"barricading" poems
Cast out were his alien dreams;
Aspiring and confident he did leave.
Fiery ground of thunder burnt his home;
As he alone cast out for that void,
perceived through his singular glass dome.
Adventure had caught him lonely
But peering out from his craft
his pupils did glow!
Circling fiery molecules hovering to and fro!
How could he now transmit and show
Reflection of scale small and macro!
Fumbling, his fingers did try
To articulate the machines
Imprinted of his native language.
"Calling Cpt. Crow!"
Sending the signal the results did show
A break in the wire and a fuse did blow.
Barricading that soul far and deep,
A minuscule solar flare
Emanating a glow!
And from that earth looked upward team and crew
Saw idle in that gigantic void a singular golden hue
Distant but true was the connection they all knew.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
Arriving at the entrance of the ancient temple the white rabbit covered his ears. Shattering glass from a high-pitched vibration he leaped away from a falling chandelier.
“I must find our beloved Harvest Moon."
The white rabbit said to himself. With stern affirmation, a dark fog churned then into the vortex he was consumed.
He stopped at the entrance of the temple courtyard; everyone was frozen like statues.
"What has she done to all of you?"
He cried, then pulled out a magic rune deflecting a hail of daggers. The white rabbit looked up at a floating cocoon and saw the shadow witch hovering over the temple roof. Pale skin and veins glowing red, she was draped in a black tattered robe. With a sinister look and a Crown of Fire on her head the shadow witch spoke.
“White rabbit, white rabbit the Harvest Moon is dead!"
The white rabbit took leaped back then cried out.
"This cannot be so!"
Then he pulled from his bag a magic scroll and read the words written in gold.
"I ask the wind to protect me from this dark magic despair"
Then he conjured a circle of trees in a water globe. The witch streaked across the air and swung around her jet-black hair. Then she commanded an infestation of spiders to climb inside the trees and explode. Barricading himself inside a magic bubble he was protected from the onslaught of shrapnel. The white rabbit grabbed the water globe, leaped into the air, and disappeared in a puff of amber smoke. The shadow witch pulled out a blood-red pearl and murmured an incantation.
"Clever white rabbit, I shall find you in the invisible world"
The white rabbit snapped his fingers then magically appeared behind her. He snatched off the Crown of Fire from her head then whispered the following words.
"How dare you use dark magic on me!"
She jumped in fear spinning around, then summoned a devil hound. The white rabbit raised the water globe and merged it with the crown. A shock wave of light pulsated in the air then the witch menacingly yelled.
“Take him down!”
The white rabbit saw in his peripheral view the hound lunge to attack. But he was too cunning for this, with a symbolic wave and a vigorous slash the hound was severed in two.
The shadow witch glared, then cried out.
“We shall meet again white rabbit; I promise you I'll be back!”
Then she summoned a fiery cauldron and vanished with a blinding flash.
The white rabbit ran inside the temple and approached the Harvest Moon. He stared with eyes full of tears and sorrow at a beautiful princess with hair long and blue. A beautiful creature he so desired, the love he had for her was true. He opened his bag and pulled out the globe which was now encased with the Crown of Fire.
"I brought you a gift from the shadow witch"
Then he smashed the globe and with a flash of light, the Crown of Fire was finally free. The white rabbit held the princess and spoke.
"I have always served you because I love you and now, I command you to come back to life!"
Then he placed the Crown of Fire on her head igniting a ring of light. The white rabbit looked down to see the Harvest Moon Princess opening both of her eyes.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
These scars are my battle wounds
a reward after a long troubled battle with myself
but I won in the end
a symbolic trophy that my struggle is nowhere near over
I am left with the scars
scars where once a crimson red river flowed from them
scars healing over making dams barricading the red monster under them
to feel the sting of the blade in my hands once more
a natural high
the dams don't stand a chance against my new weapon of mass destruction
they will crumble and open at the very touch of the metal to skin
they have to
I have to feel that sensation once again
let the dams break open and the war begin.
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
you know? i'll stop being so empty sometimes. i'll fill myself with words, so they will be dripping down the carefully creased seams of my lips and dents in my cheeks. i am tired of margins and paragraphs to box in what i have to say. i'm ready to let things out like a destroyed dam barricading a swift, roaring feline river; distorted reflections of the day racing past. i am a goddess with dripping hair and naked skin, you can't stop me from feeling. i feel with my soul i feel i feel I FEEL and i am alive. i am the start of morning, i am red tinged and purple, i am the end of the afternoon, dark skinned and starry. i am everything that this universe is made up of, and i intend to be that way till the very earth splits my bones and drills my skull, and my skin droops tiredly to the ground. i am whole, and i am divine. i am eternal, like the dust scattered across the milkyway, and you can't stifle me.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 9:56 AM UTC
Forgive me father for I have sinned, wait what's the part after that? Isn't it go ahead my child? I don't really know because religion has always felt like a relationship I just can't commit to, while others are on their knees begging for forgiveness I was on the white tiles while the only blood of Jesus I saw was my own. Forgive me-wait you see I'm suppose to say forgive me father but it's more like why did you forget me father ? You breathed the life into my mother's stomach and then like hoodini disappeared only to reappear when the sting from the cut had started to scab you ripped it off like the bandaid I had to leave on for so long because as a child all I wanted to do was heal. Honor thy mother and...thy father? Is that really the thing to do after barricading yourself into my arteries with the knife you chased mom with. Forgive me father I don't know what I've done but somehow being born was the sin that condemned me from ever feeling your love as a soft emotion but of something I must always beg for. Forgive me father I cannot seem to see things straight and for that you will surely disown me as if you owned me when you put your DNA into the mixing bowl to recreate your mistake that you so proudly claim on taxes. Forgive me father for I have sinned I wrote another poem again thinking someone would care to hear my voice, but they shot it down like the deer I am. Now I lay me down to sleep I pray--- who has my soul because they told me I lost it when I kissed her when I tied myself down and told them how to pronounce my name. Forgive me father for I have sinned? Just by putting on the female body I live in.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
Civilization is founded upon one-dimensional thinking: monotheism, monoculture, monogamy, monopoly, monotony, mono mono mono... one day soon i'll quit my job, throw away my phone and steal really cool, expensive 3D glasses. After all, eyelids are the only thing barricading our dreams from reality.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 10:50 PM UTC
As I sit on this assigned desk
ears drooling with institution gel
I swirl on the seat, the wind pause
Musing in evangelised dilemmas
Lobotomised to jerking veracities
Sagacity amateurs boost egos
Stooping and stooging in asylums
Barricading others progression
Regressed losing solid grounds
Jurisdictional custodial supervisions
An infused scent of propagandism
Scenes of robotic observational modelling
Unprincipled to insist on another destiny
Calculating targeted risked predictions
Regulated to invigilate and unroll a matrix grid
Who am I? To forge his,her or their trench
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 7:56 AM UTC
Jumping over the dark mahogany railroad ties that my father laid down as a barrier, I entered my favorite place. Bare toes and rough feet of my 9 year old self burrowed with joy into the wood chips that cushioned my kingdom.
The entire area smelt of damp, rich wood, always freshened by the honeysuckles sweet scent from their lazy seats on their wooden fence in the background.
My castle was wooden as well, 6 carefully and lovingly sanded steps up onto the throne where I could watch all I reigned: my dog, the four railroad ties barricading the wood shavings from spilling into the soft green grass, I could see my family inside, my house not but a quick dash away.
As the sun set, down the wooden slid and back onto the damp ground I would return inside. Smelling of bark, honey, and innocence.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 12:38 PM UTC
i'd like for you to fight
as i would fight for you
(if i could)
had the plates of my armour
not resumed the shelled perfection
of cowardice
i'd like for you to
fight
throw fury-fuelled punches
at the barricading fists
of something like fate
i
i'd like for you to
fight
curtail the cold blow
of circumstance
trump those phantom forces
dear destiny
every rigid bone man has erected
to create something tangible, cheap and ephemeral
of love
i'd like for you to wait for me
as i would wait for you
had i the certainty
the certainty of
a gallery of your faces
Vivid and quick to the frantic reaping
Grasp Of recollection
I’d like for you to mirror my gaze
Resurrect unfiltered feeling of affection
And woe begone worship
Tormented to swoons of silence
By cerebral guard with their spears of reason
Before it could reach the parting gates of my lips
I'd like to you to resurrect these thoughts
With the elixir of your tongue
Speak the words I dare to think
I’d like for you to fight for me
Wait for me
add premise to the promise
Come claim your rightful throne
In the hierarchy of this heart.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 1:27 PM UTC
Fluorescent blossom upon the midnight sky
Aiming to arrest the coruscate stars
Expecting they comply, though, forevermore denied...
False luminous blurs, nothing more than barricading bars
Try... Try, their brightness painfully cries
And so, brilliantly surpassing inadequate set pars
Truthfulness glimmer on... I beg you never die.
Unending navy blue, gorgeous deep yellow stars
Your lying sky... dulling the perfect natural sky as it lie
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 11:51 PM UTC
there are some folks living in my bathroom
from the in-between world
like a trailer park
for toilet home bodies
it is where some
of the the dead living habitate
gnomish broods who feed
on the mist of mold
and fecundating aberrations
of **** and excrement
where the difference
between objects and souls
blur
sinks and toilets
flapping opinionated vortexes
of gloom brooding
walls wave and warp
like angry water
and howling wind
they are living creatures
animated bodies electric
crying mouths
without breath
fierce undulations
animated denizens scowling
rattling like bricka bracka
used shaking chairs
always steaming
hysterical
daring you to fight them
sometimes between sleep and wake
i enter their dimension
unable to break free of my sleeping self
held down
paralytic
like a narcoleptic slug
inching its way
through a puddle of warm oatmeal
last night i found myself
in the in-between world
to discover some desperate hollow woman
barricading the bathroom
i pushed hard against the door
and heard her sonorous groan
as she collapsed
into thin air
i think i love her
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 5:16 PM UTC
She's like spring
Rosy cheeks and tshirts and jeans
Delicate feet patter along the grass with happiness
the morning dew barricading intruders.
She loves like the sun; shy in the morning
bright in the afternoon
peaceful in the evening.
She's like summer
Tanned face and strappy tops and short shorts
showing off a supposedly perfect body.
A smile on her face that's impossible to wipe off
Her feet slip into her high heels
whilst the heavy bass blasts through the speakers.
She loves like a child loves their teddy bear
soon to throw it away.
She's like autumn
Dimpled cheeks and thick leggings and Converse
wandering through the fields, her dog at her heel
as acoustic music plays in her ears, and
fills her with contentedness.
She loves like he's the only one
he loves her like she's one of many.
She's like winter
Paler face and dense jumpers and fluffy socks
sits inside a room of comfort
and laughs at her favourite tv show
like she's never been lonely.
Snow floats down outside her window
she watches as it touches the ground,
her fingers wrapped around a warm mug of hot chocolate
and smiles to herself in the darkness.
She sighs at the appearance in the mirror
her wide hips should be for affectionate hands to rest upon
but there's just the debilitating scars that others left on her.
She loves like Pluto
too far away for anyone to reach
her mind is troubled by the blankness
and stuck in an eternity of cold space.
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
They said to always be honest
So I tried not to lie
But it seems that we would rather be ignorant
Than face a harsh reality
They said to always be honest
Even when the truth hurts
But my words fall on deaf ears
As you refuse to listen
They said to always be honest
So I told you how I felt
But you laughed and turned away
Cause you didn't want to help
They sad to always be honest
So as I am tying this noose
I want y'all to know
All I needed was someone to here the truth
Instead of barricading themselves in a world of lies
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 1:09 AM UTC
They live as a clan in the stone fortress
Barricading themselves from diversity in humanity,
They accumulate all manner of weaponry for strong reasonlessness,
They primitively accumulate arrows, Swords, simis or pangas,
Machetes, clubs, trunctheons and poisonous harpoons,
In full tribal and ethnic neurosis of amok level hatred,
Their behavioral fibres finely tuned towards killing massively
All those of different clan, blood, names and tribal earlobe tattoos
On their misfortunate happenstance of crossing the land
Of collective paranoia; where all but strangely doubts a visitor,
From inside their tribal cocoon they hate without knowledge
They detest all those of alien confession, they hate and doubt,
In stupid fear they believe that sons of foreign land are jeopardy,
We must **** them ere they step on our ethnic comfort.
Your paranoia makes you blind to natural truth
Barely open in the diversity of fauna and flora
On both land and oceans, air and below the earth,
For the bird extant are all but varied; eagles and kites,
Wild beasts are only a myriad of differences,
The trees in your mother’s woodlot are not homogenous,
Life in the seas and oceans is strange variation,
The variation which makes life worth its worthiness,
Rise above the folly in your collective paranoia
Pedestalled on the neurotic fear of human diversity.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 7:00 AM UTC
She said
“Oh you’re such a ******* comedian”
and I laughed at her face
I believe the term is
more than kinda ****** off
did I ever tell you the one about the
cynical poet with a substance abuse problem?
I know I have a punchline somewhere
in between all these smudged lines of ink
and then she said,
“You over think too much. Just shut the **** up and live.”
and I didn’t say
I live to think of you just shutting up and letting me **** you
but instead I went with -
you are probably right. Let’s take a shot
it was a shot in the dark
no I shot the dark
for all the nights I spent barricading my closet door
because I am vindictive at times
and you are so full of vitriol at times
I call you little miss snake bite
and I’m allergic to antivenom
“again with the jokes. When was the last time
you said something actually real?”
when was the last time anybody said
absolutely anything?
“Sarcastic remarks again, huh?”
you’re **** right smarty pants
Then we got drunk
a risky proposition I found myself facing
you swaying to music I couldn’t quite hear
THAT made me nervous
I’ve always been terrified of turning ******
then you said,
“What music?”
and that made me feel a little better
knowing you were possibly
a little ****** too
did you ever hear the one about the
probably in way over his head love struck
funny poetry guy?
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
I slog through this museum of people living their best life.
I hold my phone tightly.
Like an emotional support animal,
Cocooned in my bed.
I dig through people's lives like someone stuck in an avalanche.
The only movement I have are my fingers, swiping.
My body groans as it realizes it will be frozen through time.
It's 1PM and I’ve been awake since 6 AM scrolling.
It's hard to breathe, I can feel the weight in this Sarcophagus I built.
I force myself to focus in my own lane.
I can see someone had their heart broken,
It stands out in a crowded room like a glow stick.
Everyone can see your pain.
Everyone knows that we have been there and they regretfully have done that.
So let me stay on my island,
Barricading my insecurities and tucking them into my vulnerabilities
Until you can't see what’s hindsight with my 20-20 vision.
I’ll pile my damaged goods till it seeps out of the storage boxes with childhood toys in my mind
You will see my mind will grow calluses that built this lighthouse on my island
To let people know that I am damaged goods.
So steer clear, find your cargo elsewhere else.
So let's hear it,
What makes you think I can trust you.
Jul 27, 2021
Jul 27, 2021 at 7:19 PM UTC
A moment is never singular, exactly; it is obvious nothing on This Earth lasts.
Even with a God, People obstinately search somewhere to ground the spar tree,
The focal point, the axis, the Self.
Molecules have been examined down to Music; infinite harmonies taking perceived shape,
With each element ever-changing as our senses are tuned.
Particles are waves of color, our own hand turning the kaleidoscope.
Vainly a self-deceit of lasting solidity harbors the illusion of power to hold fast
the fluidity of this cherished existence, like collectively barricading a levee
between our perpetually sinking firmament and the inevitably rising sea.
Ink fades; paper burns; stone crumbles.
But imagine by tenacious persistence we succeed in preserving at least some thoughts,
In digital binary a corked message hurled over entropy into a hot, dry future.
Comprehension itself would surely evolve away,
abandoning our I's and 0's in their past,
bits scattered from a broken bottle useless in a windy desert.
By dumb luck our toes have kicked the dust from remnants, mysteries of the Ancients.
Sandblasting time has reduced their instructions for miracles down to perplexing sketches,
littering a roofless sun-baked labyrinth of echoes.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 8:16 PM UTC
To the right of my mind
a stuttering shudder stroked
into a conjuring trick
mist and fog precluded
with eternal density
Giving way to a definite
bypass of emotion
sitting, wondering, hammering
for the solution to troubled
senses that gripped in tight fists
Gradual senseless doubts
fogged up the highway
skidded into black icy fear
the foghorn sounding its blast
Announcing its brazen load
Keep me safe in corners
despite their black features
poking at me, barricading
my tomorrow with segmented
troubles, woven in pin pricking motion
Grinding statues were still
age transforming their limbs
into crumbling confinement
I struck out and rallied
them, together we circled
Transforming our once isolated
innards into sharing heart
shaped sentences
heard by those who chose to hear
and found droplets of hope
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 9:07 AM UTC
could my restlessness
just be little earthquakes
calling for tremulous gestures
like a flick of a string
attached to
the puppet's lifeless wrist
wherein lies the
constantly turning nebulae
satisfied only by the
empty obsidian space
a spattering of crystal
on midnight whisperings
my bed clings to me
a parting lover
or perhaps a parasitic twin
bound to me by flesh
our surgical silk bond
rope veins lashing us together
tied in perfect boy scout
honor badge knots
sharing my blood that is
now our own
why does the throbbing nothing
seated right between my temples
cry out in agony for
the stillness of a deep sleep
and yet rages against
my fluttering eyelids
hummingbirds on honeysuckle
scattering to dust
at the coming nuclear winter
that ever consuming fission reactor
at precise center
pointing true north
the exact point within me
where each other position is
equal distance
i write to you
somewhere out there
a beautiful part of that world
a string in the tapestry
that no theory could ever define
i write to you so you can know
that i straddle the brick wall
barricading this world
from the ever-present storm of chaos
half of me is woven to you
but half of me is still being pulled
by the unfathomable gravity
of a black hole
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
Today, I pick up my pen to write my feelings again.
I swear they've changed, but here we are, same feeling different day.
With this art, I leave my body and into my mind we depart.
Here, I become the one and lonely soldier.
Where I am on the brink of something.
A barricading boulder blocking what I need.
So I trot off into belief on my trusty steed.
This is where I am who I want.
All obstacles are merely an antagonizing taunt,
That vanish at my will.
But will I take this mentality back with me?
I swear I could and I would want the world to see..
That I can be anything I want to be~
And I believe that I will, but is that really the key?
Or will I end up where I am, day dreaming beneath the birch tree?
*"So ****** What is it that I need?"*,
I say as I slap my hand to me knee.
What IS stopping me?
From getting from here to the end of the horizon that I see?
Could it be? A simple left and right of my feet?
I stumble upward, gather my balance.
Whistle for my friend, the stallion.
No sign of him..
I look below the rocks and around the bend..
I remember that I've felt this before
And it's silent again..
Today, I pick up my pen to write my feelings again.
WAIT! There must be something different today.
The trees are blooming and the skies are no longer grey!
The birds are singing and children are at play!
Something is indeed different today.
Is it that my disbelief has been cast astray?
Or was it that I jumped out of bed and did something good with no delay?
Either way...
I've noticed what it takes!!
I BELIEVE this is going to be a good day!
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 8:46 PM UTC
Your name wrung
between the lines of
fresher tender cuts.
Brushing a slower finger
over dusty pages,
disturbing untold stories
that was long untouched.
Your name is
the tap-tap of hammer nails
and the crimson consummator.
The barricading name,
of the mesmeric temple of apologies
molded by unequivocal agony and anger
lying in the bleak moor
laced with your remnants.
My mind is left shambled on the floor,
shards of memories
now leaking as exudate
am I being inflamed?
If I were to paint this across the canvas,
it’d be red, blue then purple
a galaxy with mismatched constellations
on a rippled fabric of night skies.
If I were to ink you to paper,
tracing you in black
you’d diffuse, cry and leak
into a pool of red,
dripping at the edge of the paper.
You are the cactus
pricking with every temptation.
The one engrained in my figmentation
wrapped in lessons
coloring the pigmentation of my skin
with various hues.
You are the open wound
with the fabricated scab.
You are the name
that rings inside my head,
echoing through my memories
trembling shakes, tremors
through the cronies
widening the past a little
more within me.
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 2:59 PM UTC
i have not felt for some time now,
my barricading skills are better than i’d like to admit,
and i cannot remember the last time i stepped outside of them.
i misunderstand the difference between conquering, and suffering
because in one,
you win,
and in the other,
well,
it is easy to be swarmed with grief.
i wore grief like a badge.
but in both,
to conquer you must suffer first in order to know what you are fighting for.
i have yielded nothing but emptiness in my hands as others swung their daggers and swords
scraping my surface as prologue,
then finally slivering down to my bone as epilogue.
but my story is not over,
my barricades are crumbling stone by stone
and maybe my sun will shine again,
but i am a force to be reckoned with because queens will conquer,
and my legacy is just beginning.
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 12:15 AM UTC
No words to articulate as I sit and think, the sky is overcast with a cool appearance, as the heat misrepresents its true nature.
No stories to tell of an unanswered love, a lost beginning when I lost my true love. Words can apply my lovingly touch to my lover's heart.
The dreams I affirm they'd live, but alone within the poet heart, No articulated words none left to give my precious little one. Silence surrounds my heart, a dark and cold ***** the size of my fist. The poets heart rhythm, lacks the harmony it once praise for the woman of his.
Engulfed in social isolation, my world slowly collapse, as the poet anticipated. Stress and mental exhaustion, it fatigues the poet mind wondering when my love will depart.
A sound of the poets favorite music that once enticed my lover as swell within my soul. Losing the beauty and glory I once saw each day.
An inquisitive thought, can this be the poets pens my last goodwill, can there be a amber left in her heart that I may convey this love on paper?
What's this poet to do? Not able to express myself, I feel for my true love, My passion to write would surely die, lacking the emotion while concealing and protecting her once love, deep in my heart.
Does this poet conceal the pain and heart ache, while smiling at friends, saying I'm fine, does it even matters, barricading my pain, hiding my shattered spirit, from friends due to the love I couldn't attain.
A choice in life in the heart of a poet, excusing the bitter advices from friend who want to see the end. My love for her is stronger than ever, but her decision outwit the strength of the writer, therefore it is left with the Creator of this poet.
Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 4:55 PM UTC