Best Sulfuric Poems
When silence speaks in broken dialects, to harmonize hurt,
I ponder, would the sky unravel synonyms for serenity,
amidst piercing thunder that strikes through raining regrets~
upon flowers, swaying forsaken, to butterfly ballads?
But will oblivious eyes, roaming the blackness of selfish spheres~
where prayers are abandoned as meaningless metaphors,
ever feel the darkness we carry, when tears no longer flow in lakes with swans, to be seen?
It is in melted muteness, we reveal realness of suppressed pain,
as childhood fears scribbled as forbidden secrets~
rewind on repeat through holographic lens of life,
mirroring bloodstained fingerprints etched across linen of chastity…
So tonight, when blue moon in my mind ascends in insomniac stillness,
listen to the sulfuric sins scattered as flashbacks of an onyx rose,
as vandalized veins scream in helplessness,
awaiting a sculptured sunrise that bleeds balmy ointments for burnt blisters,
while I remain, in mists of misery, weaving prose,
to erase tattooed torment that stole starry symphonies within my soul. ..
The cockroach crawling inside a satin evil darkness
as one clown weeps into silken soft sensual feelings,
as a blinking starlight beacon awaits a tense message
of doubts from all living dreams becoming nightmares.
Bleeding trapped within a shadow’s eerie smile whilst
grinning through the hurt smiling at the joy cheering,
at twisted laughs with needles of pain, lust, passion
and gasping of a victim choking in deep-labored breaths.
Choking one heart now taken tragically away from us
with a nightshade vision as we blindly walk into the
dark night in the realm of the dead, forever gone now,
with sad ice-cold whispers playing aloud and so deeply.
A taste of Hell and a fool’s game of serious malediction
whilst cold whispers compel us ever so against the wind,
as a restless soul is cutting ice frozen in a time dreaming
of things past with hypnotic jewels of such a deepest beauty.
When little gestures that meant so much to us all, whilst lost
in a space-dark matter invading and pervading our lives now,
a mysteriously hot sulfuric fire burns down the mountainside,
as an ice-cold stream in the ocean now becomes a mystic dream.
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – May 15, 2015
(Quatrain)
Soft silhouettes sashay by my window
Grievingly gazing out unto a world of which you may never know
Linen curtains briefly ruffled in the breeze
Old drunken Julius finds shade under the huge oak trees
The echoes of poverty ring outside my building
The pleas of panhandlers, the chattering of children
Dope feign Delilah, struts up and down the streets, waiting to turn her next trick
Evaporating into the air, the sulfuric stench
Jared, the jock in high school, deemed all American athlete
Shooting craps in the alley just to make ends meet
Every night like clockwork, the street walkers stand by Ms. Martina’s door
When the sun rises and they scatter like roaches, she anoints the ground with oils
Hakeem stands on one corner, screaming out” Would you enter the Kingdom of heaven if you should die today?
While his brother ShaQuan stands across the street, on the corner peddling cocaine
When we were growing up Ebony and I vowed to always be best friends
I sit on my stoop and she doesn’t even look my way as she’s followed by her six kids
In the evening gun shots light up the night, like the fourth of July
Another wife a widow, another mother loses her child
With not so much as a reason why.
Shrines built in rememberance of lost souls, adorn the sidewalks
Where once laid the body of an innocent child outlined by blood stained chalk
I am here in the midst of a world that I may never really know
I sit here day after day, with my pad and my pen,
Trying to escape the perils of the Ghetto
When r e a l i t y feels like
a poisoned paradise,
trapped in a claustrophobic cave,
strangling my spirit
with ice-cold claws of fate,
I close my fatigued eyes,
attuned to the mellifluous
flames of the moon-wings,
detached from the gravity
pulling me six feet below,
chained to a casket of chaos,
adorned with obsidian roses
clothed in ghost-veils of Lilith,
as this onyx heart
screams in silence,
longing for an ethereal escape,
where every song I sing
is no longer a tattooed mistake,
to the eyes that feel not
the burden I wear in resilience,
to the ears that heed not
the truth I speak
in hushed tones.
I am the storm of tranquility,
whirling through
warm winds like delicate dandelions,
drifting in the darkness~
an untamed asteroid
to your eclipsed breeze.
Forgive my bleeding ink,
for I choose to flee
from this sulfuric sphere,
testing my patience
while the seething sun
tortures my sanity,
burning lifelines breathing
within my splitting skin.
Yet I still remain
an unrestrained distraction,
skating upon Saturn’s rings,
steeped in sakura smoke,
exhaling toxic fumes of twilight tremors
into the vast blue ether,
drawing layers of lethal lies
from the dark sorcery sprouting
through hemlock roots,
as I sculpt paper boats from
pages of disappointments,
watching them ferry my demons
through methane lakes~
mirroring memories,
as melancholic mists engulf
my bones in volatile violets,
drowning me in endless waters
rippling with twisted topaz,
and scorching salt.
So let the tempest of life
unravel doleful desires,
entwined in the
whirlpool of doomed destiny.
I am more than a caged nightmare~
tonight I float with my shadow,
through astral projection,
abandoning the hellish embrace,
to drink from the citrine cup
of lithium serenity,
that numbs the p a i n
of existence, forevermore...
Ideas Trapped By An Inactive Mind
Your mind is hidden in darkness
Thoughts trapped in deep crevasses
Their screams echoes through deathly shadows
Attacked and strangled at their every move
The struggle against invisible shackles
Drawing blood as they fight their captor
Demons search for ideas ripping them apart
Stripped skin strewn across an evil world
A world created from depression and mania
Leaving the ideas disemboweled in the frenzied heat
Blood, skin and guts boil under the demon’s breath
Screams of torture and pain fill the void left by random thoughts
Still alive they choke on the stale sulfuric air
Waiting to die while hoping to be saved
A quick mind lights the darkness
Giving new life to near dead ideas
The strongest fight while the weakest wither and die
The rise through the darkness
Rising into the light they look back
They see the lost ideas dying beneath them
They care about what was lost
What ideas will never see the light of day
And they grieve as they come to light
And they will be told and retold
For that is what ideas are meant to be
Shared by the entire world not killed
Murdered by an inactive mind
Offended is an expensive Vintage
blended
lacking precision
I recommend a less sulfuric fermentation
-----------Varietals-------------
grapes of wrath
so much to offer
each glass
examine
swirl
smell
breathe and savor
see legs of the vine
tannins to taste
or we can
over drink
over think
get wasted and offended
tick clocks fast
amidst boiling stew
issues skewed by our own jaded views
we can be peaceful
yet perceived to push hate
our temple may become damaged
via friendly fire
and as for poets...
we may be the single most egotistical, emotional, tremendously divine
individuals of all time and we know it!
we laugh when skies cry, seek solitude as joyful crowds arrive
we write and write 'till pens run dry of ink
we, the Swiss cheese...
we pretend to be bulletproof, whilst writhing inside
we juxtapose
we justify
we jigsaw puzzle brothers and muzzle others
we control situations then
recite white lies to
monopolize conversation
all the while remaining dedicated to being offended
with loose change and pretentious
and boy we've figured out the whole Multi-Verse because
"My Deity can beat up your Deity!
yet, let me not be the last fool to promise you,
we are so miniscule, the god's will be too busy swinging sticks on the golf links
to visit you before the toil of your sore drama is through
we must pave our way, keeping heads clear and high
stamping urgency upon trusting self
Mister Bob Marley sang it best with: "EVERYTHINGS GONNA BE ALRIGHT!"
shhh...LISTEN
upon this short enlightening journey
exists a plethora of big aspirations
we'll fail to grasp if our hopes swirl in the vortex of black clouds
sidetracked
offended at misunderstandings and minute words
burning midnight oil on the spoil.
Three o’clock in the afternoon:
the sun should have been
scorching the asphalts
and the shingles on roofs, but
spurts of red electric spark
ran across the sky. Blackness
smothered any hint of light.
Molten earth spewed out
from the gates of hell. The ground
rumbled and shook.
Ash engulfed the rice fields.
Those who were caught
and trapped in its path
were mummified like those at Pompeii. Rocks,
mud rained from heaven,
thudded against concrete walls. Palm and coconut
trees were unearthed from their roots
as if a gardener was yanking out weeds.
Villagers ran blindly to a nearby church
while their skins roasted and peeled
from their muscles and bones. The ones,
who were able to reach
the Cross, suffocated—their lungs
seared from sulfuric acid.
An avalanche of dirt buried them
six feet deep.
I was on the opposite
side of the island. The wind
howled as it blew East.
I must give you a very stern warning:
Don’t ever call me at three o’clock in the morning.
You certainly have some unencumbered effrontery.
Why at such an inconvenient time do you want to pester me?
Normal people find the time to sleep at that hour.
How would you like to take a sulfuric acid shower?
I know where you live, and I will come over to your house.
An ingrate like you is the personification of a louse.
Archie A. Agag, the American Idol Kaiser
Be hiding in an underground concrete bunker
Closed-eyed hate peeper sleepy late-riser
Dreaming of a bottom end H-bomb dumpster
Enter the REM meltdown maelstrom at every kiosk money mall
F-18's flying overhead the puny ant farm military parade
General Moronika making the Armageddon mushroom last call
Hells bells raining warning chimes on a pre-empt air raid
Idiocy is the devalued political currency ... a burn paper destiny
Jumbled lunacy is getting no checks-and-balance power scrutiny
Kaboom! Ain’t no more children in the classrooms
Love Apprentice Style for the siren sound of the war drums
Mutated babies delivered in M.A.S.H triage tombs
Nuclear jacks wanna be Scar boss king of the jungle beanstalk
Opioid delusions is giving ‘em rash hash hallucinations in bulk
Point the deadly sniper scope at the fleeing downtrodden refugees
Que the funeral violins upon the released vials of chemical disease
Recommendations coming from all butt-licking tongues on knees
Sanity trailblazers are on a sabbatical vacation from the con cartoons
Temple of Doom rescue ... Indiana Jones Hans Solo ain’t coming soon
Uncle Sam sez that permanent peace can only come thru war
Visions of propaganda lust being televised on a nonstop snore
Witness the apocalypse now being sold as coming-to-you later
X marks the spot where the patients zero fled from the crater
Yellowstone sulfuric lies be bubbling up to an AAA barren surface
Zuni sunrise setting on glow-in-the-dark places ablaze purchased
As I lay another cedar beam plumb for our home
smoke plumes, serpentine and sulfuric, interrupts the sunshine,
I look below the ridge, Eve standing silent
with weapon in hand, a woman so grand,
panic has no nest in her person, fear has no finger on her pulse,
I move like lightning to war by my Lady's side,
Valley vandels have come, scortching field fruit,
searing insidious signs into our peach and apple trees,
incarnate, the Devil disheveled with a defunct posse of three
approaches me, hailing not from a city of angels but from a ghetto of ghouls,
mean and ugly like ignorance injured by the ivory tusks of innocence,
a madman desperate for the destruction of Divinity,
unskillful and wishful for lies to come alive,
he's a scribbler scribe, a dribbler riddler
a stereotype simpleton, frontin and gruntin
fallin short of the great gangsta idol,
just a stereotypical imbecile, a pencil with no lead,
burpin chicken feathers claimin
them to be the silk quill of Angels,
I turn to Eve now with eyes saying now is the moment for demise,
briefly, before before I strike steel across the throat of Hell itself
our first promise to each other repeats in my memory,
" I forever fight for you "
as her brown eyes convince me of loyalty, love royal,
she rips her blade through his groin
as I open a river across the throat of this terrible thug...
By Poet - Adam/J.A.B.
Writing this while entities, ghosts are present --
Not able or willing to make themselves appear.
How could I know? You might, rightfully, augment.
I've always been able to sense when they're near.
But, alas -- time after time, there is nothing there.
I said, "they're," a lie -- you knew I meant "she,"
Didn't you? Why would I otherwise be so concerned?
At the peripheral of vision, mad treetops shake free.
In those shuckling movements, the wisp is returned.
The room I light, windows sealed, mirrors all turned.
I call friends and toast a garlic grilled cheese on rye.
There are occasional pests of undetermined colors
Scurrying to escape my wrath and condemning eye;
And, a sulfuric, rotten egg odor like old car mufflers.
I want to leave; but, am wary of moonlight shufflers.
On the roof it is peaceful, quiet. I am alone -- for now....
It is frustrating to not be certain if a person is tethered
Or crossed over -- a condition not only does death endow.
A face flashes. The phone rings. Her page is weathered.
Too few glimpses, hearsay, rumors -- I am surrendered.
Taste the hate,
the poisonous juice from the bitter fruit
Evil seeds
being spit out of the mouth,
deadly wormwood desires formed at the root
Chew the rancid leaves of seethe
growing on the bigot tree;
hallucinate on the hate,
conversion of impure energy,
flowing angrily thru the bloodstream
Bitter fruit ripening on the bigotry,
pulpy prejudice ready for the fear harvest
Taste the hate,
the insidious ill-flavor of antipathy
Incestuous Klan anger is a Cain sugar power rush;
genetic mingling ...
social diversity is to some ethnic loathsome
Colorful branches
which need to be pruned and burned
Bite into the blood-red apple skin
of eugenic cleansing
Peel away the yellow jaundiced veneer
of a brutish banana attitude ...
watermelon torture mental binge-ing
Gorge on the sickly sweet fleshy toxic tissue
Taste the cluster of hate,
the bitter wrath from the grim reaper grapes
Feast on the assorted wicked fruits,
budding on the bigotry,
growing wildly in the soulless sour-patch grove
Bigotry got vile bark that covers a rotten heart,
nestled near the bubbling brimstone brook
Sulfuric tributary streaming from a fiery judgment lake —
that dreaded secret place where only God knows
Come taste the coconut hate,
drink deep the milk of hostility
The bitter fruit juices that you ingest
gonna give your spirit hate cancer ultimately ...
As you worry each morning,
whether vanilla and cocoa beans
were mixed together in your sin bought coffee
There's fire in my lungs.
smoke flows through my veins.
I feed the beast my soul
to gain euphoric pain.
I serve he who lives in me.
The monster in my mind.
The creature so abusive,
at times can be so kind.
In my mental hell,
I sit beside his throne.
I tend to his desire,
so I don't have to be alone.
Here He is my god.
And I, in turn, am his.
A symbiotic worship,
sealed within a kiss.
Sulfuric fumes consume us,
as we dance into the ether.
The hands of god are ours.
Hes made me a believer.
My halo, so very worn.
His horns, so alluring.
Hand in hand we walk,
love and hate enduring.
His guidance lifts me higher
than any drug could try.
His chains hold me down.
bound wings can not fly.
Walking straight and tall,
crawling on my floor.
I am his moonlit goddess.
And his filthy whore.
I wont break his binds.
I wish not, to be free.
I can never escape him,
for this beast is me.
A tempest of Emotions
cradle her raw explosive rapture
at a distance she saw her man
she desires of her unaware wants
her blood boils
from the thoughts in her head
as it rages through her body
her extreme need to be fed ...
The hunger burns like sulfuric acid
eats away the pure
catches in her throat
the tingling of the skin
as it warms to feel his touching
tour ...
Her sweetness has been hit of the love
that had flowed between them
making her cry out
her innocence lost
in his eyes ...
She sees him turn
a direction she couldn't follow
her pulse races at faster impulsion
he stands there wanting her
soaking in the sight he has perceived
her beautiful masterpiece
she created just for his release ...
Brooke Dylan 2014
Congressman and senators forewent
all manner of civility, fidelity and integrity wii
hull ding broadswords, derringers
and firearms as all hell broke loose as testimony
to the dire prognostication foretold
more than saber rattling and Gatling guns que
kind from lambastes, fisticuffs
and brickbats ratcheted up as agents provocateurs nee
said obedience to semper fidelis credo, coda and cock knee
stance when dire straits called for restraint
against excess versus raising cane old hickory
i.e. Andrew Jackson latched onto when opposing with energy
and verve espoused by fellow delegates, and his hologram ghost bloody
from battle scars outside and/or inside
the halls of government where blows bashed
dovetailed elected legislators to officiate
as angry birds viz brouhaha clashed
Federalist against their nemesis
of the twenty first century
during the term of Donald Trump
who throve on the cutthroat frenzied
internecine lawlessness dashed
to and fro, hither and yon any hope for civilians to escape bloodshed
spilled from without vaunted halls of justice,
the approach of doomsday
writ large as anarchy and mayhem flashed
with uproarious coup d’etat,
when Democrats outliers gnashed
teeth, and nonestablishmentarian outlaws
pistol whipped and hashed
tagged traitors who roared America
went bankrupt at sold at fire sale price slashed
when Donald Trump ran the country
into the ground evidenced by Molotov Cocktails residue
in concert with the sulfuric odor of hand grenades trashed