Best Erasure Poems
She might have painted the sea—
or a golden field of wheat
beneath a hazy summer sky—
but he took her brushes,
left the bristles splayed,
the paints dried out,
and the turpentine cloudy.
And though she said nothing,
her easel disappeared one day
like a wispy cloud no one missed.
After that,
she painted nothing but dinner.
They had imagined themselves
sharing a studio but
he needed all the mirrors,
so she became one—
reflecting his genius,
and tilting her angles
to catch his best light—
sitting quiet in the corners,
while her palette faded slowly
beneath his brilliance.
She never called it giving up—
just life, unfolding.
Maybe she took comfort
in recipes, in the hush
of rising dough,
in setting the table just so.
But I wonder if sometimes,
she’d pass the studio
and something nameless would
tighten in her throat—
not quite regret,
not quite peace.
Perhaps both.
I am tired of broken peace,
I am tired of rules and laws,
I am tired of bad critics,
I am tired of discrimination,
I am tired of hypocrite doctrines,
One of the most evil things is ignorance and arrogance,
Society has a lot of dissonance,
Society has had a lot of decadences,
Society has a lot of violence,
Society has many negligence,
Society has been insolent and impertinent,
I want to create consciousness in this society,
Because society has a ****ed up agenda,
Society has many dilemmas,
Society has had many enigmas,
Society has had many vendettas,
I am tired of a broken society...
I do what I do,
I want what I want,
I like what I like,
I love what I love,
I live what I live...
I am tired of being restrained,
And tired of being shoved aside without any reasons at all,
I am tired of suffering,
I am tired of seeing people suffering;
Society must learn that things change,
Society must rearrange,
Society must learn that there is a vast quantity of personalities,
Society must learn to judge less and accept more...
I want to have freedom of expression,
I will have freedom of being,
They are gay,
They are straight,
They are transexual,
They are transgenders,
I am bisexual or pansexual,
I am a survivor in many ways that only few know,
I help those who deserve help,
I can make friends and love anyone for who they are
Regardless of gender;
When did love become a bad or wrong thing?
We will keep fighting society and its erasure as I have always been,
Because a revolution is needed,
For renovation of respect, peace, equality,
union, love and forgotten humanity...
not in the heart again
for chrissakes it's like Swiss cheese
decoffinated please I'm a yet ambulatory zombie
off his medication as usual
alternatives to logic 101 with Prof. Spike
far too much work for a dead end
saw his only ally the embalmers needle
left his innards spilled in the sand
history in its entirety mocked his comprehension
had the nation in tears and then nausea
several dueling scars graced his genitals
if our perceptions already lie
why shouldn't we
I had to laugh
it was all I could do to keep from smiling
even after a thousand years of AI research
the electronic government was helpless
my Microsoft forehead radiator
absolutely charmingly couldn't get any focus
but the Royal Society of Blind Philosophers
helped me with my little problem
a miracle of recipe repair
because our endorphin soup is a bit thin
the quicksilver cooks ate first and fell asleep
having thrown away their brains long before
in the field kitchen of the gods
after the air raid sirens of postmodernity
can there be too much truth
for an army of blood diamond merchants
now a bit more about para electrics
if only I were at liberty to discuss it
yes imprecision can carry signal
but the place is crawling with dilettantes
wearing their secret butt plugs
it's a guessing game as you can see
petitioning for a visually diagrammatic idiom
although it's a devilish seesaw but let us restart
The Oblivion Ride was the big theme park attraction
my extended family was in the sideshow
justifiably taken for a pack of fools
then the sun went down and never came up again
and we stepped into the stone circle
chanting evidence is preferable
to the moonlit tombstone
good luck with that in your airwaves
broadcast on radio Sarajevo
signal drifting drifting drifting
with minds great and small
and smaller and smaller
the Internet is the yearned for Messiah
there it's done and out and not to be unseen
you wrestle with it while I proceed
dashing among startled commuters
mesmerizing the fact finding committee
their dictatorship of x-ray leeches
tossed him out of several monasteries
apparently the production quotas were relaxed
in a kaleidoscope of normalcy
the style crazed mannerist martinets
howdy do nail in my shoe
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
roving black hole
devours
a misplaced life
somewhere
in the futile fog
of wandering warfare
it's baked in the cruel cake:
an ultimate deletion
is coming for us all
with groaning glee
we scratch an incendiary itch
under the hood of
a mutilating maelstrom
where cryptic terror gushes
from loose AI cannons
I fear it all
but there's nothing
to fear but
the imperfect
storm
new discoveries build
foundations of memories
to cherish with joy....
Erasing half of you into another
Merging like flour into water
Swaddled in comforting love.
When alone damp and bone chilled
Staring through rain slicked woodland
Alone with the unknown world
Of leaves and fungus and dark earth.
I am something I was not alone.
There is no fear just grief,
I have forgotten my face, my voice
Is half of you and none of me.
A dogs muddy paw stamped on my calf,
A red robed monk speaks to me
Carrying a bucket, a pot?
My version of reality crumbles
If alone I cannot retain a self.
Crumpling embarrassment,
Effacement of self, of I .
This was me before and now minus half
A soul, a face, a brain, a body.
Your hands that know my body
Better than I do are like my hands,
Used to hold back darkness and fear.
The death of an internal monologue
And safety in solitude or selfishness,
Be consumed by another body,
A Siamese twin.. I never wanted agency.
Alone I forget to eat my mind
Wanders, I make fires, cat lazy
I walk, I doze, I shower,
Warmth is comfort, safety.
Unending rain is a reminder of
Loneliness and others rained on,
Stuck inside. The dogs shuffle
Rearrange their beds, the cat follows
Me, sleeps in my bed.
You cannot live alone for yourself
You cannot live for others forever.
The Erasure
By: Miracle Man
October 1 2021
I sought God’s forgiveness, and found the erasure for all my misdeeds.
found it out to be
some erasure poetry
was perfect for me
Is this what Trump did
at Mir-a-Lago?
The uk is guilty too
Stop hiding behind America
You were involved too
It's time for you to take the stand
Reveal the blood on your hands
Accountability is calling your name
America can't take all the blame
When it was them who followed your lead
Joining the slave trade from your influence
Don't hide behind black American history
When you have black history of your own
Centuries of history condensed all into one
In a textbook written in lies and cowardice
Erasure of pain that could testify against your guilt
History books written with whitewashed ink
Don't feign innocence
And don't feign guilt
Your plan to cower in the shadows
And try to run from what you did
Does not absolve you from blood spilt
When you were the ones who tipped the bucket
Your covert operations are not secret anymore
When the deeper we look the worse the horror
Of what our ancestors had to endure
An island of secrets yet to be explored
You can't keep hiding forever when they turn up on shore
From race riots to Bristol bus boycotts
The erasure of black soldiers
And the Bristol slave ports
The secrets you try to keep are in storage no more
Silence isn't your friend
It will hold you accountable
The many crimes you have committed against black people
Your ignorance will be your downfall
Your island maybe small compared to the rest of the world
But your crimes will be indicted in the court of law
Your punishment a cage with no doors
Since you like to hide history your freedom will be no more
To obey a whispered command,
It pirouettes, through existence grand.
Weaving tapestries, prismatic and bright,
At the behest of the celestial light.
In its waltz, it paints unseen hues,
Illuminating secrets, ancient and true.
The conjurer stands at reality's crossroads,
Weaving constellations, in cosmic abodes.
Each gesture bends time, twists fate's design,
Auroras bow, veils swaying in line.
The moon, a silver coin in the palm,
Dances to the cosmic symphony's charm.
Summon dawn's blush or twilight's shroud,
The light, loyal companion, whispers aloud.
In her hands lies existence's alchemy bold,
Where miracles bloom, stars are behold.
Command, enchantress of photons bright,
Watch the universe bend, yield to your light.
With each decree, new wonders unfurl,
In the cosmic dance of this magnificent world.
They split the land, but not the pulse.
Roots remember what maps forget.
Every severed line still hums
with breath, with blood, with return.
They drew the map with ash and absence—
not to guide, but to erase.
Districts split like broken ribs,
each line a scalpel,
each vote a ghost.
We watched the ink dry on democracy’s skin,
while they called it strategy.
But we know the truth:
this is not representation.
It is redaction.
They called it strategy,
but we saw the autopsy.
Each district dissected,
each breath rerouted.
We do not consent to silence.
We are the roots beneath the fracture,
the pulse that refuses to be redacted.
We rise, not from permission—
but from memory.
Where do all the voices go
When told to repress their emotions
Do they fake a smile and swallow it whole
Or do they bury their heads in the ocean and scream
The black voices are silenced
Trapped in the purgatory of compliance
Usually erased by a history of violence
Or thrown into solitary confinement
No light, no windows
Just an eternity of darkness
Voices hidden by oppressive shadows
But what of those that demand to be heard
Voices beneath the earth
Silenced by death and historical erasure
Instead of words
Do they make the ground tremble with their anger
Do their spirits control the weather
Do their souls become messengers
To represent all those who go unheard
All those black speakers
To continue a legacy of black courage
Of daring to speak up against the oppressor
They existed, they were here
Real people made to disappear
Hidden history, lies and erasure
For them it was protocol
For us It became normal
What really is normal
In the conversation of racism
Of different rules
When it comes to black people
It becomes opposite -
What is, is what's not
What's not is what is
A confusing cycle
We are expected to follow
When they themselves
Aren't reliable
This isn't about judicial rule
More control of a certain race of people
Don't be fooled -
By the fake smiles they draw
This is not societal
This is purely individual
If it wasn't, their morals would be total
The system of law -
Would be equal
However that is not the case at all
When eradication is their goal
It's why they deny their history of violence
It's why they bury our stories in silence
It's why they bleach the stains of their hate
It's why they burn our bodies to rid of their guilt
It's why they drown our voices in the ocean of their lies
It's why our history books are empty of our ink - just the erasure of our names