Burnt Poems

My Cooking Adventure

Today I declared war
on my own laziness—
no more delivery apps,
no more surrender.

I would conquer pasta.

First victory:
water bubbling on the stove.
Time to add salt—
but my hand betrayed me,
half the shaker tumbling
into innocent water.

The pot became
a miniature Dead Sea.

Fine, I muttered,
tossed in the pasta
and drifted to my phone,
already tasting glory—
al dente perfection.

Minutes melted by.
Then—the horror:
pasta demands attention.

I

Burnt Out Bulbs

You never saw past the glory days of 17. 
Because you got sad and thought it a better idea
to hang yourself from the ceiling fan
instead of replacing its burnt-out bulbs. 


Bright idea.

Dimming the light of all the candles
whose hearts and souls were trying
to add light to your dark and dismal life.

You were selfish to drop

academic validation

Algebra makes me feel stupid.
Equations and inequalities,
algebra makes me feel stupid.
I could have an A in the grade book, but that doesn't mean that I understand. 
lost in class, barely turned that in on time.
Algebra makes me feel stupid.
So I drift into my own world.
But at least in my world, I'm not alone. 
Algebra makes

the flame burnt inside

I looked into the mirror 
and the truth stared back
it told me I was sold a lie
with all the words society was feed

a contradiction to the truth

bound by the psychological chains of control
I watched as paradise burned 
and the seeds of dissent grew
freedoms flame inside was born 

 a darken plague had besieged us

a caged

Burnt Coffee

A nice, flushed feeling. 
Like someone is trying to break into the house. 
Then I laugh because they gave up as always!

Drinking coffee to celebrate. 
Weeks later.
It’s a little odd and spinning. 
I ate pasta and it continued to splatter everywhere on my shirt. 
Exciting.

Putting the cup down. 
The desk where I should be doing

Burnt Out Gift

There once was a gifted child,
Through all their lifetime they smiled,
But a bump in the night,
Came as a fright,
And now they are all but wild.

Burnt Toast

What a peculiar smell
The kitchen is burnt with the taste of raw chicken and rotten tomatoes
Too many dead flies lay upon the window sill
Waiting to be swept away with the closing of a curtain
And in the middle of the garden
Cucumbers grow from tops the soil under the tree
Inhibited by the broken house
Shelter to only faeries

Burnt

I enjoy the burn of the lighter's flame pushed by the wind.
I enjoyed the burn of the one who had made me smitten again.
I enjoyed it while it lasted, just like a cigarette.

To Heartache

You made those quiet tears fall from my eyes,

No one around me, sadness intervened,

As the burgundy sun clung to the eaves

Like ice.Through my heartache, I watched a burnt 

Horizon paste darkness against the stars. 

A shard of nightfall, a hunter moon, floated 

Far past the clouds. I dreamt of death, my eyes

Yearned for light, in

In the cathedral of night, a new phantasm rises from the incense smoke of burnt rules

In the cathedral of night, a new phantasm rises from the incense smoke of burnt rules,
Altars of therapy crumble under the weight of our unspoken prayers,
Our steps, like lost pilgrims, are swallowed by streets paved with tears of stars,
Where locusts of prophecy weave their sonorous mantle in the temple of our weary ears.
Silence suffocates us,

The Burnt Molt of a Molten Phoenix' Rising

Its been a show of force since my ancestors first swam over the umbilical.
A strain of Loathing rings in our ears, A dog-whistle held by my personal demon, it's engraved with my name.
I smile when when the frequencies pain grazed my inner ear, and tickles my cerebellum in a way I'd deem inappropriate.
It makes deaths

Burnt Orange POTD

magenta magic
recently escaped eve's skies
darkening to plum

crows caw on the wing
as pink sun turns red-orange
day goes up in flames

mango berry crush
mahogany shadows move
gold clocks go tick tock

Stained Heart

Snapped like a stick, all has sprung away,
The bottled up visions just start to sway.

Each person enters through the exit door,
But they don't know what is in store.

The unsettling feeling as ghosts glide by,
Blood stains the wall where the bodies lie.

Scrunched up fists, fight versus flee,
Gloves stretched on with a smile of glee.

Clothes stained with

Burnt offering

Turkey ready for roasting
Our mom ready for boasting
A power surge came
The oven in flame
No Thanksgiving for toasting

WHY HE BURNT HIMSELF

as a Congolese 
patriot 
burnt
 himself to tell 
the World about 
more atrocities
 in eastern DRCongo.
Some people astonished 
Asking , " why?
                       why?
                           why? " 
DRCongo is ignored
 from many years.
No one cares about
the worst situation 
in eastern 
DRCongo 
Which is always 
pushed by monusco 
and some western 
companies. 
many times Congolese 
found different 
mineral resources 
In the

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