear fusion reactor came into view
showering me with filtered electromagnetic radiation
making light for every earthly creation
on this one of eight spaceships
orbiting the nuclear fusion reactor
in our solar system
as one
we move through the cosmic unknown
at 32 million miles a day
we live
made from the matter
supernova star dust
what we do now
is up to us
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 5:58 PM UTC
I love the smell of my flesh in the morning
So soothing, like the ghost of the woman you're mourning
Conforming to a bitterness, you swore to me
That you wouldn't do what you did, but what's more to me
Is that your stain rests upon every thing that I enjoy
My heart is a consultant, don't insult it by calling it unemployed.
I put too much time into your eyes on my mind, in my rhyme
Undermined, badly timed, so let's get to other subject lines
Starlight baking cloudy, shaking
Hourglass breaking, howling naked
On a street corner, "Happy Birthday!" (belated)
Just say it. If it's in a reactor, it's decaying
A single rooftop smothered by snowflakes, earthquakes
Heartbreaks, salt shakers, risk-takers, green bakers
Understudy, crush me honey, lose my number, don't go under
Keep me waiting and debating, my hand shaking, the phone breaking
My face is a reflection of the sunlight's rays
Keeping a constant rumbling from underground at bay
And everyone complains that they're smothered in their own way
But when I rationalize the rainbows, their records won't play
I simply need the orchards to escape this lonely torture
A place to sit and paint in front of a tree and make a fortune
Soothing ears to rest and putting minds at ease
My music, a viral infection, a depressive disease
Constantly starving myself of the rain
I bring the trees to their roots and stimulate the brain
With a conflagration of color, instantly insane
Yet civilized, melody harmonized, urbane
The strings will vibrate and body rejuvenate
Conceptual mind-rape a rising heart-rate
The starlight glowing outwards, the falling of the towers
To signify to flip to side B in a mere matter of hours
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 7:14 PM UTC
This is the year of the search party
The year we stop looking for the answers
The year our inner commotion
Winds down to a clockwork steady
The year where everything is okay
Because it is
Because you are not your lame job
And you are not your last semester
And you are not your bills piling up
You are the moment your lungs erupt
A steady stream of your own breath
Taste it like biting cold
Or cigarettes
Feel it like a mudslide on your own skin
Let it go
Let it go like the millions of choices you can make today
Let every choice you have ever made fall away
So that you may take a moment to be satisfied right now
Assume you had no other options
And because you had no other options
Where you are is where you were meant to be
This is the year made easy
The year the search party found the answers
And hand delivered you note
The year you are a nuclear reactor
Every time you stand still
Feel the hum of your breath
As it fills up your chest
And you get so hot
The snow bending your branches melts away
The year you do not still yourself because of your anchors
You still yourself to watch them fall away
This is the year you make peace with the past
Be in the moment
Make this the year of forgiveness
And the year of less stress
The year you shake hands with your vices
The year of really good ***
The year the search party stopped
And you walked away
Dropped all your gear
Because what you found was a mirror
And it felt like you saw yourself for the first time
Because you did
Because there are no answers
Because every choice you have ever made brought you here
And right here is where you were meant to be
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 5:21 AM UTC
The town of Fukushima
is a place where few will go.
Since the reactor breached
containment
it has a sad, unhealthy glow.
The mice and bees and butterflies
Did not make their escape
High radiation levels
lead to DNA mistakes
The butterflies have shrunken wings
and other gross defects.
The high incidence of mutations
has Leipidopterists perplexed.
When they talk among themselves,
as they do from time to time,
Some blame evolution,
Some Intelligent Design.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 10:05 PM UTC
I thought kisses were supposed to give you butterflies
but our love is a nuclear fallout.
and when you ripped my heart from my chest,
I saw the worst insects crawl out.
you told me I was great in bed,
but when you left,
you caused a meltdown in my head.
you put your atoms in my reactor,
expecting them to grow, but all they did was consume and glow.
they became radioactive,
and so did I.
your love burst right through me,
but I’m yet to die.
instead, I’m here
watching the people around me burn and suffer
and telling them them that its not my fault.
its my ex-lover.
I look around
and see their skin bubble.
I try to help
but I’m buried under your rubble.
the debris that you left when you made me explode
you’ve yet to pick up, to lift the load.
I knew that falling for you was a bad idea
and I’m feeling it now, I’m reaping what I sowed.
I disobeyed my rules of human preservation,
giving in to you was breaking my own moral code
and when I tried to block you out,
you took a side road.
you put it in gear
and drove into my heart.
but the pain I felt
wasn’t the worst part.
because when you put it in reverse,
you had become my foundation and I fell apart.
now I’m in pieces on the ground
scattered around, unbound,
thinking that you should regret it
but its the other way around.
because I still love you and your stupid eyes
the way they light up the skies
I forgave you of your sins
you’ve been baptized
but I advise you to stay close to your allies
and make sure they hear your cries
because I’m a bomb wearing a human disguise,
and when my anger does arise,
you’ll meet your demise.
you made me what I am,
a battering ram
with enough force to break hoover dam.
you used to be the lion but now you’re the lamb.
because here I come with the grand slam.
please ask me if I give a ****
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
I left my heart in our broken city
deep beneath the dark and crushing sea
In the cold and crumbled streets
where you and I used to run and hide.
We'd stick each other with syringes,
and ****** black eyed waifs
from off the backs of violent giants.
Set them free for a taste of their blood.
We'd listen to Django and Stephanie
on that old Victrola,
while we snacked on chips
and drank pilfered gin
from the busted Circus of Values.
Because, your tightwad *******
brother, couldn't spare a dime.
I still have that snapshot,
of you with your Tommy gun
mowing down splicers,
a puddle of Eve at your feet.
Where did we go wrong?
Was it in the half-flooded sections,
were we hid from Ryan's rampage,
before he made me smash his skull.
Or was it that last gene tonic we split,
after the reactor went supernova.
Somebody Rapture me, already.
I wasn't made to last anyway, my lovely.
I just wish I could have lived long enough
to see the girls grow up,
under the cerulean and cream sky.
But, all dreams are destined to die,
the fire and freakshow was fun
while the liquor and shotgun shells lasted
The only thing I know for sure,
is that what they call freedom
is just Dystopia waiting to happen.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 1:20 PM UTC
Your reader quakes like a ready reactor
Steady burn an incalculable factor
On your mark, we approach the next chapter
A quiet pen, without ambition
Keeps each plan from happy fruition
And pressure mounts, some new type of fission
Carve yourself out a space in time
Mark it well so it’s easy to find
History don’t repeat, but rhymes:
Solicitudes concede to style
Somebody just filed suit for libel
One more murmur to add to the pile
To be a made man is to be man-made
And so you dull your colors down a shade
The arsonists took over the fire brigade
Step outside of your burning home
Pavement stand, dial your phone
Ask whomever if We are Rome
The receiver will no doubt laugh a little
That is, if she caught the preceding riddle
Somewhere Nero bows the fiddle
Tell me something, if you please
About the world pregnant virgins see
Oblivious to a state emergency
A noble fourth, our D’Artangan
Has the sharpened instinct of a jealous man
Oh, you know him? And you’re a fan?
He’s wants a girl who drinks whisky and gin
Musket holstered, what a sin
Somebody asks, “What shape’s he in?”
One assumes he’s kind of tame
A lion, yes, but with a shampooed mane
He don’t play ***** but he plays the game
Shoes on, button up, wipe your glasses
Time to shake up contented masses
Donde hay educación, no hay distinción de clases
Mar 23, 2010
Mar 23, 2010 at 4:34 PM UTC
I remember when the days felt golden because I, felt emotion. Hotter than lava burning brighter than gold I was alive. I remember days twisted into nights well the days feel more like the nights now my daze complicates my thoughts. My thoughts complicate my emotions I feel like when I go on that viking dragon pirate ship ride you know the one. The one that flies high, makes your stomach twist into knots makes you want to throw up. Pure ecstasy when you fall down I am falling down. Down deeper than I ever meant to go sometimes I feel like I need to go need to find where I started and climb back up.
I remember when you looked at me and it looked like maybe I was able to save you. Now I need to be saved and I feel like I’m being left alone, to my demons they don’t take a day off. Thoughts don’t take a day off. Memories, like itching in my brain they don’t take a day off. Itching in my brain it’s like my own cruel version of PTSD, made up by scars on my mind I swear baby I’ll get better I just need to take some time. It feels like I’m gambling and trust me I’m not a gambling man I don’t know the difference between black jack and poker so imagine my cards on the table I’m being forced a hand I don’t want. I never asked for any of this I never meant to be the cause of your sadness I just wanted what was best for you.
I know it’s not the logical solution, so imagine this: It’s like my brain is attacking itself, it’s the big bang imploding, exploding I am a supernova. A nuclear reactor going in the red zone, a plate of eggs being cooked on the pan. Suicide never seemed like such a good choice but you know that’s where mental illness comes to play, where my demons aren’t demons I know they aren’t it feels like it though so where do I go from here? Where do I go on this stepping stone path? I want to get better for you I don’t want you to leave or be burdened by my pain I am stuck, I am scared. I need to know things will be okay that maybe you still want to fight for us but I can’t trust the doctors, I can’t trust the mental ward. It’s in my veins this mistrust maybe a therapist would work and I’m two sided on the pills.
And so I think how to get out of the hole I’ve dug and dug but no answers were ever found. I feel misplaced or misused or overused or something I Can’t. Quite. Grasp.
I think of the days that were golden. When you looked at me with such happiness and it’s still there but it’s my own fault if that disappears. It’s always going to be my fault. So please, don’t be surprised when one day I am gone. If that day ever comes at least understand I went down fighting. My thoughts in the form of some devilish creature, I grasped it’s neck and it grasped mine. But it’s grip was tighter. At least know that I love you.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 8:01 PM UTC
Erasure & Found Poem from
"On Photography By Teju Cole in april 16th new york times magazine
--
You were The fast moving disaster of a tsunami
added to the slow motion disaster
of a nuclear calamity
Towns flooded
Infrastructure wrecked
Forests splintered
more than 15,000 people dead.
earthquake cut off
my external power supply
Floodwaters damaged my backup generators
Disabled it's cooling system
Overheating ensued
Fuel in three reactor cores melted
Releasing radiation
Everyone saw The water coming in
The roads swept away
Towns and harbors destroyed
Extensive documentary work
was undertaken by photographers
Of the ruins,
Debris,
Cleanup and relief operations
The gut-wrentching scale of destruction
The professionalism of the emergency crews
The fortitude of the survivers
The extreme uncertainty I feel
in our current political moment
helps me understand for the first time
the curious twinship
of mourning and premonition.
Information
about the tragedy
Sorrow for the suffering it caused
Gratitude for the work
that makes sorrow visible
Foreboding about the future.
An alert flashes
your phone
Something terrible has happened
Far away, a flood, an airstrike,
Soon, there's footage of people picking through wreckage
what used to be their homes
It is easy to pity them
Difficult to imagine this will be you
Suddenly bereft of a solid place in the world.
Listening to anything
that touches on the sublime
makes me apprehensive.
Like The silence that greets us
waking in the middle of the night
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 12:57 AM UTC
I'm a steamroller on a highway,
Unstoppable, and gripped by craze.
'Get out of my way! I'm coming through!'
My vision's blurred, I'm trapped in a haze.
I swerve to the left, then swerve to the right.
Through the windshield, I see the moonlight;
Bright and shining; shining, bright,
Everything is coherent in that bright light.
The bang shocks the ride, and the glass shatters;
It's that rare moment of clarity...
*The weeping bark is my destiny,
And I swerve again to meet the tree.*
I've broken through my shell,
And I stand exposed.
So this is how the levee breaks...
I can hear the river barging as it explodes.
My crystal barricade has been breached.
There's no escape, there's no defense.
The night's conspiracy is in fruitition.
And I rest my case, cease pretense.
The moonlight was a gentle kiss,
On this night, it wasn't alone...
You were the target I was destined to miss;
I'd lost the mortgage for my time loan.
--
My number was up, I was your slave
Funny how that worked out
On saving you,
My core reactor burned out.
The little boy in the moonlight
Was the reason for my demise.
*Were you my personal demon?
Or my salvation, my prize?*
--
You devoured me, I worshipped you.
Then up you got, and there you left.
Guess you were my demon then...
You abandoned me, bereft.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
I am too full.
At capacity.
Feeling
seeps from my seams like
radiation from a faulty nuclear reactor.
Meltdown.
A slow motion disaster.
You have a death wish
I'll do the trick, but something
else might **** you faster.
You are so empty.
So impotent.
Like trying to start a fire when
the wood is wet.
Like soil devoid of nutrients.
Like a house no one has lived in.
Curtains drawn across your eyes like something is hiding, but
open those shades and there's nothing inside you.
Just uncomfortable silence
Unending.
Honestly,
you meant nothing to me.
You were just a lie I told myself so that I could sleep.
In complete truth,
I meant nothing to you.
There is no meaning in anything that you do.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 3:53 AM UTC
I'm caught in the meandering confines of the webs that hold all my words
like the tortures. that sinew creates
like the voices that spiders death makes
like a discrete collected. symposium in the Greek corridor
beyond everything. these thoughts. are a zoo of confines
every species is a destruction
we all slowly **** the once perfect thought of ourselves
because every single time we listen to another's thoughts
we give up our own ectoplasm
we make a country of ghost
a set. defined layer, film of loss
then
we try and share it.
on top of that
on top of decadence
on top of world skyscrapers that create new heights, new shoulders of the sky that our humanist shall strive towards
i just want my ghost to mean something
i want my light to overshade the shadow
i want there to be a supernova in my eyes
i want for you to take that power. make a reactor.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC