Burn me with your love poison
Soak yout acid through my skin
Extract the soul inside me
Leave just emptiness within
Corrode me with your laughter
Freeze me cold and numb
Erase me with your judgement
And make me mute and dumb
Because you have eroded
What was already worn
The trauma and the pain
In me became reborn
So use your words as flames
They linger in my heart
I am just burnt edges
As ashes fall apart
they chanted for one-but not the other
after all-they are both the worlds brother
the world virtue signalled for one-but not the other
what the world needs is care like that of a mother
when it was one rule for one and another rule for the others
arent we all meant to be the same-arent we are all the worlds brothers
slogans we written for one and not the other
suppose they just wanted to appease big-brother
they chanted for one and not for the other-hypocrites
we have fallen into the deep-dark pits
they both cried they couldnt breathe
and both ended with a community in seethe
both communities had enough and were at a boiling point
peoples rage and anger did take over from the disappoint
we have all had enough of watching societies corrode
and now we are standing at humanities crossroad
Start
a quick writhe,
copper crescendo.
You just refuse to corrode.
Stack
energy on to talent,
classic conductor
fit to steal
space.
See it?
The cracks, the fractures - open, bleeding.
My mind laid bare, a battlefield of glass,
barbed wire threading through my thoughts,
indoctrinating spirals slicing through every soft impulse.
Chaotic proportionality,
twisted in the wake of your hands.
You constructed this wreck,
hammered rules into bone,
scarred my spine in silence,
every word a shard left to corrode in me.
visceral in every memory,
every cut screams with the echo of control.
Ant still-
you walk on it.
step after step,
your words drive splinters deeper into my skin,
indifference pressing down like stone.
Every slash bears your signature,
every jagged edge charts the space you occupy
while I lay shattered beneath it.
I do not flinch.
I do not move.
I am the ruin you made me,
exposed,
and yet you're still upright,
on the pieces of me
you discarded.
Protector of metal and mother of corrode.
A shade quietly defiant for all exposed.
Verdigris, refuses to be overlooked.
Copper darkens then seals its insides like a book.
This green is not about keeping its youth.
It is ancient, holding a story or two.
Coins, roofs, railings, are claimed by time.
Verdigris makes sure it will not die.
A silent companion of history endured.
Continuity, this color, assures.
I cherish this green, this quiet armor.
A green, a shield, an everlasting murmur.
Cling to the moments
that define who you are
kind, strong, loving, and spread
those characteristics to those
around you, like dust on
a windy day
Life can change, twist,
corrode, into something you
don't recognize, but you DO NOT
have to stay in a dark place,
constantly seek God, spread kindness,
and love others
Decay gnaws at a country church.
It's homeless; it's lost its congregation.
Molting stones crumble, eroding away.
Mice nibble at the altar.
Winds twine through cracks.
Rain and dew drip through.
Roof slates slip down.
Each year it's more decrepit.
As nature slowly moves in.
Edges made to endure,
fracture, collapsing into rubble.
Plinths and buttresses
forsake their faith.
Agnostic shadows creep in.
As nature resumes,
its inscrutable ways.
Bells corrode into silence.
Tongues stilled in the throat of dome.
Hymns survive only as echoes in
whistling drafts through splintered rafters.
The pews sag like tired suspenders,
long unbent in prayer.
Rain scrawls psalms on walls,
scripted in mildew and moss.
Stained glass panels drop down
into the rubbish and weeds.
Crossbeams become bird-nest perches,
for swallows and doves, now the choir.
This homeless house of God laments
in the nettles, thorns and briers.
Seeking nature’s absolution
for its forsaken ruin.
A scar upon the land.
A desolate homeless being.
A blot on the earth.
Palace halls hide thoughts
location clues glimmer bright
words echo when passed
images and places bound
anchor what the mind lets slip
Marble cracks hold screams
floors reek with forgotten tears
keys corrode to rust -
is this palace yours to keep
or the maze you cannot leave
Ten long years in jail for petty theft at a bus stop,
While leaders steal in billions with a wrist-slap.
A man wore the hangman’s noose for armed robbery,
Yet a governor earned honours for a pen robbery.
Citizens bled by taxes to please Bretton Woods,
Loans secured not for growth but to fatten pockets.
When the people protest, police scatter them with contempt,
And soldiers fire bullets to silence their voices.
Black ink scrawls draconian laws on tyrant’s tables,
Threats and punishments stitched to entrench their power.
But such laws befriend only ephemerality,
Before the masses seize the reins of their rulers’ reign.
Mass anger drove Rajapaksa out of Sri Lanka,
Gen Z rose in Nepal against a media ban.
Burkina Faso’s streets toppled Compaoré,
And Egypt’s squares forced Mubarak to resign.
The people’s voice will always drown draconian laws;
Chains that glitter at first soon corrode into rust.
The rulers may feast while the nation starves in silence,
But shackles will break—the storm leaves none untouched.
Like a fear-filled cactus bud, I keep my heart shut.
Like prey before predators, I become wary.
Fearing myself, I hide myself within my hut.
Unknown loads, involuntarily, I carry.
I flatter, in the name of cool conversation.
I demand respect instead of commanding it.
Virtues, in day-to-day life, find degradation.
Values, like salt-tinged iron, corrode bit-by-bit.
Selfishness and self-righteousness find their zenith
Deception, like the mirage, misleads the conscience.
Truthfulness has turned into an obsolete myth.
Tolerance faces herein constant remonstrance.
Stress, strain, sadness, and sorrow prosper and flourish.
All that had been considered good becomes rubbish.
I grew from a thought
and yet remain unbound
I’m a bomb to man
from the day he was born,
never was his friend
so, I rob him of his youth
health and hope.
Yet, he says
I heal all wounds
and all wounds are decaying.
I torment him,
take away his family
then fade them away.
Feeling generous, by leaving
him memories of what was.
I govern him by controlling
his every decision,
regrets and losses.
I corrode, decay
and yet I don’t exist,
existing in the minds of man.
Man trade me for currency
and never promising
freedom, only a trip
to the grave.
He always gamble
with his life as
I loop him in karmic cycles,
blindfolding him and
throwing him in a maze,
a maze, he
just completed
now of which
he doesn’t know
and yet I don’t exist,
existing in the minds of man.
Alone I drift, a vagabond psuche, haunted by daughter's lifeblood and husband's self-exploded mind, a diseased landscape. Frantic fingers dance on the page as I conjure reason's faint glow, a desperate chainsaw whirring solace in the abyss. Bloodlust welts of fury scorch the script, a deranged catechism of hedonistic, as I shriek into the fray, my frame a torched earth, solar barren and bereft. Scum-ridden silver glares back, mocking reflections of futility, as I seethe venomous disgust, a reckoning’s reckoning, spewing forth vitriol to corrode the granite complacency. Specters of forgotten faces fragment, a ghastly kaleidoscope of doctored truths, as I screech at the echoing of a hollow existence, a funeral dirge for the self that never was. And smile at the reflection of who I am supposed to be, single-mother-effer's manifesto, don’t effing question she, you don’t have the piano fingers to come near my grace on the keys, I tie cherries with my tongue, have your berries blue by morn, my hands are a whole different story.
Sometimes I amaze even me — this is poetry!!
This highway's mine, goodbye to Jayne,
so long, farewell, Virginia Plain,
strife was yesterday's heavy load,
life is tomorrow's open road,
it's time to hitchhike once again.
Heading where songs, don't sound the same,
and no-one stops to ask your name,
they'll think I'm another Tom Joad,
this highway's mine.
Generations tried to explain,
through war in Spain, and Catskill rain,
how quickly continents explode,
but somehow memories corrode,
and now the past returns again,
this highway's mine.
You keep my heart locked away around your neck
It's value is only worth it to you, so please be gentle
Do you wear it as you rest your eyes to sleep
Or do you keep me locked away in a box, surrounded by your favourites before me?
Do you show it off to others, or am I quietly tucked under your collar
Cariad, you told me it was 'love' in Welsh
Myriad, I told you when you asked do I love you
I noticed your locket wasn't as good as it used to be
I offer to pay for it to be repaired, but you told me it was still perfect
I'm no longer strong enough to stay tightly clasped around your neck
My chains have started to corrode, you weren't as gentle as you needed to be
I'm sorry that I wasn't able to hold on, but I realize that's okay
It's value was never worth much to you, that's why you were never gentle
I'll buy you a new one if that's what you'd like, it can be a different colour
A different material
A different strength
But that means it wouldn't be me anymore
A boss can The Vigorous retire
While the latter is still a live wire,
His arms still sinewy, his feet sound tires:
The one who vibrant kids sires...
A boss can send home his firm's tears' dryer:
Saver of company's cars from mire,
It doesn't have to die down: 'the fire'
Nor does it need to corrode 'the wire'.
Then, your arguments could hearers tire
And, dragged too long, make you little liar;
Ones clearly seeking a confused buyer,
Wherefore you could not but go that higher...
Bosses mostly retire The Tired
And when they do they have them just fired!
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