"sabotaged" poems
I'm not your saint, I am the thorn,
I'm the havoc you will mourn.
I cradled your heart, and bore this taste,
I smeared the carnage upon your face.
I took control, I snapped your will,
I taught you ****** not to ****
I ***** the violence, I made it raw,
I captivated hate with awe.
I stole your disgust and made it mine,
put your filth upon this shrine.
I abused the knowledge, twisted your fame,
in hope that I could be your blame.
I craved your envy, seduced your lust,
I shattered the belief that held your trust.
I made you all of which that you are not,
I am the decay which your body will rot.
Sabotaged your tender whims to mend,
to prove to you, that I do not bend.
Who had the control, was it me or you,
I will show you just what love can do.
Make you a God and then tear you down,
Lets show the world your painted crown.
The throne of cardboard, easy to inflame,
Your blood of Calvary, a stench of shame.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 6:00 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
I will no longer be named failure.
Failure was never my name.
I was sometimes exhausted
Sometimes sabotaged
Sometimes stretched too thin
But these things are not failure.
In the sharing of faith, to live authenticity is most important.
In my exhaustion I taught gentleness.
In my perseverance I taught strength.
In my stress I taught courage, patience, and faithfulness.
My name was never failure.
My curriculum was the act of living faith, of building trust, of relationships built in acceptance and care.
I was never a failure. I was important. I made a difference.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 10:19 PM UTC
What failures
oh the failures of leaving home at seventeen
of living and thriving as a minority foreigner
of working and studying to post-grad levels
of maturing wonderfully and being up and decent
of loving and marrying and creating a good home
of no crime, no debts, not a drunk, not a player
of no stained reputation, no borrowing or theft
of being easy-going, nice and friendly, an all-rounder
what failures
the failure of being successful and capable in grace
the failure of doing so well a white neighbor burgled
the failure of saying that's not right, you're rotten thieves
the failure of standing up to bullying thieving mobs
the failure of being gangstalked and destroyed
the failure of being an educated professional black
the failure of being a solid, courageous, wholesome man
the failure of knowing you can't do wrong and get by
Ladies and Gentlemen
these are my failures
Its all there in black and white
its the failure of being a minority
In the british democracy of the Socialists
for it is greed to work hard and be successful
its a failure for blacks to aspire and do well when your white
neighbor is a drunken, welfare dependent waster and thief
And Blacks beware, for if you dare tell them to go change
you will be stalked, hounded, smeared, defamed, humiliated
harassed, bullied, slandered, sabotaged, and basically driven to
suicide or a breakdown
They manufacture Failures to reflect their own failures
They call it Trading Places and dish it out to 'Uppity' Blacks
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 7:40 AM UTC
Last night
She accidentally
Walked to her balcony
And looked outside
She saw her soul
Wandering
Being sabotaged
By demonic creatures
Molested by those unholy beings
But all she could do was
Stand and stare
Scrutinise and regret
Because then she realised
She let it go
7 years ago
When she
Questioned her existence
And acted in an immoral way.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
mom betrays us.
headlights into the night
& up the breakneck boulevard bluff overlooking town and terminus.
she brings his heart in a ziploc bag,
an offering
to that old burnt-out oak.
[husband\father\corpse]
front porch blood trails forever. she
claims self-defense and the camera-eyes caramelize her
fame & fortune & stepdaddies & book deals & ziploc pb&js & dead dog omens.
when did the heartache begin?
heir\son\brother\body
racing car ****** and fluxed up the boulevard in a ritual reach for daddy and the oak.
the girls are waiting. one two three, seeds.
brakes sabotaged. he
bursts into death, a molten ball of mazda.
father and son laugh there on the brim of here and hereafter.
apparitions uncoiled.
[home movies]
where mercury avenue ends
the woods begin.
& those woods are evil, an eldritch place, she laughs.
even the indians wouldn’t bury their dead there.
america.
caught between the whir of spokes and windshields reflecting
sky and skin, the blue hue
of television flickering on the hands of a family.
grandsons conjure grandmaster demons
on the ply of their treefort high.
the heart of grandma in a ziploc bag.
jupiter and saturn are in conjunction,
twelve past midnight on a tuesday in september.
a school night.
[the babysitter brings over an unlabeled video tape, says its scary]
the children watch.
slumber party screams and pb&js.
ghouls blunted by pungent neighborhood inertia.
son, a ghost returned in rhythm and electronics,
hungry for pizza and pure vengeance.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 12:32 AM UTC
What I am, I don’t know.
What I do know, however, is what you are.
My eyes have traveled over your person for hours, and I have studied your intellect.
I observe, I don’t make conclusions –
for that would be a sabotaged investigation of the potentiality of your existence.
The ‘you’ I speak of is nobody at all really,
it is the world around me in all of its embodiment.
I soak in the culture as I live amidst the chaos,
and my mind becomes oversaturated with sensation.
In San Francisco, yes, San Francisco, the sweet smell of diversity,
the push of movement walking up Powell Street and the creak
of the old elevator in Rasputin Music.
On top of a hill in Indian valley, a moment of freedom –
the air and I, we hold hands.
The wind and I, we run along picking daisies off their stems
until only the unwanted ones are left standing.
In the middle of a crowd in Golden Gate Park, waiting for the band to appear onstage;
I don’t know his name or hers, but they are very close to me.
Sitting here, on my bed,
flipping pages and pages as books progress;
if only my own storyline were half as intriguing.
Way up here in the air, this plane’s motion makes me tremble.
Occasionally I am distracted by the beauty of what’s outside the tiny window,
and the feeling of omnipresence I attain pushes past my anxiety;
the world is below me and I am defying its weight.
In precalculus class, I reach a strange state of tranquility;
I can finally revert to the robotic motion of pencil and calculator,
a momentary lapse from the stress of the day, and the world.
All in all and end in end,
poems are poems but it mostly depends,
everything is contingent,
and it’s all ambiguous of course.
That may be description of the world – or rather, one of myself.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 2:49 AM UTC
Forgetting my name as it slips off your tongue
You Slaughter my soul and leave it for prey
Abandoning my love just another casualty your way
You massacre my mind hijacking my heart
Just another cadaver in your disease
The devastation you have provided me with can’t slip away
I’m immobile I have been through a defeat
Sabotaged all that I once believed
I Surrender I no longer continue to breathe
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC
*I trekked across the icy shores of Alaska and survived with Gary Paulsen and his dogs
I went on many cross-country road trips, hitchhiking, train riding, and drinking with Jack Kerouac
I shot up ****** and did some time in Interzone with William S Burroughs
I dropped acid and read poetry with Jim Morrison
I murdered a girl and committed suicide with J.R. Hayes
I insulted everyone I knew with Jay Randall and laughed about it afterwards
I meditated high up in the mountaintops with Gary Snyder
I suffered New Orleans police brutality and withdrawal with Mike Williams
I drank, worked, gambled, ****** myself with Charles Bukowski
I admired the beauty of nature and God as self with Walt Whitman
I admired the beauty and balance of nature and city life with Henry David Thoreau
I wandered the desert landscape and sabotaged those that would harm the Earth with Edward Abbey
I painted a world of pictures out of words with e.e. cummings
I loved like no one has ever been loved in this wretched world with Pablo Neruda
I outlived macabre and twisted tales from the mind of Edgar Allan Poe
I spent a few months in France with the cryptic mind of Charles Baudelaire
I drank and wrote nature literature from animal perspectives with Jack London
I lived the songs that Tom Waits wrote
I went insane with Sparrow in New York
I found myself traveling on a Tour Of Homes, reciting ‘Talk Music’ with Dan Smith
“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness” with Allen Ginsberg*
When all was said and done and every word wrote three times or more
I disappeared into the oncoming onslaught of midnight's dreary dreams
Like so many forgotten poets, writers, and orators
Who’s words have faded with the oblivion of time
Only to be remembered by a select few from here and there
That have chosen to remember, to write, to read, to never forget
Which are you and where do you come from?
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 9:26 AM UTC
self-inflicted incompetence
brought on by a life
of misunderstanding, misuse
sabotaged by my own mind
with this unsettling gut feeling
will i ever be good enough
or will i be discarded
as a broken unsatisfying machine
tell me the truth
that will cut to the core
for deceptive sentiments
cause self doubt to boil
beneath my skin
am i not a man
or fated to be relegated
to boyhood status
unable to quench the most
basic natural demands
a failure at heart
a selfish lover
eating away at my conscious soul
i know you love me
im just paranoid as all hell
we're only human
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 11:06 PM UTC
The war began at Fort Sumter
It was launched by the greys not the blues
John Brown defended his actions
It was now the South's war to lose
Brothers were turned against brothers
The states were at war from that night
The country was clearly in trouble
And with one shot, did begin the fight
It's time to celebrate freedom
On a day eating hot dogs and pie
Towns decorated with bunting
As fire works light up the sky
In the summer of nineteen sixteen
On an island known here as "Black Tom"
Munitions reserved for the allies
Were sabotaged, bullet and bomb
The US now entered the World War
They were allies but not really allied
When another plant blew up in Kingsland
America, came in from the side
It's time to celebrate freedom
On a day eating hot dogs and pie
Towns decorated with bunting
As fire works light up the sky
The second world war was in progress
America was sitting it out
When Japanese planes bombed Pearl Harbour
They were at war, of this there was no doubt
Almost one half of a million
Americans died in that war
They died fighting for freedom
Just think, there could have been more
It's time to celebrate freedom
On a day eating hot dogs and pie
Towns decorated with bunting
As fire works light up the sky
Television brought war to the masses
A young soldier seen from Ojai
Interviewed leaving for battle
He was leaving, not hoping to die
Veterans came back to no fanfare
They weren't hero's, the war was not theirs
Back home, they now fought a new battle
Thrown away, where nobody cares
It's time to celebrate freedom
On a day eating hot dogs and pie
Towns decorated with bunting
As fire works light up the sky
The Gulf War began in the nineties
A war fought like none ever seen
Targets were sighted by missiles
Watched on monitors all lit up in green
And then came nine eleven
The war was now brought to our land
I support the soldiers for going to battle
And if you meet one, go shake his hand
It's time to celebrate freedom
On a day eating hot dogs and pie
Towns decorated with bunting
As fire works light up the sky
Freedom is something you fight for
It's something you celebrate too
Sons, Daughters and wives have laid down their lives
So we can all live like we do
It's time to celebrate freedom
On a day eating hot dogs and pie
Towns decorated with bunting
As fire works light up the sky
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 9:02 PM UTC
I have all my materials, a bathingsuit and
everything my tutor gave me. I love
to dip my leg in the water up to my
knees to check if the fluids are good.
But last week, when I knew I would
have to jump, I sabotaged myself, o why,
did I have to climb the ladder of
that springboard, I could not hand
myself some help, now I could not
feel the water. I had to jump without
the checking, it felt rather nerve-racking.
So I took the leap of no return, only south.
I went in head first, lessons didn't help a lot.
It was never the brightest idea, selftuition.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
What, you think this earth belongs to you?
Dont act like your **** dont stink. Pee-eww.
We sabotaged and stole this land...
Poorly planned.
Tried hard to **** off all the native peeps.
Became the kind of company that misery keeps.
**** of the earth.
We dont need a world-wide police.
Need this new-world-order like we need a new disease.
Watch out, keep eyes peeled.
Catch you slippin, might take away the rest of the freedoms you feel.
Trade MY Rights for YOUR lies?
C'mon, get real, no deal.
Masonic traditions so ritualistic.
Right in front of our eyes!
Rediculous.
So sadistic.
No such thing as ugly beauty inside.
No morality.
No empathy.
No unity for human kind.
All pride.
All pompous politicians peddling for bribes.
Question everything.
Humans lie and decieve and try to change your beliefs...
For selfish reasons that you may or may not see or believe...
Dec 7, 2009
Dec 7, 2009 at 2:12 PM UTC
The reality you feel
Is the illusion your insecurities have fed you.
The observations made become your assumptions
That destroy the beauty of the unknown.
The words you choke on
Distort truth to lies.
Then your silence feeds your fears
Until your heart begins to fill with doubt.
The possibilities dissipitate
Sabotaged any friendship, any hope, any adventure, any future.
Convinced by the anxiety that warps your mind,
You close yourself.
There's no way back through the twisted silence and physical separation.
Ruined.
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 4:27 AM UTC
We take on the blame, we inherit the shame
wallowing in the aftermath of an apocalypse
proportions to take down the most resilient warrior
we fight to the death our right to a voice
trust is crushed beyond reparation
truth is heard in the distant by some
stark realities knock in darkness and light
sleep filled with the incoherent disgraces
seeped into the soul's consciousness'
assaulting all reason and sanity
sanctioned for self destruction
the shame that follows engulfs
innocence admonishes all evil
still stuck in the turmoil of self hatred
unjustly bestowed on the naive guiltless
shame's name branded on the psyche
slammed by the brick wall of inertia
sabotaged lives go astray and unfold
the real shame of it all is not ours to own
yet, life no longer flows naturally..............
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 7:47 PM UTC
Cinema love is something
In the interlude of suffering.
Cinema love
A cascade of open passion which inspired this beautiful
Obsession
Cinema love in a 50s black and white spool
Where thunder splits lovers apart
And God blesses tears in the dark.
Love is a dangerous word- Love is
A nuclear war-
A computer message that is sabotaged by a jealous killer
A perfumed envelope containing a suicide letter
Soaked in tears of desolation which long to kiss
The sea-
Seems like a good film to me.
Her love twirled and danced then opened her eyes to a future
In front of a camera called betrayal
Still she is available.
Cinema love '11' A Dinosaur On Parole From Neptune
It is of no relevance which classic blinds the screen
There is a love story in row 22 like there has always been
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
Churning inside, full of guilt and ripped up pain
All I hear in my head is you over and over again
This is a broken record of thoughts
a whole bunch of pain I bought
Ripped my own wounds open and poured the salt in
I sabotaged myself again
This is the break down of me drowning
my self stupidity crowning
Slashes of invisible ink bleed over my skin
I can't believe I let this happen again
Salty tears and metallic taste in my mouth
I want to run
run away from me
I don't want to look in the mirror to see that I ripped open my own wounds and poured the salt in
I sabotaged myself again
I don't know how I'm going to heal this time
how I'll find someway to erase you from my mind
My hands are shaking
shaking so bad
I'm struggling to put into words this type of sad-mad
There's something worse than being ****** over by someone else
and that something is ******* over yourself
I ripped open my wounds and poured the salt in
I sabotaged myself again.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
It's ironic how I write about love
when the only love I have experienced
was when I was a young girl
and some of my parent's furniture was older
than myself
I don't know if I am allowed to call it love
because at the time I wasn't so obsessed
with thinking about his smile and the palette of colours
within his eyes
instead I focused only on perfect plastic dolls
and disguising the crumbs that fell
onto my dress when I stole from the cookie jar
It was a love so selfish that when he kissed another girl's cheek
I turned scarlet with anger
and sabotaged the sculptures she had created
out of blue and green plastic blocks
but before the sculpture even hit the carpeted floor
I was already over the so-called heartbreak,
with my eye on another little boy
who laughed at what I had just accomplished.
Nobody has ever been infatuated by me since that day
and my love has never been anything but unrequited
and unwanted
and frustrating
and yet I continue to fabricate feelings of love out of thin air,
writing them down on crumpled sheets of paper
and imagining what it would feel like
if any of the things I wrote about
ever came
true.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 1:03 PM UTC
There was a girl.
She loved to dance with the breeze.
Her heart used to sing, as she swayed with the trees.
But one day the wind stopped, and out rolled the thunder.
Disoriented and confused, she had many blunders.
How could she have known how deep into the pit she would fall.
She hated her life, but was too proud to shout out her call.
Her scandals have her trapped.
For a permanent effect on the mind and heart has occurred.
Her body as well has suffered.
Her will to carry on is blurred.
She should have listened when she had the chance.
But she was to curious and he seemed so advance.
She thought honesty about potential harm would be an innate human trait.
But not everyone is good in this world, and in her heart she has developed hate.
She tries to forget by hiding tears with laughter.
But a way to escape her life is all that's she's after.
There's always one in the batch that's just like its makers.
She got the worst of both her parents traits, and she knows where they will take her.
She has no illusion, and she hopes for the worst.
Just to hide from her shame and to make the ones who made her this way feel worse.
Make them hate themselves because of what they caused.
It's not like she doesn't hold herself accountable but she feels that in her life there's been fraud.
How could you do it with so little a care?
You've destroyed a healthy life.
How is that fair?
She was honest about herself, and you have stolen her hope.
For her quality of her life, she has little faith.
I hope one day you read this and you compare it to yourself.
Are you the one who destroyed her?
The one so easily sabotaged her health?
Can you admit it?
Can you walk with your head held high?
I pray that when she takes her last breath, you feel in your heart her last bitter sigh.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
And pew by pew, they shuffle up
In stoic homage, cane in hand
Or awkward reverence, drudging forth
I dare not rise to join the train
Of human need, of appetites
That crave the air, that lust the sun
That knock on wood to trap a nymph
That find a god within a waif.
And others, likewise, stay as well
A few old-maids who cannot walk
Yet others more than capable
I think, “Maybe the night before…
They ****** their sister’s married friend
Perhaps they stole their neighbor’s TIMES
Or sabotaged their best-friend’s plan
Got drunk and cursed and fought their dad
Or maybe even killed a man…”
And yet they’re sober enough now
Beneath the stained-glassed reddened light
That slants before the multitudes
Sober enough to fear what’s done
To touch, to taste, the burning bread
With sweaty palms, or slobbering tongues
And all at once a feeling swells
A kinship for those left behind
Who gaze upon these rising rows
Yet still remain for all to see
Just how deprived they truly are
Now those who’ve fed and drunk return
Crossing themselves, they kneel to pray
The holy hymnal spreads its wings.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 6:59 PM UTC
Night charges in and Fear tiptoes after
They slither across the floor
And as they crawl into bed with me, I can hear their maniacal laughter.
In my sabotaged subconscious there is no lock on the door,
An open party where the demons dance
And in explicit, intricate agony I attempt to scream “No more! NO MORE!”
The zombies infest, fester, and invade as their decayed, falling-off feet begin to prance
My mouth is gagged and the chains tighten, as horror plays before my eyes
This is no ordinary tragedy – not one soul has a chance
Trust is meaningless and dangerous, the loyal ones are spies
Logic is thrown out – there is neither a beginning nor an end
Time turns and churns, double-crossers criss-cross – lies, lies, LIES!
My power is ripped away, shred by tiny shred
Everything is spiraling out of my control
I silently scream and struggle as Fear forcefully pins me to the bed
I swim through the sea towards consciousness, but He won’t let me go.
Eyes fly open as Fear ties me up with taught ropes, His beautiful disaster
The unbreakable fibers are woven from smoky shadows, and time crawls on far too slow
My heart beats – faster, faster, FASTER!
But the helpless heroine is no more
The shadows slink away and stick to their corners, for Daylight is my master.
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC
My eyes were opened,
I extracted the reality
Without emotions to
Cloud my visions.
Then I stopped
Taking the pills
To control my feelings,
And I erupted
With hate and rage
Directed at a society
Where the only truth,
Is that nothing is flawless.
I despise your pathetic
Ritualistic tendencies
As your sabotaged with fear.
Eat the body,
Drink the blood,
Keep fueling the flames
Of a controlling fiction,
Infused with false promises
Of glory and redemption.
You and I will take
Two differing paths
Through our trivial time,
But we all end
At the same destination,
Corpses in caskets,
Our paths will be the same.
Until then though
I gave up a sanity
To not just see the truth,
But feel it coursing
In my veins.
Now my blood runs red,
Hot with loathing
For the disgusting multitude
Of blind worshipers.
When I say I can't
******* take it anymore,
Know it's not a joke
And I will die
A victim of misplaced ideals.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC