"torpedoes" poems
did you know
that the
self effulgent light
of God it self
is **** shaped
as above so below
the inner revelation
******* above...light woven
*** hole below ...flesh woven
does this not infer
a magical operation
perhaps a hermetic
ritual of adoration
perhaps a puja
to the ****
with ornate
kaleidoscopic mandalas
replete with wrinkles
and folds
emerald toilet bowls
silk *** wipe
with full color florals
to be ingratiated
by **** art prints
and to be fussed over
and judged
by certified *******
clergy
then to cleanse
with fragrant ointments
that it may remain
unsullied by its
birthing labors
voluptuous
smoldering
fecundations
for purities sake
as god remains
free of limitation
it too
must remain
free of its forgetful
tarnished children
i build temple of ****
high above the people
the little *****
do they
even know
where they come from
how they may
devote themselves
to the grandeur
of the solar ****
and its bestowals
of clumpy torpedoes
the catechism
of the solar ****
to know
to adore
to prostrate
to proselytize
the glory of ****
to the
for corners
of the earth
to be faithful
unto it
to be obedient
and present
your *******
for ritual manicures
by the true initiates
the fussy
******* faeries
those who have
the secret knowledge
and remain true
to the lore
and precepts
set forth
of divine correspondences
to fully appreciate
its eminence
its glory
and have no
God before it
that mercy
will follow them
all the days
of there lives*
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
He is the one who compliments my adjectives and structure saying I always have a way with words
When honest to God he is the one who takes me a little bit higher every time he says those cliche 3 words
But from him cliche is the exact opposite, I could never grow tired of his love
And I hope he says pretty words out of sheer heart throbbing, butterfly inducing love and not because he needs to
But he is not fake
He is not the people I encountered before who loved me just because they felt obligated to
He is not the people I've met before who threw torpedoes of harmful names but claim the did it out of those cliche 3 words
He is the man who brought me to my knees with this feeling 72 hours in
He is the man who I willfully want to get down on my knees for late at night and taste the love after
He is the man who I see my future with front row on a huge, bright, white screen titled "It's Now Ours"
And although I never was the one to be held down I love the way he puts "my" in front of love because now I know I'm his and I hope he knows he's mine
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
shifting focus
bended light
altered reality
as the present becomes redefined
creating substantial ripples
in an otherwise still pond –
reflections warp
running water distorts
landscapes shift with the wind
all those truths, so concrete
crumble in the glow of different information –
worthiness and self-importance
replace doubt and loathing
as the realization of acceptance
flood the low laying regions
torment of the torrential
pouring over the stained past
washing clean skin marred
by a lifetime of reclusively existing –
together and forward thinking
we sit, future planning
dividing the years ahead
into blocks of success
setting and achieving both
short and long term goals
for the creation of the future we choose
just like in all the magazines
and self-help seminars –
gasping for air in an undercurrent of responsibility
holding tight the notions of poor
or low-class monetarily
the struggle to break free is real
when one attempts to circumvent their station
and be more
do more
life better
in an age of classism and
social warfare –
we sit atop the madness
hand in hand
looking over the extremes
presented and normalcy
catching each other’s eye
a smile crosses lips in tune
knowingly, we plunge into home ownership
manning the torpedoes,
we move full steam ahead—
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
**** the torpedoes!
Full Speed AHEAD!"
So it is we lose our heads
And trust the masses
Whose rabble rise
To stick their fingers
In our eyes.
Freire told us true:
Dialogue must happen;
Time must be taken
To speak Truth,
To hear Truth,
To see Humanity
In the Other.
If not,
Violences ensue,
Blood spills,
The hordes topple
In toppling their oppressors...
Become oppressors.
Still,
Small voices
Whisper
"Imago Dei!"
"Imago Dei!"
Stop to listen,
Stop to see,
Stop to think.
We and They,
They and We,
Are We....
Are WE.
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 8:38 AM UTC
Three AM
Stumble in long after closing time
I hung my coat on a drunken octopus looking for a fight
*
There are tornadoes in the valley of sleep
Whirlwind torpedoes exploding in crystal brilliance
The waking hour is almost at dawn
*
Someday
I will go to Budapest
And pester Buddha
*
It's true
That when the lions eat the giraffe
The hyenas laugh
*
I catch myself yelling
Don’t do it
At the royal wedding
Apr 25, 2011
Apr 25, 2011 at 6:36 AM UTC
They crest the white foam in perfect formation,
With purpose and strength they flap as they glide,
Fixated ahead in assured navigation,
Each trailing the other with nowhere to hide.
Then all of a sudden with no clear command,
They veer on some path and head for the sky,
Soaring the waves like a mischievous band,
Riding the thermals with a predatory eye.
No longer a pod but single torpedoes,
Spotting their quarry they launch with intent,
Diving at speed like rapacious mosquitoes,
To feast on that glimmering shoal now hell bent.
Again and again they dive to then surface,
Their sacks full of loot hidden from sight.
Transfixing, majestic, nature's true circus,
The curtain then falling as they once more take flight.
Florida's Pelicans, a marvelous sight,
Gregarious and cheeky with us so entwined,
Once hunted and culled as merely a blight,
Now in our hearts so fully enshrined.
Jul 5, 2023
Jul 5, 2023 at 10:06 AM UTC
After leaving port
in March disguised
as the Norwegian freighter Rena Norge,
the Leopard set sail
its mission to disrupt
Allied commerce.
On the 17 March it was stopped
in the North Sea by the cruiser
HMS Achilles and ordered to proceed
to the boarding vessel
HMS Dundee
for inspection
Heavily outgunned
Captain
the raider's commander
Hans
von
Laffert
had no option
other to proceed
to meet
the boarding vessel.
Captain
Selwyn
Day
of the Dundee
dispatched
a launch containing a boarding
party
with an officer and five men
to investigate
the mysterious ship.
Hans
von
Laffert
realizing he was about to be discovered detained the party and after about an hour opened fire on the Dundee with a salvo of two torpedoes.
The steamer manoeuvred out of the way
barely in time
and the torpedoes missed
Captain
Day's
ship by twenty feet.
Day ordered
his guncrews
to open fire and a hail of shells struck the Leopard
damaging a gun
and setting fires.
The Achilles hearing
the sound of gunfire
returned to the scene and opened fire
on the raider as the Dundee withdrew.
Shortly after
the Achilles's arrival
the Leopard sank with all 319 hands
going down
with the ship.
Damage to the British
vessels was light
and the only casualties consisted of the six boarding party members who were trapped in the Leopard when it sank.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
The stars fallen
on the still water plane
of the lake
dreaming the sky every minute,
sizzle,
like the effect of cooling,
smile to themselves
thinking about the amazing
translocation,
from the foaming rapids of milky way
to placid dark waters deep down,
from an illusion of light years
to another, of transient reflection.
lie still for a while
taking stock of things:
isn't the real on the same level
of what we count imaginary?
when--
all the fish from secret depths
shoal after shoal after shoal
curious about the newly arrived
lightening bugs, that pulsate,
try to get closer,
propelling themselves
through water
like torpedoes sensing targets
wanting to gobble up
the whole galaxy,along with supernovae and black holes
thinking. "for us these planktons are an easy game
now right here, in our sanctuary,when we are starving"
stars, like frenzied school kids
after the last long bell
swim helter-skelter, ride
the unruly waves,
try to make it to the shore
but find dissolving altogether
was what was written on the book.
Anyway it's a"LILA"
a cosmic game illusory
all a grand opera in which
*Shakti and Shiva play
transformation game.
But the big fish
ruling cosmic space
with appetite voracious,
moves across galaxies,
crossing light years in a flash,
obliterating whatever is the matter
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
Bleeding eclipse splatters anguish, scorching frozen terrain
Reservoir transmits despair, vaporizing humid remains
Noxious fumes plague ventilation, incinerating methane mutilates
Inhumane detonations ignite smog, dismembering shrapnel decimates
Bombardments stimulate hallucinations, assailants discharge magazines
Incendiaries barrage trenches, vulnerability flourishes disease
Artilleries eject carnage, atrocious quarantine impedes retreat
Projectiles massacre infantry, heinous airstrike parries deceit
Howitzer impersonates tempest, kamikaze technique revealed
Nautical battleships converge, perilous adversaries concealed
Submarines launch torpedoes, oblivious warships sealed doom
Submersed submersibles clash, claustrophobic vessels entomb
Drowning agony crushes depths, forsaken lagoon transforms necropolis
Aquatic daemons consume decrepit, infernal torment surrenders providence
Condemned mortals cauterize compassion, genocide exterminates consciousness
Snorkeling corpses mound topside, eradicated infestation forfeited holocaust
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 8:26 PM UTC
I watch shooting stars.
Feel bees buzzing.
Then wheels turn.
The corruption of the brain
Spreads.
Hate
Innocence.
Gone.
Torpedoes crash
And bombs fly
All is war-
Hell.
To hell with you
And all you dream!
I won’t fall,
Though you push and shove.
Teardrops sink into
The barren earth.
Is all fair in love and war?
Wheels turn
Once more.
Is that all this is?
A giant game
Lacking rules and regulations?
Who will referee?
You?
*******
The corruption of the brain
Spreads.
Hate
Hell
War
And repetition.
So much for that.
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 2:23 AM UTC
If loose lips sink ships
Then this buzz has unanchored the foot in my mouth
And now I really have some **** to say
Because the only time my mouth might look like it were about to launch torpedoes is
Now
Similar to blowing a bubble
Or anticipating a kiss
I aim to sink heavy metal devils with this drunken word stumble
I am done feeling lost in your sea
Waiting for your wind to take me away from unrequited
To simply sunken
Bring on your lovely devils
And apology notes
I’ll grit my teeth and bear it
I mean pretending not to care has never really been easy for me
I mean if I were an ostrich
I’d have my head in the ground right now
But thank god for beer
And best friends who owe you money
And the silence and patience it takes to decipher
The mental drunken slur of
“Stop hurting me like that”
Like Frank Sinatra said
“The best part about waking up with a hangover is
the only thing you have to look forward to
is feeling better”
I can’t wait to feel better
So bring on your jazz and work me up
And trumpet your lies
Mock love forgiveness
This headache was worth the trouble of forgetting
Sea foam
Beer foam
Either way I’m drowning with this ship
And either way I’m waking up
Missing you
And regretting everything I’ve said
Jul 31, 2011
Jul 31, 2011 at 11:38 AM UTC
There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; **** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry.
It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating, trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU."
The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you.
They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel.
You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,
"All about YOU!"
copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
It does not take a blazing comet
or rounds of tectonic tremors to
pry our grounds open.
Neither would the giant waves lashing,
or the angry volcano
swallow us whole.
Torpedoes, tornadoes, guns, germs and steel
do not suffice in bringing our annihilation.
From within,
a cosmic revolution
-where fates change and stories rewritten,
and all it takes could be merely
a fraction of a moment missed,
a heart navigating on a compass
misaligned,
or another that ceased beating.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
Hunting torpedoes of the sea
darting in frenzied anticipation
in schools of hundreds
oceanic masters of the seas
Best tasted on bread with mayo
until all have left the sea
then in pity we will cry
that we have nothing left
Nothing to go with our fries
nothing to batter
for we are willing
to starve the seas of fish
Our finny friends
that give protein
to half of this
unfortunate world
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 3:14 PM UTC
Now I see you
You son of a *****
"FIRE ALL TORPEDOES"
“But captain...that is our own ship, sir”
“I said fire all torpedoes”
“Yes Sir, Right away, sir”
“Captain says fire all torpedoes”
“Wait…aren’t we still at the dock?”
“Yes we are…fire all torpedoes”
Red flashing lights
“Fire in the hole!”
Fire in the hole
Dec 19, 2011
Dec 19, 2011 at 12:34 AM UTC
It's a small world
for some girls. They live
in shadow
of the Himalayas,
and other assorted mountainous
peaks. They daydream
of being followed
by the camera eye,
adored for the top heavy
weight they carry with
a grinning bounce. They want
to be a cruise ship,
stacked to the deck.
They want to be
fashioned with torpedoes,
a bombshell to
reckon with. And so they lie
on a table
to become a sculpture in plastic
for a renowned
architect. A mad scientist
in his own right,
experimenting with his creations
on fragile psyches, banking
on insecurities,
giving them a deflated hope
that what God didn't
bless them with,
his derangement will.
It's a mind game.
A mantra to "she who sends up gifts":
if you feel as good as you look,
all is well.
There's no harm in that, right?
Let's ask Pandora...
May 13, 2020
May 13, 2020 at 9:56 AM UTC
~ following “A Simple Poem”~ (1)
But of course, we reference revelations,
for our brief self-description are guises,
meant to hide, meant to impress, reveal
little, enhance our mystery, preserve our
secrecy. expose and hide simultaneously
within our mid-of-night aura mystiques
Safe behind the curtain, we wizards speak
in voices and tongues, giving up our innermost everything in verse, write of our blessings and our curses, holding little back while we give ourselves away, hint by hinting, writ by writing, a series of
+++++++’s
I choose, I chose, to dress my chess pieces
in a clear varnish, **** the consequences,
sail towards the torpedoes, heading direct
to meet your eyes, giving up my forest
tree by tree, poem by poem, a leaf and
a branch, only tinkering and fussing like a new parent over each new virtual birthing,
and then once tidied,
once spent,
my secrets unconcealed,
we wonder quick if each
puzzle when connected
to its predecessor is
understood
as a tiny pointilisme dot,
a speck
and that you are wise enough to
comprehend how each speck,
lives only unique in its
conjunction,
only tandem-with both the one
nearest and the ones dabbed a decade
long ago, and when you connect
my dots, I stand before you completely
a full and a naked folio,
one book of a single reveal,
the sum of my totality,
an addition of many integers,
summing up to 1
So,
should we pass by each other,
our eyes will pierce, each wrinkle,
solving the equation of who we are…
a single human, readily identifiable,
total recognition, via the reconnaissance
of our letterered footsteps
Nov 20, 2024
Nov 20, 2024 at 11:12 AM UTC
Because of recent fatal accidents that have occurred recently in the Dallas area, I felt it appropriate to repost this piece.
There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; **** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry.
It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating, trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU."
The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you.
They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel.
You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,
"All about YOU!"
copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
Steel hull diving deep like a submarine
Run swift and silent through the ruby sea
A steady handed skipper
Holds tight to the helm
The keel runs true
And cuts the sea in two
So **** the torpedoes
And full speed ahead
This hull clad in iron
Watch the red wake spread
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
From the straits of Norway
we did sail back to sea
as we were hunting
the mid Atlantic convoy
Many tanks and troops did reside
in iron boats we did see top side
we were one on seven wolves
and all did know their course
We choked at depths
as destroyers hounded us
but we did silent run
there was no communication, none
We knew U 37 and 29 were near
but only at night would we meet
and under the stars we would
with silent salutes did greet
Some of the poor ********
it was there first time at sea
and they stank like rancide dogs
as we always did like frozen hogs
None shaved for there was nothing to shave for
not when you are hunting a Mid Atlantic Convoy
we would kiss our torpedoes and write goodbye
as we shot them to hell for the conveys
We never saw 29 or 37 come back
I still pray for those submariners
and 22 and 48 burned big time
only three got back home
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 8:41 PM UTC
Because of recent fatal accidents that have occurred in the Dallas area, I felt it appropriate to repost this piece.
Richard Riddle 11-06-2015
There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; **** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry.
It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating, trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU."
The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you.
They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel.
You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,
"All about YOU!"
copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
People don't define you
You define yourself
Many people mistaken this
By defining others by words.
They shoot torpedoes at you
It's one continuous war
That will never end
But there are some people
That balance out the lies
They only define themselves
And let others do the same
They walk away from trouble
Hoping for others to come
Some people join them
And others stay for the fight
They lost the war completely
And they still think they can define you.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
Because of an upsurge in fatal accidents in the North Texas area, and elsewhere I'm sure, I believe it appropriate to repost this write.
There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; **** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry.
It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating, trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU."
The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you.
They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel.
You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,
"All about YOU!"
copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
37 years as an accident investigator, have seen many of these. This piece was inspired by Jamie Burkes, "BOOM". Thanks, Jamie!
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC