"warheads" poems
She was a child wild
wearing a white dress,
galloping through fields of unrest,
inspiring anxious warheads,
for a hot second.
Off to the next.
She was
anxious like a feather
caught in a breeze,
far from that child
that minded none
the weeds.
Backhand compliments
more potent than
misogynic critiques.
She was Marilyn Monroe.
Where was Norma Jean?
Living in a man's dream,
pinned up in a
concrete bunker,
a porcelain poster
tearing each time
she wasn't taken seriously,
or spent nights
alone aside a dusty phone,
with no home but
Norma Jean,
Marilyn's martyr
long at peace.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
There are Angels among us
Metaphorical Angels
They have no wings to fly
No superhuman powers to call upon
And no ability to remain unseen
They dance to the tune of human need
Become a crescendo in this dark time
She leaves her little one asleep at dawn
With aching heart and weary eyes
For even Angels tire out
She enters Hell where monsters roam
Little creatures with verocious appetite
Leaving lungs and lamenting in their path
She stands her ground and grapples fear
For even angels are in need of courage
She gathers the sweat and blood and tears of strangers
And soothes them to life or death
Yet while she suffocates in misery and mask
Selfishness abounds outside
And those restrained insist on fun
They gather together in revelry
Kissing flesh and adoring sun
She sees them on the nightly news
While she strokes her daughters brow
And comforts her with unfulfillable promises
Yet though they have the right to be free
They make her burden heavy and sad
With more victims for her ordeal
Yes, they have the right to take the loaded gun
To play roulette with their stubborn lives
Yet when the game involves warheads and virus
They invite death for others too
Who did not choose to enter the deadly casino
For even angels die!
May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 6:48 AM UTC
i will let large threatening wild animals loose on the cities of america
resurrect the dead and all the enemies of mankind cause havoc confusion and dismay to everyone who didn't see it coming -- grow a thousand miles tall kick over nuclear plants ****** planes out of the sky and throw warheads like lightning bolts life as we know it will be licked up by flames and smoke -- i will scoop handfuls of smoldering ruins and smear it over the earth like a smothering blanket -- wait -- for a beautiful calm when everything is quiet -- i will breathe it all in cough up a new world vomiting mountains tall trees rivers lakes and oceans hacking up dry deserts hot swamps and forests from the back of my lungs i will choke on my last breath as i lay down in a cold sweat -- i will be overgrown and swallowed up like a fallen statue and my crumbling ruins will be the mortar for a new existence -- cities will be built upon my ashes
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
tonight, i am far too weak to become a star
i am a drunken river, all is possible until i reach another life
i am a weeping madman on the creeping sidewalks of solitude
i make secret deals with buddha in the desert
we will find the temples on neptune
with flaming radars and silvery kisses
we will battle with this massive electric dream and
undoubtedly become monsters with nowhere to lay our heads
my feet are washed with death
my breath is tinged in ecstacy
i am naked without identity
i am the black felt tip
of a pen dancing
across white paper
i should be left alone
there is a fold in the universe
surrounded by millions of suns
and diamond gold and mercurial fire
we can dance and sing and live in it
without ourselves
without money
money made of nothing
bellowing over eternity
money made of failure
pure thought
written on paper warheads
being fired off
at the moon
i will ***** and become
the hidden son of whitman
i scream
i starve
i will walk through fire
and be reduced to white powder
i will leave jet plane streaks in the sky
i will be remembered bliss on your lips
you will see the mediterranean rainbow
hear the seagull flying over dolphins screaming
and i will swim through the atlantic sun and
weep for this antiquity
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 11:30 PM UTC
Heads revolving around topics and unanswered questions,
And questions about a lonely fan
Staring at us, revolving its three pedal shaped figures,
Not creating any new air,
Just transcending what we already have to us
Which I find pretty ironic…
But we can’t live without that fan can we?
I lost track of time not because I am lost, but because my phone died on me
Along with all the other people around ;
The unity between material and man…
My coffee, is black
And so is her sweater now half wrinkled half folded over,
Because she can’t seem to figure out a way to sit,
A way to think
A way to sink in the thoughts of the whole universe within one glace of her beautiful eyes-
Bumping into mine;
And our eye contact couldn’t stand longer than two seconds,
But in those two seconds,
I met her,
I got to know her better,
We went on our first date
I created a whole scenario about us living together and having a child running to me saying
“dad, how did you meet mommy” but child I never did…
Smiling faces, joyful faces
Shape the vibe of the coffee shop that has been my sanctuary for the summer;
The summer of “enchanter”, blue silver and white lights
Long walks on the shores of my chores,
And thoughts that were once yours
Until you sent me those messages
And from that day I realized I am alone.
I am alone for when I met you,
You told me the story of how once you were a child
Growing up between warheads and air headed brothers,
And fairy dust brushed off of the VCR tapes from your favorite movies
Which are now nothing but old 90’s classics.
When I met you,
You talked to me of how you want to become a fashion designer,
And visit france and sleep in paris
Stopping time right at the moment when you find your prince charming,
Because if time passes by and you grow old
You lose track of things and time and not cause your phone died on you
But because you are lost.
You are lost in space and time for when
I met you, you told me about past crushes and crushed hearts,
Future plans and undiscovered parts;
But you never told me about you now…who you are…
As if it was my job to discover that,
As if I was obliged to read the signs in your desperate eyes
And come up with a full analysis of the thing that is you
On a white sheet, same as the one I was writing on
Before I cried poetry upon it;
And poetry becomes fire when in contact with the air I breathe,
And so I choke on ashes every time I see you
For the poetry I wanna write could not be spoken so I just keep it inside;
I just keep it inside and choke on it…
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 4:33 AM UTC
bro I just met you why do you need my number?
wanna jam sometime I think.
k after work then probably.
cool man, bro.
text in my pocket, beeping while slicing beef.
I don't want to watch a movie with you and hold your hand bro,
sad face,
smiley with a syringe filled with *****
bro.
bro.
bro hold me, bro come watch the sunset.
I swallow a grape as I walk along the moon.
beeping more,
beeping more, more sliced beef
****** lady
I spit on,
I spit on you.
bro,
dude, baby , guy , friendo,
flip a coin.
not your lucky day.
warheads were the **** back in the day
yep
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 5:57 AM UTC
A muse plays my harp
strings made of veins and thread,
cobblestones line over my body
having bric-a-bracs in the evening,
Rain splashes over shelves
and ego vapourizes like helium,
pyres burn my effigy tonight
stardust shines the bubble
tearing ashes like paper,
Warheads crack my halo from within
setting me up like the haze,
my lip syncs with the beats
dancing my limbs as it heeds away,
Clouds shower blessings upon my head
the chakra opens as if unbolted by wind,
clear conscience reigns inside me
and photos set us apart like fences .
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
the red heat at last broke across the
misshapen backs of two old crows
lifting from The Omen Tree to cast
the day's last shadow on our lengthening lawn.
and Jess turned to me stern like she'd
might well never see the sun again and said
It's in my blood, Sloan, it's rocket-bone fever
I know it and it's got right a good hold on me, too.
rocket-bone, she says, where your legs need to "go"
her eyes wide like each one could take off any minute
to unknown destinations each a little fighting piece of Jess.
and I said I love you Puck but you know you're
wound right up, tighter than baling wire and no
amount of rocket fuel is gonna rip you away from me so
guzzle up buttercup rocket-bone or no you got
nowhere else to go and hell baby you know even the
Titan Two Class missile herself's got a home.
because I love you Puck and I know how it goes and
if it ain't kerosene in your bloodstream it's
the president calling on the telephone
saying you've won come on down or it's
flesh eating fish in our neighbor's pool
old Gloria Whitford, mother to eleven,
who you're certain you killed in a duel.
and I said I'm gonna take care of you Puck cuz
you're a crazy *** ***** and full up with **** but
baby you're still built outta rocket parts.
and every bit of you is still a fighting piece waiting to blow
hit every city on the eastern seaboard you rocket-bone you
and warheads or no hell I bet the President then even would phone,
if I ever let you go.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
Modified Bombs
Her eye was acting up but that was fine
For she had a second one to use
This was just fine like her warplane
It had two engines but number one engine
This was like her eye acting up too
No need to worry for Eagle 2 jets are good
Made with system redundancy like her
An ability to function with degraded systems
Right now she was on the way to Moscow
To drop some iron bombs on Putin
A personal gift from a gal who was bad
Real bad *** half Yank half what?
That last bit was unknown but what was
Known was that she would soon be dead
Along with the Neo Soviet leader
Those iron bombs were special
She'd personally modified the warheads
A new historical dawn was coming...
Mar 4, 2022
Mar 4, 2022 at 8:39 PM UTC
beat poet
the lines, the times
they are a changin'
entropy of empathy
the anthem won't explain it
the world just keeps on turning
and warming up the globe
nations of hate hotter than warheads
hate ain't what they pay us for
be a boss but don't be bossy,
boxing in a corner lot
everyones a leader
leading no one
supply and demand spinning pulsar-fast
economies based on wars
collapsing under peacetime
without fires
the lobbies smothered fighters
beat poet
the lines, the times
they are a changin'
entropy of empathy
the anthem won't explain it
inflation cannot haul us up
here at the bottom of the heap
can't even afford the beep
beep that tells us what's wrong in our hearts
medical bills ticking higher numbers than volumes of get-well cards
we're under attack
our changing family pact
beat poet
the lines, the times
they are a changin'
entropy of empathy
the anthem won't explain it
spoken word, short form
bytes from sharpened canines
written word, formatted to the dimensions of our icons
glittering oh one around us in the haze
our might in roaming-charged clouds of war
you can burn the papers
ban the books
we weren't writing in your margins anyway
our beat is undrummed, uncensored by you
language we took, righteous and true
and the ideas we kept to hurl out
our aim would be true
shout now
aim for us, beat poets
beat poet the times they are a changin'
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
Human ****
human ****
Avarice
Get that ****
Out of my dish
How many species
Do you wish
Extinct by Swedish overfish
Are you so fond of licorice?
Like cavities on Halloween
You rot away my clenching teeth
Spoiled children trick or treat
So concerned with what to eat
While glaciers melt like Hershey bars
In Hot Tamale heat
As oceans rise
You feast blind eyes
And licorice blackens the skies
Making my blood pressure high
Unwrapping one more Smartie
Just to find an Air-Head Spree
And now I'm left here questioning
My ***** Wonka sanity
For thinking I could save these kids
From Candy Land's of apathy
Stuck on selfish sticky squares
Lord Licorice tormenting me
With sugar-coated ignorance
Preferred over
The sour patch
Of truth too bitter for their lips
Starbursting, Milky Way abyss
Warheads warping face and time
Mere rainbows to your skittle bliss
The end of mine? No sweets to find
You've left me only licorice
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 12:05 AM UTC
before the wall
came down,
there were lines
12 hours long
for bread and kielbasa;
and nuclear warheads raced
rhetoric east to west,
and back,
and rhetoric won...
I sat on a train
westbound,
idling on the left side
of the border
the 'gestapos' stormed aboard
with their black leather boots
knee-high;
stern angled faces
missing smiles;
eyes of winter
and steel,
unblinking....blue,
sending chills through
and through
'you,' he said
pointing at me
his open fist
flipping the universal
'come here' signal...
60 minutes later
he conceded...
reluctantly...
the 15-year old
black face smiling
in the mug shot
on my passport
was indeed....me
not some ****** student
trying to flee
the misery
behind those curtains
to freedom...
without walls 12-feet high
topped by razor-edged rolls
of barbed wire;
without food lines
12-hours long;
where choice
and opportunity
know no bounds...
~ P (Pablo)
(8/7/2013)
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 12:44 PM UTC
The wrappers fall to the ground
"Pop!" goes the sound of the bright pink bubbles
And it gets cold in this tomb
Thinking about our licorice loops
And the memories we made
On this cold bed until we became warheads
But it'll be over soon
I'm crashing from
Your sugary
Arteries
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
Holed up in a bunker, a soldier dreams that the war is over.
It's just poetic justice, a dream for an emerging new dawn.
See, every soldier defying orders, leaves the post and embrace
the one whom he was made to think as enemy in his naivety
they dance in the no man's land, where they plant a rose garden
With them aloud, let's chant,"Bury the guns fellas, war is a tale
told by perverts of the worst kind, just to sell deadly warheads.
that **** happiness, book the culprits that make war, allow them not
to fornicate truth, blatantly like this, deceive the world , gift turmoil."
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC
Countries fabricated
by roaming people drawing
borders behind them,
trails of hostility
to select those who would cross
rims after them, to keep
resources to themselves,
lands of prosperity
on which to build, greed
homes to shield,
newly engendered families
xenophobes,
induced to believe
by governors they are different,
they are better, superior
and ultimately worth
much more, than any stranger
standing on the other side
of imaginary lines, they are barbarians,
unbelonging
to great civilisations, against whom
we need protection,
stealing scientists
left right and centre,
research peddled as development
promising a high from nuclear weapons,
bombs called mothers to adore
campaigning over a grand potency
participating in, an international
mallet-measuring contest
whilst signing accords,
for those who have to keep
and those who don’t
not to aspire, to acquire,
a prize for populations
who have successfully or can
destroy approaching aliens
simply by, pressing the right button
on a joystick suitable for games,
of mass destruction
ten thousand nuclear warheads
ready for use.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 6:55 AM UTC
Charming clever old soul...removing wisdom from those who seek hail mary hail Mary,a presence, knowledge replacing misery in cavernous...peeks royalty in myth and death, to requiem lost those honest pets, trunking ships and warheads eating and consuming course, blood thick tempting toward destruction.
Beautiful carnal sacred soul...you mock her love for salvation, red lips hands shaking a priestess laid bare...sinners, saints in garden deep and devil wakes....royal blood meek heart of Eros.
Spirited angelic ethereal souls...stare into pools where Narcissus prayed, Brutus cleaved, Daniel betrayed, disarming kings, cut off by fates, Jesus, Mary and his flame.
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 1:15 AM UTC
Someone has started a war once again
says the news bulletin; the news caster
munch it again and again, tempting
listeners as if it is her favorite nutrient pill.
Gloom spreads in the after noon, distressed lovers
are getting ready to live together some time soon,
"Only if things fall in place,without any hitch
and the world decides to be kind" they resolve.
Like the background score, they hear the wails of children,
their lives are destroyed for ever by precision warheads
made in the best of factories, yes death creation, is a business for profit
not too may'll shy away from such prospects,
isn't gun a reality of life?
(protect it with life, what if if destroys life bit by bit)
Why he asks her, is there no bar, in creating war for fun
she says they must start one, the sooner they can,a war to end all wars,
till the moment one or both go down offering no surrender
or a law to stop making wars, is to be brought in force at gun point.
Allow warheads to stockpile, to get rusted, harmlessly go waste,
so that all in this world once more can feel safe,
the beleaguered lovers dream
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
The warheads rust in peace while the population celebrates
War is over
Peace is here!
An explosion of ecstasy in the inner cities
Joyous laughter and delight
No more young men dying without a cause
And yet there still stands the grieving mother
Crying for her baby boy
War is over
But grief remains.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
Mirror mirror on the wall
Who told the biggest lies of all
A tisket a tasket
He just flipped a gasket
Red Rover Red Rover
Let warheads come over
One, two skip to my Lou
Three, four, you’ll start a war
Five, six, you’re in a fix
Skip to my Lou, my darling.
Seven, eight, it’s just too late
Nine, ten, you'll never win
Skip to my Lou, my darling.
Here we go Lupti Lou
Here we go Lupti Lie
Here we go Lupti Lou
Why don’t you lay down and die
Ring around the Rosey
A pocket full of posers
Bashes, Crashes
The World falls down
Mary, Scary, quite contrary
How does your evil grow
With fire drill bells and armored shells
And dead bodies all in a row.
ljm
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
My life I would trade for yours
A million times over
Till the day the world ended
Even then I would try
To keep you alive
Because your a gift to me
One I never quite deserved
Rachel
I LOVE YOU
I would take a billion
If not trillions of nuclear warheads for you
I dont think anyone
Can quite comprehend
How much it is that I love you
But you are my reason
The only reason
That I shall die
If ever the moment comes
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
By the time the nuclear bombs blast
Peppering the terrain in every corner of the world
We'll be so weary of the world
We'll bow before the flash bulb shock
And thank the Holy Law of Physics
For delivering us from it
A place where compassion requires too many limits
Where looking out for number one reveals
Number one is a right *******
No better than number two
Who won't be satisfied until he's number one
We've seen too much with our eyes
Too many times shown the weakness in our values
Trust no one, least of all yourself
It's only the grace of wonder
That keeps us from slaying each other outright
So it can't come soon enough
Christen AWACs the new Enola Gay
And load them with enough warheads to take out the coasts (for starters)
Give this cursed species a good dose of radiation
After the flood
God said he would never again annihilate man
So the task has been turned over to us
Those of us who love truth and justice
In their undiluted form
To wipe the Tarmac clean
Set back and wait for the poison rays to tear us up from the inside out
O, to be the last man standing
The one who gets to say
"Thy will be done
On earth as it is in heaven
Amen"...and then fall to the ground
Exhaling the last breath of God
The singularity the last thing in his field of vision
None of it mattered
None of it meant a ********* thing
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 12:21 AM UTC
in another world,
words are weapons.
haikus are like hand grenades.
five-seven-five exactly
and the world can explode.
my free verse has become
a biological weapon,
infectious and changing.
the people you were before
won't survive this apocalypse.
sonnets scream just like
nuclear warheads.
limericks adapt just like
amphibious vehicles.
couplets seem innocuous,
but the power they hold
rivals that of a bomb.
in another world,
words are weapons,
and instead of blood
we spill ink.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 8:24 AM UTC
before the wall
came down,
there were lines
12 hours long
for bread and kielbasa
and nuclear warheads raced
rhetoric east to west,
and back,
and rhetoric won
i sat on a train
westbound,
idling on the left side
of the border
ten 'gestapos' stormed aboard,
black leather boots
knee-high;
stern angled faces
missing smiles;
eyes of winter
and steel,
unblinking - blue,
sending chills through
and through
'you,' he said
pointing at me
open fist
flipping the universal
'come here' sign
60 minutes later
he conceded,
reluctantly
the 15-year old
black face smiling
in the mug shot
on my passport
was indeed - me
not some ****** student
trying to flee
the misery
behind those iron curtains
to freedom
without walls 12-feet high
topped by razor-edged rolls
of barbed wire;
without food lines
12-hours long;
where choice
and opportunity
know no bounds.
~ P
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 5:18 AM UTC
gimme a flaming pumpkin seed
for i wanna do some trouble
create havoc down below me
hypseronic devil craft
created by man to ****
thermonuclear detonations
wherever i wish
got 122 nuclear warheads
snug in my belly
each one a city killer
or able to destroy an army
kicked out by springs
easy as having a beer
nobody or nothing
can touch me
unlike me upon high
easily the most evil weapon
riding my own shckwave
skipping the atmsophere
into space where i reign
the winner of all wars
before they begin
but winning without mercy
if they start
soviet russia my target
and any one else
who wants to dance
my flaming pumpkin seed
power beyond god
created by america
to rule you all
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 6:59 PM UTC
let's go back, you & I
for a momentwhetherwe
are who we are or who
we were then, with your
scotch bones and my hair
in the wind like a hundred
p a g e s out of the bible,
you & i
and the parts of you that
loved me then come out
to play, to feel my two
years on your two years
as thin as breath, thick as
all the words we left
unsaid, that fall like
spoons in empty cups
lost in the chatter of
apology after apology
in smiles dropping like
warheads, but our silence
overcomes the ancient fights,
strings and tangled veins
all my lies are in order
all the things I only
sort of
told
you
i have dreams about confessing.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC