Best Blowing Up Poems
The clouds above ooze and billow,
And the ocean is howling and thrashing;
A lighthouse is lost in the vortex,
Oh, will the bricks hold or start crumbling.
Wild and angry is the blustering wind,
Blowing up huge white foamy waves;
Screaming with gale force strength,
Oh, will the keepers go to watery graves.
Biting cold that thundering whiteness,
Frigid and raw and loudly savage;
Penetrating and freezing to those trapped,
Oh, will the sentinel survive the ravage.
Although, I stand in awe of the beauty,
I am filled with sheer panic and darkness;
The apprehension is upsetting and scary,
Oh, the dread and horror and sad distress.
___________________________
April 6, 2016
Poetry/Quatrain/The Lighthouse - Sentinel
Copyright Protected, ID 16-775-238-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Sentinel Quatrain Form,
sponsor, Eve Roper
First Place
Blowing up things, unfortunately,
Birth’s the printing of endless money.
By Gov’ments and world money makers,
That overwhelm global undertakers.
Yet we cry out that war is unsound,
That it spreads grief and guts all around.
Yet money printed that’s spent on death,
Shamefully gives our markets bad breath.
Which helps to inflate our portfolios,
And house prices rise when their money flows.
Which is a bummer when we are buying,
But when selling our spirits are flying.
That’s the nature of evil Ponzi schemes;
They’re a huge faux dough making machine.
But when interest rates start going higher,
The globalist fear’s become direr.
Yet they’ve pre-planned for any crisis;
Funding Hamas, Hezbollah, and Isis.
So all sides may have weapons for gore,
Creating more dollars; yes, much more!
But faux dough made on printing devices,
Is the main reason for all high prices.
So they help blow up half of creation,
To help lessen that sticky inflation.
But most aren’t aware of the real players,
Who divide and distract behind layers,
With ‘news’ and psyops that raise our ire,
Fooling us to put out the small fires
Oh fie, a poem about money and war,
What is the point of writing this for?
It’s for those with an enquiring soul,
Who care to see that our sons remain whole.
A lady with a weak bladder*
Thought nothing could make her madder
But Heaven knows
Her pantyhose
Revealed a soaking-wet ladder!
*Weight gain stretches bladder muscle causing
leakage. The French strengthen bladder muscle by
blowing up balloons. The Japanese prefer sitting on
a wooden stool and repetitiously lifting their legs level
to the floor, but the quickest results are achieved by
the Manx Method developed by avid researcher Jan
Allison, which consists of standing on one's head
and farting along with the 1812 Overature!
Wading In Coolest Streams Of Subconscious Delights
Often I wish my life had been a lost feather,
blowing up high within a sea swept moaning gale.
Lost but quite content in such furious weather
spirit justly weighted upon a cosmic scale.
Often this young heart seeks even greater release
wading in coolest streams of subconscious delights.
Seeking love and joy greater than a golden fleece
rapture, tender arms of my lover winter nights.
R.J. Lindley
Simple Rhymes from (Words From My Muse)
Private Journal
June 24th, 1972
Note: Written many, many centuries ago it now seems..
Forty-five years have now flown by as if a fleeting summer breeze.
I saw the Elm trees
Standing tall in the cold winter
The freezing wind has withered their dense leaves
Blowing up alike fireflies
Their tough branches hit the hurricane
I heard the wind hissing in pain
The baptism of the wind
Revealing the resilience of the trees
When the hope of spring has been quietly arriving
A person's life is like four seasons
Cold and warm, prosperity and decline will always come
Resolutely facing the bitter rain and desolate wind
The God of Hope will meet you soon
The silhouette of sails sailing remotely away
Fearless of turbulent winds and waves sailing in
One can touch the dawn of the other shore
Any coldness calls only for your passion
Once cross the desert of winter
We shall meet the lush greenery of spring
In the warm spring breeze,
Raindrops are softly swaying
The delicate leaves are gently dancing
Only trees experienced wind and rain
They will be qualified to compare highness with the heaven
Only the sword light sharpened by adversity
Then can we create a rainbow in the sky
Only those who have experienced hardships
Then, it can depict the magnificence of life
And cultivate the beauty of life
I would need this gun
To complete my mission;
I would need this CD
So I can listen;
A cell phone
To say good bye;
Kleenex
For my cry;
This is the sweetest suicide;
A car
So I can drive;
A pin and pad
To leave a note;
Alcohol
To numb the pain;
Weed
To f up my brain;
Maybe coke
To thin my veins;
This is the sweetest suicide;
Photos
To remember the good times;
A destination
To do my crime;
The ocean
Because I love it;
A watch
To mark the time;
Farewell
Goodbye;
I can't make up my mind;
This is the sweetest suicide;
I feel the wind blowing up my sleeves;
The ocean water touching my knees;
The earth is so beautiful
To bad I have to leave;
The tide is high
I take a swim;
Now I start counting
Down to my sin;
The gun is loaded
My letters wrote;
Blues are playing
I take a line of coke;
Calls are made;
Messages sent;
I hit this weed
And take a sip;
Splatter my brains
And fall into the ocean;
This is the sweetest suicide;
Clearing the land of valuable minerals, metals to build weapons of war
Blowing up millions in bombs, land, businesses and homes
Earth depleted yields humans sick from lack of needed minerals
What will be the end?
There once was a man who ate nothing but prunes
He was broke and howled at the moon
He was desperate for work
And got some soon
Blowing up air ballons.
There was a man from pakistan
Who owned an old ice cream van
But the ice cream melted in the sun
Poor man
And now he sells burgers in a bun.
There was an elephant called peek a boo
Who escaped from a zoo
It didn't take long to trace him
Just am hour or two
They just followed a trail of giant poo.
There was a hedgehog who married a frog
They tried to mate but it hurt too much and fell of the log
So the hedgehog took off his pricly coat
And now they have seven little hedgefrogs
That live on a boat.
There was a bear who loved Fred Astaire
Who danced here and danced there
He stole clothes from a washing line
He looked a treat in ladies pink panties and tutu
Hey bear give them back there mine!.
Peter Dome. copyright.2014. Sept.
Problems in the mirror may be further than they appear
Don’t fear when they’re near, they’ll soon disappear
help is here, let me give your mind a steer
I’ma just keep writin’ until it all appears clear
coming to you live from the heart, no veneer here
closing in on 10,000 hours quick, nothing will interfere
I’ll turn these words to a career, this is only the first tier
found what I love, don’t care about 0’s at the cashier
You're wasting your time if you wouldn’t do it as a volunteer
Please don’t call me a poet, call me a word engineer
Haha, I can joke too, not all my poems are severe jeers
Stop while you’re ahead though, bout to shift into next gear
Pay attention, learn more in a poem than an academic year
Spare the sneer, wont quit til I sear all that you adhere
Persevere, attackin’ ya from the front both sides and the rear
Steer clear, don’t need no one’s cheer, you cohere?
Probably bust a drum if I spoke this, cauliflower ear
You don’t have to like me, but I bet you will revere
Change my name to Paul, inform you bout the brigadiers
See what I did there? Re-read those past 2 if it’s unclear
My minds my weapon, unlimited ammo, bandolier
Fully automatic, spraying bullets at everything insincere
Blowing up everything you thought you knew, bombardier
You got tunnel vision, widen your view, belvedere
This flow is delicate, elegant, like a chandelier
This flow leave ya weak in the legs like a baby deer
This flow has many sides and it’s well rounded like a sphere
A pioneer on the frontier, might stop and shed 1 tear
They say a writer never dies, guess this is a souvenir
Catch me down under drinkin' a Bundaberg ginger beer
This poems a joke, obscene, call me Edward Lear
It was the last period.
The breezy school day was almost done.
Mrs. Johnson and her English class relished
Getting a restroom break and a bit of sun.
They were gathered on the gazebo.
Antonio and Ned were poking fun.
Sometimes even a laugh
can start a great big one!
"Fight," Angelina screamed.
Who came running? Everyone!!
The fighters were swinging-going wild.
Go for help Mrs. Johnson called - run.
But before security could get there-
Thank God nobody had a gun,
There was a loud noise
Like someone
Was blowing up
a giant cushion.
Mrs. Johnson's face was swelling.
She was moving upwards in a strange fashion.
She looked like she weighed a ton-
Or perhaps better said she looked like
A humungous silver balloon
headed toward the sun.
She floated away and of course
as they always say
To this very day
No one has seen her since. Period.
desperate times leads to desperate measures wth whom do you treasure
we mix words in the street still trying to repeat moving ahead to the walking dead
a canopy of dreams inside of me together you will see a whole of of brevity
he ain't heavy he's my brother cruising down the avenue in full bloom
honking horns some may twist to curse the day they were actually born
wait your turn with the mic in my hand got one foot stuck in the frying pan
I'm working on my legacy come and sit next to me in my field of dreams
basketball superstar took his grill down to the mall now he stands ten feet tall
decisions we all make them friend we need all grow to depend got the hoop dreams
my ***** she be working at Dairy Queen to the extreme I rock the mic like a vandal
blowing up chops like Goldie Locks we drop a line or two nothing borrowed nothing blue
folks today don't have a clue they are stuck as glue wash your hands to avoid the flu
got fresh rhymes for 2018 got to keep it real paying all those bills with cheap thrills
Rap ain't like it used to last I check they was frying a rooster but who are they anyways
Depression is a disease will knock you to your knees stop spreading its disease
what are we willing to achieve we neglect all that hate call it fate but something runs deeper
we need folks like Barry White taking the mood higher blown up in fullest desire
some will fade out with a noose around their neck what the heck they neglect
getting stuck in the middle playing a game of second fiddle watch the dunk but neglect the dribble...
Members of the legion, warming up
Cold weather of the region, blowing up
Advocacies permeated and rolled with dice
Democracies under water, frozen like ice
How dare you proclaim that I am perfect!
See these scars?
I am weak!
See these tears?
I don't even know why I'm crying!
My mind is my prison,
keeping me locked up while depression holds the key!
I try to move past the little things,
but they are like cannons,
going off in my head getting louder...
louder!
To the point that I can't even hear myself think!
How dare you proclaim that I am perfect!
I was happy once,
but then my demons grew and possessed who I was.
They left me a mess,
a shell of the person who used to be alive.
Who used to be alive,
because now I feel dead inside!
Who I was was an inmate sent to death row,
charged with the crime of joy.
I was happy once,
back when depression was just a fairy tail,
and when I never knew the feeling of "emptiness".
I feel empty and cut myself just to feel something!
I choose pain,
because nothing else will work.
I would rather see my crimson life source running down my arms,
than to talk with a friend.
A friend that my sickened mind causes me to hate.
My emotions are like a minefield.
I try to be wary of my steps,
but then someone trips me up and I explode into tears again.
I would give anything,
to be able to run across that field without blowing up!
I would give anything to be me again!
I would give anything to rid of this depression
my oppression,
the bane of my existence!
I am not perfect,
I am not sad,
I am not happy.
I am lost, I am a prisoner, I am innocent.
I am a writer, an artist, a girlfriend, and a daughter.
I am a good student, I am a good friend, and I am a good person.
My only flaw...
My disease...
My depression.
Truth - Justice - Trust
Three players around a bridge table
move their pieces on the game board,
all the Squares are Red
from blood spilled by making the wrong move,
for believing the lies of a worthy opponent called Truth
eyes that lie - lies of a spy - all rolling the same die -
power struggle to control the outcome of the game
first over the wall and across the bridge wins.
Roll the dice if you dare take the chance of making the wrong move.
What is the risk if the rules of the game keep changing?
Justice cheats but Justice is blind; not to the strategy of opponents.
Truth lies and Trust can't be trusted to tell the truth.
Pretense and subterfuge
Three players around the bridge table. Who holds the winning piece?
Will Trust be the loser if he's caught in the middle?
If he believes Truth and Justice he should be called Gullible.
Blowing up the bridge table would put an end to Trust
an end to the game - of the world? Liberty does have a price.
-------------------------------------------------------
2/24/16 Pick a Theme Contest: Craig Cornish
It’s the pressure exerted by the earth’s
atmosphere at any point given,
such acceleration and value of
standard of this word we live in.
The weight of the air increases
then starts to decrease,
then the pressure of the molecules
above the surface cease.
It’s like drinking from a straw,
while sucking our lungs expand,
then the air in the straw slowly drains
into the lungs as they withstand.
Then the air pressure in the straw
decreases and the pressure does force
the water to move up into the mouth,
there’s continuation henceforth.
Another example is blowing up an
elastic balloon with a suppressor,
the air pressure inside is higher
the atmospheric pressure.
The elastic expands due to the
pressure being equal in all directions,
then when the balloon bursts the air
escapes making a pressure connection.
There are many ways to see
the wonder of this phenomenon,
the earth’s atmosphere releases
pressure and it goes on and on.
Atmospheric Pressure
September 4, 2017