"ruble" poems
Where's my mommy
where's my daddy
I don't see them
just ruble around me,
people screaming
running away from the heat
fires raging.
Mommy wake up
daddy wake up
found them sleeping.
Wake up mommy
wake up
wake up daddy
wake up
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 4:39 PM UTC
The same song looping over and over…
The same suicidal thoughts torturing my sanity…
Repeats accruing on infinite piles of ruble,
Vigorously fighting these thoughts,
These demons of mentality,
A constant cartwheel of emotion…
Always racing…
Not ceasing for a mere second…
Forcing the pill in my mouth,
And then another,
And another…
The only mental painkiller is death…
I feel numb,
Darkness seeps into my vision…
Blurring reality…
The Pain is going away…
I feel alive as I feel myself die…
Emergency Medical Squads break the door down…
I sit there,
Watching them cycle electricity into my body as I blindly stare,
Eyes not moving,
Weak,
You never came.
I want to tell you I love you until it becomes white noise…
Always knowing I love you,
Never doubting yourself again…
I want to make love until we are one…
My body and yours…
Sharing the night, and day…
Filling senses with pleasure and love…
I want to hold you until you are weightless…
A feather in my arms…
Carry you up to a safe place on a dark night…
I want to love you forever…
I want to love you till stone itself evaporates into the air as it boils underneath the red giant sun…
I want to love you when the Universe rebirths or collapses…
I want to love you when the bell tolls,
The bell does not mark the end,
It will never end,
I will love you always,
Forever,
Not stopping even for a supernova…
No matter how lovely, how vivid, how colorful the painting…
Toxic fumes are given off,
The closer you look the more cracks and flaws you’ll find…
No matter how soft the wood, how elaborate the carving,
You can’t even begin to feel all the splinters…
All the cuts,
The closer you get the deeper the grooves…
This rusty drain has grown clogged of emotion and dust…
Wonderful you say…
But that is just for now,
Today.
My past is dark, dead, rotten,
Who knows if the future will be any different.
Today I have a moment of peace,
You,
A bright blue gem shining in the darkness,
So pure it becomes it’s own light-source,
Echoing beauty throughout the blackness,
Illuminating me,
True Commitment,
Warm and sweet Love,
Unquestionable Trust,
Seraphic Beauty,
Everything I need…
I sit here questioning these words…
Thinking of the purest way to put them,
But emotion is not pure,
It’s ***** rough, and raged,
But when I talk to you that emotion turns into something different,
It turns into satisfying warmth that runs through my body…
The past evaporates into the air,
Dispersing and losing its importance,
You are my future,
Not the past.
Dec 29, 2011
Dec 29, 2011 at 2:03 PM UTC
I don't see memories
or predict the future
I can't tell you what has happen or will happen
I see only what is
I see the scars of the world
and ponder what has happened
I see what exist, and the aftermath that it is
I see the rocks erode, and tides hide their knifes
I see ripples across peoples flesh, and the formations made
I do not cringe at the pain, but realize that it has helped us grow
I see buildings, but I don't, because now I see the ruble
I see rocks, but I don't, because I see the rise of a city
I see from the rise of this city the rise of a nation
from this nation the rise of the people
and from the people I see all else I could see before
I see prosperity, devotion, familiarity, and the ambition from before
I see from the rise also the fall
I see the sun come up with the blinding light, and then I look away
because when that beauty falls and the moon shall reign
I will cease to see what I came to know
I will see, but I don't, the scars of any other any more
I will see, but I don't, for the windows have been shut to that world
as my own pain grows so big to bind my eyes closed
as my eyes closed and as my heart was swallowed whole
Pain will lead to insanity, and the need to free myself from it
from the memories I have built I will find myself
and with that found, I will scar myself
to know that I too will rebuild
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 4:32 PM UTC
Cut in half and also double,
The time I take from each perception, Sifting through the artworks ruble-
Changes constantly, with new direction
Words which placate then befuddle
Like an instinctive, intervention.
Longingly, negating trouble,
Empirically, a resurrection.
All the while my medications
(Pills to fix the way we feel)
Unraveling fast deviation
Investing in what isn't real.
Oh Destroyer, and Creater;
The Accention & Decline-
How we Falsify & fabricate,
Then factually Define.
Jan 8, 2023
Jan 8, 2023 at 5:24 AM UTC
Hello
Miss Red Petticoat
How I wish I knew your name
I see a spark within your eyes that says "I can't be tamed"
You caught my eye and now I know that I'm in deep deep trouble
Your teasing glances, though so sweet, will turn my joy to ruble
I cannot have you as my own, my parents wouldn't allow it
And anyways, I feel something for you, but I'm too afraid to show it
So please, beautiful, let your presence in my mind be called history
Because, as much as I want to know, your name must remain a mystery
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 4:04 PM UTC
In empty pages and stark contrast the storm chased away the weak now alone I stand.
The hero a pawn truth cast aside for others cause .
We embrace solutions where no problems exist.
May the colors run red from forgotten cause and history be erased for the sake of all that must be forever mundane.
I wish only to drag you to the depths and leave you to linger where nothing but a child's logic can remain
In spider webs we threw are thoughts now tangled the words left to wither in passing days.
May we dance in empty halls to illuminate the shadows and create the ghosts for others to place there hopes of what never shall be again.
To silence the voice is but closing the chapter to spite the clear view .
Nothing stands a statue for the promise of tomorrows decay and the ******** will parade there ignorance as the simple minded spread a plague to which we are losing this battle.
I write for no one to read and all to judge.
Where's the laughter now the jester is asked in ruins of a kingdom now simply reduced to ruble.
I remember what you will never taste and you may judge but waters tasted pure beats the stolen verses and burrowed lines of a time I no longer care to understand.
And Time passed me as it will pass you just the same .
May the silence remind you of that which never was to be.
We all will know this place someday.
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 12:50 AM UTC
elephants stomping on my head
laugh as they draw blood
fragmented ideals scatter in the wind
as trampled dreams mix with dust
cemented in 'supposed to'
hiding behind other people's 'shoulds'
jackhammer disappointment
crushes bones with broken boundaries
play me a song
to make it look pretty
and I'll pretend to dance
with you in foggy yesterday's
karaoke soundtracks
to a stranger's tears
that leave the heart blind
tripping acid just to see in forgotten colors
breathing bacteria
from the soles of shoes
wiped on my forehead
as they said, 'hello'
a mosaic of skull puzzles
grouted in the remnants of the ****
left behind as everyone
just walks away
shadows smell clean in dark corners
where colors are left to die
in clouds of expectation
leaving truth buried in the ruble
...of who they thought I was
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 6:30 PM UTC
Honey lets drink the nectar of downtrodden ancient gods
until your limbs fall to ruble
like the temple of their lost worshipers.
Hold loosely to my numb hand as we loose our minds
in the fog rolling through our heads.
Let's escape.
All the legions marching through our veins,
doomed to death and resurrection,
oh how familiar we will be with that destiny
having practiced so many times.
When that fate reaches our time,
and we melt once more,
busts of ink onto the page in blissful atrophy.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 2:38 AM UTC
Nothing moves.
My house is quiet.
The universe is in a whirlwind.
My mind has been swept up with the ruble.
Everyone is sleeping, drifting in a parallel existence.
Where are they?
I'm stuck in reality. Alone. In the dark.
But I am not isolated.
Someone must be haunting me.
Someone's parallel existence is seeping into my reality.
I'm not alone.
I'm surrounded by your subconscious thoughts.
They're scary.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 5:09 AM UTC
The Unpleasant breeze welcomes Lakunle
Invites the harsh winds to him Unluckily
He shrugs repeatedly accepting fate
Mosquito bites and the next day's date
Wakes him up to ruble again in pain
confused about the little he has to gain
Aiyetoro
He his challenges by is toothless smile
to turn the hands of time and set a mile
a mile of records that will break the chains
The poverty chains of which he grew with on these plains
trying to understand the Life he has
going to sleep every night with an empty stomach with gas
empty gas.........
Aiyetoro
The journey began
He ran
Away from home
To find a new zone of his own
picked by a wanderer
they wandered together
He still wonders what happened to Wanda
He flew to Rwanda
He went back to Aiyetoro
The empty results
The wasted years
The Unanswered Questions
The Grey Hairs
The Recklessness
The Life of Aiyetoro
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 12:07 AM UTC
For the last five hundred years, posh “society,” is where the wealthiest and most influential people in the world mingled, inter-married and conducted business. If you’ve ever watched “Downton Abbey”, “The Gilded Age” or even “Crazy Rich Asians” you’ll know what I mean.
Maslow’s hierarchy of needs - a psychological pyramid that describes human fulfillment - states that part of our human nature (once your basic needs are met) is the desire to attain social position. Having mere wealth is just not enough once you are in the top levels of achievement.
In the 1970’s Arab money started pouring into the west. Arab petro-dollars bought swaths of land in the UK, in London and New York. The Arabs dazzled everyone with their wealth and bling but they never penetrated posh society.
Then in the 90s the second, Asian wave, of new wealth washed eastward and they had a bit more success in society. But starting about 20 years after the fall of the Soviet Union, Russians started coming to the west with new money to invest - in the UK, in particular.
Russia became the billionaire capital of the world, oligarchs were everywhere buying anything not nailed down and eventually trying to insinuate themselves into posh “society”. Tatler (THE magazine of society) even began publishing a Russian version. If you were a wealthy Russian, you were moving up. By 2022, they weren’t too far from the edge of REAL success.
That’s what evaporated three weeks ago - with the invasion of Ukraine - Russia’s luxury infrastructure and their hopes of acceptance into posh society. Gucci, Chanel, Hermès, Dior, Apple and Tatler (just to name a few luxury brands) have left Russia to rot. If you’re Russian now, the chances of being admitted into posh society are gone for the next 20 years - at least.
You may say “so what?” Well, one way a dictator holds onto power is through mercantile largess. The granting of rights within the Russian sphere of influence - to control and distribute goods and services - is how oligarchs are created. The support of these oligarchs is important and transactional.
A man with a 100-million dollar yacht - looking at what chunks of their wealth may well be confiscated in the west - or lost to the Ruble’s collapse - could easily offer life-changing wealth to any henchman willing to end Putin one way or another.
Will this happen? I don’t know. But this is the system they’ve set up for themselves.
Mar 22, 2022
Mar 22, 2022 at 4:12 PM UTC
I'd be a butterfly,
For Heaven's sake.
The kind that Noah forgot to take.
But still survived The Flood...
In your eyes.
I'd build a boat.
Out of your ribcage,
To set the birds free.
You heard me!
Butterflies?
**** butterflies,
I got birds inside me.
No.
What I have to say,
comes from the rip chord
of my razor blades.
Waiting my whole life
for that rubber band
to snap back.
Thank God for my destruction.
Thank God for my ruble.
Because tree's
grow out of the sides
of stone cold mountains.
That have been blown up
by the rough hands
of people mining for gold.
And people set forest fires
on purpose.
To get rid of the dead stuff.
So new things can grow.
And Sometimes.
I pick the plants.
Just to see how much dead stuff
I can accumulate,
before I set myself on fire.
And when I do,
I swear to God.
I'll be an empty notebook.
So you can cover me with lines.
The good kind.
That come from your pencil.
Cause we don't have to roll up
dollar bills
to see the moon, anymore.
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
You, my love
Are my everything
My heaven in hell
My diamond in the ruble
My star in the night sky
I love you
Your the only one for me
The one I love
The one I cherish
I'll take your burdens
And make them my own
Make your problems mine
Love your child as my own
I already love her as my own
Your the camo to my stand
The bullet to my gun
The doe to my buck
Our true country love
The greatest
The strongest
The truest
Of all
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
i will never forget,
always regret,
and wish we never met.
you were nothing but trouble,
and left nothing besides ruble.
you were always so mean,
and never wanted to be seen,
with me.
why didn't i see,
then, that you weren't any good?
i guess i never fully understood,
how much trouble you were, until now,
but i will no longer let you bring me down.
(a.b)
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
For the longest time I was on my own
I had grown numb to the world around me
But then you took my hand
my whole world exploded
and suddenly all was bright
I could feel the wind tickling my hair
your hot breath whispering against my ear
The pure heat of our two bodies intwined
all in a single moment
Hips against hips
your hands in my hair
your lips pressed to mine
our two souls entwined, twirling
whirling through the air somewhere above us
We were like a force of nature
a hurricane or tornado
something destructive and wild
but it was so unhealthy
but I didn't care
I thought it was fun at the time
now here I am
stranded in the ruble
waiting for another storm to carry me along
I live off of them
drunk with the sheer emotion
then alone again I am
I feel no wind
no heat
no passion
nothing
I am empty
But **** was it fun for a while
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
I’m not sure if I’m fixable. i feel hollow and ill fall over crumble into ruble. while the picture isn’t perfect its a start of a piece art. sometimes the world ***** and **** when its bad and it makes you mad and you’ve had too much **** thrown your way pen and paper come to play. the pen may write the words but remember excalibur is only a sword and without a grip on the handle it can fight no foe and win no war. i feel down and i want to tag out in the last round or take a dive in round five but **** it pain is on my brain and with this much i can take a little more. I’m not sure if I’m fixable but then again nobody else in the discount section is whole anyways right?
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
I feel like I'm sinking
And blinking is not enough to relieve my eyes from what I'm seeing
Your love was deceiving
******* out all of my feelings
Leaving me bleeding
Retreating back to my cave of useless meaning
Thinking you were different
Only to find out
That you were just like the rest
I'm left a mess
You try to rebuild the walls around your heart
Can't let people get past the start
Or make it to the finish
I'm finished
Sitting there doing the dishes
Thinking about why you left me there
In the summer air
You acted like you were scared to lose me
Turns out you did nothing but bruise me
Shattering my soul
Then stepping on all the broken pieces
Turning them into dust
Dust to ashes
But in all this madness
I'm reborn
Stronger than the storm
I try my best to smile right in front of you
So you know I got over the **** you put me through
You told me I wasn't good enough
So I walk around this life thinking I'm not good enough
So you learn to shield your heart
Shield your scars
Hoping that the next person who comes along
Doesn't destroy what you've built
But you can't help but tear it down yourself
Just so you can feel something
Then you stand beside the ruble of what's left
And wonder if it was worth it
You've jumped out of the plane
Pulled the chord
And hope that your parachute opens
You trust
You take risks
You give up everything
And yet at the end of the day
You spend your time building up your walls
With nothing but a secret passage way
Hidden where no one expects
The only way to your heart
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC
Darling, you're confusing. Like a puzzle that can't be solved.
You remind me of a book that hasn't been read. The pages only skimmed, touched by rough fingers, sometimes tearing your fragile pages.
I want to immerse myself in your words. I want to tear them apart, dissect them so I can see what's underneath. I want to be a part of the story you have yet to finish.
Im drawn to you like the morning tide.
I would love to explore the depths of your existence, if only you were to let me. Even just for a quick moment.
I can feel your insecurities, the ones hidden in the depths of your pages. I know them all too well, like they are my own.
Won't you let me break down your walls, explore the world of your subconscious thoughts.
Let me in, please?
I showed you the heart I wear on my sleeve. I gave you the pen, invited you to help finish the novel that hasn't been published.
I want to show you what its like, show you that you aren't alone.
Let me be the one to help knock down the temple walls you cling to so dearly.
If you could only see what I do.
I want to become a part of your world. Immerse myself in the depths of your existence.
Are you ready?
I want to break you down, rip apart the images you have created. I want to see you totally exposed. I'll stand with you, I'll show you my skeleton. Let me be the one that helps paint the walls of your psyche.
Do the same for me.
Tear me down, rip me to shreds. Shine a light in the darkest corners of my being.
We will rebuild ourselves. Refurbish old images. Bit by bit, using scrapes from our ruble. We can create a world that is for us. Parts of us, mixed together, securing the infrastructure.
Let me be the only light to shine in your temple. Let me mend the pages that were torn by careless fingers.
I want to melt, my colors bleeding into yours. Illuminate our souls with the fire we sparked together.
Do you trust me?
Will you take my hand? Will you allow me to catch you incase you slip? I won't let you trip over the liter left behind by our pasts.
Leap with me, dive into the world we create. We can fall together.
What do you say?
I've given you the key to my pages, the pen to write your words down.
Will you do the same?
Hand me your key, I'll show you what its like. Remind you how it feels when my pen touches the pages of your soul.
Give me your love, your heart, your life.
I'll handle it with care.
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
Sometimes it's like no time has passed since she showed up in my life.
To imagine that I would fall victim to her mesmerizing spell...Again.
To think I was convinced she would be the answer to all of my problems.
To think I fooled myself into thinking I could handle her storm, not to lose control.
How could I have been so blind?
A wolf in sheep's clothing.
My Siren in the form of a drug, a foil, a needle.
Everything I loved and everything I hate.
Such an easy mistake.
An easy escape.
A cowards answer.
Again I fell victim to her double edged sword.
Left to pick up and rebuild from the ruble, left after her storm.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
A cluttered space and a quickly approaching departure brings silence.
Chords wrap around my gut.
Anger swelling in the belly of my being.
My bones squeak as I tighten my muscles and bite my lip to keep this quiet.
A train passes.
My heart beats in my neck.
My chest is tight.
I squirm a bit and try to shake this feeling out of me.
It lingers in the tips of my fingers and toes.
God knows I'm going to fall apart.
Like ruble.
I will crumble.
But that can wait until tomorrow.
Tonight, we drink and dance.
On top of hotel beds, we bounce and say we're sorry.
Goodbye is too close to fight.
I'm rusting.
Turning a ***** orange and breathing iron.
There's a light that comes in through a boarded up window.
It reminds me that there is beauty in this chaos.
It reminds me that you are beautiful even when you drive me ******* crazy.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC
You have broken me
Every part
Of my lonely heart
Has been shattered
In millions of pieces
On the floor
I let you break down my walls
Crawl into my mind
And see all the dark parts
I was so scared to let anyone see
But you
You crept in to see the real me
Apparently you didn't like
Everything you were bound to see
And you left
With the door wide open
My walls broken down with bulldozers
Left me in the ruble of the crash
Unbearable and broken
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 3:37 AM UTC
When it struck
The world shook
Glass shattered everywhere
Each shard mirroring the vast destruction
Buildings crumbled into piles of ruble
Painting the blue sky with thick, grey smoke
The ever luminous Sun paled
Now but a glowing ember
Ending this world as we knew it...
When it struck
The world shook
A sweet wind blew
It blew until the suffocating canopy of smoke was no more
Magnificent trees bloomed from the debris
The bits of glass flew into the sky like stars
Making eternity their home
The Sun burst anew
Welcome rays encompass the atmosphere
It's warmth making love to my spirit
Something wondrous happened here
Love...
And when it struck...
The world shook.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
long whistle
monotone
carrying tonal indifference
passing wind
lips pursed
blowing
saliva escaping
through a tiny slit
bending note flattens
sharply –
noticing her face through the haze
I feign disinterest
feeling entrapped
death grip
kung-fu style
G.I. Joe action figure
has nothing on her ability
to place me in a trance
staring without inhibition
watery eyes reddened
no blinking for fear
of missing a movement –
gliding across the ruble
effortlessly
I find myself engaged in conversation
with an angel
stumbling tongue
sweaty brow
palpitating heart muscle
her smile lifts me
places me in a throne of silk pillows
encourages me to take off my shoes
and enjoy the quiet of a weekend ball game
heaven –
long years pass
tattered throne no longer holding comfort
like her eyes
barefooted prancing replaced
but her love remains
for me
eternal
blessings abound
as I brush my teeth
face to face
with the luckiest man I know –
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC