Long Detonate Poems
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Could I, should I, and may I?
You are my poetry. I am in love with his present, that my future longs for.
My poetry is you, pale love.
Your giddy eyes mesmerize me, your plump lips catch my attention, and your charm and sweetness entice me to approach you, but your disposition begs me to stay with you. Your hugs and smiles make me happy. My heart feels like a nuclear bomb might detonate when I touch you.
Could I, should I, or may I?
Even though it is nighttime, light displays remain motionless against the rain.
However, as we play around, Your lips begin to flow within mine, and mine begin to flow within yours.
But the rain continues to fall
However, you've forced me to see love as painful even though it's also fascinating. You've made me crush my love like an elephant tramples an ant, you've normalized pain while making love seem strange to me. Even though it shocks me when I see it, and you've forced me to question my identity even whilst forcing me to discover it.
What is intended for you is the will to act.
What is wished for you is a passion for care.
What I wanted for you was to understand my love.
Dancing to the rhythm of the music of the heart,
heat rises as our embrace tightens.
Eyes lock telling each other the depth
of passion this moment brings.
Swaying gently to the music only we can hear,
cheeks softly brush starting a blaze.
Lips meet, souls erupt sending shivers
running through one body to the next.
Hands begin to drift, caressing flesh,
as tongues touch for the first moment
feeling the heat of desires rise.
A sweet demand that fills the soul.
Kisses drift down the neck
and whispers of our appetites’ bloom.
Sparks ignite infernos all around us,
the rhythm of the music cannot be denied.
Passions detonate, desires explode;
in fluid motion we become one,
embracing our fullest potential
from vibrations of unimpaired perfection.
The dance of love is a mystic power
allowing passions to finally be released.
A union of two hearts entwined into one soul
for a brief moment that lasts a lifetime.
True blue, you’re my celestial highway,
a jaw dropping road trip to the Moon;
With just one glance my insides flutter,
I can see a place I’ve never been;
A jaw dropping road trip to the Moon,
my luxurious starship soaring;
I can see a place I’ve never been,
now I can return a million times;
My luxurious starship soaring,
a dance with each of your falling stars;
Now I can return a million times,
in the blurred vision of my teardrops;
A dance with each of your falling stars,
detonate me with that glitter bomb;
In the blurred vision of my teardrops,
frozen wristwatch dust timed for comets;
Detonate me with that glitter bomb,
with just one glance my insides flutter;
Frozen wristwatch dust timed for comets;
True blue, you’re my celestial highway.
The Devil’s watch has started and the time is consummate
A strange and tranquil calmness mocks our terrifying wait
There, just beyond our window moves like fearsome reprobates
A pair of tortuous demons meant all Hell to perpetrate
We will not yield in panic! We will not abdicate!
The oaths we swore, though did not know what fortune could mandate
Then all at once the door explodes like Hell’s infernal gate
And from its raw primordial wound two creatures detonate
A thunderous commotion rings as demons orchestrate
Concussive pandemonium ‘til heads reverberate
Our precious things and property? Just grist to lubricate
The cogs and gears of ruin in their trek to decimate
All supplications fail to slow or cause to deviate
The terrors’ stupefying quest to misappropriate
It seems no thing that we hold dear shall realize escape
Each second’s an eternity, yet hours accelerate
And suddenly as it began, the anarchy abates
Back to their lair they are recalled and though they hesitate
To disobey their Master’s voice they dare not contemplate
So final mischief they perform then through the door gyrate
Perdition’s gate they seal once more, no fear can infiltrate
Now silence will return again and we’ll recuperate
In time the fear will disappear and doubts evaporate
So order once again returns, our world to dominate
Yet in our minds there still exists (though we equivocate)
Confession for the origin of this despairing state
For harsh parental curse once made we can’t repudiate
What went around has come around to now reciprocate
Thus progeny of progeny is ours to expiate
We can’t take back what Nature in its wisdom still dictates
"I hope your children grow up to be JUST LIKE YOU!" still grates
And devil’s laughter is the fee we pay to procreate
Date: December 19, 2018
Contest Name: Give Me Goosebumps Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
the boulevard is desolate
as is the light that cracks bleeds
runs here there everywhere!
trash drafts like ghosts
in the flicker of dying neon
something races head long into oblivion
damnation at its heels
in death throws, broken, hanging
like the vagrant dead languish...
eons in ruined halls,
its shadows cover odd oblong onyx boxes...
Dominion...!
along desolations boulevards
(eyes watch)
a blast of white, crimson
rockets down the empty blacktops
running ages long its infernal engines
burning white-hot...
thump N hummmm!
DOMINION
lost buildings hang together
like the damned; silhouetted skeletal things!
in detonations aftermath!
a carriage lurches, coughs, wheezers
the ancient apparatus grinds to a halt
something Burns, sparks...
the death rattle of broken machinery...
the drifting of white smoke,
ghosts from the things heart.
in tombs hollow oblong boxes
sits darkly as silence is felt
waiting for the coming of None
Dominions...
a vehicle silhouetted against
the flowing street lights
of ice white lines
rockets down the empty blacktops
running in ages long
as infernal engines
hummmm!
Thrumm!
Burnnnnn!
DOMINION!
Smoldering, hollowed-out holocaustic
homes line the boulevards.
as falling bombs detonate in rain
images blur…
along desolations boulevards
DOMINION!
All top hats and class,
like the gentleman who knows
how to throw you against a wall;
Words so cordial
but hand him a guitar
and everything comes unhinged;
Leaving you hallucinating
on that beautiful scream;
He’s never less than firewater;
Pure fire water;
Stealing the sound echoing in your head,
Grabbing you
like he’s kissing your hand;
Right before fracturing your jaw again;
All suave with a perfect touch
like the gentleman who knows too much,
and how to dance;
No need for any kind of buzz
He’s already firewater;
Pure firewater;
Baby, just hand him that guitar;
He’ll take you where you want to go
He’s the matchstick, detonate delicately;
He’s never less than firewater,
Pure firewater.
Never give your secrets,
Never tell your dreams,
‘Cos if do you'll detonate,
Your construction teams.
Your personal dreams, that is,
Those close to your heart,
Which don't depend on others,
Which keep your inside art.
And even your ambitions for your friends,
Your acquaintances, colleagues or business;
They will most definitely altogether fail,
If you reveal a personal methodology trail.
William Blake saw theology as the ink of man,
Inferred linguistics should so be bedraggled dutifully,
When he painted the angel queen as the guardian,
Of dreams, not as a being to adhere to respectfully.
He should let himself hover
over his own flying weight.
He recalls the ease
of running effortlessly…the dopamine highs.
His toes are earth-pushing landmines,
his elastic ankles are circa 1980’s,
they detonate, thrust vibrant tendons.
His body is as light as his deepest breath,
an endless fuse of energy
holding a dream together.
Restless legs push him across
a damp mattress
to where a running dog
wades across a flowing river.
Halfway over the stream, he sees
his dog looking back,
of a sudden he weakens, begins to flail
as he falls into an eddy of time.
The dog sits down to wait
30 years.
In our mountainside cabin
On an Autumn August night
We turn on the news
To hear of our countries plight
Terrorist factions
Will detonate a device
That will flatten our city
Destroying millions of lives
If their demands are not met
By midnight tonight
All that we have
Will disappear from sight
The hours pass
Bulletin after bulletin
As I think to myself
It's just a matter of when
Many thoughts
Are now running through our heads
Trying to phone our families
Struggling to comprehend
Minutes seem like days
As midnight draws near
Towards our city home we look
Captured in unknown fear
On the cabin balcony we stand
Listening to the TV set
It's the voice of the city mayor
No terrorist demands will ever be met
I turn to my wife
Tears streaming down her face
We are so far away from our children
In this beautiful tranquil place
The last chime of midnight passes
Holding hands to the horizon we view
An explosion of light so immense
To the heavens in mushroom spew
We can hear the thunderous roar
Although we are so far away
The crockery in the cabin now rattles
As we await our final day
The distance grows ever near
As we hear a strange whistling sound
Sporadic flashes light up the valley
Violent winds thrash our surrounds
Before our eyes, we believe
A nuclear tsunami heads our way
We declare our love and bow our heads
For our children and friends we pray
Our fa___________________________
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss-5.php
You've remained a particularly fantastic mother to me.
Adequately training, I wouldn't have gotten gloomy
As follows, I'm keeping in touch with you today.
I humbly beg that God would lavishly meed you all the way.
Throughout the long term, I've seen delight and sorrow.
You were the main one to watch him grow.
Also, presently I'm a man you've raised.
Be that as it may, more often than not, you liaised.
My mother led me to His Way, and I am proud.
Without your help, I'd be lost in the crowd.
But you lead me to this point in my life.
Can seek boldness after strife.
The capacity to withstand any close-to-home attack.
That my enemies toss at me, and I may lack.
Thus it is with you, 'the world's best mother.'
I'll never forget you when you detonate your bawler.
Mother Mother, I'm intrigued about your wonder.
Either a woman or a divinely sent savior.
Her emotions run in her as deep as a river.
A smooth and calm lady is my mother.
Written: September 16, 2021
''M'' Contest, New Poems Only - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France