The Mosquito Squad has been zapped, swatted,
And completely obliterated.
Because they learned the hard way
That they can dish it, but they sure can't take it.
They've planned numerous strategies
And tried every trick in the book;
But everything has backfired
And their goose was already cooked.
Every summer was the same mission:
Find a sexy body and eat it.
It didn't matter if it was a booty, an arm, or a leg:
Alas, the Mosquito Squad has been defeated.
"That's the last straw!" the Squad Leader yelled,
With steam coming out of his ears.
"You've failed me one too many times!
I don't want to see your crocodile tears!
You can't even follow a direct order
And always fall flat on the floor.
Now get out of my sight, you knuckleheads!
The Mosquito Squad is no more!"
The crowd began singing
As the mosquitoes disappear in the sky,
"NA NA NA NA, NA NA NA NA,
HEY HEY HEY! GOOD-BYE!"
I warned you over and over not to do it
your blatant disregard for someone else
it was never in my nature to lose my cool
you knew exactly what you were doing
wasting the clock pretending to help out
tried as I might you ignored my request
instantly you pushed me over the edge
only able to see the most violent of red
any ounce or rational thought obliterated
I warned you politely and loudly pleaded
all I wanted was to be able to do my job
loud, proud, and filled with arrogance
maybe table all of the passive-aggressive
I will always get up and defend myself
Notoriety led to my Netflix documentary
Contest: Pick-A-Title Vol. 58
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Date: 23.07.2026
By soft touches, he weaved his way into my heart
Demolished my hesitations and destroyed my uncertainties
With roving hands, he explored my very center
With loving eyes, removed every barrier
Silently he scanned my sacred being
Soothing my faltering soul with velvet murmurs
He broke my pride with his patient perseverance
He wrecked my emotions and made me his
He crushed every qualm with his raging passion
With his stealthy moves, I come fully undone
When I'm with him, the whole world fades away
He has become my everything, my go-to-mate
His serene tenderness obliterated my reticence
And I can boldly say, "I love you, my darling"...
OBLITERATED
THAT IS WHAT DONALD TRUMP SAID
MORE PERSONNEL DEAD
It is so hot outside that the Statue of Liberty has put her torch down
And the torch has been extinguished
Underneath the New York Harbor, the flame is subdued.
Imbued, and the glue which holds this city together.
We still stand tall as her torch falls
Amidst the heat and the summer blues
Gathering our strength as New Yorkers
Resilient, we stand with an inner spark
That makes us distinguished and cannot be extinguished!
Underneath the sun that swells to its cusp
And musters up shining light, covering the city in every corner!
It is so hot outside that our inner spark sparkles like firecrackers
Unable to be contained, we move and cannot be obliterated
By the sole whims of the magnificent sun!
We will live on and on with a shining light undone!
The cart of time carries me along the ordained path
from the listless life rooted in the threshold of present
to the desolate wilderness where I was once.
That’s the fading past receding away fast,
waiting to get abandoned and obliterated.
Lying in the shadow’s edge of the furtive future,
creating the convivial flood of copious craving,
inundating the lavish landscape of my ornate life,
I dwell in the fancy desire domain of perpetuity
with the deathless dream of delusive longevity.
I perceive the pulsating memory undying
reside in the remote recess of the passionate past,
where the beguiled bird of my love for life
soars in the seamless sky of my sensual present,
wings of hope flutter to fly past the future horizon.
I drift to the certain end with the immortal soul,
floating entranced in the sublime sea of eternity
with winds of love blowing on impermanent sail.
I yearn to get from the divine time for my life
the treasured magnanimous gift of longevity.
Silent season is a waiting season
That stretches human patience to exhaustive limits
And brutally put human endurance on trial
As expectations are mercilessly heightened
Deadlines come and disappear
With no visible achievements in sight
Hope gradually gives way to despair
And human help seems totally obliterated
In silent season God even seems far away
Leaving man in total disarray
And in utter helplessness
And feeling betrayed by God and fellowmen
However Silent season is for preparation
It is for correction and working behind the scenes
For total reformation for the task ahead
And God works mightier in silence
Just be still and know your God
In silent season be ready to be transformed
And He will keep His promise to see you through
In silent season pray the the more
Do not give up on God
For He is preparing you for a glorious future
To become more than a conqueror.
For if gold must be gold it must pass through fire!
I’m listening deeper than the words you say,
Hearing what your silence keeps safe.
The boy with the ladybug on his shoulder,
Guess they were right when they told us—
“No more you and me, now it’s we,”
Funny how truth sounds holy.
Love grows, feelings anticipated,
Lips touch, time stays satiated,
Dark abyss, starry cosmic, obliterated,
My body an oasis, water weeps, don’t keep me waiting.
Every second’s heavy, every moment weighted,
Heart like a hazy orange, dream sky in the morning,
Light spills through my soul, every thought still roaming.
No more you and me, now it’s we,
Falling slow, but it’s everything,
If love’s a dream, don’t wake me please,
Stay right here inside this feeling.
No more you and me, now it’s we,
Your touch speaks in poetry,
If happiness is believing, then believe with me.
Silence………A solemn hush
except
for
insects
running
amongst the jade green grass
and the large invasive vines.
Large cypress trees,
stately and tall,
throw shadows around me
as I wend my way
along the lonely lanes
of moss-covered, musty-smelling tombs
careful not to touch the poison ivy
or admire the wisteria vines.
People do visit here,
for look, bunches of flowers
adorn the place,
emitting scents to try and nullify
the staleness of the resting place.
Headstones obliterated by the wind,
makes me wonder who lies beneath.
Was she beautiful and tall?
Ugly and short?
What does it matter now?
For all I care she could have been
beautiful and short.
But some things do matter
in our personal short earthly time.
All that matters is
what we do with our life.
Death holds no sting, really.
But
don’t
touch
the poison ivy.
“The avadhuta, alone, pure in evenness of feeling, abides happy in an empty dwelling place. Having renounced all, he moves about naked. He perceives the Absolute, the All, within himself.”
We flow like the fresh morning breeze,
mood and mode embrace and release,
having obliterated time,
with no demons left to appease.
Poised in peace betwixt bliss beat’s chime,
having no new peaks left to climb,
focus fixated on the void,
on its own heart conjures a rhyme.
Our presence, pure and unalloyed,
no longer by desires decoyed,
enlivened by bliss magnetism,
is no longer by thought forms toyed.
Grace igniting mind-body prism,
we thus transcend every known ism,
transforming as pure living light,
by a magical mechanism.
That all’s one is known by clear sight,
truth stark that banishes the night,
so here now, each moment reborn,
breath by breath heightens heart’s delight.
flowers
spoke
swallowed
her soul
painted
polka dots
led to self
obliteration~
a path
to the
womb
of infinity.
“One day, after gazing at a pattern of red flowers on the tablecloth, I looked up to see that the ceiling, the windows, and the columns seemed to be plastered with the same red floral pattern. I saw the entire room, my entire body, and the entire universe covered with red flowers, and in that instant my soul was obliterated and I was restored, returned to infinity, to eternal time and absolute space. This was not an illusion but reality itself. I was shocked to see to the depths of my soul."
~ Yayoi Kusama (born 1929), Infinity Net: The Autobiography of Yayoi Kusama, London 2011.
A broken heart
Can not begin to describe
The pain I feel
My heart was obliterated
Pass the point of return
To the point
Where the ashes
Of which used to contain my soul
Dissolved into the water of my tears
They walked barefoot on the wet sand.
The hot sun had dipped beyond the horizon.
The brine and fresh air intertwined,
How pleasant to walk hand in hand!
Occasionally she would stoop,
Her wedding ring glinting in the dying sun.
She would search for lovely decorated shells,
Whilst he tried throwing flat stones
Across the calm stretch of the waveless sea.
Finally, they had to turn back to their inn.
The access to the beach stopped their tracks.
Large rocks hindered further progress.
They did not mind really. It was dark now.
Their previous footprints were almost obliterated.
Above the dark sky like sequins glittered stars.
They arrived at the inn, finely prepared.
They found champagne and sipping all
Until they fell into a deep restful sleep.
A wall patched with lies
keeps the cracks from widening
but mementos fall
books, portraits, medals, and gifts—
gravity claims all relics
curtains shroud the crimes
centuries of stifled screams
glass betrays the hush
even the floorboards confess—
house itself is culpable
clothes, ties, hats, combs, wigs—
the trinkets of faded grace
heaped upon the street
flames burn their false finery—
pretense collapses to ash
palaces demolished
cubes enforce obedience
bankers on the run
food scraps sucked from rubbish binds—
can't stop the way of progress
rebellion outlawed
truth is now rule of edict
ugliness is king
screens implode in blinding flash
we gnaw at our own silence
mother will not come
her arms obliterated
father shamed and named
we crawl with pitiful bleats—
orphans of our own making
love has no conditions
no contract
no absolutes
no rules or regulations
love is automatic
she cannot be thwarted or obliterated
you cannot talk her out of herself
love demands freedom
she loves who she loves
she owes no one an explanation
or an apology
love is a soul feeling
she cannot help herself
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