Best Oxidized Poems
And I witness
Your deplorable “glory”
Hunching over my tattered spine,
So we can have something in common
You walk with glorified shell-shock,
Another sentient tongue,
Straddling on the Eros of vindication
Your sandpaper hands
Reach for an assaulted tenderness
Embracing lambasted lyric
Another tenor’s proclamation
That their oxidized octaves
Are legitimately sound
…
Nobody is listening.
…
So, you try to rectify your ill-erect
Compass
Only heading south
Bound
By meandering prophecies,
Unwritten
Undeclared
Just another pre-historic fool
Believing the Jamaican grass is greener on
The other side
Puff your corrupted beliefs
Toward laundered Benjamins
While I soak in the bloodied joy,
That I remain priceless
…
Approach me
While you suffer tiny warden syndrome
In High Definition
Be the insignificant syllable that
Becomes, you, a fragmented figment
Of your re-imagination
Call in your slobbering pinchers and
Convince them why dethroning my smile
Will be that change you conspire,
Because I stood taller than the arrogant
Umbilical c(h)ord that breastfeeds your high horse
For I am you
I am you
Every kick, every punch, every verbal attack
Every overcompensating, born-again glare
You blasphemously portray
But, it is not me you scar.
IT IS NOT ME THAT YOU SCAR!
…
Your one-night stand with perception
Succumbs your third-eye
Keep drinking from your bloodied, rustic w(h)ine glass,
As you drown in your declarations of dependence
Screaming to be louder than love
Louder than your ordained intentions
To become a speck of importance
To be worth something,
Something more,
Than the lunging foot you believe
Will keep me down
©D.J.E.
Daddy's specter plectrums mercilessly
Fraying my nerves raw
with oxidized guitar strings.
my thoughts relentlessly hemorrhage
onto clay vinyl grooves
s p i n n i n g
endless nights
of
suffocation.
a midnight jazz wail
lacerates
the void of your absence.
notes gnaw through bone marrow
ravenous maggots
in the corpse
of our love.
Chords violently crash
splintering my fractured vertebrae
a car wreck
in slow motion.
plucking
the frayed synapses
of my misfiring
modal limbic brain.
feel the searing electric distortion
static fuzz of madness
surge through
morrow's marrow
my moanin'
a primal scream
at the Eve of Destruction
trapped in a skipping groove
of creation
shattering guitars
and blasting kneecaps
in an empty cathedral
of resounding sound
Our touch
a violent crescendo
of needles and poisoned honey
pain swollen sweet
as a mother's milk
laced with a junkie's fix
on a stillborn birthday morn
each note
a razor-sharp reflection
etched in stretch-marked
scar tissue
of the agony that throbs
within this moog menagerie
of fractured femininity
set
Between the sets
of our shattered chords
a single note lingers- soft
almost tender-
like a child's last breath
before the
final
f i n a l e
Silence crawls
a venomous asp
a deafening absence
louder than stacked amps
of patriarchy
reverberating in the hollow spaces
between drumming heartbeats
where your persecuting promises
used to nest and breed
I am the discarded B-side
of the one-hit wonder
rising from dumpster-filled
lungs of domesticity
reborn
in the Electric Avenue
of my own making
singing
Billie's bruises
Muddy's floods and
Johnson's hellhounds
to the ghosts
of futures stillborn
in this Rhapsody
of beautiful
destruction
Moon-faced and sickle-smiled
I conduct this orchestrated
Savage band of ruin
my voiceless voice
a lightning rod
splitting the sky
of expectations
as I agonizingly birth myself anew
in the RCA Victor Rhapsody of Blue
of Beautiful
reconstruction
P e r h a p s…
a new refrain
bluesy blurbs
of
brumal
blackness
its
crawling
clasps
of
silvery
gnawing
below
shriveled
shades
of
oxidized
&
deep
haze
immure
&
wait
awakening
cold winter
warm soul
&
henceforth
will hear
pearly
chants
from
Birdie
Green
with neon
embers
swirling
fractals
of
gemmed
hues
in
spirit
for
soft
knock
of
spring
on
frozen
shell
of
withered
dreams
Written: January 15, 2023
3rd place contest winner
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Brian Strand Contest No 1170 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
a decayed
unfulfilled dream
of mine
an antique coin
that has oxidized
on both sides
coated
brown and green
as if
dry gangrene
has set in
on a dead tissue
no longer flickering
light
when kissed by the sun
(Yalto)
Patina Poetry Contest/Winner(10th Place)
Sponsored by Anthony Slausen
Date written and posted: 06/30/2018
Bottle of tears is my first version of this poetic legacy series
Skeleton of tears is which the venerated versatility carries.
This might be called as a sequel of alacrity or prolongation
But best before this is a celluloid and my heart and art collaboration.
In this poem “I or me” signify tears
Tears personify her expressions and emotions
Read this and know the life legacy of tears with concentration
And finally your fur, fleece and fuzz stand erect in attention.
Tears personify, I am compacted in stars
I am compressed between hurdles and wars
I am combusted on scorches
I am confided from Ishtar torches.
Tears epitomize, eternal bone of mine is an ominous emotion.
The Sagaras; Sarpada, Satluj shaded a challenge to my dire destination.
That one eve ever the fever of cleavers cannot catch up with me.
And the damp humidity of drought could not cope up with me.
Tears embody, I float on the branches of poignant army
I flood around the builds of happiness
I reach the borders of hell-heeled layers
And I roof down the clouds to my feet and make them rain prayers
Tears swank ,When my real steel sizzled atoms of blood,
Come together to conjure a flood.
The heated ink of emotions ignites to molt the black clouds
And let me visualize in which eve shall it swounds.
Tears exemplify, my liberty leads the immense flame in the hands of torch bearer
My prodigy evokes the waves hard under visions of volcanoes
The lust of my silvered glory was inspired from the shiny heavenly threads of feudal dart.
And the symptom of my introduction will be the rise of a burning heart.
God of hostility typify: Convinced that the fever of lava can't cope up with me
And the humidity of drought can"t hope up the level with me
In such a water working poem this is the conclusion
That even the pacific evaporate when my eternal strength feel thirsty after a tear solidification.
And now the spirits incarnate, my iron lungs had oxidized with the bitter-sour chilled water
after reading it and they crackled their internal matter into ignitious crater.
And now I will come to compete with and complete the legacy BOT(Bottle of Tears)
In the new form and with new fire firmed eyes to show you the third part “Kingdom for Disarmament of Tears ”.
4/14/2016
It was simply an old rusty tractor
An eyesore for passers by
A graveyard, at the back, of a pasture
All covered with weeds and vines
Curiously, on slow approach,
I wanted a closer look
Carefully climbed the barbed wire fence
Hopping over a weed wild brook
What once had been paint was flaked and gray
Oxidized and turning brown
Left to die, to bake in the sun
And weather back into the ground
Some of it's parts were stripped away
Others hanging by wires
The steering wheel and seat had strayed
Yet four worn out flattened tires
Days of use had long since passed
The weather had taken it's toll
A necessity which was built to last
Still standing and left alone
But to me it stood for something more
It stood for time and growth
Shiny and new a dream of yore
Some family's lives and hopes
How times have changed lives been sustained
The wind and dust have swirled
With growth of crops, growth of a country
The growth of a starving world
Though time had been unkind to it
Now a tombstone out in the clear
As I rubbed the rust from the relic's side
Engraved was the name John Deere
An original poem by "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Obsession
Obsession with "O's"
Oh, obsession’s obfuscating oligarchy
Oceans of oblivion
Outrage in ostentatious obsession
Overrun in hurricanes named obdurate and obstinate
Overtures of oxidized compulsive orchestration in
Obbligatos overflowing obituaries -
Overbearing octaves of the obsequious –
Orations of overt objections
Objectivity overpopulated by opportunistic obtuse –
Obsession outweighing optimist’s objectives –
Openness offspring overrun by
Ominous hunters of sweet oblations ordained
Oscillating between logic and obsession unchallenged
Orthodoxy obscures opportunity
Officially ostracizes open-mindedness –
Original the outsider - occupied the outlier -
Observes only obstructive operations
Obedience to the one-track offertory
Of overstocked outdated ordinances,
Offshoots of outmoded operatic ornaments
Odious opium overdose of the obscene
Onyx odors overpowering odes
Offered on the altar of originality -
Obliterating oligarchy of obsession
9-23-21
Sponsor: Constance La France
Contest: “O” Contest
This is the tale of who? Let’s say for the moment,
the sake of mythology, it’s the story
of your shadow. Whether for you or me
begs the better question. It’s not a monument,
perhaps a confession; the embodiment
of false resurrection. How for you three,
my three lovely daughters, I stump by the tree
of stalled percussion, slow rising and hesitant,
quick to detach, quick mourning abandonment.
I was born by stand-still theology.
I prey without reason, worship instinctively.
My only real fear is one of imprisonment:
That you’ll understand the breath that deceives
sets fire to the forest of oxidized leaves.
constel-fire lation-sky.
a toyota tercel scuries like a pale iguana
past desert mile marker 368 headed south.
pulling over hearing the welcome
crush of warm gravel.
we lie on the hood and look
up at the night sky.
you tell me there are powdered sea
urchens crushed into the paint
but we cant see them.
you say all the factories do it that way.
gala-contact leo-lens
thinly focused sleep knit tones.
so precise the hands of the
orchard astronomers lurring
are eyelids to close.
the desert wind is dry and cold
little is goverened or reflected.
feeling the warmth of the hot engine
through the pale blue oxidized car hood.
light factory blue fades into the darkness
tanglebly felt through the nights
two-tone osmosis.
It's brilliant how one seguays into the next, flashing on the
pennon of this new-age attempt to plagerise the etch-a-sketch, and
if you watch closely, if
you count your bits and bites, your digital copies of digital recordings transferred from
magnetic tape and stones chisled with ideograms and heiroglyphic symbols-
maybe you'll find that in a hundred years we will no longer express ideas in vowels and
consonents, clumsy representations of the noises made by oscillating tissues and shifting
palletes-
Prepare to discard your medium for storage
your verbatim verbal fencing weapon is dulled and oxidized-
prepare to shed truth and solidarity.
Press any key for ecstasy. (5.99aminuteforthefirstfiveminutes)
pushing aside last night's clutter
from the late night burst of creative energy
open the blinds and let the warm light stream in
select the perfect playlist and crack your knuckles
time to go to work....
channeling your inner self, hoping that it is revealed through your work
orchestrating a solo tune that you and you alone know
a meditation on things past, on things to come
a way to unearth the substantial from the minimal
and breathe new life into old materials
wood set adrift, turned amber from the elements
metal oxidized a golden brown
and discarded plastic brought together in an unlikely unison
weaving together a tapestry of auxiliary parts
whether art for art's sake or treading the precarious waters of the political realm
art and its processes mean something
for earth without art is 'eh'
so continue on burning the candle at both ends creative types
throw caution to the wind and let your hair down
for the unmitigated impulse, when strong, is a difficult thing to silence
for every stop along the way brings new obstacles to overcome
new directions to tread
so be bold, be not shy in the quest for personal expression
unfurl your hopes and dreams, inject your very essence into your work
let it stand on solid ground, amongst the timid and the meek
let the firm foundation of your creation be a lightning rod for conversation
let it scream with intention and innuendo
do not sink into apathy but rise with the flare of the morning sun
let everything you touch be rejuvenated
do not waste a precious second on the ephemeral streams of the market
nor fickle collector
make art for all the RIGHT reasons
cast off and set sail for the remote local that is a true artist
this land of rarefied air where food is scarce and rent is a constant longing
do not be discouraged or disenchanted
but beware this is not for the faint of heart
blood will be spilt and tears will be shed
but it is not for nothing, do not be forlorn
for art is the prize
and that will be just fine
so push aside all of last night's clutter and get to work
In the canvas of twilightish insanity
Appear pomegranate designs of passion
An intellectual dance of day flowing into night
In the sea inside skull, the heartbeats of humanity
Vibrating with rurality towards urbanity
Get oxidized in the lemon and salt of mundanity
No concern for the formality of meter and iamb
And thus blooms out the filigree of feelings
Beautiful Sylvia Plath effect revealing
They invite us to the mirror
Of our reality of current disintegration
Reeking of brutality and volcanity
Collapsing rhythm joyously spells fatality
And cheerfully grows an inanity of mentality
Eating into our diamonds of morality
You often say you will return and love
Are you afraid of the expanding emptiness
And the vitality-sapping black holes?
We do not know why profanity is considered a value
We do not know where our brutal rooms lead to
We only see green leaves dropping dead every day
__________________________________________________
25/01/2017
Word Challenge - Poetry Contest hosted by Silent One
Shipwreck
Sure fingers grip
Quivering lips caressed by mist
Subversion in an inverse universe
Obtuse life married to a hopeful mantra
Division of these harsh seas I seek
Of this boat captain I am
Water erodes nothing but the iron it's made of
Oxidized severely weakened this handcrafted monster I built is
No anchor or tether
Turn back never
Event horizon and eventuality ring in my ears
Tepid eyes search these hostile waters
Once Id found it
The journey to it was long and egregious
Cast out and banished I yearn for this paradise I'd like to call home
My thoughts are lost in this sea riddled with glass jars
My worst fear
Sunrise illuminates the ferocity of what is ahead
Focus and determination scorch my features
I remember that moment
This hidden paradise eludes me
My vessel Elizabeth
Her vengeance is evident with a glance to my wake
Best for a lasting uncharted effort
Released my grip for another
Firm I grasp
Two clicks
All ahead full
travelling to my never was,
my yearly time in the yard
spring time back to cold Ohio
gripped in nonsense and melancholy
I travel to old town
misted by the cuyahoga
surprised yet not I find
they tore down the tottered house
tar paper and clapboard
hoary hand pump out front
jutting out of upturned earth
like an oxidized finger accusing
at broken chimney
collapsed walls
19th century brickwork sharded
toppeled into fetid basins
the neighborhood's harshbitten scar
open wounded by the treelawn
old man who once lived there
trapped in darkness and exile
haunts it no longer
memory freed
by oiled machinery and progress
rooftop split
like broken amphora
scattered on the seabed
and so floats my enmity
thermal up and away
updraft and ashes
drift'n bulldozed and scaffold
dissipating on warmer breezes
as if it never was...
appears a Roman goddess
halo affects adorn as spears on a diadem
Her torch enlightens the world
flames are gilded in 24K gold
reflecting the sun's rays, looming She is not
for the floodlights illumine night’s darkest hours
the French had created Her
Americans built Her a concrete pillar
the old raised funds as the young saved their pennies
grounded granite pedestal protects from blue bolt strikes
disassembled in toto scattered and strewn She was
93m in height
neoclassic colossal copper sculpture
oxidized to muted green an outer patina
broken chains at Her feet breaking free from tyranny and servitude
typifies a democratic government
She faces southeast welcoming all arrivals transversing the sea
France gifted Americans, brothers of liberty
against sepia skies, streaked layers, cream colored clouds
a silhouette stands on Liberty Island