"steampunk" poems
I am a nerd:
* DnD
* Harry Potter
* Lord of the Rings
* WoW
* Anime
* Reading
* Video Games
* Comic book heroes
* Science
* Math
* Hunger games
* Steampunk
* Disney!!!
* Futurama
* Star Wars
* Doctor Who
* Breaking Bad
* Archer
* 90's Cartoons
* Invader Zim
I am a Metal head \m/
* Nightwish
* Sabaton
* Ozzy Osbourne
* Iron Maiden
* Epica
* Van Canto
* Dealian
* Hammerfall
* DragonForce
I love my life:
* My love
* My family
* My Job as a preschool teacher
* having fun
This is who I am and I don't care if any one thinks of me!
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
This is the core of industries
It's crazy oh you see assemblies before ores fall in the streets but
It's all for you and me
A steampunk nation
Baby pollution rises up then the loving comes arraigning 'cause
Our art's official and only partially artificial
And our heart's in the middle of sharp hardened shards of metal but
There's not where it settles
Because it's beating to the steaming of God's hottest *** or kettle
And now we face it, this creation we made to
To save our craving for a synthetic rebelnation it's
Our safeway they make into a pathetic revelation
In our steampunk nation
Our steampunk nation
It's places having creation
But with black metal makings
And wordsmith's an occupation like phrase on paper's the way we say she's
Making our hearts start raving and baby maybe even raging for
For beaming metals and
Yeah steaming kettles, Meccas of our cyberstation Hades
And now we face it, this creation we made to
To save our craving for a synthetic rebelnation it's
Our safeway they make into a pathetic revelation
In our steampunk nation
Our steampunk nation
Oh how do we face it, this creation we made to
To save our craving for a synthetic rebelnation it's
Our safeway they make into a pathetic revelation
In a steampunk nation
A steampunk nation
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
In a cosmopolitan world where
Yeezy reigns supreme on our
Speakers, loathed for loving
Genius-acknowledging, we
Have set a standard of beauty
So surreptitious, soulless—
Unattainable in this number-
Crunching world so pre-
Occupied with symmetry and
Egotism—structure—black and
White dominated by rawness and
Robotics: steampunk screams echo-
Ing from the rooftops of skyscrapers
As lightning continues to strike the highest point.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC
Plumped rouge with pigment
her lip fills to graze the ********
intent to disquiet the likes of de Sade
autografted with ocular detachment
should a Marquis wish to harness
the song of the morning
within a bandolier of Seine
to ensnare any bustled Persephone
gilted by discharge of ions
into a ménage of torment
through the Porte des Lions.
Hers is the tincture of doxy
caramelized and debrided of naivety,
empowered by the eve of invention,
swollen to curves and grounded in Paris.
Illumination defies pervasion
down to every gear and pulley
she has hushed through mechanization
and lulled by steam,
swaging a cacophony of flickers
encased in glass by the Lady’s watch,
where every rivet of her plate glisters silken
reverberation in cascade,
elegant, caged, and towering,
outspoken in silence,
ever challenging the Champ de Mars.
"Paris by Gaslight," written by Dionne Charlet, is the title poem to be featured in the upcoming steampunk anthology Paris by Gaslight, the third anthology in the By Gaslight Series from New Orleans small press Black Tome Books. Look for the first two collections of poems and short stories set in Victorian Times, New Orleans by Gaslight (ISBN 9780615801186) and Cairo by Gaslight (ISBN 9781516961528). Both collections feature poetry by Charlet, under the pseudonym Dionne Cherie.
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 2:44 PM UTC
she hovers over the handwritten letter
with maniacal grin gripping her face
as she devours his texted words
with weeping eyes
and she sings in unnatural tones a child's lullaby in some
forgotten french dialect
delightful reflections in song of the garden gate
leaning broken onto the rough hewn path
where the soulless cherubs cherish their seed
in haphazard rows cherub faces sling silent tears
and labour at the desires never felt and
the dark soils never fertile
seeking redemptions in the rebirth of the harvest moon
which decorates the far wall of the tomb
the cherubs brief delighted laughters
soon sputter and fail
as in the dying light of day
reveals that they must labour yet another day
to no useful end
she lives in this place
a cottage of straw with dark windows
and a wood stained door
she sits on its porch with knitting in hand
weaving futures for her beloved cherubs
weaving pasts for her own
she devoured him like she did his words
and came home to roost
like her innocent faced dragoons
she will someday march forth with this army of doom
but today she is content to be contrite
knitting porridge and whey wall hangings
from the tables of the
steampunk princess
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
Yes I jumped in those leaves
crunchy, fluffy, autumn leaves
Waded in the decorative fountain
Climbed on the public art
Yes I danced swing in the BART station
Hid in the grocery store among rolls of
toilet paper
Had to *** a ride after the Dicken's faire
Played in the rain
Hugged my mother
Made my dad take me to see Tangled in 3D
Yes I measured the baking soda for those
dinosaur chocolate chip cookies
Loved Steve Irwin will all my childhood admiration
Was afraid of the Deep End
Memorized Shel Silverstein
Remember my sister reading me Harry Potter
Gripping my best friend on Tower of Terror, Indiana Jones, Space Mountain
Sang Christmas Carols in October
And I'm not even sorry
I was a pirate paleontologist pop-star
pokemon master steampunk rocker renaissance girl who
time-traveled, hunting T-rex
adventuring with Christopher Robin, Calvin and Hobbes
Made two corsages for my junior prom, fed ducks,
ate at Mels, posed in the dollar store, watched
the Avengers in our glittering dresses for the second
Laughed so hard I cried about the stupidest things
I doubted, got lost in Costco, found my faith
Had my prayers answered
For the bestest, most faithful friends
I have the "simple human relief of knowing you’ve done wrong, and living through it"
And don't take this the wrong way
It's not like I'm going to jump off a bridge
Well, maybe with a bungee cord?
But if I died right now
**** Gone.
I wouldn't say I envied anybody
Not really
We've had a pretty **** great time
haven't we?
Oh sure I'd protest
Places to go, people to see, things to eat, but...
As long as You forgive me
my faults
Whose to say,
There is anything else I HAVE to do
Before I have lived a GREAT life
I have nothing to prove
besides that I am grateful
for this breath of life
which may pass at any moment
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
It is like some steampunk nightmare
Where working overtime is a racket
When what was time and a half pay
On the day I get my check, I make less;
Some kind of tax bracket scam thing
Where working extra hours put me
Into another category and increased
The tax they use to grease the wheels
Of a bloated government that hates me.
Maybe that dates me and it isn’t true;
That things have changed and it is
No longer arranged that way. And maybe
The way things became done was that
I got it all back as a refund. But isn’t that
Redundant, that I had to pay it to them
To use it like per diem for their games?
The shame is that I chafed and did nothing
Besides ******** and frothing at the mouth.
It’s not like I could go south to Ensenada,
Buy a piñata that looked like Mickey Mouse,
It was just that the house always wins.
But I have to pay for my tiny, mundane sins.
Why don’t they? Why does it go on and on
And then the money’s gone and I pay more
The next time some fat ***** of a politician
Begins a petition to increase their slice
And nicely reduce ours to a pittance
So low there is no admittance to a show
Or enough to replace a car that is a wreck?
The albatross around my neck gets larger
As it I move farther from the day it died
Even though I have tried standing up straighter.
It’s The Grand Guignol Theatre that life is
And the strife is to not let it get me down;
To be the happy clown and not the sad one
In a game that was begun to make me lose.
I am not confused. I see it, but it seems
Even in dreams I get no kind of relief
From a governmental thief with immunity;
The pillages with impunity and teases
That he does what he pleases. Neener, neener
What in hell could possibly be meaner?
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 6:32 AM UTC
weaved into her thoughts
are the disturbed images and the maniacal music
carousel music from the macabre circus of the mad
and in the absolute center of this
steampunk master vision is her pretty little face
sitting with a lace umbrella
and a slow thick smile
she eyes you head to boot
and reaches out a single blood stained finger
and says accusations are for the weak
her pasty red lips are
sour to the touch
she makes no apologies
but rather relies of her smile like charms
which she wears like
a patchwork quilt of maniacal methods
stitched with loving care
and the devotions of the needy
who pay her fare without questions
she is stylin on the main street bus tonight
with her entourage of hungry strangers
just looking for a bed and breakfast
and its delusion that
after a time
the clouds passed
after a time
measured in the millions of years
that her touching your face lasted
looking into your eyes and telling you that she loves you
after a time everything would change
and she would remember what it means to be happy
after a time under a maniacal lace umbrella
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:03 PM UTC
words self-calibrate to match my emotion
all my wires seem intact in the gas lamp glow
no one understands the strength of a potion
until they pour it inside you and they watch you blow
but this is different I cannot quite describe it
I move like a muse with the corset undone
I sense how the power of thunder is striking
and the steam in my pipes pushing up pushing down
I sit on the edge of this meaningful feeling
and everything's trembling inside and out
like a vessel afloat I'm breaking your ceiling
and reach for you, master, my creature of doubt.
we are two always but one feels the other
the wires are tangled we're both flesh and steel
your arms hold me tight your fingers go further
my eyes melting metal, your tears almost real
now give me a name and teach me your methods
unscrew all the bolts use your lips show me how
this poem will self-destruct in 5 seconds
you may countdown this stanza or you may run.
~NOW!~
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 6:35 AM UTC
I
"I never thought," said
She awaiting responses
I cared none at all
II
Bring about all change
Said the women in the hats
Voting for switched thoughts
III
Irreversible
Unexplained, mispoken thoughts in
Slightly elder speech
IV
Steampunk, take old junk
Make them into something grand
The robotic hand
V
If I were asian
I'd eat my cultural food
In Panda Express
VI
Ironic, lightly
Grazing lions on the grass
The Antelope hunt
VII
Haikus for all yous
Travelling down the dirt roads
Win Sobriety
VIII
**** jokes take folks and
Make them into prudes, so rude,
But I keep joking
IX
I'm at nine, can't stop
I'll keep writing till the drop
Of the pen runs dry
X
I pay no heed to
All the words said by Sifu
I am poor student
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
tickity-clickity whirr went my father to set
the little merry-go-round musicbox by my bed
with its adorbsable mini-suction cups lining
purple porcelain tentacles
winding round and round
lulling gently with that nostalgic ice-cream truck tune
reminding me of sweet tang juicy mango slush
on a hot afternoon
where the posh-painted ponies fly by with the tide rising up and down
in a seaside villa of some spanish town
in all the grandness of their primary colors so carefully chosen to brush
at the command of a fairy princess with her crown gold-gilded
she's twirling whirling, a mechanical ballerina on springs
gracefully petite her frame, so small the sash on her shoulder
that slips in the breeze to catch the eye of a little soldier
in his regimentals properly fitted, buttoned in brass
a lass like me lovingly adoring bunnies in top hats and bow ties
spats on their feet to tap dance for me
in my dreams the never ending spin of a teacup party
the catch of a hook where the lullaby loses flight
but I'm already asleep with a kiss goodnight
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
Considerably penalties
For early withdrawal.
Sending more advisors.
Vietnam redux 1954.
Reactionary by poll #s.
Afghan half stand.
Unemployment
Slow Redeployment.
You pick.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
A saccharine
*****
A broken home.
A cellophane
*****
A scribble-wrought tome.
Nothing left
A shadow of
Me.
Nothing left but
Leaves fallen from their tree.
This blood that flows down
Is colored violet
This blinded eye,
A sightless white orb,
Glows in this darkness
And glows in my heart.
So corroded and rusted
The life barely flows
A forgotten relic,
A left-behind rose.
A cracked-glass
Man
All bloodied and torn.
A steampunk
****
Left behind in your
Revolution.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 4:10 PM UTC
Steampunk
Geek
Nerd
Freek
This is who I am
Country
Rock
Metal
80's One hit wonders
This what makes me, me
Romantic-Comdey
Horror
Sci-fi
Adventure-fantasy
What I enjoy
Laughing
Smiling
Dancing
Joking
Things I do everyday
This is me
I embrass the things I enjoy
This is who I am
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 1:23 AM UTC
Dragonware
Juicers
Black Swans
Gem Stones
4AD Music
Exoctic Teas
SteamPunk
Cuckoo Clock Parts
Ink Tones
Fabrics
Scissors
Plier Queen
Drill bits
Blow Torches
Tango Shoes
Feather Wigs
Perfumes
Silver Plates
Sail Boats
Old Books
Buttons
Paint Sticks
Zumbar Soaps
Essential Oils
Color Pencils
Books of Zen
Painted Pictures
Make up Colors
Art of Olivia
Playful Friends
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
*The art we make.
Child of our imagination.
Looking back at us.*
The farmer let us into his old
Storehouse. Where food and
Goods had been stacked and hanging
Centuries ago, there were piles of
Rubble and memorabilia.
Half drunk and inspired, we filled
A bag with old objects. Brass scales,
Leather blacksmith protective glasses,
Razor blades and what not.
"Guess were going steampunk," you
Concluded, and I agreed.
We spoke briefly of bats, and
Retreated. Back home, the fire was still
Going. You sat down with your
Drink on the floor, arranging objects
Onto the canvas. Bronze spray paint and
A sharper eye for detail than I ever
Had. You nearly forgot to drink your
Wine, and apart from my applying some
Sealing foam and other handyman
Touches, it was all your creation.
I helped you to your feet -glass in hand-
And you stood there with a paint stained
Finger on your chin. Pensive; still working.
A part of me stumbled slightly deeper in
Love with you there, another took your
Picture in my mind, my eyes blinking
Like the lense of a camera, before you
Tilted your head against my shoulder,
Eyes not leaving the work in progress.
*"Don't you just love it? The art we make.
Child of our imagination.
Looking back at us."*
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
Nights are are quiet and cold to the touch
Gloomy lights in dusty rooms cast spectral doom as whirr and clank.
You took.
You pulled and ripped our love apart at the seams
Now powered by steam.
Dashed and splintered
So I Labour late and long into wintery nights to build from scraps of wood iron and steel.
A semblance so that I can once more feel and care.
A shiney gift to pull from
my chest. An offering.
Something that tics and clanks. Cold and dead ouside
Instead of pumping love
My Steampunk heart can only cry and scream .The loss of flesh and love for a loveless lifeless thing...my offering
The Steampunk Heart.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
A shining steampunk romance
Found at the end of the earth
Risen from ashes,
whilst a world falls to ruins
around them.
Yet reality is nothing to these girls.
A call to love in apocalypse
A sick smile pulls at her lips
Engulf in flames, my everything,
she says,
*Because, **** it'll be worth this last kiss.*
This war rages like a great manic animal
Destruction every step of the way
On opposite sides,
they're to fight for their lives,
it's each to their self and their own.
"They're wrong."
"I know."
"They don't know what we have."
What they're missing is theirs,
a love rarely had.
We're over and we're done,
the world would say,
It's the end of the day.
"Not for us. Not even close."
She takes her hand. Turns her back on all she's lived.
"This, my dear,
This is where life begins."
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
The procession of the equinoxes
Antiquities dealer
The unspeakable beauty of the amethyst
Gods fingerprints
I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going.......... But that's Okay. Is that what surrendering is?
Blending, learning, adapting, evolving, individuation in spite of universal oneness. Being less proud.
Happiness. Cinnamon. Cookie cutters from the domain. Keep your herb garden alive. I'm -
A fox. El zorro. Le renard.
Daily rituals,
Water w lemon
Apple
Green tea face splash
A history of happiness
Chickens. Color. Collage.
Yoga. Art. Cooking.
Lists. Recording foods.
Evelyn and Alice.
Vivid, lurid descriptions. High Gothic and almost steampunk. The weather. Things unspoken that leave huge impacts. Small tokens of love. Repressed emotions.
Hx of zodiac.
Constantly working for perfection
Inner outer
Nuts, lemon, lime
Keep fire of dreams alive
Read read write create read
Spells for finance and success
Altar space
You're alive
Preservation of breath
Realness if beauty, tranquility
Overcoming sorrow
Cyclical
<i>Les sorts</i> to make them mad, passionate...
Charms for living. Perfection. Attraction wealth abundance.
Clouds and sky and draping cloth, sandstone and quartz and onyx.
An incredible self confidence.
Don't waste a minute of you're life on unhappiness.
D.I.Y. smudge stick. Driftwood. Feathers. Gemstones.
Secrets of a style maniac. Blog. Hidden treasures.
Be my mercury, the wings on my feet.
Amidst the creaks of old trees and the fallen colored leaves.. I see half the future, gone, cherished and perished
The art of self love.
Devotion. Organization. Keep calm. Its ok to have secrets.
Stories and fables and illustrations to go along. Mix of collage, ink, pastel and watercolor
Refine your life like a black and white ink drawing, the fluttering of pen-lined pages like white feathers.
Floating on dreams, its fun to let your feet dangle into the blue warm water, be swept away into another world.
We try to avoid those moments in life. We plan ahead we keep our toes together and our hair ironed, but one can never totally abate the power of wanton embarrassment or other random outbursts...
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 9:12 PM UTC
Train is coming to the city of steal,
And you are aboard granting the dream.
As you enter the city of knowledge,
A science miracle on the lake's edge.
Two hours ago, you followed a river down stream,
Just then you saw a sky high tower covered in steam .
The tower of Lesia, or so the folks call it,
The greatest library on Earth is within it.
The city's houses are created of steel,
Forever they move, afraid to stay still.
Universities are all over the place,
So that everyone can science embrace.
And mechanical creatures wonder it's streets,
It seems like they are alive, as you hear their heartbeats.
The folk in here works miracles every day,
Each district's so different in it's own way.
The streets are in fog but one thing is clear,
Now there is no doubt that magic is real.
The city's walls With gears are covered ,
Cause all of the city is a steam powered
Huger then lake machine .
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 11:10 AM UTC
Lisa was carefully pulling a strand of cotton candy off a paper-coned “barbe à papa” - winding it around her finger while absentmindedly gazing at a carousel. She seemed hypnotized by its white horses, trimmed in gold, with their brassy red and blond manes, as they hopped, like slow-motion rabbits, in circles beneath wreaths and garlands of colored lights.
My watch jiggled me awake, mid-dream. I was bemused. It took me a moment to orient myself. I groggily pushed the sheets off and performed a big stretch. It's Monday morning, I think. “Alexa, what’s today?” I ask, to be sure. “It’s Monday, April 25th,” she says.
A beautiful, if cloudy spring morning was going to bloom on the other side of my jacobian glass windows - any minute now. At least according to my weather app. “Alexa, good morning,” I say, to start my rattling, sputtering, steampunk sounding coffee maker.
College time is warped, measured more in deadlines than minutes. There’s no plan other than your class or test schedule and let me refresh you on the rules – there are no rules, I’m free to do whatever I want. I actually chuckle at that thought.
College is transformative but there’s a hoary sameness to it. Read, discuss, review and test - wash, rinse and repeat. This morning is reserved for test review. I have a final this morning - well, sort of.
Some classes have a quintet of tests instead of a big midterm and nerve-racking final. It smooths out the stress, but you still have an almost forensic exploration of ideas, and you want the answers queued-up, ready for easy access.
I quickly washed and donned my workout-wear. A glance at my watch told me I was right on time. I’d loaded my shoulder bag last night, with my book, highlighters, my phone, Air-Pods and a water bottle. I grab it as I head out. I’ll do my review on the treadmill.
Anna opens her door just as I do mine - perfect. We’re off to the gym.
Apr 25, 2022
Apr 25, 2022 at 7:13 AM UTC
Steampunk grind me down kind of heart
Pulsing static cling through bones that ache and groan
Coming alive again, the feeling of awake
I pull cobweb crochet hand-me-downs from eyes that even still find the light too cumbersome
Squint, pull the rusted hood back over and sleep once more
The struggle is real
Mind like a coal factory belching dust and debris
Keep shoveling, shoveling until it rages into an inferno
Only then will it not stay quiet
No found fuel has yet to ease this hunger for something...more
Lost amongst wave after wave of heat, knocking me down
Slipped grip fingers and toes gone haywire
Workers on strike
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC
Going
once
Hey
Buster!
1-desperately
Never want
The New Jersey
Wife-bra
That drops down
Actress Fakes
Going firm up__
Hollywoods
La Femme
Frenchie
Her Roast beans
cup
2- twins bark
pup
Bra me=
I'm +Robin Birdie
Told me
((Never Ha Me))
2-Bustiers
equally
Tara twice La
Him musketeers
- duh Harrah
Sara Smile- Huh
Santa's trainer-Shy Spanish fly
blush Fly Robin Disco pry
Twirled together
Behind the
curtain
Dorothy & Toto bra click my red slippers home-
Girl scout brownies
The bra course
boom!!
Never bust room!!
Mystic
Falls Vamp-hire
[.
[.
Trump-her
Naughty
Tara La Bra-ly
Hybrid
Which one
Is the
Witch
wizardly bra?
The good
Linda witch
Jinx
Jalapeno
Never a
Prince
She's allergic
Like Tied- ankle
slipper
Cozy Curry
Bra Chicken
Terror Terry
Bra trader
Villalobos
Snackerro's
"La Bra land"
"One Chosen Bra"
Sultry\ steampunk
Bra- link
Blonde
niche
Patriotic
Red- blood- white
The King Elvis
Being Launched
Queen Priscilla
size
Tara La
"Historical" Aint nothing but a hound dog*
The girl has rocks in her head
gone stupid in bed
she couldn't lift
her underarms
Scarlett has gone-----
with her friends' lover
Never a bra
with firearms
((Never B-B Tara La))
Her
long
neck______
Vampire Diaries
Disease VD
Pour bra Scotch
"0" outcasting
Tomato Pie
Lace box
"Robin
Redbreast
take-off
wizardly
Ozfully-set
She was
born
like
that
bra
Lady
GaGa
Singer
Robin-Hood me
blood bra orders
Where's your Bra?
High Dalmatian
demand
bone-fish bra
So many Men
Gondola Tara La
Venice
Chinese
Cat-talk
Siamese bra
takeout
Catstick______
faceoff be quick
Bra \off
this is
Taras turf
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC