Detonates Poems

Still Embedded

I didn’t see the blast--
just felt it after,
in the hush of your retreat.

No scars to stitch,
just words
lodged in soft tissue.
They ache when it rains.

You said, "It's not like I hit you,”
but silence detonates too.
It tears in quiet,
spreads slow as bruising thoughts.

Now I walk crooked,
smile with hesitation,
and check every room
for the pieces I’ve left behind.

springtime

springtime detonates
explosion of colours
festival of blooms



AP: 2nd place 2025

Township Terror

There is a place that doesn't go to sleep,
From dawn to dusk, 
Nothing changes,
Desire is on the run.

There is a place where ambition and rivalry are birthed,
Sycophants seize the day,
Sing their praises and the door is left open,
Sing their praises and opportunity smiles at you.

There is a place where gloom pervades the decision chambers,
The leaders are saddled with the enigma,
The missing pieces are hidden from the light,
The night is recalcitrant to let out.

There is a place where rapid-paid ransom returns the captives,
A delay in delivery detonates the bomb,
To the earth, the bodies finally belong,
An eternal loss and anguish of hearts.


January 19, 2024.

Jealousy

her mean-spiritedness detonates
unsmiling green eyes that narrow
and expose the crannies and
cubbies of her harsh mouth
amplifying sounds
of rage in her
honey tones,
sickly
sweet

Void In the Fire

the fire is contained
its noxious gray exhalation dissipates
its horror briefly subdued
(a bomb cyclone detonates in the freezing wind)

memories of the departed
haunting a cold lifeless room
fading into numbing nullification
(apparitions drift through a punctured psyche)

almost all gone now
alone as words become muted
alone as I flail in a savage sea
(howling & hurtling toward a horribly merciful

void
o
i
d
)

Detonates and Resonates

Only my mind fields detonates and resonates
Decipher’s a threads of tangled words 

Angry angels in the aftermath 
The glow of wraths fate radiate 

Sealed in the tombs of my compromise 
All here written on my epitaph

As my mind fields detonates and resonates

Oranges and Oil Ii

Orange and oil 
The old man
smells odd like 
burnt wires Black 
&
cryptic desires 
oranges and oil!
Static erupts like infinite fire.
Noise white grows in volume,
even higher.
oranges and oil...
Oxygen runs onyx tubes lighter.
The old man is a dying fighter...
Orange and oil odd objects 
ornate resonate with our oblique imagery.
Tangled on barbwire...
oranges and oil
smell like a burnt twisted wire!
Copper taste to tip of the tongue. 
Deeps scars bury
tinted desires 
all expire
oranges and oil 
infinite fire visions of white noise grow lighter.
...or oblique imagery resonates 
as objects oily with afterthoughts 
detonates resonates
oranges and oil
The old man has grown lighter...

Detonations

Thunderheads tumble 
in from the north
the sky is 
Dull lead dark 
at its core a storm 
waiting to be born
Thunder clouds like
that of different deities 
arcane entities rose up 
from ancient depths
to sit n reign from on high
to race across a darkening 
desert down to a crystal sea
to release a hum from a winged 
mechanical doom
the bomb falling in
a silent silver rooms 
Detonates 
Resonates
A new born star
As bright as divinities 
I rise to face a malevolent God
And burn in its glory

Broken Neon Iii

Splash of neon light.
Neon glass shatters.
A pale face looms out of the gloom.
It shimmers into the night
Smash of an engine's steel, 
A flash of sharp car headlights.
Black eyes stare wide
Crash goes the ruby taillights, sparkling.
The crunch of black ice!
A Machine in death throes
Winter is here at last.
Milky slim hands grasp...
Sharp edges of ruined steal, cut!
Mechanical auto-parts, tires, chrome, teeth n bones!
Something ashen; a figure stands there...
Under a spinning bright golden arc, sparks!
If humanity is to blame?
Human twisted forms fade away.
We all go blind in the burning flame.
As the car comes to a screaming, screeching silent halt!
Neon shatters into the night. 
Flares, like stars drift down.
…faces loom out of the nightmares gloom!
Black Ice breaks, 
Auto-parts and mechanical hearts;
Cascades, Resonates, Detonates
Broken Neon; a coming doom.

Oranges and Oil I

Oranges and oil 
old smells like burning wires 
Black cryptic desires 
An iron hand upon the velvet 
oranges and oil 
static noise white hot glows 
Softly in the night 
Ominous 
opulence 
oblivions volume 
even higher 
oranges and oil 
Blue oxygen runs 
onyx tubes 
brighter memories expire 
An old man 
a dying prize fighter 
Conspires 
An Eminence of oranges and oil 
As objects 
ornate 
Obsolete 
regulate 
tangled in Barbwire 
oranges and oil 
a burnt smell
like twisted wires 
deep infinite fire 
visions of white noise glows lighter 
Of oblique imagery resonates 
An old man with an iron hand
Wrapped in velvet fire
Memories desire
as objects oily 
with afterthoughts 
designates 
detonates 
resonates
With essences old
Of oranges and oil

Empirical

Rare forms blare 
into the empirical hot sun.

Each traced in fire,
each outlined by the crystal 
shimmer of the son.

Haloed in glamour
A play of color.

Of One.

Layers of imagery in rare forms
Dare to stare, brilliant! 

Into the heliosphere 
crystalline forms 
of pure white energy, 
rare oblique symmetry. 
Flare! 

Infernal waves of Thermal…
Radiates, detonates, 
compress the empirical sum!

White light oppresses… 

The haloed sun stretches, its flares tracing 
a burning thermal holocaust!
 
…objects blaze here and there listening! 

To the aftermath, as the sun 
sets into nightmare…

Oh What a Christmas Tree

Oh What A Christmas Tree

Mistletoes, poinsettias, holly, and pinecones, stimulate their confidences regarding passage,
Tenuous fancied is the Norfolk pine, object facing, particular noble fir, and unique blue spruce trees,
These choice picks are amidst the well-bred evergreen trees variety fulfilling unspecified housed ambiance,
Detonates invariable sanctioned jubilation that a tree augmented during this festive holiday pageantry,
Well-kept treasured amassed souvenirs concerning marvels, embellish the excitable anticipant,
Venerated ostentatious amusements that sparkle in changeable glassed colorful bulbed shades,
While delicate precious keepsakes in attic cluttered boxes, issued in periods fording the annular flake catwalk,
Together with tinseled and snow-sprayed intensifications to ring in a most blessed Christmas vision,
In the whole grandeur, unwrap gifts escapism within overindulged pupils, a halcyon sweet surrender. 


2019 December 25

In Death, There's Beauty

Where ancient waves dried to give land,
Eyes swim in seas of sparkling sand; 

Through forests robbed of verdant glow,
Trees blaze with autumn’s red and gold;

From the icy deep lava climbs a mile,
To sleep above and birth a virgin isle;

In farthest space a lone star decays,
Detonates in bursts of diamond rays;  

But there's nothing that so takes our breath,
Than the rich sun in its daily death.

Two Amazing Things

I appreciate
That these two can be served separate
Or mixed together to create
A drink that is first rate.
Who isn't passionate
About coffee and chocolate?
My brain starts to pulsate
As the coffee percolates
It detonates
A heavenly aroma that I anticipate
And contemplate.
The chocolate
Squares sit on a silver plate.
I don't exaggerate!
I drop a smooth square piece of dark chocolate
In to the hot tan creamy liquid which doesn't 
Take long to circulate
Through as I stir, my mouth salivates.
I drink. My taste buds dilate,
My body vibrates
And I evaluate
Whether I should share this with my mate.
Oh! Wait.
He likes his coffee straight.
How unfortunate.

Elusive Time

Out my window
My garden
A microcosm
Of the cycle of life
Fading and elusive
Time refuses to stand still
The cycle continues

That first invisible rumbling
Decay detonates into bursts of life
And before you know it
Buds give way to blossom explosions
Blooming into perfection
With satin petals and vibrant colours
That won’t last forever
Witnessing the wilting of perfection seems cruel
Yet give a turn to the next generation
Just like kids running up and down the slide of life
To repeat the pattern
And know what it’s like
To birthe, be youthful and blossom
Grow old and wilt

Giving us cause to ponder
About what remains and will not wilt
And choose to what meaning to give our life



Submitted on July 21, 2018 for contest IN THE MOMENT OF TIME sponsored by KAI MICHAEL NEUMANN  -  RANKED 6TH

Originally posted on November 7, 2017

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