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Steve Page Aug 2021
like lonely grass reduced to PGA lengths
hemmed in by white paving

like wild flowers in raised sleeper beds
out of reach of more fertile fields

like black-birds nesting in machined-tooled boxes
out of sight of the forest

like polar bears in a child-infested zoo
missing their glacial quiet

like a killer whale peering through glass
at knitting grandmothers

like a 58 year old man tethered to the white light of his next zoom call
while the sun breaks through a crack in his bedroom blinds

- we were made for more than this
Looking out at a tidy garden
Amanda Kay Burke Aug 2021
Strange creatures stirring
Hiding them inside our skin
Bone and flesh prison
We all have demons inside us
Alena Jun 2021
I'm tired
I'm tired of waking up everyday,
Getting up and trying to be staid,
Listening to some music and feeling nothing,
Like i lost all the things to feeling,
Staring into the celling so lazy,
And hiding of the think that I'm crazy,
But I'm and it so ******* scary,
Because I lost myself many years ago,
And I don't know where I want to go,
Or the person I want to be,
Or who I'm now in presently,
My body is my prison,
My death is the freedom,
I just want some time,
To rest or death of mine,
I'm tired,
I'm so ******* tired.
Moomin Jun 2021
The peace of this small neighbourhood, is shattered as the door caves in
As masked marauders seek with guns, the criminals that hide within
But they find no deadly drug baron, Nor killer, or ****** animal
But a grey-haired lady, small and frail, in terror as she beholds them all

At gunpoint then her hands are tied, and her walking stick cast to the floor
As she is marched by mighty men, to the waiting van outside her door
Her heart skips wildly and her breath is tight, as she is bundled roughly inside
Her dignity and rights of law, are swept away and cruelly denied

And across the town there sits a girl, with kindly, smiling joyful eyes
A teen who spends her youthful zest, bringing hope and joy to other lives
But little does she know this day, that her future days are to dwell
Not in delight and dancing halls, but in a dark and lonely prison cell
        
And elsewhere stands a local hero, a man so honoured by decree
Acclaimed by peers and politicians, as a citizen of kindly deeds
Yet on this day, he is torn away, from his family who are left in tears
As this father and devoted husband, is imprisoned now for seven years
  
Who are these ones snatched by the state, and treated so unjustly
Held without cause or consideration, and despised so bitterly?
They obey all laws and pay their dues, and love their neighbours when they can
And share a hope of a future bright, even though their hope is banned    

They are young and old, black and white, and gathered from diversity
They wage no wars, won't steal or lie, but treat all people with dignity
For their crime is not of violence, nor abuse, or fraud or robbery    
But of being Christians and trying to show, Christ-like love to you and me

And what of those who terrorize them, the land where this grim drama is set
That mighty nation, so paranoid, that it considers them a threat
This pretender to the throne, bedecked in red and white and blue
Is a jealous king who hates the ones, who, to Christ their King are ever true

But as they languish in prison cells, awaiting justice from the King
The one whose commandments they obey, is smiling down and proud of them
For their hope is not in men of law, nor international decree
But their just and loving King, Christ Jesus, and in God- Jehovah's sovereignty    


Dedicated to Jehovah's Witnesses imprisoned in Russia
Kushal Jun 2021
I Hate It.

Somewhere along the line I must have sinned,
What other explanation is there for this situation I'm in.
Imprisoned, in shackles, while one or both above and below cackle.

I am not permitted anything more than a glimpse,
Slivers of light through silver bars
That only remind me how dark is Dark.

I looking longingly towards solitude without temptation,
Yet I cannot separate the two.

Now I have an answer to a question I never before thought to ask...

Limbo is worse than Hell,
For you may still glimpse at the beauty of worlds above.
Eros Jun 2021
Depression was gained
Brains were strained
As we enter the game,
We knew it couldn’t be the same

We were supposed to be anew
But we all knew
School is only a prison
Even though we listen

We have finally risen
Speaking about the feelings
Like the red roses
Blooming in the fields
Causing healings

School has been causing friction
So I use fiction,
To stop a restriction
So I wouldn’t let the tears glisten

As school ends,
I hope for a happier time
But I can get in line
As I’m not the only one
Who has been inflicted
And restricted
This is about my experience this year with school along with my general thoughts on school.Also is for a school project.
A B Perales Jun 2021
It's been 7 years today since my last release from Prison.
The longest I've been home since I was 15.

I made a lot of bad choices along the way
most of which only hurt myself and my family.

Prison is no place to grow up in,
I learned how to shave in prison,
got my first tattoo, lost my first love
and learned what things like
loyalty and sacrifice really meant.

I wasted a lot of good years in there
most of them due to someone else's weakness,
fears and inability to accept the consequences
of their own actions.

It hasn't been easy and I've missed out on a lot.
But I can go to sleep and look at myself in the mirror
knowing that I never gave anyone up.
I remain loyal
and I'm still here.
Even though there are
those who wish I wasn't.
Never forget never give in  STATE RAISED
A B Perales Jun 2021
I had almost mastered the art of making my way through life without making too much noise.

I had spent the last 6 years mostly alone.
Concentrated all my efforts on trying to stay out of prison.
Worked on the writing and the poetry.
And doing all I could to just be forgotten.

I had kicked up enough dust in my early years to spend the majority of my adult life behind bars.
Came home with more tattoos, another strike and a
Monkey on my back.
I was home with greying hair, a bullet in my hand that hurt like hell, an ex wife who hated me, kids who didn't know me and friends who had forgotten all about me.

I move as low to the ground as possible now days.
I went out only when I had to.
I was just trying not to be noticed.
Hoping that maybe they'll forget about all the bad I had done
and just let me grow old in silence.

I spent  my 43rd birthday in a coin-op laundromat that reminded me of a crude jail house day-room.
Concrete floors, metal picnic tables with a large tv bolted to the wall .
Nothing was made for comfort and everything had some type of a lock on it.

She walked up carrying what looked like everything she owned.
She struggled with the door and the laundry in her arms.
I quickly stood up from my seat on the cold steel bench and offered to relieve her of some of her burden, to which she shyly obliged.
She was far to pretty to be alone and I was half waiting on a boyfriend to appear.

Nobody ever taught her how to be polite.
She didn't know what being gracious even meant until she met me.

She'd say " Don't blame me I wasn't raised right", it was our lil joke but a joke that was far  to real.

It was her beauty that saved her.
Her body was what most women would never have.
Men felt a burning desire at the sight of her.
Which she used to her advantage when needed.
It's what helped her get by during the roughest of times.

She wasn't a ***** but they didn't know that.
By the time they had realized she wasn't giving what they wanted she would have already packed her things and left for good.

Men would promise her almost everything when all she really wanted was something to call her own.

Her front tooth was chipped from a fight with an ex boyfriend.
The minor flaw only added to her rare type of natural beauty.
Light freckles across the bridge of her nose.
She had scared up boney knuckles and always wore thick silver rings on 4 of her fingers.
Naturally long eyelashes and acne scared cheeks she'd hide with cover up.

What she knew of the world was almost comical, she hadn't been anywhere and wasn't planning on going anywhere any time soon.
What she lacked in social skills couldn't compare to what she knew how to do in bed.

I gave her a safe place to rest without having to worry.
She gave me reason to shower in the morning and comb my hair before bed.

We played chess which was a surprise to me when she asked me if I played.

I introduced her to  Bukowski, Dante and Virgil.
She brought a strange type of warmth to my otherwise cold lonely apartment .
Our time was a break from the isolation and a reminder of how it was to be with another.
She brought back memories I had long ago forced
myself to forget.

Her only rule was that I never asked about her past.
What she wanted me to know she would share on her own.
My only request was that she never asked me to stop using
and when she felt it was time to move on ,she wouldn't take the time to say goodbye.
For "D" Knock'em dead sweetheart.
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