"barbwire" poems
The past can be hurtful if you don't learn to let go
The past is barbwire
& I'm clenching a handful
Never healing; always bleeding.
I can't let go, closed fists is all I know
Hoarding memories
Not matter how much pain is bestowed
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 10:46 AM UTC
Sharp shard with blood, it cuts
your armored heart of crystalline
no one knows you, nor gets in
barbwire wrapped and shut
black, the deep - you've fallen
your desultory descent ever sullen
gasp of strife that smokes
and chokes apart your life
makes a slave of you, alone
calls for your blood
and bones
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 2:21 PM UTC
the smell of happiness it is no more
the stench of worry lingers the air
a wall of thorns covered with ugliness
holds a rose that use to be pure and white
but now is stained black with pain
plucked from it's tree is a
black rose withering slowly with
a fading perfume of true sadness
crying with its petals closed
eyes filled with hesitation
so soft to the touch yet so
dry like a sandy desert island
a soul that dreams just too much
pokking through the mind's crevices
covered in rust completely deep within
is a growing disease of emotions with
a heart that ticks but too full to beat
yet pumpimg slow is cold yet thin blood
this face is a fountain spraying out dust
a wall of distrust holds bricks burning
just like a fire thats has lost control
a stomp of hatred has just taken over every
part of this heart once filled of love
with no time to enhale it all in
a soft and warm yet crying soul
is dripping wet with darkend fear
strangled by the tightened barbwire
cutting through each and every petal
leaving behind scars with shreds of pain
covering every inch of this garden of hell
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 6:03 PM UTC
letting loose old chains
you and your wry laughter
defeated by the day old machines
of life and their constant clogging
time's hands tear into spring
nail first, peeling off the light constricting canopy
twisting barbwire off delicate skin
strangling you on a couch from hell
wake up to the smell of bourbon
and dead roses - *so pretty
your lashes creating the shadows
on your gaunt cheekbones,* and your name is Soul
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC
Worthless, stupid, ugly too.
Tongue-tied, but that’s only around you.
My dreams are horrors that I earn,
For them to be real ill always yearn.
My death, sweet poison, saves my life,
By ending it by gun or knife.
Monsters, demons, tear my flesh,
Or I get stuck in barbwire mesh.
Whatever the torture I take it as dished.
Never sweet dreams, as I so often wished.
But why should I have them? I'm crooked and mean.
Or well, that’s what I think. Could be low self-esteem.
I hate that I love you, I hate that I care.
I hate that when you’re upset; I wish I were there.
I just really hate myself for not hating you.
And for loving you in the first place, I hate that one too.
Your name, once golden, now a twisted black vine.
In her name I find envy, I wish you were mine.
You were and you will be, ill see that its so.
And if it doesn’t work out... you know where ill go.
It's a cop-out; I'm chicken, too scared to go on.
I hope it's you who finds me, dead in your lawn.
Razor in hand, I wish I could do it.
Iv tried once before, but that time I blew it.
But this time I can, and I know that I will.
If not by blade, slip off my windowsill.
Or drown in my pool, or forget my inhaler.
Though I know it won’t matter. This girl, you wont save her.
You loved her, you killed her, and you’ve broken her heart.
She has nothing-good left, besides poems and art.
She’s lost, and she’s lonely, and I know she’s scared too.
And the only thing that could help just won’t. And that’s you.
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 2:33 AM UTC
The stars try to shine
Down through indifferent clouds.
Her tears mix with rain
and water her path
defining the moments
Of forever.
Love is the fiercest part
of her being.
Though she struggles to
find it’s authenticity
Hiding her codes
behind barbwire and thorns.
Her hands are bloodstained
in the hours of time.
She is mysterious
With many latitudes
Calling from a different
Kind of universe.
Yet she walks that path of stones
Believing she is a different
Person than the one she leaves
on the trail .
Walking away from that
Hushed comfort of
understated majesty.
Hearing music amid
The squalor of verse
With strangers who love
among the poetic’s
of language.
I grow tired of the
Deep waters
I’m learning to navigate
the shallows
Where purring oratory
Captures me and leaves
Me spellbound beyond
All measures and time .
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 10:36 PM UTC
she was war,
a collection of cuts and old scars,
armored in the pain of her past,
bones of ash and thorn.
blood like spilled scarlet wine
splashed across the bathroom floor,
she cried alone—
unseen,
unknown.
but for all the tears, she rose to her feet
and sat upon her barbwire throne
for these bones still ache,
this body still bleeds,
these lungs still breathe,
and this heart still beats,
still beats,
still beats.
— my heart is not a home for cowards
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 10:36 AM UTC
You are caught in this jail of which
I have built for one such as you;
spiked handcuffs made of solid lines,
iron bars wrought with poetry.
You shall never elude me as
you are caught in this jail of which
that binds you to a sheet of white
with only barbwire, words, and prose.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 3:06 AM UTC
You have these helium balloon pair of arms, that always tend to lift me up when I fall.
You raised me as part slingshot and part boomerang and no matter how far I go in life I’ll still return home.
You've taught me that we are all keys, and if I don't fit in then I wasn't made for what’s behind that door.
Sometimes, I spend too long at some doors. And I break my edges trying to fit in, till I can never open the doors for which I was made anymore.
Some days, your lessons are like the edges of a jigsaw puzzle, they’re the starting points to fix me when I’m a mess.
Your smile reminds the super glued, ice sculpture in my chest what it feels like to be warm.
I come from a long line of glass spines and barbwire teeth and my back was as bad as my bite. But you've taught me to carry the world on my shoulders and kiss Mary Jane on the cheeks.
I see the Irony of the cobwebs on your letters.
It’s not so funny when it’s on your head stone.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 6:33 AM UTC
I am behind a wall with no windows and no doors.
I feel trapped and helpless.
But inside this prison I am safe,
from the outside world,
which threatens to destroy me.
There is no one in this prison,
except for the prisoner (me) and the jailer(me)
Life in this prison is not pleasant.
The only company is the jailer,
but she is very cruel.
She taunts me with self criticisms.
Thus the isolation starts as a place of safety
but soon becomes a place of torture.
And the depression begins.
Inside this prison, there is a huge wall,
separating me from the outside world.
I reach out for help.
But the barrier intervenes.
I take a step forward. But there is no where to go.
There are no windows.
There are no doors.
There are people reaching out to me.
I can hear them, but I cannot touch.
Loneliness and fear shuts them out.
My fears of being hurt again
results in me being alone.
I must live my life with this fear of growing old,
unwanted and unloved and being on my own.
I have grown up with this barrier against other people,
stopping me getting to close.
I have this powerful feeling that if I let the barrier down,
I will be swirled away in a turbulent flood of emotions.
I cannot risk letting down my barrier and discovering
what it would be like in an intimate relationship.
It could be a relationship where I float in a flood of
joyful emotions with no barriers.
A flood where I float in bliss, happiness and love.
Not as I do now feeling only fear, helplessness and sorrow.
I grew up loving my parents, and fearing them a little.
They disappointed me, hurt, betrayed and abandoned me.
Now I feel afraid to love completely,
to protect myself from ever feeling this hurt again.
If I don't protect myself who will protect me.
So a life of isolation is what is in store for me.
I need to start digging a tunnel to get out of this hell hole,
to escape the darkness and find the light.
I have to stop blaming myself, for my family being like barbwire 'untouchable'
It is not my fault my mother was misguided, mistaken and confused.
or my fault my father abandoned us and died.
I know once I accept this I will find the light.
Free to live and love .
The first time in my life.
Mar 30, 2012
Mar 30, 2012 at 10:41 AM UTC
Greed is a fencepost,
her thighs are laced with barbwire
towering so tall.
You shall not have me
for i am enormously
so much more than you.
Greed lies between thighs
tongue deep inside the lip folds;
this is mine, all mine.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
He knew the ache could not be recompensed
they knew it too the moment echoes fell silent
There was already not enough love
in a world grown dark as darkest past
It wasn't the color of his skin nor dialect
or the journey of a thousand miles
Not the place that he'd come from
back when ― left behind
nor a heart of gold,
that never became a home
The colour of unwritten silence
had eclipsed the waning light
On the run from who he'd become;
ashamed for all he was,
couldn't erase a lifetime that felt a waste ―
trying to untie a Gordian knot
He saw his body as an entombing barbwire cage
imprisoning a wellspring of love writhing deep therein
Immured at arms length from the outside world
where the soul of a teardrop abides within
its insignificance
Shielding the inherent maelstrom
from the innocent passersby
Buried thoughtfully for the greater good of all ―
for the unsatiated dream boundless love betides
Written artifacts exhumed like ***** secrets
a lifetime of stigma's stain swept under the rug;
just whispered words written from an unfinished life
few ever really looked deeply between the twisted lines
arising from the soul of just another passing stranger
The long road begets a suffocating silence
choking out, extinguished love inhumed
Ashes of what once had been life aglow of light
forevermore shrouded
like the dark side of the moon
rivers
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 8:35 PM UTC
My throat is numb,
I don’t feel the barbwire in my esophagus
My feet are purple,
I’m dangling them with an anchor
My wrists swollen,
fingers about to fall from restriction
My face bloated,
from every love bite.
Lips, still red
always smiling
Oct 6, 2020
Oct 6, 2020 at 6:40 PM UTC
It's printed into your
ice cold, pale skin.
Permanent and never fading.
Tattooed in black ink,
all the promises you
have made and broken.
You reap what you sow;
And dear unwanted thing
of my life, this is a sharpie
and these are your mistakes
that has made you leave
a path of destruction
right behind you.
You dragged us along
the rusted barbwire
and broken glass
that has left us all
bleeding and scarred.
Dear Unwanted thing of
this pointless, drawn out life,
you've sacrificed the good
only to bring us all pain.
Dear Unwanted thing in my life,
You are no longer worth my time.
Aug 1, 2011
Aug 1, 2011 at 9:41 PM UTC
Tell me that I am wrong:
Lie and say the pain will go away
And that the depression will subside,
And further, that there is belief behind my cries,
That my aggression might one day not be my life,
In a world so ridiculously fake,
That I must lie in bed at night awake.
-
Love Does Not Exist.
It is only disgusting lust that does persist.
Romantic Wishes And Dreams Are All Dead.
Rotting in the abyss, shot in head,
Put to pasture and lead astray,
Suffocated with barbwire, its heart decayed.
-
Intimacy With Your "Other Half" Is False.
But we persist and try to find anyone with a pulse.
You Will Never Find Your Revolting "Soul Mate",
A false concept made by those scared of their own fate.
-
You Will Die Alone And Scared.
We search and find anyone and are content,
To live with each other in misery until it ends,
Then remember why we "loved" them to begin,
And cry ourselves to sleep again and again,
Until across there runs another coquette,
And the tears evaporate, so **** it,
We are such God ****** hypocrites,
We say we know "love", I'm Sick Of It.
We forget as soon as we lay
With another the next day,
The person left before,
Nameless and no more adored,
We Need A Plague, An Extermination,
Of This Sickness, My Generation.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 9:27 PM UTC
I tricked you into being here
Practiced words that weren’t sincere
Concocted a truly deceitful tale
Crafted And worded not to fail
Wrapped you tightly with sharp barbwire
To keep you still and somewhat quiet
Patiently weaved a rusted web
So when you move it stings your skin
Squirm and fight this all you want
Resisting just makes this more fun
The belief in the goodness of mankind
Consider this a warning sign
Evil consists in a opposite form
The sweetest smile can do you harm
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC
*I had a dream in the middle of the day
About a boy with springs where his legs should have been
He jumped so high he got tangled in barbwire clouds
And it rained blood and viscera for a month*
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 5:33 PM UTC
I’ve felt lost
Like tangerines being pushed into the
Discotheque of animosity slowly murdering each other’s nebula with
Arms crossed over and eyes blazing joints among the durable and dangerous
Architectures where the faculties of the skull
No longer admit the worms of the senses
How much time may be disjointed while everyone
Takes to their wondering sky
The glass floor the rock beaten path
The somber shadow of neglect justifies
My hiding from the world somewhere
I shatter into a billion pieces and slowly the collapse remembers how it once
Felt the ugly ball of lights thrusting each beam into my skin
A metallic taste in my mouth
The groovy red liquid that makes life dependable as painted laughs
Migrate to the other side of dawn
No one hopes for anything
Let it all disintegrate into the coming rainfall
Gathering in small odd shaped holes all over the cities belly
Barbwire disguises melancholy gasps of breath
I’ve seen you in those hours where anything can happen
And it does
No longer waiting at the long table
No response no self doubt
My particles coagulate in my throat
The simple thought disappears
A night of unrest turns your skin inside out as
The violence escalates into silent picture mode
Only thirst recovering from three days of religion
And no explanation is needed
I know when all those beautiful sad laughs you send out on every
Other month finally arrive I’ll be ready to open my eyes
Hold my hands out and receive you in full
Is this your spirit?
Or the glare coming off the street lamps
Just close the door
And lose all memory of me
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 10:23 AM UTC
you didn't even cared to know
my sadden soul was dying
twisted in crumbling emotions
drowning me in such sorrow
the dark shadows continue to
stain my heart black with pain
the stench of worry lingers as
the tightening barbwire of stress
clawed through my mind crevices
cutting away my desire to dream leaving behind deep scars that still holds hurt
I haven't lost complete control of my heart now it's covered with fading perfume of sadness
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 9:03 AM UTC
Dysphoria is lifting a hot cup of bare black coffee to your lips
It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and third degree burns on your skin
It's one of the strongest romances I've had
She stalks wherever and whenever
Yet when pools of blood start to pour
Subsequently from slashes on my wrist
A smile stands tall on my brim
The story of hypocrisy beyond comprehension
How could a human find themselves in obsession
With disorders more dangerous than inventions
And still hold empathy in question
Truth is,
Despotic relations fueled with dissonant expectations
Transcend into deeper feelings of euphoria
Barbwire grappling my throat for seconds that feel like years
But then the pressure suddenly decreases
I'm left with rusted thorns and gaping flesh
Undoubtely grateful to stay alive
Relief washes over and taking a breath feels heavenly
As the opportunity to face demons comes again
The chances of overcoming rise above my head
Hazard and danger don't become horror anymore
If you take it by the throat and butcher it first
Dec 19, 2020
Dec 19, 2020 at 1:28 AM UTC
I want to see where nice words are used on young ladies.
Damned Rome of rude-bred heights from the balcony of the city of dynamite. The villagers sacrifice their seven pounds of worry, and sleep like children in caves of textile reactors. Souls packed in coins and gasoline sin are sold hot at the bazaar on a University campus in America. What the **** do these lambs do in societal gardens? What the hell do pets know watching letters drizzle from the clouds? Parcel dreams scattered on foster children--I want to know where all our words for niceties went when we paid the women to be young.
Devils make knees slick
barbwire anacondas bless our country
write a laugh--write a song--and we will all work it out
We--used as a rapier to categorize the salt in vigorous blood flow--the bells, the bells of centuries worth of midnights. I--the edited cobble in roads that precipitation breaks in stride. Hearing the rambles of lucky men in the next room, but I know young ladies don't kiss and tell to friends they find effeminate, they rupture and explode. And laugh. And laugh. And laugh. And laugh with squeaky voices as true as poetry. Now they mumble till they are paid.
But you--are no ********** just an empty glass with chunks of broken accents skipping deadlines in life, for new deadlines in life. Abstract puzzle pieces resemble therapy that burns the interrupted wick in--you.
But as for--them--they--or others--delirium commercializes whispers aching the back of their tonsils till there is no relief, but coin to pay for more coin that will pay for more coin. Relief is in another language they refuse to learn because they are arrogant.
Cats scowl at one in the morning for attention, nails anchored in carpet, the rest of us are tired by the week of spending. They want more, more, more--till the gates in your eyes open.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
When right becomes wrong,
when light turns to dark,
when my mind can't restart,
this is what I fear.
This disease eats away at me,
and makes it hard to see,
it blinds me from reality,
and leaves me to die.
I feel it seeping through my pores,
and into my blood stream.
It strangles my heart and lungs,
consumes my mind like a bad dream.
It slithers under my skin,
like barbwire snakes.
I fight to make it go away,
but it takes much more than that.
Sometimes I think I'm better off gone,
better off dead,
why stay alive?
This disease will never let me go,
it will always hold me down.
Sometimes I think it would be easier,
to be underground,
than here.
This disease is stronger than me,
and will never let me be.
But for now,
I live,
till the day comes,
that I'm strong enough to pull the trigger.
Facing the demon is easy to do,
but pulling the trigger is easier.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 10:17 AM UTC
The desert sky is vast
A heavy blue spanning far
Rippling with the sun’s heat
Cacti line the horizon
Like an uneven barbwire fence
As the sky turns to orange
Like a flame licking the world
Dry and thirsty for a drop of water
The sun sinks into the Earth
Nov 2, 2024
Nov 2, 2024 at 10:13 PM UTC
To the people of the world,
you bags of stainless steel,
brooding slabs of flesh,
dented and fresh
I do not mean this
in the negative of my feel,
But I quit
I quit!
I quit!
I quit!
And I don’t feel bad about it
For I’ve already let
the barbwire of the ****
wrap around my neck
and it made me sick,
it made me sick
Until I finally
vomited
And oh my stupid god
what a relief
to be a socket!
where electricity just does not exist
I plant myself to this wall
as I watch the bodies rack up
with the most beautiful of light
knowing that mine
has rocked down
to pitch-black
Those battles I had left to fight
are wars I'm no longer interested in
Because to spend another second
digging through this military kit
of firearms I point behind your back
of gas attacks I spit to make you gag
of hot bombs I drop to cop a laugh
is the longest death of my life
I find my health stepping down to this fight
Claim all the lives you want
but today I claim mine
bang
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 11:39 AM UTC
i tried my best,
or at least i thought i had.
with tactless fingers, i grasped the bricks
and jammed them
together.
days oozed into nights
five days, four nights.
it was awkward, imperfect but it would do.
but someone tore it down
he appeared from nowhere, with a hammer
as large as a lion. the bricks feel in one
clumsy sweep.
i tried again.
but this time with bricks and barbwire.
i placed the barbwire on top of the bricks,
in front of the bricks, under the bricks.
slicing my skin open once or twice.
my blood marking the territory,
i grinned in satisfaction
until another destroyer emerged
he knocked and banged. he hit and yelled.
so close. so close.
but not quite.
cracks in the bricks, the barbwire tore here and there.
more, i thought. more. more.
so then came the sheets of metal.
my muscles sung as i lodged the walls into the dirt.
i bathed in sweat but
i couldn't stop until i was done.
the walls secure, the bricks more or less together.
the barb wire sharp and deadly.
i stayed in my little house. my little cave. my little sanctuary.
with too many books and cat hairs
and i was content.
except for the hole clearly visible on my chest.
each day it widened.
i threw baggy clothes, blankets. it grew and grew.
you came along suddenly
you knocked politely at the front gate.
you whispered pleasantries and
begged to kiss my eyelashes.
i refused. i yelled. i shook my head until i rattled.
you persisted. you wanted my fingers, my insecurities,
you wanted it all, placed in a pile beside you.
crumble. one piece of the wall broke.
crumble. another.
crumble. and another.
and before i knew it your hands grasped my wrist.
before the tears escaped, you licked them up.
before i could speak, your tongue muffled any sound.
oh, the hole.
it closed, and closed and closed
"stop acting so brave," you whispered to my chest.
no walls. no walls.
but always tools nearby. just in case.
just in case.
Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 10:47 PM UTC