"skyrocketing" poems
Seven years I lived my life, fading from reality. Crossing into machinery. Robotics with which I am so unfamiliar. Machined, greased, lubricated parts. Built with a purpose. A meaningless purpose. Destined for failure.
A broken down machine I stand. Sit. Lay. Run. Work. Play. Slide. Cursed and wretched as the demons which haunt the dreams of the fallen. I rise above. Skyrocketing through reason. Through the seventh layer of Heaven and Hell. On a false sense of cloud nine I currently float…awaiting the plummet.
Its falling away from me. I sail through a shattered sea of broken glass. I closed my eyes and the tears could not flow. Blocked by my eyelids, restricting emotion. After all of this, I am amazed. The wall could be broken. Forgotten faded memories of which I have no say.
Of past. Of present. Of gifts. Of futures. Of lists. Lists of black. Hit lists in my head. I live in my head. I am not what I wish. I am what I’m not. I am what I dream. A scream. A cry. Laying here, blank as the page on which I cannot create a scene. A scene behind my eyes, yet I cannot attain it on paper. These words flow meaninglessly, but not slow.
Daedalus, Icarus, Thrice. Three times I roam. Randomized plains of thought, laid out on a digital page. Keys, not a pen. Ones and Zeros, not ink. Screens, not pages. Neat, not sloppy…yet my words do not understand one another… nor do I….
If we make the mainland, this song would not be made. Epic beauty, formed through misfortune and tragedy. Oh son…I beg you…keep a steady wing. For you are the only one who means anything to me. My wings are made of melting, shredding, fading elements. The sun, heating, lighting, someday dying. I understand that nothing is as it may seem. Nor is any seam as true as the seamstress believed. The Gods did not take the only thing which meant anything to you, father of legend. Your son is not dead…only afire. Acquired by the forces you believed to be merciful.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
We are the disconnect community.
We think, therefore we are.
We blink, therefor we see the
ticking, flicking florescent FIVE HUNDRED.
A personal "connection-collection" of mine.
500 pieces of redefining human identity as bees in a hive.
Buzzing. Whirring. Chatting.
A world can be displayed on a single screen
of ticking, flicking florescent FIVE HUNDRED.
All tuned in.
*All turning into hive minded creatures.
Degeneration at it's best.
For the most advanced generation,
We are zombies disguised as cyborgs;
carrying our hearts literally out on our sleeves.
For home, I'm told, is where the heart is.
And though books say it's in our chests,
One look and tell you "Homepage" is handheld.
And with the world in the palm of your hand,
the rest comes fast, calm and easy.
Like breathing,
But without feeling.
Invisible networks bond the inner workings
Like an ultra-cranium.
Or a hive, dangling precariously over the valley.
Lives, carelessly unaware that a bow can break
when it forgets it's roots.
Like jumping in puddles in rubber boots.
The difference between what's easy and what's simple.
The little girl on Youtube who can't flip a page of a magaizine because all she know's are HD touch screens.
Learning to type before learning to write.
Obesity, skyrocketing to a sun we barely lay eyes on.
One by one, we stop hooking up, and get hooked up to the trending crazes.
Hang up. Telenophobics praised.
E-mail and texts.
Social skills wrecked.
Eye contact replaced with descontent looks.
Pirating crooks
Torenting video games, DVDs &books.;
The 25th of December is more for toys than the son of God.
You can't remember the last time you went fishing with your dad, because you've been too busy playing C.O.D.
Unplugged is savagery.
but escapism with a drug by any name is just as inhumane.
Just as fatal.
For all the blinking,
and thinking,
chattering,
babbling
500 redefined "friends",
Can you easily feel alive when it's more simple to call us dead?
Do you know all your neighbors names without checking online?
Can you understand relationships, as they were meant to be?*
We are the disconnect community.
Cut out "unity".
Leave the rest for our virtual home page address.
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
The amount of similies in love poems are ridiculous.
They always remind me of how his eyes are as green as a Christmas tree
or how his hair fell onto his face like a shadow
or that when he blinked his lashes resembled butterfly wings
or that his smile was similar to a crooked coat hanger.
They never mentioned
how his fingers were long and shaky like branches in the wind
or how his shoulders hunched over like a good game of jenga
or how the curve from his chest to his torso was as steep as a hill
or that when I found the bruises on his stomach,
they were like ink splotches all over a beautiful poem.
They left out that his dad hit him like a train
or that his mom lived in the house like it was a bar
or that it would hurt like 16 bee stings
when I saw a line of 16 scars on his left bicep
or that the gasps in between his cries would sound like drowning
or that his eyes can ombre to be as red as an egyptian sunset.
They never warned me that he would come crashing down like an avalanche
or how his constant expression depicted a shattered stain glass window-
every piece beautiful but still apart.
They could've said that reading the headline
"local boy commits suicide"
would numb me like paralysis
or that hearing his last words would echo in my head like screaming in a cave
or that his funeral I would say
"loosing him was like an overcast of rain"
except I lied,
because losing him was like a flood
and that his grave stood out like a redwood tree carved of stone
or how his dad looked at his own hands like looking at maggots.
Love poems never said that I would miss him like being homesick
or that the drive to the cemetery would feel like skyrocketing to the moon
or that I would refuse to play jenga with my little cousins
or how I would hate hanging my clothes without seeing his smile.
The amount of similies in love poems are ridiculous.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 12:29 AM 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
Out of the corner of my eye
I see you sitting seven
rows up in the theatre.
It feels like it's been
years, since we've
seen each other.
My breathing is shallow
and I try to stop my blood pressure
from skyrocketing
as you strut down the stairs
to come say hello.
I hate the way you
stare into my eyes
and pierce my heart;
you whisper in my ear
how much you have missed me.
I hate the way you
give my arm
one final squeeze
before you wink at me
with that cocky grin,
and walk back to your seat.
It feels like nothing has changed.
And I wish it hadn't.
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 12:38 PM UTC
Who do we run to when our leader's or do i say rulers no longer care about us
They promised us "CHANGE"
The word "CHANGE" is flying in the air
Our nation is in total ruin
Cost of living is skyrocketing daily
Food is no more affordable nor is it accessible
Our nation is feeling this devastation
Only politicians are well to do
They have forgotten about us
They have forgotten the promise made to us
They never came any close to fulfilling their mandate
When l look at our politicians extravagant lifestyles I asked
What about US
What about all the time they said they are the answers
In my country ,
Those who care to give or share dont have to give or share
In my country ,
Those who have to give or share, dont want to give or share
The masses are kept in the mood of despondency
It seems to many that all hopes are lost
Some after having their last meal, they wait for death to come
While some take their lives either by jumping off the bridges or taking a highly concentrated chemical down their throat .
Who will redeem our nation
Who will revive our economy
Who do we run to when their is no food in the country
Who do we run to when price of fuel is skyrocketing without control
Who do we run to when rent is no more affordable to the masses
Who do we run to when every good thing in our country can only be accessible to 5% of the country's population
Nigeria is our country
It is not for the politicians to take,
Not for the 5% well to do Nigerians to take
Nigeria is for all of us
We love our country
Thats why we are lamenting
We are tired of being victimised in our own country
It is totally unjust and its affecting everyone either financially, physically, menally psychologically or otherwise
... How do we get our dream Nigeria
Feb 25, 2024
Feb 25, 2024 at 5:52 AM UTC
“but it is your imperfections,” he said, his voice soothing rivers and his eyes like a candle lit in dark; but he would not leave ―― for his eyes were like an endless labyrinth and he would never die out. and one would get lost again and again in his eyes for they had this depth that one could not help but get curious about. and once one were to be too far in; there was no way out, not from left nor right but forced to continue stalking down the road of his chocolate eyes. they were like poison, she thought, a beautiful poison, that is. perhaps it was a poison of happiness, she had yet to be sure, but there was a flaw in it all ―― one she was really sure about.
too much happiness could intoxicate, and his eyes, they intoxicated her; left her heart skyrocketing and perhaps that was why she had tried to pull away but stopped altogether for he would not let her go. no ―― he would shower her with words of love and she kept coming back for more and more for she strangely liked it, loved it even.
“ ―― that i cherish; you set this hurricane inside of me and you would not leave, but you know what?” he was smiling now, his lips curving upward, gracing her eyes and everything around him for there were suddenly blinding lights everywhere. and his eyes ―― they were not candles anymore, no, they wer crystals; gleaming and glowing and sparkling.
“ ―― i don’t mind, in fact i don’t mind at all ―― for i love it and i don’t mind having every tiny piece of you gracing my veins because my love, this ――” his delicate fingers were moving on their own accord and pointing between the two of them, “whatever this is, i’ll make sure that it never burns out, but in the meantime, my love, i’ll love your imperfections and i won’t mind reminding you everyday that you’re important, but most importantly ―― you’re beautiful.” and he wished, wished so badly that he could stuff the empty girl with all the word’s light and make her see, just like he did, how utterly and breathtakingly beautiful she was. no matter her imperfections ―― they just added to her blinding beauty.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC
in utter radiance two bodies meld,
in decadent tenderness; emanating
from one another in mindless bliss,
like silken sheets fluttering in a
midsummer day breeze; flapping out
a heart's symphony as each mellifluous
tune is carried along effortlessly of fallen
petals in an upward warm wind...alluring
when lips touch their essence is as
delicate and soft as a newborn's first
breath and visions of meadows as
burbling brooks eke out nature's
wonderous animations of life; hidden
amongst conifers naked seedling in
cones of yews procreative life...caressed
eyes gaze upon one another in trancelike
looks of longing; in ponderance of love's
accepting embrace, to feel it's enraptured
warmth; skyrocketing moans in resonating
tremors of gossamery affection...cloud nine
emerging gasps are born to undulate in
waves; awakening love's cupidity to be
forever within one another's limelight,
delighting each other's ambiance of
life's many truisms; our spirits bountiful
and serene as we live and love in our own
paradise on earth...in spirituality
becoming excited in our veracity to
understanding the complexities of
love and living in moments of bliss;
standing still vacuumed, absorbing
one another's vitality to be as one,
soulmates until heart and mind
collide in hungering want; holding
onto thoughts only we can see
within one another's eyes...heavenly love
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 3:54 AM UTC
Predictor - services: all types of future events
I have a genius for things that don't happen
I predicted the 1979 economic boom
in the Antarctica - no doubt it didn't happen
I predicted the end of the world
in 1987, and again in 1996
and not to forget 2010
and on various other occasions:
I have a genius for things that don't happen
I foresaw and declared
the skyrocketing rise in US house prices
in 2006 (but the Banks had other plans)
and now, for the record,
I predict with confidence
without batting an eyelid
Obama will be elected again
in 2016 as US President;
and about the same time
they will declare me
the UK's King in waiting
if your life is in a mess
you might want to engage me
to fix it with a prediction or two;
conditions apply,
and fees are upfront
and non-refundable too
Just give me a shout;
I hear you wherever I am
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 6:09 AM UTC
Seniors are suffering!
Hospitals are closing!
Infants are starving!
Good News: Another Broadway show is opening!
Olive trees are dying!
Unemployment is climbing!
Small businesses are folding!
Good News: Another spaceship is launching!
Medical costs are skyrocketing!
50% of marriages are divorcing!
Global warming is escalating!
Good News: Seasons are drastically changing!
Stronger volcanoes will be erupting!
Storms and tornado are increasing!
Oceans and rivers are polluting!
Good News: Stocks are up! The Market Bell is ringing!
Church attendance is dwindling!
People have stopped praying!
Choirs are no longer singing!
Good News: 4.7 trillion has been appropriated for federal spending!
Icebergs are vanishing!
Forests are decimating!
Marine life is declining!
Good News: Teen deaths from drug overdoses are ascending!
Farmers are hardly surviving!
Homelessness is soaring!
The crime rate is rising!
How do we stop bad things from happening?
Are we better off just ignoring?
Perhaps life as we know it is ending?
Good News: Let's just ignore everything!
By Milton L. Delgado
March 10, 2019
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 1:30 PM UTC
Flying high above the clouds
Just to set out your shroud
Trapped inside with nowhere to go
But suddenly, the plane has gone slow
Skyrocketing to the earth
You wonder if it’s worth
It to die and to never be found
Watching you fly in the air
Plummeting to the ground and you want to help
But you have to stay strapped to your chair
You can hear a dog yelp
From off in the distance
You know there is no more resistance
You know that it is over so you give up the fight
You don’t want to die like a knight
So I decided to write
This poem about your flight
the flight that changed your life
and mine
but not for the better.
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 1:44 PM UTC
I used to love rocking
with him in the gaudy
nightclubs, sea-green eyes
drifting into dance jams,
drunk rhythms, spinning
inside burning Mars, his
feet moonwalking through
the crowd, waiting for the
blazed beat to sound off,
as he bopped his head
to the hypnotic music,
flashy shoulders moving
in the breeze, embracing
the iridescent chemistry.
And as I hopped onto the
dance floor by his side,
electrified rhymes rumbling
through my muscles, so raw
and pounding, a bursting bomb
of atomic funk, I grooved inside his
galaxy, hips twisting and turning
into intensifying dynasties,
funky legs breaking down
to the ground, whipping it
around and around, going
downtown, spine-igniting highs,
cool consonants skyrocketing
towards Mount Olympus.
Our bodies spun, the nightlife
shining within our souls,
faces floating in extreme fever,
knees rising in paradise,
crowned, intoxicating,
hands wild-waving,
lost in this amazing
enchantment.
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 8:49 AM UTC
The desert heat can be oppressive
Pressing down
From sky to ground
Can you hear that sound?
There's a sizzling in the sand
Slithering like a sidewinder
Wandering wistfully westward
A silent snake
The day breaks
And becomes hotter still
Skyrocketing
Along with your bills ;)
To all my desert dwellers
This one's for you
I hope you beat the heat
As I hope I'm going to
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 1:52 PM UTC
I am trapped in my body, watching the figure that patrols it around doing what she wants and saying what she will.
My mind feels muddled as the words 'I do not care' pierces them.
Is this who i am?
I pull at the the bars that trap my mind around others,
my anxiety skyrocketing.
But the person in the cockpit simply replies to my worries and woes, "oh well, I'll worry about that sometime soon"
Jun 6, 2021
Jun 6, 2021 at 4:39 PM UTC
Vernal breezes gently rocked
the garden jhoola
the blue sky vine looping
across the butterfly bench
created a festoon of stunning amethyst flowers
Ram Namavali was approaching
contemplating Him, Lion of the Raghu dynasty
embodiment of dharma and source of bliss
my heart and lips blossomed open
a garland of melodious Ram
bhajans perfumed the noonday air
after the sweet singing session
I did a few Yoga stretches and
decided to pick some luscious black mulberries
I approached the mulberry tree skyrocketing in the
western corner of the backyard
lifting large heart shaped
green leaves I found one or two ripe berries
“Hmm” I thought to myself I wonder what happened to all
the mulberries?
Parting another section of the tree, two orange speckled eyes
met mine exploding in innocent wonder
there seated nonchalantly on a happy branch was a
pretty lil’ brown dove
“So it’s you who’s been goggling all the mulberries!” I exclaimed
caught “red-winged” the bewildered bird took off scampering
across the sky
I gathered my meager but delicious bounty added a few frozen
blue berries squirted a heap of whipped cream
then myself and Rama (the kitty) eagerly licked the platter clean
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
this feeling that thrives
neither dead nor alive
is not something
to be taken lightly,
a cardinal sin
with no near end
begins, and there is
mostly
ruin left
for you and yours.
this feeling is different,
mostly if you let it,
like scraping down
the side of an
aluminum can
that's skyrocketing
towards some other
dimensional
depth, neither
approachable
nor
within the realm
of touch.
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 3:21 AM UTC
Clothes drenched in cold sweats,
Breath heavy with smog,
Heart pounding in ear drums,
Footsteps growing louder,
Cars whirring by,
Stomach tied into queasy knots...
This is it
The time is now-
While the wounds are still fresh.
Lean against the guard rail
As all bad memories play on repeat;
There is nothing to be saved.
The whispers urge the inevitable....
Clothes dripping from cold sweats,
Lungs blackened from smog,
Heart rate skyrocketing,
Two steps up onto the guard rail,
Passing cars turn a blind eye,
Stomach a flutter...
Goodbye
Release the fingers that hold
Onto the fine line of reality.
The cold wind fools the mind
As adrenaline pumps through the veins;
A perfect instant in time.
It was the best possible way....
Clothes dried by the wind,
Breathe in a new life,
Heart skips a few beats,
No more walking in circles,
Cars slam on brakes,
Stomach finally at peace....
Hello
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
A seed broke through the sky
springs up in my altar
and inside the coffin
personifying my numb skin
with the fluid still rolling deep
skyrocketing the clock hands
and winding the old spring toy
into unwanted motion
orbiting around the arms
of a poor grandmother,
needling the old hammer struck nails
into the thick ledge gliding down
like paper planes that I made
racing like pigeons on the tree tracks
taking note of the honking of the cars
and vehicles whose breath is taken in
by our already blood-filled, puffed lungs,
the clogged drains are unblocked
to let my friendship sail on the waves
of the boat with my hands on seek,
the tired soles of the shoes are worn out
sending a letter everyday now and then
whilst sitting in the mirror of colours.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
clutching chaos in a tight embrace
fingers clasped, a strong grasp
ask the trees, root deep
snuggled in the soft soils of mama Earth
yet skyrocketing, infinite potential
ask the water
skipping and stumbling in silly streams
soon to transform into mighty rivers
oceanic magnitudes conquering the expanse of this planet
ask the flames
making candles flicker weakly
but in the same essence
fuelling the volcano
a rudimentary relationship so simple
yet vital to development
its not a myth
rather an equilibrium of elements
in unequal proportions
but complete unanimity
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 12:00 AM UTC
There's a place where Martians go
when there's trouble
brewing at home,
it's hidden in the belt,
circles between the planets.
They tune in there,
use sophisticated equipment
to communicate with
their loved ones back home,
sometimes the notes drift away
further into space.
Lately, we've been picking up
increased transmissions,
the amount of traffic is incredible,
encryted-chatter speaking of a
universal movement
sweeping the solar system.
Our radio telescopes are
receiving similar messages
from the moons spinning
around Saturn & Jupiter,
some Neptuneons & Plutoneans
are even getting in on the act.
Activity on Venus & Mercury
is skyrocketing as well.
In fact, the highest levels of
electronically-posted poetry
is at the highest level since
the first interplanetary war
back in '73.
But it's really nothing
to get alarmed about,
'cause you see,
poets are always
restless & passionate,
screaming their raw emotions,
spilling blood on keyboards,
searching for a little
piece of comfort.
And no matter where
we come from,
we will continue
to war with our words,
trying to come to grips
with the joys & heartbreaks
of living through
this solitary life.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
My love,
Please, don't **** me..
With your smile showing your bare teeth, revealing your cute dimples.
With your confidence skyrocketing up,up in the sky.
With your love, freeing and full of compassion,
giving life to the souls, souls who had lost all means of hope.
Please, don't..
Because I am going to **** you first.
With my feet kicking your smile until every tooth of yours falls in sticking to your throat, until your dimples are nothing but bruises.
With my bare hand smashing your confidence, choking your neck, bringing you down from heaven to hell in a span of seconds.
But don't worry, my love, for I am going to love you.
I'll make you feel like you're the most amazing person I've ever met.
I'll make you feel, that love, love is the only thing that matters in this shallow world of ours.
And then, I'll leave.
Sincerely,
Life
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
It was only just about four months ago
That a girl from Canada I'd never met
Would steal my heart, a love so whole
My emotions skyrocketing, love so sure
Was followed soon thereafter
With silence and the void
Hearing nothing, not even a whisper
She has seemingly disappeared
Back to the nothingness she came from.
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 5:22 PM UTC
My knuckles are dripping blood
It is my own
Hitting myself to feel something
I see crimson, but I don't feel stinging
I just need you to crawl inside me again
Pulse through my veins
Send me skyrocketing to the moon
Constant sugar, constant high
I come up from the sewer where I reside
Climbing into your bed to hear your breath
Tracing your insides with my finger tips
Kissing your translucent skin
I'm so sorry
I'm so excited
I'm running into the walls like a blind dog
Conformist meets ****** with a spark
I picked these flowers from the neighbors yard for you
I know you don't care for roses but aren't they pretty?
You're so pretty
I hope you'll hold my trembling hands
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 3:31 AM UTC
I believe crazy has finally stepped up to the plate
Here for its meet and greet
As we hang on the ledge by the thread of our pants
Sitting forward on the edge of our seats
With skyrocketing prices
Everywhere that you go
You've gotta be a gazillionaire
Just to walk through the door
**without your morning dose of ordeal
you'd almost forget how normal it feels**
And heaven forbid someone knocks on your door
Which sends you scurrying off into hiding
When clearly you've posted above the bell
A "NO SOLICITOR" sign
Not to mention the fighting of traffic
As the traffic fights back with you
Try not to frown or even smile
When the person in the next lane comes into view
Yes crazy is here to shake all our hands
Put us all into a spin
I'd like to tell you more about it
But it's hard to know where to begin...
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 7:09 AM UTC
My comfort zone has evolved
My dynamic has altered
My air has renewed
My pace is skyrocketing
My goals are reached
Can't you see?
It's my shift
My skin looks better
They say my hair is thicker
That my skin is softer
That the girl gave place
To the woman
It's my shift
When my world gets wider
And my dreams draw closer
The whole Universe is speaking
"Clarencine shift!"
The 9 in the 2019
Is now giving birth to the greatness in
ME!!!
My Daughter's name shall be "Bloom"
And the meaning of my name
Shall stay "clarity"
And God says
You are the light of this world
&
The Salt of this Earth
Fearfully and Wonderfully made
Fully stepping into
MY SHIFT!
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 11:59 AM UTC