Radiation Will Be The Judge To Which You Will Testify

Posts tagged “poems poetry

Black Rain

Outside, in the splendor of nature,
A black rain falls
splattering crowds
shattering doubt
calming my will to run

When the rain falls, as it covers ground,
it covers my face,
dark rain shrouds me in secrecy
hiding my facial display,
even though its plain to see

When the black rain drops hit,
it will delay her realization,
that I am not worth her spit

Don’t you waste more hours,
mistake your hate for love and spring flowers
I won’t sing proud, this rain proves your flake
it proves my worth, or lack thereof

She waits around for me at a corner,
never knowing what folly awaits,
all that transpired,
mired and forgotten

Dare you to spit another insult,
cut into my vein like you wish you could
sometimes I wish you would
make that mistake

Giving us what we both want:
escapism, putting off the inevitable
warm friendly breath to protect from this downpour

But unlike you, this storm has been my home,
I refuse to leave it

French-kissing the Sky

One day last July I disgraced stagnant movements,
I ran full speed up the side of a mountain, fragments of rock resembled
sidewalks I glide; cracked, crumbling under external pressure
My sweat fell upon the dirt, the steep terrain choked with undergrowth
Showing the Mother Earth my infernal gesture
I take it all internally and sprint
exchanging all fate, hate, disparate states of relation
Reality check achieves chelation
Neglect breeds disease, but at this one moment,
I finally returned to her pasture

There I stood, taller than anything else in that valley
above all impatience and imbalance
soaring above that which plagues us all:
 lacking chance to see the world so clearly

Third Eye Declined

I am puzzled every day at the mendacity of status quo lifestyles
including my own

When faced with a choice, a dirt path in the woods, overwrought with undergrowth
which diverges into two completely separate paths,
one, encapsulating the current, destitute and failed incorporation of all that “reality” brings into your life

and the other path, which travels deeper into the forest of unknown,
a book with a thousand pages, all untouched by ink,
there lies the unbeaten path, at risk of disavowing every single piece of humanity, social stratification,

while a corporate dog eats all, the pattern’s amazing
back home,  they cling to it like an edge of the Grand Canyon
fingernail fractures soil, a last attempt at continuing this dance

storm forms
inflation captures, fiat enraptures
no patience left in depth,destroying the nexus of stress, bliss
how much can I, stress/this
brows are beaten, tear gas creeps through crowds/disperses the defeated
Escape to a search of beyond
beyond lies, cries, miserable subsistence colored ugly by lights neon
fright for eons

spite against dark, and all colors from there to white getting beyond
the last Act of this play,
where subtle apprehension dies

I never seem to coax my own courage from its slumber in caves
hiding under a box of lumber, 6 feet beneath the grave

Although so clearly I envision the mission
Envisage a reverence for nature, for our mother, for the atmosphere
Its so easy to escape it, I once saw a beaten pathway which curved up a mountain,
where I would build my encampment, sheltered from extremity
hiding from sweltering hegemony

There I would build a fire, and chop down a hundred trees,
erect palisade walls for protection, and fall back to ancestral speed
A human can survive in harsh wilderness owning little more than nothing
while here, having it all is never enough to thrive

When will I barricade myself out of a population of lost souls,
to discover my own?

How long must I be led astray from a path where the docent dwell
from a location of secret sanity, hidden in plain view

I always feel I am twelve steps behind progress,
twelve steps behind an infernal machine, tearing
limb from limb on a march for segregated happiness,
and false hope, while
only twelve miles away, sanctuary stagnates, awaiting my return

Why does fighting daily for survival appear such a liberty-stricken dream
while enough amenities to please royalty exist now,
to satiate the most greed-driven fiend


Someone said I forgot how to communicate
as I sit ruminating past folly,
So much was within my grasp,
until a sullen iceberg struck my bow
forcing repudiation

Filthy masses of parasitical depravity
claw at walls and wail at countertops
rain and munitions fall from gravity
teasing what life remains, below
they bellow, smash to dust all fellows,
unlucky enough to reap their crops

Humanity becomes dandruff,
flaking off, splintering at every crevice,
forgetting its lessons, buried in an abyss of genetic material
masterful artisians, suffering lesions while they
glisten under the Sun God’s shine
choosing to shirk its mystical fervor
trading wisdom for pistols,
remaining knaves, slaves, dwelling in caves
failing to reach the kingdom,
bodies slain, I still can’t refrain, escape pain,
a gaped-brain
lacking omniprescence
freight trains,
stacking the next minority sect, into a new residence

As Love Dies

No where,
can I find so much comfort, as in the fantasy of love
No tyrannical force can crush that which burrows itself underneath outer consciousness
Yet, one who claims your affection,
can, in one moment, enact dejection
Falling for her lies, so blind like I suffer from cataracts
Air flows past my face, as I drown in its’ sorrow
An heir to flame, that shall burn all I have borrowed

I wonder whether I have forsaken my own fate,
And if her attitude will carry over into tommorow
Not fearful of losing her, cuz she’s already gone
like the light in which she used to be viewed
putting up with her bullshit as nothing but a petty pawn

Just wait till I ride along another road
You can go try and make a prince of a toad
Almost begging my hate as you goad

Our relationship flickering into ten thousand glittery sparkles
A testament to what we had, the property of puzzle pieces
Never fitting together as they once did

Correctorial & Visual Reposition for Beholden

The phantasm of starvation pervades parades of destitution’s profane victims 

jaws gaping at the audacity of broke, in skulls all along the truncated welfare lines

while their fists thrown heavenward, a thousand sticky compatriots wedged together

huddled in a broken mass awaiting repair

slaving, they dare not

resist their despair, their

chests tumid with a burning hatred, forming a decadant soiree with death

as flies dance around the mutton portraying a

debutante attitude toward allegorical flagellations, remaining

frozen carrion’s, disbanded at birth, stranded along the Earth

starving, one by one

while tyrants of empirical stature drop bombs, flaunting psalms

death shrapnel raining from the sky, cutting jaunt cheeks of what little remains 

enthralled with mental mortars, cheerleading deceased

ready to cheerlead themselves into defeat

but true hawks conceal their zeal in cathedrals of stone,

subterranean cultures of destruction

laying dormant until God gives the order

to destroy us all

Are wrists hurting?!??

why…..     don’t your wrists hurt?

a canyon, deepening towards you

steep receipts, non-discreet beliefs

buried, surplus swiss-cheesed

cannot you feel crushing weight upon your metacarpals

gravity of debt stronger than it’s own physics

lines been crossed, vacuum’s unseen grip consuming all hope for Palestine’s been lost

too many starving to feed their houses, grass browning when the hydrogen burn sets down

cause of your semi-medicated esteem still unclear, underneath your skin is shackles

while survival starting to become too much for “advances species” to tackle

faith erupting providing the last bit of spackle

some lurking downstairs munitions stockin’ impecunious jackals

you can’t even see what hungry is after

or what’s after hunger, if not satiated dieing in river side’s withered and emaciate

devalued souls, attempting to fill their devalued holes

but consumption won’t save you

over-expanding what you don’t have is what will enslave you

carpals still sore but the chains aren’t on me yet

no f0reign dictatorsh1t has dive b0mb-3d me yet

just trying to stop more bloodshed and warfare-tsunami threats

still not feeling your hands,

wringing, disgust from perfunctory productions

the outright lies don’t strain the wrists

even though

belt is broken,

and “only playing with cards dealt’ is token