"barricaded" poems
He saw her through the tower window.
Silhouetted by candle light
Her beauty quite breath taking
On this cold November night
High above the tree tops
Imprisoned in the stone
She was far too pretty
To be trapped up there alone
So he fought his way to the top
This damsel deserved his best
He slaughtered the mighty dragon
Blood smeared across his chest
He made his way to the door
And found to his surprise
He could not break it down
Because she barricaded the inside
A scream from the room
You fool she hissed and said
I want to be here by myself
And now my pet is dead!
You ruined my castle
With your disgusting little plight
I am no damsel in distress
And you sir
Are no ******* knight!
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
Sunrise
Rays break through
dewdrops cease to fall over fields
Morning
Breakfast with fiends
barricaded in a fortress
High noon
Creatures spill out
blocking out abstract skies
Twilight
Fight for your life
Don't let the clothes weigh you down
Nightfall
Bleed out while you can
There's nowhere to hide in the darkness
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 3:17 PM UTC
I am a little bird born into this world
Naked.
Chirping lullabies to redwood treetops
and singing hymns to an almighty; getting back nothing.
I gathered up twigs and loose branches to build up
my nest––cropped out upbringing
for house fitting.
Waking up to noises––
of violent winds.
Pressing feathers to cover my ears,
and trusting my feet to hold me down.
Barricaded myself in worn bark,
from the impossibility of the threatening ecosystem.
Praying myself in place, hiding when morning shines and dressing in colours of damp green.
I’m something but I tell myself otherwise:
It’s too frightening to fly so I might as well cut off my wings.
No, that would be insensitive––don’t mind that, I’ll pluck them each time the feathers grow.
See I’m holding onto the something that makes me more than nothing.
Clipped wings seem more ideal than no wings.
For some reason I’m scared to let it all go;
silently hoping one day I’ll keep them, like them, love them and even spread them.
Noticed gathering leaves and flowers one day can add colour to a colourless lifestyle,
yet the wind wipes it clean the next––still pale brown and feels less like home than yesterday.
I may be afraid of everything,
but I know I’m more afraid of dying here alone;
whispering Mozartian melodies to dead butterflies.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 8:42 AM UTC
Millionaires in empty boxes
barricaded in bath robes.
Self-righteous sundries
sit still for that sunset they'll
never see, like "Layla" playing
with a gang of good fellas.
The trench took a bit, but
they're not worried. It will be
filled-in still-lifes well before
wives find out. Tough love
rises above the rest; especially
when you're pumping hot lead.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 8:45 PM UTC
isn't it ironic
how everything
that has saved you
has left you
bawling on the floor
of your bedroom
with the door
barricaded shut,
thinking nothing but
horrible thoughts.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
curtains closed, hood up,
doors barricaded,
windows ******* shut
another pipe,
another hit,
that was a mistake,
**** it
lie down, close eyes,
heart racing,
telling me lies,
need a mask, another guise
panic
panic
what was that noise?
deluded thoughts persisting,
mind twisting,
panic ever increasing,
endorphins releasing
lie down, get back up,
will this panic ever stop?
another pipe,
another hit,
that was a mistake,
**** it
(c) mandy rigby 03/13/2014
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
I closed that door.
Barred and barricaded it,
Left a bomb inside,
I didn’t wait to know it had
Set off.
I haven’t stopped stopping,
Staring through the small windows,
Everything blinded; myself folded.
A tornado streaming through my past,
This gush sets me free, flying uncontrollably
Somewhere else.
The more I fall, the more I find
the shards of that broken world.
I let them skewer my mind,
imagining them mended back together.
I closed that door.
Yet here I stand its way,
a silhouette.
Neither here nor there.
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 6:53 AM UTC
I have not been well lately
But I have a secret to tell you
It’s a success story: my most secret success
You see, I’m very skilled in crafting holes
And I’ve punched a massive hole
Right through the middle of my life
Please, don’t mistake this accomplishment for the result of talent
This is a skill and it takes practice to master
I went to college and learned to turn theories and ideals from basin to sieve
I learned to critique everything hopeful
And punched a hole right through the heart of hope
I honed my ability to close out creativity
I built a track down which to guide concrete linear thoughts
And I learned to use said thoughts as a battering ram with which to
Knock a hole in the barricaded door to dissatisfaction
And, though this skill is often practical
As you know, one cannot walk around wearing an open hole
So, a corresponding skill has successfully emerged
In parallel with nurturing voids
I have learned to conceal each and every hole
Sometimes with a thick canvass and
Sometimes with a paper-thin veneer
I may have learned to wrap a package
And to tie a bow
With the express purpose of packaging
The broken gift of life
Full of ugly holes
And, now, all that is left to complete the perfect ending to this success story
Is to grow old in a neatly kept apartment
Filled with the unseen haunts of relationships neatly hole-punched and
Filed in a hidden mental cabinet
Next to a night stand where I keep my phone and glasses
And across from the bed
There will be a glass trophy case
Full of trophies denoting various acceptable successes
But, just between you and I
The largest trophy denoting the largest success
Will be a lifetime achievement award
Bestowed for hollowing out what could have been
A beautiful life.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
Customers have torn open the Christmas
chocolates. Shoving it in mouths,
shopping bags, children’s eyes.
Quiet. We are shopping. as. a. family.
Smoke accordions out of Santa’s mailbox. The sprinkler system
hisses stale air. Custodians ride by on their metal cart laughing,
sanitation chemicals flickering out of buckets.
The 80 year-old piano player is hammering out Schoenberg.
Customers shove lamps into their shopping bags, shove children
into them.
Turn on the light Jimmy.
The ninth floor is barricaded off by old woman. They
have turned the clearance divans on their sides
and are throwing toasters. Down in the basement,
the security staff have locked themselves into 2’ by 2’
cells. Fetally-positioned, their panting echoes off stone walls. Static
sizzles on the array of sixteen camera screens. Customers
have begin to bow in the reinforced door next to the two-way mirror.
A fat man is leaning against it. He has been dead
for over an hour. Restaurant staff are tearing
down the great tree. Ornaments funnel down pop-crashing
upwards from the floor. Three pound ceramic dinnerware crashes
into the walnut bar The customers are putting mattresses in their bags,
they are putting the offices in their bags. Human resources
are backed into the employee orientation computer lab. Customers
have poured Starbucks on the circuit-breakers. The lights are dimming,
Escalators are jamming. Children scream
I want to see Santa.
Santa is dead. Employees calmly walk over his protruding
belly. The velvet and fat feels good on tired
feet. An inhuman voice garbles
The store will be closing.
Families grab onto shelves, racks, other
families. Employees pick up the registers and slam
them on granite counters. Coins explode out like bells. The rotating
doors are not spinning. They are stuck, crunching on limbs.
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 5:16 PM UTC
Darling,
in the event of a zombie apocalypse,
I’m gonna marry you.
I know, that romantic testimonial
isn’t quite the matrimonial proposition
you were expecting,
but I’m projecting a lovely future for us!
You see, when the dead break free,
I’ll come save you.
I’ll be your knight in shining Kevlar,
your cranium-crushing crusader,
and safe in our barricaded bungalow,
we’ll match moans for groans
with the shambling horde outside.
We’ll make love ’til death do we part,
or at least til we start
to run out of supplies,
and if we get in a pinch,
I’ve got a surprise:
see, I’ll paralyze them with poetry,
’cause if there’s anything
a zombie understands, it’s desire.
Meanwhile,
you lay down suppressive fire
and we’ll take out as many as we can.
If in the end we are overrun,
I’ll let them take me
so you can get away.
They can have my brain–
it’s my heart that beats for you.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
Perspiration accumulates into salty beads,
Falling into her eyes, eyes that have lost their gleam.
We’ve been trapped like savaged animals for three agonizing nights.
Diminutive apertures in this death box supply minimal light.
The screech of the rails are a bittersweet melody to our ears.
For we only know what these horrific monsters have taught. Fear.
As the door slams open, I’m pried from my wife.
I wonder if this will be the last moment I see her smile.
My people are marked with terror and pain.
I realized were barricaded in with barbed wire chains.
My subverted clothes reek of secretion.
This camp is untrustworthy, raising apprehension.
They claim we are not human.
But I ask, do we not bleed, when we are injured?
Do we not dream blissful thoughts?
Do we not pray to the same God?
The same God that punishes the innocent;
Bringing blithe to those sinners that shed blood.
When we lose our cherished, our loved ones,
Do we not shed tears? Do we not mourn?
No! We must not, for we are not human,
According to what the Nazis see.
We are the innocent, robbed of life.
They are the monsters who roam free.
At least, that’s what I see.
I see men, women, and children stripped of clothing,
Stripped of dignity, stripped of all things humane.
While these barbaric monstrosities make allegations.
Claiming they are purifying society, when they are to blame.
Men lose wives; children lose mothers.
Families are torn apart; sisters lose brothers.
Those of us who survive, work until brittle.
Still we carry on, if our minds are able.
Backs of men are scarred from arduous lashes.
While the sick are trapped in rooms imbued with gases.
My hands are enveloped with calicoes and cuts.
My mind grows weary, I dream an ending abrupt.
I’m crippled with anger, and tears that still drip sore.
My heart crescendos with pain, about to implode.
It’s difficult to refuse the tears when I hear the desolate screams.
I’m trapped in a perpetual nightmare, a ceaseless dream.
Still I carry on in life, for that is the greatest revenge.
The day we feel the kiss of freedom, will be the day we have avenged.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
For far too long we have been victims of police brutality.
We came in peace but got treated like criminals on the 21st of October.
These are the very same men and women who we trust to protect us.
But they failed us dismally, barricaded us from expressing our concerns.
You could see the visuals all on TV, it was all too hard to believe.
The revolution will not be fully televised, it will be tweeted.
For far too long we’ve accepted the government’s mediocrity.
For far too long we’ve been victims of police brutality.
Your teargas, rubber bullets and stun grenades will never stop us.
Our parents were sold dreams in 1994, we’re just here for the refund.
Now it’s time to finally bump the cheese up, so what’s the hold-up for?
History is repeating itself in South Africa, what a time to be alive.
They’ve become worse than their oppressors but they won’t oppress us.
Sorry for the inconvenience, we are just trying to change the world.
We will keep protesting in Jo’burg, Pretoria and Cape Town until we’re heard.
There’s no amount of police brutality that can dampen our spirits and no gun you make can **** our souls.
Our parents were sold dreams in 1994, we’re just here for the refund.
Now it’s time to finally bump the cheese up, so why is there a hold-up?
Hold up, we’re tired of being victims of hate, fate and police brutality.
We came in peace but got treated like criminals on the 23rd of October.
For far too long we’ve accepted the government’s mediocrity.
Your riot police, rubber bullets and stun grenades will never stop us.
Sorry for the inconvenience, we are just trying to change the world.
When burning buildings come down, I just hope you’ll be ready for us all.
When burning buildings come down, we will effortlessly heed the call.
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 6:21 AM UTC
Stricken with a disease at sea
One antidote can't cure
Fallen
Upon this cold wooden deck
Shivering
As the ship faces strong winds
Knowing my time on earth will end
Barricaded away from the crew
No one will talk for months
After I'm gone
Has my soul been called upon by rough sea?
A light is opening near
Blurring my vision
My breath thins
Gasping
Once lived a transcendental life
But poisoned by seaweed
Slowly falling into a slumped
That will not awaken me
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 6:03 AM UTC
The sea ached as his waves crashed
at the barricaded shore, relentlessly
beating himself time and time again.
Not knowing when to stop,
he bellowed loudly every night
to the thunderous sky;
just to see the light again;
for that one moment of bliss.
His prayers heard, the oceans lit up;
in an instant darkness shrouded him.
A glimpse only fueled his pain.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
The canvas on our walls,
help me remember you,
our story sinking into mesh
ink captives speak in hues
Can I shelter your barricaded soul?
or disarm you with my words?
following the path we’re making,
and paint, our greying skies with birds.
Or break down your paper barriers,
fading words in and out,
ill follow your heart anywhere
of that there is no doubt.
So colour me in with our truth,
and walk me through life’s gate
because this is our story my dear,
and our truth is our fate.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
Other worlds have hopes,
for plants, for trees and
dogs walking by, panting
soaking in humidity like carp
above water.
Not ours.
Dead ends, parked cars supplanting
serenity with passion, desire
crammed into
row upon row of heartless
dwellings expunging sunglass-wearing
**** suckers
blocking their emptiness from the world
with reverse blindfolds.
I know their eyes still glare at me, scoffing at
them. Walking, I
walk past
their barricaded kennels, under-
construction housing
impersonating natural climes
with sushi and slushy shops.
People like them have admiss-
able drives, hankering after
freedom; they're indoctrinated
to believe admission is
monthly cable bills
wired in beneath concrete slabs
maintained compliance
through lines painted on grass
where overlords can tell livestock
what to do.
Bus chutes form
hillsides, beside lines of
trees which perfume these
feedlots
we call
cities.
**** oozes below streets
walked on, they stared at me
like cows, watching a ranch-hand
suspicion toward anything
beyond bistro fences.
"What the **** are you looking at,
you filthy animal?
Have you no idea which species your greed
feeds?
Do you know where this ends
for you?
Who's tazing your ***
who's making you sit there?"
Moo, mooo.
Mooooooooooooooooooo.
Receipts, a cudgel on each table,
more cudgels ring
from pockets
telling them what time it is,
where they're to be.
Sunday's almost over,
back to blocks of houses!
Graze on painted grass,
then die,
but not before you stare at me
with empty eyes,
you pathetic, miserable
creatures.
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 10:11 PM UTC
"I am sorry. I don't want to be an emperor, that's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible. Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness; not each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there's room for everyone and a good Earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate; has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut our selfs in; machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think to much and feel to little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost. The airplane and radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions sires out the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say "Do not despair". The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people, will return to the people and so long as men die liberty will never perish. Soldiers! Don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you - who regiment your lives, tell you what to do what to think and what to feel, who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts. You are not machines, you are not cattle. You are men. You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate only the unloved hate. The unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers - don't fight for slavery, fight for liberty. In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written: "the kingdom of God is within man". Not one man, nor a group of men - but in all men - in you. You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy let us use that power - let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work,that will give you the future and old age and security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie. They don't fulfill that promise, they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfill that promise. Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world were science and progress will lead to all men's happiness. Soldiers - in the name of democracy, let us all unite!"
~Charlie Chaplin
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
Stopped at a red light
The wait for it to turn green
Asking 'How long has it been?'
As stars guide the night.
Sudden blackout of all light
As dark as an Auschwitz scene
With monsters and fiends
And darkness sets in fright.
Your teeth glowed bright
There was light again
From a poet's pen
I found comfort at your sight.
You barricaded me in safety
And shone the light that saved me.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 1:56 AM UTC
sordid scripture,
warring woman,
both menace and coquettish innocence
—barricaded.
statues,
fountains,
and restraining orders,
filling the garden:
decorations of
sunlight on a clock,
and a view into tomorrow,
revealing the "texture" of her skin
within the realm of her navel,
as soft as lace,
as smooth as
the surface of a pond.
before diving in
gives an otherworldly radiance,
her shape and smile
compared to everyday realities
are solemn in the extreme,
the dawn threatens
to break in the east.
her voice,
(a lungfully deep, sensuous purr),
is so distinctive,
come what may,
this could be happiness:
sullen, waylaid and capricious,
her urban sexuality hidden
in the attic of revolution,
suffused with the dreamlike, hazy glow
of colored lights and tinsel.
desire is like Christmas
—it always promises
more than it delivers.
May 2, 2022
May 2, 2022 at 1:09 PM UTC
im scared
ive barricaded my door
cried a river into my floor
someone save me
im scared
i thought i was strong enough to be on my own
but now i'm afraid to be in my own home
someone please save me
Jun 19, 2023
Jun 19, 2023 at 3:09 PM UTC
I just want to put my lips on you.
I want you to feel what my kiss feels like against your skin.
You're beautiful on the out and you're
Beautiful on the in
Beautiful
Like a sun kissed beach in the dead of winter,
Like a leech
I will shed you of your skin and **** you down to the ocean and encourage you to swim
Dive in.
Like Trey Songz, but you're sexier.
The *** will be messier
-because I'm so attracted to you
Linguistically attached to you-
Borderline infatuated
Suspended in poetic serenity.
I just want to put my lips on you.
I want you to feel what my kiss feels like against your skin.
I want to worship you in places that God would surely tell me were unholy and forever-more my temple will be barricaded with sin
And I'll tell God,
Tonight, I am not Christian.
Tonight, I want to make devilishly passionate love to you
Tonight
You will feel my lips against your skin.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 7:36 PM UTC
barricaded bones and your
soft tones
sweat. lingering.
my belly weeps for your song.
and from the tips of this mighty dew-dripped tree
and from the depths of this reminiscent lake
emerge patterns of varying shapes and sounds
with one universal undertone of
the way the breath pushes its way out of your lungs
through your gritted teeth
when i make you ***
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
Life's so big and beautiful
and bold
For you to get stuck
in this cave that holds
You
Caged in
Burdened
unable to move
Because the curtains were closed
and the windows barricaded
from light
But here's your
Omen
A message from
Your past lives
To open the door
The key's just there
Lying on the floor
Mat
Just like you did
When you were a child
Waiting to open
Christmas presents
Seeking the thrill,
the excitement of the new
Because yes, my dear,
Tomorrow's been waiting
for YOU.
Aug 8, 2022
Aug 8, 2022 at 4:20 AM UTC
"I am sorry. I don't want to be an emperor, that's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible. Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness; not each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there's room for everyone and a good Earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate; has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut our selfs in; machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think to much and feel to little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost. The airplane and radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions sires out the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say "Do not despair". The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people, will return to the people and so long as men die liberty will never perish. Soldiers! Don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you - who regiment your lives, tell you what to do what to think and what to feel, who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts. You are not machines, you are not cattle. You are men. You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate only the unloved hate. The unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers - don't fight for slavery, fight for liberty. In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written: "the kingdom of God is within man". Not one man, nor a group of men - but in all men - in you. You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy let us use that power - let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work,that will give you the future and old age and security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie. They don't fulfill that promise, they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfill that promise. Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world were science and progress will lead to all men's happiness. Soldiers - in the name of democracy, let us all unite!" ~Charlie Chaplin
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
It's been a long, cold, lonely winter
the only incandescence being hijacked effervescence.
Frothy nights ending in the embrace of a stranger's hand,
blacked out, wasted,
another set of lips I wish I'd never tasted.
Welcome spring, summer,
fondness for the same old thing.
God, I'm so alone
barricaded behind bad decisions
chasing more, just to complain.
Oh how I need to change.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC