"shockwave" poems
My mind was pulsing
with endless subtly shaded descriptors
and shockwave verbs,
when a pop-up alert flashed
red and yellow and blue…
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Panicking, I clicked on the form
and furiously typed …
William Shakespeare
10 Henley Street Village South
Statford Upon . . . . . .
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 7:29 AM UTC
He watched as she fell
He watched as he did what he had to
He watched as she hit the ground
He listened
There was no sound
He watched as their world split
He cringed at the spectacle
Unfolding before his eyes
He listened
There were no cries
He felt the shockwave
As her reality exploded
He marveled at the colors the wound
He listened
And then it boomed
Violent
Force
Wreckage
Shrapnel
Fallout
Screams
Weeping
Unrestrained
Anguish
Betrayal
Hatred
But hold on child
This is not the end
This is just a pothole
On the Warpath of Love
So look to the Bittersweet Bystander
His hand extended now
Take the help he offers
You need it to continue
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC
Your voice is electricity
that shoots through my ears
and down my veins like
Frankenstein's Monster.
Reanimating the dead
cells and tissue with
surgical precision.
Arcing across my back
and shoulders singeing
hair follicles and chattering
decrepit teeth in my mouth
like dice in a cup.
Your voice is electricity
and it's clinging to my chest
like a defibrillator, sending
shockwave after shockwave
through my heart and soul.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 1:03 PM UTC
In our secret haven, where fantasies entwine,
I craft my words for you, in moments so divine.
A tantalizing dance, where pleasure meets tease,
In the dim glow of our sanctuary, we find our ease.
With my fingers tracing, you start to explore,
A touch so precise, craving always more.
**** music in the air, setting the night,
Watching porn's soft flicker, igniting your delight.
The rush of desire swells, an unending wave,
In the realm of edging, where you’re bold and brave.
Your body, a symphony, responding to the tune,
Every teasing touch, making your senses swoon.
The build-up is exquisite, dizzying and sweet,
Heightened sensitivity, making your heart beat.
You're constantly turned on, a wet, eager flame,
As I guide you slowly, whispering your name.
Hours drift by, lost in the sheets,
Craving my touch, where ecstasy meets.
Each touch a jolt, electrifying and pure,
In the dance of edging, patience is the lure.
You writhe in bed, under my command,
Craving the moment, where pleasure will expand.
Every touch, a shockwave, intense and grand,
Your body yearning for the strength of my hand.
When the crescendo hits, an explosion of delight,
You let go, surrendering to the night.
Satisfaction washes over, leaving you empowered,
In our shared ecstasy, where desire is devoured.
In this dance of self-love, a bond we tightly keep,
Our bodies in harmony, in desires deep.
Trust in the journey, the thrill of the ride,
In the playful pleasure, where our worlds collide.
Jun 30, 2024
Jun 30, 2024 at 8:39 PM UTC
It’s a free country, whose prices are skyrocketing,
skyrocketing with the number of secrets.
Pick up pamphlets proclaiming promises,
but look how the fine print demands your liberty.
Everything is written in the same language,
the exchange rate for a few dollars.
Pieces of paper riddled with numbers, dollars
burn through pockets, leaving scars with pain skyrocketing.
The poor and huddled masses all speak the language,
exchanging on the black market fragments of skeleton secrets.
Torch in one hand, book in the other, let’s ask Lady Liberty
why the cobblestone was pressed with broken promises.
Collect the torn shreds of scattered paper promises,
recycle, dye, reprint, now you have dollars.
Hear the cracks ring through the bell of liberty,
sending a sound shockwave skyrocketing,
blowing the dust off old, forgotten boxes stuffed with secrets,
lies that became incorporated. We all cry in the same language.
A father speaks to his daughter in the language
of soccer games and zoo trips. Shattered promises,
fill the gaps between their hearts, fueled by secrets.
Problems he tries to fix by handing her a few dollars.
His excuses keep coming and her frustration is skyrocketing.
She desires greener pastures, to run away with liberty.
In Korean it’s jayu. In Russian it’s svoboda. Liberty
translates to the same message in every language.
Liberté, the distance between oceans is skyrocketing
as worn hands struggle holding glass promises.
La libertad! Paper sons are born spending hard earned dollars,
confusing pesos with dollars, their lies with their secrets.
The walls are willing to whisper your secrets,
silence can be exchanged for handfuls of liberty.
A binding contract, you’ll get paid with dollars.
The ultimate truth: it’s the universal language.
Homes are built on a foundation of hollow promises,
with no door to escape, and the scaffolding is skyrocketing.
Freiheit! Voices skyrocket into one language,
tearing holes in liberty where promises lied,
it all costs something. Dollars buy secrets. Dollars hide secrets.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
Random mortar shells in the afternoon.
Sparkling, steel jacketed rain drops,
Glinting rainbows of reflected sunlight.
Plastic explosive seat cushions upon which passers-by,
Rest their weary bones.
C-4 candy bars, nuclear toothpaste,
****** for dessert.
Orphanage flambe', hospital hash, blood pudding.
Human burgers sizzling on a smart bomb bar-b-que grill.
Finger food, toe jam, baby-back ribs.
Bureaucratic double talkers,
Sugar coated body counts,
Colateral stew.
Really deplorable, awfully sorry,
But it was their own faults trying to put on raincoats.
They declined our invitation to the cook-out.
Bad luck to open an umbrella in the house.
Remotely piloted funeral processions.
Radar guided hearses.
Televised in real time.
Precision, surgical,
neutralized, deterrent, disarmed,
Deactivated, stand down, eliminate.
Living pawns on a battlefield checkerboard.
Strategic, defensive,
Dominate, annihilate,
Acceptable loss, public opinion pole.
Listen to the tinkling of sabre blades,
Rattling windchimes,
In the warm breeze of the shockwave,
Accompanied by the drumbeat of detonation and concussion.
Rock...
...and heads will roll.
Holy, blessed,
Patriotic, brave,
Courageous, dedicated,
Heroic, dutiful,
Self sacrificing...
******
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
On a bright and sunny day
On the 18th of May
An earthquake resulted in a landslide
That unleashed a massive force brewing inside
The eruption removed the upper 1,300 feet
The magma chamber burst- rock & gas blown at supersonic speed
Within 8 miles, all was instantly wrecked
With a shockwave so big, what could one expect?
As the north slope collapsed down
All life forms began to drown
Every tree in sight swept away
19 miles outward; a ruinous ashtray
Silence breaks as ash falls like snow
The once mature landscape now just an embryo
What had become a lifeless terrain,
Now shows us what 35 years can attain.
After the volcanic cataclysm
Biological legacies determine the pace of new ecosystems
The following colonizers proceed:
Lupines, pearly everlasting, alder shrubs, and fireweed.
The coniferous forest was replaced
The deciduous Alder trees won the race
The new forest attracts grasshoppers, birds, and ants
Larks, gophers, sparrows and deer mice take a chance
Out of 256 species alive prior to the eruption,
86 are now in production
20% of the surface is covered with grass and legumes
Struggling young trees that endeavor to bloom
Ecological gaps begin to fill
Strong ecosystems form, production is uphill.
Elk arrives to munch on grass and bark
The thick forests attract birds, like larks.
Fallen logs create nutrients and feed biofilm to the lake
Floating ecosystems now have plenty resources to take
Elevation affects the rate of recovery reports.
The higher the colder, which means the growing season is short.
The loss of trees means more room for sun
As the lake warms up, there’s increased production
More insects and bigger fish, like rainbow trout
Salamanders are scarce now, not many about.
Lupines deserve their own stanza, those purple legumes.
They help make a pumice landscape suitable for others to bloom.
Lupines create essential nutrients the pumice is low on
Other plants are thankful for the rare space to grow on.
All this information hopefully to inspire,
Life pulls through in situations most dire.
Mount Saint Helens’ destructive wake is seen clearly today,
The eruption that obliterated had also paved a way.
May 18, 2022
May 18, 2022 at 11:31 AM UTC
Sleep.
The vast world of dreams, leaden as oceans deep.
In the depths we find our dear prince, but this time—dreamless—in a place of ether and temporal energy.
Woven throughout a nebula are paths of light leading to distant gates and far off doorways.
Plinths of stone floating about… Orbiting…
On one such path our prince finds himself, his means of arrival… not remembered.
If this is not a dream, then how can I be drawing breath? Where am I?
The luminous pink and blue gasses impart nothing. The twinkling dust scattered all around only twinkles.
This place is beautiful… and has such strong magic, on a scale I have not seen before.
Calypso looks to the path on which he stands. Made of energy, it winds, curves, dips, rises, and connects with many others. A few end at what appear to be large doorways… portals…
He starts to walk down the path.
With barely three steps taken, Calypso senses something… a slight breeze… he stops and turns to see a storm.
A massive squall line of dark rolling clouds with sporadic flashes of light emanating from within.
Thunder, ominous.
What brought that about?
No sooner had the question formed in his mind than he realized the speed at which the storm was traveling. In a mere minute, it seemed to have moved a mile closer; another minute and he will be in its clutches.
Tracing geometric patterns in the air with his hands and using words of enchantment, Calypso creates a sphere of magical energy around himself.
The storm, an unstoppable force of magic and nature, consumes the prince.
The shield, conjured by one of the most powerful sorcerers, holds.
There is darkness…
The clouds move around Calypso’s magic sphere, lightning flashes nearby and everything is lit for an instant. A moment passes, and the hairs on the back of his neck start to tingle…
And a massive bolt of lightning connects with his shield, turning its blue hue to fiery orange—and another arcs into the path close by—Calypso, eyes closed, is thrown from the path by the shockwave.
Through space, the prince flies…
On stone, does he land…
His shield, gone.
The hungry wind starts sweeping him from the plinth—lightning flashes—he finds a hold and grips the stone with all of his strength.
But such is the strength of the wind… Is this it, then?
And in an instant, the storm passes, the wind moves on…
Silence.
Calypso pulls his battered body to the middle of the floating stone and stands. His wonder, greater than anything he had felt before. Moments pass… he senses something…
A slight breeze…
He turns and looks.
Out in the distance, in the void between the stars… a silver sail.
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
As I raised up in bed
At 3:05 am it's cold and the smell of death and the color red
I see the demons surrounding me
I feel them lifting me up in the air I try to plea
Spinning me around as if I was a toy
Chanting over and over we are here to destroy
My head feels the pain as they use the key to open my door
They creeped in hearing their voices saying it's time for war
As they enter into my brain I know I'm in trouble
I start fighting for my life but it's different this time so much rubble
They are strong as I am weak
Hitting and scratching at me feeling every shockwave hitting me like lightning streaks
I'm yelling for help but my voice is not heard
They drop me on the floor grabbing my hair and dragging me outside this is what I had feared
I reach for something,someone,anything to help me
They are taking me this time I've got to stop them I keep telling myself once they get me in their lair **** I just hit a tree
With all my might
I hang on tight
I finally find my best friend who died a week ago
Save me please I plead and she starts biting them and throwing them as if they was made of dough
I start helping her and in know time the demons have left except for one which is hiding in my head the one who stole the master key
The one that will never let me be free
But for now I can breathe again and only hope that I get my strength up for the next battle
I will continue to fight until I get my key back so I must not dismantle
That's when I'll be set free
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 12:21 PM UTC
i have atom bomb dreams
from the desert
mushroom clouds billowing
the shockwave blow past cacti
and down dirt roads
from the cockpit of a b-29
leveling the ground below
already comprised of craters
as we pummel the earth
we become a might to match the gods
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 1:00 PM UTC
You spoke kind words,
a blissful reprieve from the silence and stagnation.
Warm words,
too few to count,
too subtle to embrace,
Yet the sun was shining
through two small
too small windows
And my heart was racing
too fast to slow then,
too warm to freeze still.
I felt the tremors,
choked on dry air.
I felt the shockwave pump blood
through rusty veins worn tired from disuse.
My eyes mirrored yours
hypnotized and ignorant of the change in motion.
The sun was shining
but the light was in your stare
So innocent and intrigued.
So unlike mine.
I couldn't bear the contact.
Struggling and stuttering,
my silence will save you.
You'll keep what I lack
Embrace what I've lost
Receive brief surrender
By your eyes' blind kindness.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 4:53 PM UTC
Love is explosive
I get shrapnel from a kiss
Embedded in my Heart
Felling's
Pain
Love
Will this explosion
Consume me in in
Love,
Or
Breathe
Hate,
So close they could be
One
The shockwave engulfs
Each breath,
Every beat has
Shrapnel in it
Will it pass though
Exhaled in breath
Or will those
Jagged
Sharp
Pieces
Shred this heart in pain
Or will it consume it in love..
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
There’s something burning on the
Blackout strip of highway.
Light and movement
Frozen in a momentary
Dance.
Her eyes are wide and full
Of the emptiness that
Looms before her.
Nothing moves
And I step with it,
Carefully
Through the
Shards of suspended glass
That slice open the freezing night
Air.
Metal is bent and crushed
Against itself.
But for now, the
Ripple of the
Fatal shockwave
Stands
Still.
Her eyes are wide and full
Of the light tearing,
Imposing
Through the windshield
Into what remains of her mind.
I feel the moment
Of absolute stillness
Beginning to slip and I open the
Door.
Detach her soul with a
Kiss gentler
Than Life could ever
Offer
To save her from
The crushing mayhem.
Take her into my arms. She
Sleeps, as they all do,
Her head against my chest.
I turn away.
I leave the scene of force and
Fragility and, with my
Only mercy
Cradled in my arms,
Have no power but to let the
Scene behind me
Attack itself and
Consume.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 10:59 AM UTC
Shocked by a shockwave
A ship lost at sea
Waves graciously high
Sorrow seemingly deep
A brutal balance
Beaming with angels
Waiting at the gates
To welcome what we've lost
It's God's golden gift
To give life to earth
Like a bumble bee
Gives life to a flower
Caterpillars die
Cloaked in a cocoon
To give birth to a
Beautiful butterfly
The sun leaves at night
But it keeps it's shine
Even when it's dark
To come back the next day
Precious pedestals
With red rose pedals
Names engraved in stone
And letters sealed in tears
Paints us a picture
That life is a gift
Full of surprises
Wrapped in a bowtie and
God takes what we love
Right out of our hands
Just to make us love
What we have even more.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 9:42 AM UTC
The shockwave hits your throat
so fierce, it forces your own voice
from your own body.
The momentum it contains, unconstrained
by your silent spectre
rushes forward like thunder
into the levee of your knees, and strikes
the way lightning fells trees.
You're nothing but lymphnodes, flood
and weight, now.
The rest, like last night's dream
washing away the moment before you remember.
The aftershocks ripple like echoes,
capsaicin in the nerves
of all your timber limbs
dismantled and thrown to the horizon.
You hover above
what it felt like
to exist.
It rests on the tip of your tongue, a moment.
Nobody really knows the difference between
a moment and eternity.
Below the folds of water, sweat and skin
the ground is offering whispers
bubbling soggy underfoot.
They might be yours.
They say it comes from the ground up
Channels reaching channels to connect
in a flash
a crack
again
to body
even
if only
a moment.
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 5:53 PM UTC
Here, the crow lies -
he has been hit, baptised
in stone
Set
Like salt
In a pillar, enveloped
They've never seen
life more still
Or a statue so developed
A shockwave has struck
The crow in the breast
He was small
Very small
Ill-tempered -
to put it best
But now eternal
Until
the universe doth claim
His wings and his beak
To be one
once
again
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
Remember your true calling /
As the susurrant breeze wafts your epidermis /
And the platinum moon glistens /
Atop the clouded expanse of The Cimmerian Skies. /
Know The Transcendental One walks with you /
Forces unseen fight for thee, /
You are enclaved within the omnipresent mist, /
Of Jehovah God, The Most High. /
"But you are 'a chosen race, a royal priesthood, /
A holy nation, a people for special possession, /
That you should declare abroad the excellencies of the One who called you /
Out of darkness into his wonderful light.'" —1st Peter 2: 9 (NWTSE) /
Equip yourselves for your pilgrimage /
Doven divine Aether, /
For strength, wisdom, justice, love, /
Courage, beauty, & indefatigability. /
Your journey is yours & yours alone, /
Walk through the rain unafraid, /
Believe in The Light when Stygian Shadows fall, /
Cleave to The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love as you effloresce in The Light of The Sun. /
Your testimony is power, /
Your story is a shockwave pulsar through The Ages; /
Therefore, use your promenade down the experiential cascade /
To prepare your souls for eternity. /
(—Se' lah)
Feb 23, 2024
Feb 23, 2024 at 4:46 PM UTC
My loving mother loves me to pieces,
She tells herself that every minute, she tells me that every day,
But my loving mother lies,
She lies without meaning to;
She doesn't love me,
She loves the idea of me;
The idea of having a daughter of her own,
A smart one, who every grown up calls pretty and sweet;
But they lie too;
I'm not sweet anymore, I've long since turned sour,
And I'm most definitely not pretty, I'm average at the very best.
So I wonder, oh loving mother,
Why do you convince yourself that you love me?
Is it because I'm all you have left?
But you don't have me, my loving mother.
I gave myself away to depression long ago.
How would you know that anyways, loving mother?
Every time I show that side of me,
You get disappointed and a look of disgust crawls its way onto your face.
So I hide it,
Cry it away,
Instead I look as though I'm happy,
For you, loving mother.
I worry instead,
Like someone who has OCD,
Dwell over little things until the panic and pain hit like a shockwave and sends me flying;
You hate that too, loving mother,
Say that I'm acting, that I can and have to stop, that I'm faking it,
Oh how I wish I was, loving mother.
You also have the tendency of showing me off, loving mother,
Why is that?
I'm no prize to be won, no medal,
So why call me your daughter out in public when you could just avoid it?
I feel bad for you, loving mother,
So I show effort,
Try to look like less of a drab,
Try to sound less crabby,
Make it seem as though I'm happy.
But sometimes I break,
The bullying tends to make me do that,
And when that happens,
I could see the anger rise on your face.
I'm sorry for that, dear mother.
I'm sorry for that and many more:
For not saying I Love You back,
For not showing more emotion,
For being something that you have to fake-love,
For not doing better in life,
For making so many enemies when you have none,
For having to be a fraud around you,
For being me.
My loving mother loves me to pieces,
She tells herself that every minute, she tells me that every day,
But my loving mother lies,
She lies without meaning to;
She doesn't love me,
She loves the idea of me.
Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 11:40 AM UTC
Completely wrapped in the beauty of it all,
Felt the ugliness grow from my chest,
Somehow there was a throbbing burst,
Started in the feet and sank up,
Ended in the throat and the heart,
It was like a shiver,
Mind freezes,
It whirls and burns,
Fingers searching and filled with ants,
Everytime that I hear them,
I can feel a aboot sitting on my grave,
Though I am alive,
Happy and Carefree,
Down in out into those shaken moments,
Just once in a while,
But enough to mention,
Maybe there’s a shockwave from these moments,
A wing flap and right next to me someone feels it,
They don’t know what to make of it,
But maybe they’d stop and stare off for the first time,
Expanded and folded outwards,
Seeing and feeling what was once a personal quake,
Jostled from the run of the mill,
Totally mindless walking the earth,
By chance O if only,
Grateful to feel O so fearful,
O how wonderful it was.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:36 PM UTC
In the bottom of the subway mouth
foamed in summer sweat and the ink
of rodents on chipped slate tunnels,
in the breath of the compassionless lick
of dirt swabs, of empty swayings,
murmurings, square eyes, and slit mouths,
where a trembling roar like an elsewhere
lion is an unfortunate savior, I saw
in front of me a real dream, just barely
(and perhaps not)—but in one of its
moments, I did feel cracked—felt the
sudden unbelievable shockwave of
shattered skull heat, white, blinding, a
quick wisp of eternal time, before back,
to the undream of dreams. This real.
Laughable and despairable. Of hot
waiting, dying lassitude. Before going
on cramped with the others. Nowhere.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 5:28 PM UTC
It does not make me sad that you have moved on, that her face is next to yours in pictures now.
Sometimes it surprises me; I remember the four years that she was me. It's almost a shockwave to see her where I used to be...
a little moment of confusion when I forget that that narrow joint under your shoulder is no longer my home
But I see your smile and it makes me smile still. There is no falling out of love, only changing the way you love. I have every amount of love for you, just hidden in different cavities, pushed back in memories, reserved for who I was then and not who I am now.
She is so beautiful, so alive, so in the moment with you that I am so thrilled that she has become me, that what was once a face I had memorized is hers to kiss now, that you have someone that cares so very much about you.
Isn't it nice to know that all of that practice we did together paid off? That us loving each other then taught us to love others so much better? That the holes that we once filled in each other's lives, triangles that should have been square, are now boxed in corner to corner with people who fit wrapped into us so much better.
It makes my heart full to know that you've found that happiness.
What a blessing that I can say that we are both finally happy apart.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 8:59 PM UTC
Five minutes ago
Five minutes before his death
A healthy man flipped a switch
Now, miles from sunlight
We hold six billion worlds
In our hands
And now we feel the shockwave
Through the miles of concrete and steel
We feel the sunrise of a million tiny suns
And now we decide
Whether to launch the missiles
That end the world
“Vengeance,” we ask?
“Justice,” they scream.
Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 8:40 PM UTC
Night flashes as time passes
Treading grasses seeing through various glasses.
Why would anyone want to mask this?
Track this through blackness
With the shades pulled down.
Bask in it,
Just don't postpone the practice
For whatever the task is.
The fact is, bliss gets
Every moment you're aware of.
When peace is released into the vibration of your soul
You emit what some call, love.
Energy bursting out sends a shockwave
Into the universal consciousness.
A deep seed in your being is where this blossom lives.
Other fields are affected furthering spiritual growth.
It would change our worlds in ways unbeknownst.
Nurture the inner child
To experience the wild and exotic.
You can come to my mind's garden,
Free from what's chaotic.
What I give you though,
is more than you can take in with your optic.
Transmissions from divine places with feelings kaleidoscopic.
Staying on topic
There's no use in trying to stop it.
Give in to the frequencies and I guarantee you'll profit.
I will too, rich in experience.
Let's explore the catacombs of each other's pyramids,
Past, present, and what we manifest to be,
From divinity to infinity let's live life supreme.
Wrapped in a dream and we're lucid miracles
Transcendental guides furthering what is mystical
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
Another passing thought, and another, another, another, another... I like being solitary, all to myself, but being alone is my biggest enemy. I used to love it, I could sit, alone, and be content forever, but now I find myself constantly seeking out someone, anyone to rip me from my own warped reality. Could I take my thoughts and my brain and re roll them, I wouldn't be me but I wouldn't be tortured...Would that make me selfish or selfless... They listen to me bring up the same subject several times whereas most people bring it up once or twice, I'll be stuck on it for days, weeks, months... When I shut my door it's an all out brawl between me, myself, and I and the only person who can stop it is...me(?), but how? When you're your own worst enemy; how do you win? I continue to sit, and brood trying to come up with a solution for this vicious cycle of bad energy. However as soon as I start I'm right back where I started, I don't feel stressed but I know I always am, when there is a leech attached to the back of my head but everytime I reach for it my hands go through nothing, my fingers full of hair, loose, falling out... I grasp for straws everyday at the bottom of a pill bottle holding a small capsule of hope, but artificial faith can only get you so far. Just like music, my headphones plug my ears, and the sound floods my head, but the enigma that is me forces it all out like a violent shockwave that keeps my attention at all times. If we could find that imaginary switch we joke about to turn ourselves off, use it on me, at'least for a couple of years, so I can take a break from arguing with myself, there may be no vocal words but that thousand mile stare consists of a thousand conversations.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 7:38 AM UTC