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Genesis Hawley Jun 2016
What are we?
But the sum of our experiences?
We walk around
The chains on our shoulders
We all have chains
The chains are what’s left of those experiences
We feel our chains but
The chains of others are invisible to us
We forget
That others may have greater chains than ours
That they may suffer daily like us
So we walk
Letting our chains
Slap into others and give them more chains
Without a second thought
For how they might feel
For our only concern is for our chains
So we lash out
Nandini Apr 2015
She screamed
She thrashed
But those chains pulled her down
She fought
She struggled
But those chains didn't let her go
She tugged
Harder than ever
Wrists , red from struggle
But those chains caged her
She tried
One last time
Then gave up
Those chains had won her over
She sobbed
She wept
But those chains just laughed
Their deep , metallic , sad laughter
They said she brought those chains upon herself
They said she deserved those chains
But what was she guilty of ?
She had not asked for it
Yet that pain seeked her
She wanted free
But those chains held her
Tired , from the struggle
She gave up
She let those chains
Win over her !
Sara Buzz Mar 2019
Sinking down and now I'm gone,
I cannot seem to breathe,
I've lost it all,
my everything,
All these heartfelt promises and I couldn't keep one

As I stumble through the dark,
I somehow caught sight of your loving heart
You made me whole again,
holy again
do you have those memories too?

Breaking down this empty mess
I want you in my heart,
your unending love,
all I'm "supposed" to feel
make this heart beat like its brand new
please heal me.

I know for real this time
who I am, what I need to be
and I am not alone
because these chains were meant to break

And I will watch the water rise without fear
I know God will lift me high again,
I'm trying.

Through the suffering and the pain I will rise up once again,
as my soul says goodbye to sea floors below
with the glory placed upon your name
these Chains will always break

I wont be afraid to break,
if only it's in Your name
I wont fall,
I wont let You fade

I will learn to fight again, God
I know this isn't the end
even when I'm screaming that I'm alone
You still call me Your friend

your atmosphere calms and heals
you bring the sleeping souls back
you force our eyes awake

everything in your power you'll do to help those who live
those whose chains were meant to break

Rescue me and my heart will change,
I'll finally see light and be ok
you ripped me from this swirling head
when I couldn't seem to find my way

I cannot see these fading scars
except the days when you fade in my heart
the hurt I thought drove me this far
when ive forgotten
and I can't gather myself to pray.

Everything lost because I
can't see the way you gave me
dragging my unfilled soul through this empty place
but if I toughen up
if I decide to remember you
I know these chains will break

But you always seem to be right there
even when I forget my prayers
you've got me

with you I'll never fall too deep
my soul is caught in your embrace,
one day after death I'll get to see your face

fear escapes me,
your love it changes me
and inner demons stand no chance
when I'm seeing red
you start to put more holy words in my head
Ill wake up and walk away
from the ideas of old
without an enraged trance.

my thoughts go to you
all the choices here I can make
if only and ONLY if I live in your word
My dark chains will be forever off me
Finally, these chains may break

I came into this empty place
with my heart in hell
and my soul held in your gaze
Some way in my head I hear your voice
and now I have to make that choice
again
which path to follow
to smile or wallow
but I know these chains were meant to break

My heart cant see anymore of my pain
I no longer hide my faith
I no longer hide my face
throughout my lifetime I'm saved by your everloving grace
and no longer have to fear or feign
no longer lose hope or disdain
I knew with effort
i could break these chains

I walked through the darkness
I've got life back on track again
I ripped apart my old life like snake skin
and decided to write only for you,
though it took me many years to pick up from where I should have always been
but God has forgiven all my mistakes
And these chains were made to break.
Micaela Tennis Sep 2013
The sun beams across the horizon.
Today is a new day.
My feet hit the ground, awakening the enemy.
I feel a pull on my legs
I fall to the ground
Crushed under the foot of the enemy
Today is a new day

I pick myself up, brushing the settled dust from yesterday’s battle.
Each step is taken in agony.
He stalks  me wherever I go.


Every turn, every step you are there.
Breathing on my neck
I turn and run to my Lord.
The chains stop me and I fall.
Grabbing my hand, you spin me around.
Catching  me and lifting me.
We dance.
Left right, left right.
Heel, toe, heel toe,
Spin, spin, sway.
You pull me away.

The chains keep the beat.
For I am under his subjugation.
He pulls me back by the chains.
Straining my every move.
He is the puppeteer of my life, staggering every step.
My bones ache, my faith quakes.




Bruised, broken, weary and lost am I.
Being walked by chains.

Every turn, every step you are there.
Breathing on my neck
I turn and run to my Lord.
The chains stop me and I fall.
Grabbing my hand, you spin me around.
Catching  me and lifting me.
We dance.
Left right, left right.
Heel, toe, heel toe,
Spin, spin, sway.
You pull me away.

I stand in God’s house, defined by my religion.
“It’s all a show you see? You are my marionette.
Hypocracy lies in you, you’re a fraud in Christ’s name.”

Escape I try escape I will.
For my help comes from the Lord.
The enemy cringes at The Name.
The ground shakes, and the chains shake.
For there is power in the name of my Lord!

He stands before me.
Taking the chains in his posession.
He said it is done, take up your cross and follow me.

Jesus breaks the chains.
Jesus set me free!

No more addiction.
No more pain.
No more shame.
No more guilt.
No more sorrow.
For He holds your tomorrow.

You are not defined by the rules of religion.
For my spirit has
set
you
free.

The motions bind you in chains.
For I have broken every chain.
You are free to dance in my name.
Never again will you waltz with Satan.

My child may I have this dance?
Dance with me wherever you go, and I will never leave you.

God takes me by the hand.
We dance.
I cling to his garment, never letting go.
Lifting me and catching me.
Left right, left right.
Heel, toe, heel toe,
Spin, spin, spin.
God your presence carries me away.
The moon called upon my madness anew,
I closed my eyes and fought against the chains
That kept me waiting, waiting here for you.

You gulped down my world without so much a chew,
Enveloped everything with your scent, became my raving bane.
The chains, the chains garlanded in lilac and rue,

Alone keep me from going moonlight-mad, so they do.
The gentle ice face of the mother moon keeps penetrating my brain.
That kept me waiting, waiting here for you.

This is the stage set for the heavenly wars Ares loves to brew,
The battle fought over our love so strong that left it slain.
The chains, the chains garlanded in lilac and rue,

The chains, the chains made of silver came askew,
Like your hands in mine and whatever feelings may still remain,
That kept me waiting, waiting here for you.

My madness has awoken the moon-bird blue,
Soon it will fly down and cut through the silvery veins.
The chains, the chains garlanded in lilac and rue,
That kept me waiting, waiting here for you.
This was written for a project in my English class. The assignment was to model a poem by your chosen poet. In my case, I chose Sylvia Plath's "Mad Girl's Love Song".
Britni Ann Oct 2017
The darkness came over her at a very young age.
The age where a child should be happy… be free.
For she was no longer free, set in chains like a slave.
She told no one, how could she tell anyone?
Which became the chains of slavery  that little girl bore.
She longed, she dreamed to be free.
But held on knowing that it was the only thing keeping her alive.
But as months grew into years, as she became older,
the hope drained from her once green eyes.
There was no more hope.
She knew she wouldn't seem again, only in her haunted nightmares would she see his cold, lifeless body searching for someone to hold onto…
Something like her.
She cried.
She screamed.
Those chains kept her from innocence.
Those chains broke her, she couldn't be strong anymore.
Those chains kept her from love, kept her from trust.
She lay convinced that no one could help her, understand her, love her.
She couldn't see Me.
I understood what she was going through.
I loved her more than anyone ever could.
I tried to help but the grudge she had only kept Me away.
I knew she was angry with Me for taking her father away from what she thought was too soon…
She didn't know I took him up here.
With Me.
She only knew that I took him from her.
That's why she fought,
Why she hid.
She put on those chains hoping they would comfort her.
Too soon figure out that they made her feel worse.
Isolated. And alone.
She just didn't know that she would see him again very soon.
She didn't know those chains were drowning her in a life she didn't want.
I cried for her.
My beautiful child who just didn't yet understand.
She just didn't know how much she was loved.
Then finally she broke.
As I stood behind her ready to catch her broken soul,
I whispered into her ear, “I love you.”
Then out of the chains and into my arms she fell.
the first poem I ever wrote.
Nehad Zein Apr 2016
Those dangling chains,
I wish for them.
Just like a baby wishes for his mother.
They, the chains,  jump around;
Just like wild and free kangaroos.
The holes so close,
Remind me of fishnets;
The livelihood of those at sea.
The hanging chains, like grapevines
Much like people, hanging onto hopes.
Dangling in the storm to save their life.
The chains still dangle,
Carefree, without concern;
Lost in their own world;
Like few people,
Those who stand out.
Those dangling chains;
So **** beautiful;
Just stare at them,
Like you stare at the stars,
On a moonlit night.
They keep dangling,
Undeterred by the world.
Chains are free,
Chains are dominant,
Much like the unfettered few.
Liquidchaos Sep 2010
Silver loops pieced together carefully link by link,
each link seeming stronger than the last.
Poison dripped steadily upon the weakest link,
and no one heard the final snap that tore it all anew.

Broken chains and silver blades,
done in such moments of hate.
Broken chains and silver blades,
used to destroy so simply.
Broken chains and silver blades,
to bleed the poison until you scream.

Silver blade honed so well its a warrior's blade,
keen edge so sharp it'd slice upon first simple touch.  
Dancing done so carefully that naked feet don't slip,
and no one heard the silent scream from a broken soul.

Broken chains and silver blades,
done in the name of *******.
Broken chains and silver blades,
broken so completely there no dust.
Broken chains and silver blades,
used for own personal gain to freely blame.

Broken things for a broken soul that no more,
everything done in the name of trying to help.
The lies,deception,and pain are all imagined.

After all when there power to walk away,
there should be blood upon the walls...
Nobody Feb 2018
They act like foolish mice lost in a maze,
with heart eyes, who only admire and send praise;
so blown away, and stuck in a dumb daze.
It’s amusing they excuse your wicked ways,
and you can gladly starve them all for days;
while smiling madly, not even fazed.
They’re dim and dull, you need entertained.
You can’t help it, you think, but don’t dare say,
to sustain your pointless little games;
that you can’t ever seem to abstain.
It’s the higher ground you need to gain.
So lure them in enduring your demented cage.
Provoke their wrath and force them to cave,
spread your foul poison to their every vein.
There’s no denying they’re enslaved,
locked tight in your chains.
Carla Jul 2018
The metal hanging from my wrists,
And the steel clutching my ankles,
The chains weighing me down.

The chains not allowing me to move,
Or eat, or drink, or breathe,
The chains that stop me,
In my tracks,
Simply to listen,
To give in.

The chains of depression,
Dragging me into the depths,
The darkness that lays below,
These chains are the problem.

Will I ever escape them?
Will I ever find a way out?
Will I ever be free?
Was I ever free?
How am I supposed to know?

The chains that cling onto my limbs,
Are the chains we all dread,
We all despise,
We all don't want in our lives.

But hey, I was lucky enough to get them.
chantel belfon Jul 2010
invisible chains hold me captive
the chains of my world and peers
the chains i tied myself up with
the chains i can't seem to bear
emancipation is what i seek
it is what i desire
i know i have the key to be free
but yet i still aspire
let me be you vile mind
let me be
one day these chains will break away
i will no longer desire
for i will be as free as an eagle
free to be the true me
but till then i will continue to aspire
aspire to be free
aspire to be me
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,

but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
The gold that flows, through our elaborate veins,
The crop that is known, by many names,
The gift that alleviates, our daytime pains,
The commodity that plays, one too many games.

Our world is nothing, but a bottomless mine,
Simply waiting, for the wrath and plunder of humankind,  
Oh labourers please, wait your spot in line,
For it was not you that made, this incredible find.

You’re a fool to think, the system needs a redesign,
For your fate and this chain, are forever intertwined.
Stay in your corner, as they wine and dine,
For it is you not them, contained by this chain’s bind.  

Posing as a gift, that elevates their daily grind,
The brown gold is no longer, part of your bloodline,
It was their chains after all, that made this incredible find,
For it now flows away, from the Plateau’s skyline.
  
You continue to hope, for these chains to be redefined,
But to imagine you even exist to them, is asinine,
Yet you believe a consumer movement, would be so inclined,
For you forget that chains were made, to always confine.
This is a poem dedicated to the hard working smallholder coffee farmers around the world. This poem is intended to speak to their struggle, the inequalities of coffee value/supply chains the world over, and the unfortunate reality that these farmers face. This poem can certainly apply to many smallholder farmers and other labourers (landless or not) who suffer similar fates. Note that coffee in some circles is referred to as brown gold because of its economic value.
CoffeeInfused Mar 2015
Narcissus in chains
Head hung in shame
Where once was beauty
Now nothing remains
No other to blame
Self-bound and tamed
The pitiful, once proud
Narcissus in chains

A flower in bloom
Eventually wilts
Bright leaves growing dim
As essence is spilt
Lifeblood grows weak
Decrepit and stained
All pretty things fade
As the earth lays claim
Broken and twisted
Like narcissus in chains

Reflected in a pool
An image shows true
Until shattered and torn
By a rock falling through
Rippling, tattering
Illusion no more
Cracked and fragmented
As one's inner core
And what's left on shore
Now forever is changed
Who made you so
Oh, narcissus in chains

Time steals beauty
And flowers, they rot
Clear pools dry up
Their waters forgot
As things fall to change
One still remains:
The pitiful, once proud
Narcissus in chains
Hussein Dekmak Jan 2017
Free me of my chains..., Free my body, my mind, and my soul so I can feel so free!
Free me of my chain...,
so I can be a bird flying high in the sky between the clouds, flapping wings, spending my life singing, traveling the world to places I never been before, watching the chained people from the high sky, &, visiting my childhood girl who had beautiful green eyes, & spreading happiness and harmony around the world!
So I can go back to my innocent childhood playing with my friend, laughing so loud, running around to a point where I am all sweaty, watching the miracle of the birth of babies sheep, goats, & cows in my dad's barn, going to nature picking up wild flowers to present them with an innocent smile it to my cute teacher !
Free me of my chains...,
so I can visit my mom in heaven, get her warm kiss and hug, stir at her beautiful green eyes, and her angel smile and tell her about my beautiful wife & three kids.
Free me of my chains,...
so I can go to spend the rest of life in wild life enjoying the beauty of nature, watching the colorful butterflies, looking at birds, listing to their songs, picking up wild flowers, listening to waves, collecting shells, and watching the sunset at the beach.
Free me of my chains...,
so I can spend the rest of days at an isolated place connecting to God, asking for him for forgiveness for my numerous sins and misfortune, crying for the innocent life that are wasted every day, praying for poor people who go to sleep on empty stomachs.
Free me of my chains...,
so I can loosen myself in serving people, giving hope to the hopeless, lifting up the spirit of a suffering soul, and giving helping hand to the poor people.

Hussein Dekmak
Copyright
Umi Mar 2018
The Chains of ones fate are undenyable, as life carries on,
Servants caught in a hell of rebirth without ever escaping,
A red thread which leads verily onto a destined pathway,
Decisions, the pen and the ink for ones book of destiny,
They may ruin the servant, or bring them great happiness,
May mislead, trick, ****** or even manipulate them without their conciousness or understanding of the weight they brought upon their poor little, yet precious bodies which carry on depression as if it was the weight of the world or far beyond that registered mass,
In a hole with seemingly no escape to it, trapped in misery,
Chains of suffocating pressure are keeping them in place,
Oh what a terrible fate it must be to be in this position,
Patience, hope and positivity are needed to see another ray of sunlight, shining beyond the scene of the darkened clouds above
Once this trial has been overcome they too will shine with newfound strengh, energy and relieving glee from within themselves,
So fight on, you precious souls, you are worth more than you might think or would even admit to yourselves, then shine
That would be, a great wish of mine

~ Umi
Tea Feb 2012
Chains and shackles

Chains and shackles weigh me down
Ties to strong to break, helpless struggle
Unheard screams, guards surround me
Your around me, and you run blindly
So I sit quietly, with silent thought
Not knowing can be easer, so I remain unheard
I falter under pressure so squeamishly
Why slow you down?
You would try to carry me

Chains and shackles hold me down
My echoed heart beat is the only sound
A thudding heart could be heard
Tare it out from my very breast
It stop the twisted breath in my empty chest
A tortured heart freed from the rest
My body now a cesspool
A wasteland of festered stress
I will **** my hopes and dreams if it means
Honesty, equality, fairness to my loved

Chains and shackles ground me down
I could fly when your around
But I will squash anything
I wont dare let my bleeding heart sing
So let the guards hold me down
I challenge the people to there bliss
Tragic is no way for loves first kiss
Vitis Lio Feb 2014
The mirror tells me
There is still a flower
Stuck in my hair.
The aftermath
Of today's
Daisy chain mood.

The mirror was only
Trying to be kind
But sent me into
My own
Personal
Brand of rain.

I couldn't find a soul
That would comfort me
Only the rotting daisy
That is not
A daisy
Staring back through the glass.

Daisy chains are past
Long, lush, British grass
And longer, lonely breaks.
I wasn't sad,
I was content
In my own dream world.

Daisy chains are future
Hands linked in hands
Making chains together
Hoping they'll
Last forever
These are my dreams.

But daisy chains
Are also now
The single daisy
That is not
A daisy
Rotting in my hair.
(And you,
Only at night,
In my dreams.)
Robert Morales Jul 2014
This life has never been
what I  expected
And I will never see
my own reflection
And even though I've know
This lie I live is old
Its far too late
To break from these chains

Even with this pain
that I've kept inside
Between the here and now
In between the time
There's a void that cries
By these lies that blind
There its set engraved
That it's far too late
To break from these chains

This life will cease to be
Much as expected
Because you'll never see
My true reflection
And even though I'm scorned
That which you'll never know
That It's far too late
To break from these chains

Even with this pain
that I've kept inside
Between the here and now
In between the time
There's a void that cries
By these lies that blind

There its set engraved
That it's far too late
To break from these chains

This life has never been...
As I expected
I never meant to be...
so self deceptive
And now  its far too late...
To break this chain
This lie is too old...
It's me that I mourn....

Even with this pain
that I've kept inside
Between the here and now
In between the time
There's a void that cries
By these lies that blind

There its set engraved
That it's far too late
To break from these chains
Mark Kelley Feb 2019
“Prisoner”

I'm a prisoner of my heart
I'm a prisoner of my soul
of the silent nights apart
of your touch that made me whole
Of searching through the trees
to find the path I'd lost
of the overwhelming joy
embraced at any cost
of looking for the line
in the poem that you wrote
full of unfiltered truth
in a little post it note

I'm a prisoner of my heart
I'm a prisoner of my soul

I'm a prisoner of my mind
I'm a prisoner of our times
of the search for empty words
to fit in time and rhyme
Of the visions from my past
that haunt me in my dreams
of what's never meant to last
what's never what it seems
of listening to the wind
sing like old ceramic chimes
I'm a prisoner of my mind
I'm a prisoner of our times

Bound in chains
from the stardust that we're built from
Bound in chains
in the shadows where we belong
Bound in chains
in the deck this hand was dealt from
Bound to play this hand
Bound to sing this song

I'm a prisoner of my love
I'm a prisoner of my tears
of the long forgotten memories
from the long forgotten years
of the times when it was magic
when we held the magic wand
of the love that lasts forever
even as we're lost and gone
of the sight that keeps me blinded
of the blindness that's finally made clear
I'm a prisoner of my love
I'm a prisoner of my tears

Bound in chains
from the stardust that we're built from
Bound in chains
in the shadows where we belong
Bound in chains
in the deck this hand was dealt from
Bound to play this hand
Bound to sing this song
Bound to find the key
to unlock the chains all along
Shea Nov 2018
I walk with a straggle,
The chains become tighter with
Every step.
You see, this is my reason for
Giving up.

"You hold the key
to your own shackles"

I can set myself free,
With what ambition,
when my hands are tied?
What's the point of changing
When I've lied
For them to Believe I'm fine?

They say you can change,
They say it's possible to Believe
In something other than pain.
For this, I won't give up.
For this, I'll keep going
Until my hands don't reach
As low as my shackles hang.
Asunder Jun 2014
Yes
Yes. 
One word forged the chain

An endless strand of love and hope
that tied us together, but far apart
That kept me tethered to you
And pulled me along wherever you went
In all but physical presence

Sometimes, the chains would twist
and we’d meet for a few hours

Only to unwind again for fate 
to leave us alone


I wonder if my freedom
Is without these chains that bind
and make me yearn for a twist of fate
Once again, in our bleak and hopeless dreams

I wonder if my freedom
Is with these chains
that hold me to the ground
yet help me take flight
into unknown realities
that could have been
where I could have been
part of you

A liberation in moderation
Freedom in control
Passion that comes with mystery
And the love of the unknown

Sometimes I think the chains
Are not meant to keep us together
But keep me tied only to you 

And never you to me
That you are free
And I am forever trapped
In the chains I linked
Out of love and concern
The chains that bring
Me to the brink of life
And then back, into eternal darkness
Austin Barker Apr 2017
Life seems to have us in shackles and chains
it always seems to take what we gain
we always back peddle
all because you can only go so far with shackles
those chains are attached to irons
the seems to always ***** out our fire
but life gave us one thing
out of those awful shackles and chains
Life gave us a desire to fight
a desire and a will power
to break those shackles and chains
to snaps those irons
what keeps those who are lost and broken going
is the knowing that freedom
comes to the one who fights for it through the light and dark of life
ZzyiP May 2018
there are chains on my desk,
you cant see them but i can,
in fact i can feel them.
i can feel them tight around my neck
pulling me away from my soul.
they slowly drag me 'forward'.
my grip on freedom weakens as the links tussle my neck,
the singing of birds fade and become more distant.
singing choirs cease to sing.
the sun shines differently,
its a dim light with no glimmer anymore.
i see less colours now and my muscles ache.
i move less, smell less, feel less.
its cold as i subdue to the pull.
my clattering and rebellious steps form rhythm
my legs conform as i march in sync with all the same misfortunates around me
dragged and dragged we march
there is no point to resist
now we march
confidently we march
but our souls were left behind
school, exams, educational system.
ejb Apr 2018
I am a lot to handle.

I come draped in chains.

I do my best to hide them so that maybe people will love me.

But I am not me without these chains.

So they can never really love me if they never see who I really am.

But I am a lot to handle.

And I fear the chains will weigh us both down.

But they are my chains to carry.


How will someone love me when I'm sad.
How will someone love me when I'm mad.
How will someone love me when I'm panicking and crying and screaming and do not wish to be touched.
How will someone love me when I lose control.

How can I stop them from seeing, if I can't control it.
I can't contain it.
I can't stop it.

How will someone love me with these chains.
My mental health is exhausting and debilitating. How will anyone understand and love me for everything I am.
The chains have now been broken
From this place of no return
Your voice still echoes to this day
In the corridoors of our minds ,
Destiny now stands in wait
You took away our joy
But now the tide has turned
from your cold world now outside.
Your words they have faded
Along with your demands
Now you have gone the pain will heal ,
Those grusome cells they  are open
We will leave those days behind
You have no hold of  the fears
You created deep inside ,
Your doors have closed for the last time
Freedom is there and we move on
Far away from your prison bars.
That feeling of being set free from oppression
In its many forms .
Karina Roman Dec 2013
Holding me firm, I can feel it incarcerating me.
With my ankles bruised from carrying the same heavy chains, day by day.
Chains, that will keep hurting my ankles with every step I take.
I can hear them squeak, tearing my tympanum with every drag.
Reminding me remorselessness that I am one more slave.
Working under its rules, shaping my life with my every breath.
Punishing me with all my memories and rewarding me with an unknown future.
At night it laughs spitefully seeing that it has caught me in its timeless web of an insomniac hex.
And in the morning it plays the same joke seeing that it has caught me in an eternal doze.
I wake up , following the ritual it has for me, slapping me in the back with its whip declaring its power over me, as my owner.
At 7:00 am  I wake up indoctrinated by a false faith" Thank You 'God' for this new day ( I thank a 'God' I do not know a 'God' I do not follow)" I suddenly feel confuse.  
7:30 am; I shower.
7:40am; I choose my outfit, one in particular that will disguise my insecurities.
7:50am; I  have breakfast. My palate already knows the taste, and it protests intensely for a new tang.
8:00am; I walk out of my house, feeling the wind through my body silencing the cacophony of the chains and the beeping of the time clock they hold.
With every beep, I realize I can be late. I rush.
9:00am; I start my ritual, managing papers in an office full of sick people, just like me.  Moored by their own chains to their own sorrows, with different time clocks and slaved by the same owner.
4:00pm; I plead it to go faster, to show me mercy. It laughs.
7:00pm; It frees me from my work routine, I thank it before it slaps me in the back again.
8:00 pm; I'm home the chains feel looser now, and I have a break.
9:00pm; I eat dinner same flavor, my palate prepares to taste the same.
10;00pm; It orders me to go to bed, to laugh again about by insomnia and wake me up with no pity.
It doesn't care about what I need, I go under its rules.
It threatens me everyday with my memories and it frightens me with an unknown tomorrow.
And, I only have 24 hours each day,60 minutes in each hour and 60 seconds in each minute to do what the calendar of life has for me .
I was convicted with a human felony, and I am currently serving a life sentence in this time machine.
I am cursed by time and my challenge is to defeat procrastination and monotony.
Johnny walker Jan 2019
If only Helen could lay her hands upon me now she'd
take my pain of heartache
away
So my soul could be set free from the chains that weigh me down the chains of the everyday struggles of life
Those chains I've dragged around with me all my
life but never seem able to break free the chains of all my wrongs In
life
that have dragged me so low, or Is It I'm cursed to carry these chain for the rest of my days but each day they get
heavier
If she could lay her hands on me now she would free my soul and take the pain of heartache away
Kyle Dedalus Aug 2012
Distress signals emmited from bioelectronic tendrils
blades under kneecaps
seeping into taste
smelling like Spring.
So many bodies kneeling on innocent grass
lined up and lined on
sitting in pews at the park
the limitless stretches of people and people
and everyone
everyone was there!
How magnificent! for the whole world to get together
and have a nice evening at the park
billions of feet stammering on billions more blades of grass
smelling like spring
smoderling summer sun
filling air rotting
sad little whimpers
inaudible under the mumble of the world
over the look in their eyes.
The heat jostled air
radiation poison
burning away life itself
keeping us all warm and alive inside.

so many people
everywhere and all around us
-- I had a thought
I wanted to write it down
before it got lost forever.
I tried.
The words twisted around as I wrote them
the pen melted in my hands
so that the the silly
silly silly words
stupid arrogant words too proud to be written down
I tried to make eloquent or something at all
I tried I tried
trust me i really tried
i didn't mean to be such a cottonmouthed disappointment
those silly words all swirled around and about
begging for anything real.
Hissed for one last moment
before the sun and the sound and the agony
twisted and snapped
melting away all that was
of the words on the paper
ofthe ink in the pen
of the shadows in my brain.
melting out dripdripping
tears as black as silence
blaring like ambient noise
I wish the words would understand
that the real real the world the real greybluechemical world
didn't want me living in it
anymore.
I don't know what I did to Life
to make it so upset
but I guess it just didn't want me hanging around,
said I never fit in well with the crowd.
Go find some other reality to bother.

And then it all set in,
0-60 in a second.
Here was your happiness
and here you are now.
And what an amazing distance that is.
when did those years go by?
why stand so sad with your soul in shreds?
Too afraid to set the strands on fire
so there they hung
ethereal chains jutting from every cell
chains that are a feast that you can't stomach
chains that are that sad song you can't listen to -anymore
chains that are that tear in your eye refusing to fall
all the loves lost if only you had just loved
who is this person in the mirror?
this blackeyed monster with eyes like sadness
and sleep like terror
with ink indignant ashamed of what you wrote
what you wrote deep down under those chains in you
mirror neuron pain must be felt
sadistic black mirror chained down and burning burning and melting and burning
and rambling
on and on and on and on and on and on
and you probably stopped reading long ago.
Gaby Comprés Nov 2014
i was tired,
i was chained,
i was hopeless
and You sang to me,
"you don't have
to carry the world
on your shoulders.
you don't have to
wear those chains.
you can be free.
I already forgave you.
you are blameless."
and as You sang your
song, i realized that i
was the one who
put on myself the
chains i wore.
i didn't have to
carry them, i didn't
have to be a slave
to my chains, to my sin.
i tattooed myself
in shame and i hid my
face from You, not knowing
that all You ever wanted
was to wrap me in your
love and clothe me in grace.
Tommy Johnson Dec 2013
You can hear the voices of our peers being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways to the street corner to score a dime bag.
Bright, insightful millennials freezing in search of warmth from something to believe in that will encourage them to look forward to see another day.
Where our economy has made financial prudence clear when talking about education, yet price tags of university tuition's skyrocket.
The refused, the ones with hope but no money or scholarships; tread the streets with the echoes of electro house pulsing in their skulls.
Those who strip themselves down and shred their own morals to scraps just to find themselves and to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown, to ascertain what they are, who they are and why.
Timid in high school, pushed along with nothing and no one to put their creative vigor into.
The squeakiest wheels that were never even considered to be given a good greasing.
Faculties giving them lethargic hellos on the first day of school, bestowing celebrated goodbyes to them on graduation day, diplomas in hand.
Now are the ones slumped over in a lackadaisical position contemplating how they can afford an education.
They work eight to ten at seven twenty five an hour Monday to Friday; and weekends staying in as not to blow their earnings.
Those who commute to university and balance a job with it, I applaud you.
The bewilderment of adulthood, the overabundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities, missed trains and lost contacts.
To step out of bed and splash water onto a severely distressed face and staring into a mirror with a despairing look.
Then hoping a bus to Garfield to bring back weight for all the embryonic smokers not yet at the point of make or break, just save up enough to pave my own way.
Gazing at the town on a roof top, chugging down the tenth…no…twelfth beer of the night wondering how this all happened.
Wild sensations of kissing an attractive stranger, the rush of touching on things never felt, tasting pleasures only the lucky have known.
The passionate, yet dissolute yearning for that ever eluding ******* adrenaline. Pounding, Pounding, Pounding until the culmination of energy has come.
Flip sided to those dizzying, tear jerking thoughts of suicide, annihilation of ones being, the contradictions of their faith in themselves and the people around them.
Unexplainable waves of anxiety crashing onto the shore of a diminutive island of optimism
Striving to look past the panic, the gloominess and fury that may or may not be present. But to remain composed and press forward to what awaits them.
Coffee keeps them going. Cup after cup, late night cramming every bit they can; into their caffeine driven psyches until the indisputable crash and failure.
Packs and packs of menthol cigarettes to calm their rattling nerves but at the same time killing them slowly. Their lives will seem shorter than the time it took to finish one bogey when death is near.
Marijuana induced ventures to run down burger shacks, laughing hysterical in the car ride, eyes heavy with a most ridiculous elastic grin extending from ear to ear. While inside millions of thoughts and realizations of consciously simple speculations and troubles become clear and unproblematic. So the joy is mirrored outside in.
LSD trips in Petruska dancing and singing in the rain! Making music, making love; playing pretend and creating art. Becoming a family while kicking back under the warmth of an illuminated tree on a cool fall night.
MDMA streaming through the body, everything is as it should be
Beautiful, lovely to touch, wondrous to stroke, marvelous to move.
To contact and connect, converse and converge with the dwelling desire to share what you feel with everyone for it would be selfish and unpleasant to keep it in.
Mushrooms oh the emotional overflow I need not say more but ****.
Then there are over the counter candies, Oxycontin, ******, Adderall and Xanax, painkillers and antidepressants. Ups, downs, side ways and backwards.
Selling addiction and dependency legally to kids. Making heroine, ******* and speed easily obtainable to them. Changing the names and giving out prescriptions so the parents can feel like they're actually helping their children but are subconsciously making it easier on themselves because they cannot handle the way their offsprings actually are. Some parents a feel it is the only way, I wish it wasn't so. Becoming zombies, mindless addicts before they even start to mature into puberty. I've seen it, firsthand front row.
Oh, the monotonous, mundane rituals and agendas of our lives. School, work, sleep eat, the sluggish schedules and repetitions of yesterday's conversations and redundancy of itineraries we had plotted months prior.
Same people, the constant faces of boredom that groan in apathy and hold the fear of complacency.
We talk about how hum drum out lives have become and what we could to put some color in our world but don’t.
We speak of how unfair the system is but ultimately confuse ourselves and everyone else due to lack or organization and dedication so nothing is changed.
We speak of breath taking women we want to share ****** fantasies with but can’t even muster enough courage to send a trivial friend request.
Texting away for hours trying to court those who now occupy our minds and possess our hearts hoping they may allow us to acquire their attention and affection. Calling them only to receive futile dial tones and know we are being evaded.
Weeping on and on for seemingly endless time frames of a dilapidated relationship that was so strained that a miniscule breeze could cause it to collapse but still clinging to every memory as if they were vital hieroglyphics depicting your very essence.
Brilliant theories blurted out in a drunken stupor.
Ingenious hypothesis shrouded in marijuana smoked out room.
Remembrance of friends long gone.
The marines, the navy.
The casualties of drug addiction.
The conquerors or their afflictions.
The scholars.
The insane locked away on the flight deck never to be seen again.
Teenage mothers unsure of themselves, abandoned by their families for they believe that they brought fictional shame upon the family’s name. The fate of the child is unclear but the mother’s everlasting love shines through any obscurities in its way.
Dear mother of the new born winter’s moon may the aura of life protect you and your baby.
The father gone without a trace.
He will never know his daughter.
And it will haunt him forever.
Parents bringing up their kids with values and morals, The Holy Bible, mantras and meditation, the Holy Quran, The Bhagavad Gita, and Upanishads. Islamic anecdotes and Jewish parables.
The names all different
The message the same
The stories unlike
Goals equivalent
Faith
Kabala, Scientology and Wicca
Amish and Mormons
All separate paths that intertwine and runoff each other then pool into the plateau of eternal life.
But do we have faith in our country, our government?
They do not have faith in us. Cameras on every street corner, FBI agents stalking social media, recordings of our personal lives and police brutality. 4th amendment where have you gone?
We say farewell to Oresko the last veteran of the last great war. And revisit the Arab spring, Al-Assad’s soldiers opening fire on innocent protesters, one hundred fifteen thousand lay dead. Bin laden dead, Hussein hanged, Gaddafi receiving every ounce of his comeuppance. War, terrorism, the fear of being attacked or is it an excuse to secure our nation's investments across the sea? Throwing trillions of dollars to keep the ****** machine cranking away, taxes, pensions, credit scores, insurance and annuities all cogs in the convoluted contraptions plight.
My dear friend contemplates this every night laying in bed, fetal position; the anxiety if having to be a part of this.
Falling apart on the inside but on the outside, an Adonis, *******, Casanova wanna be. Who worshiped the almighty dollar, gripping it so tightly until it made change, drank until he had his fill falling face first into the snow. The guy who lead on legions of clueless girls wearing their hearts on their sleeves not knowing he had a girlfriend the entire time. Arranging secret meetings in hidden gardens, streaking into the early morning. Driving to Ewing in his yellow Mustang to woo a sado masochistic girl. The chains and whips do nothing to him he is already numbed by the thrill. Then he comes home, lays in bed until one, with no job and having people pay for his meals.
He knows what he does and who he is wrong. He recites and regurgitates excuses endlessly. He cries because he knows he is weak, he knows he must fix himself. I sit on the edge of myself with my fingers crossed hoping maybe, maybe he will set himself straight.
My chum who can talk his way out of any confrontation and into a woman’s *******. Multitudes of amorous affairs in backrooms, backseats, front rows of movies theaters. Selfish, boastful and ignorant, yet woman fling themselves at him like catapulted boulders over a medieval battle field just to say hello. These girls blind to see what going on, for their eyes were taken by low self esteem. A need to be accepted, to feel wanted even only for fifteen minutes. Poor self image, daddy issues, anorexic razor blade slicing sirens screaming on about counted calories and social status. Their uncontrollable mental breakdowns and emotional collapse. Their uncles who ***** them, their parents who split up and confusing their definition of love and loyalty for the rest of their lives. Broken homes, domestic abuse and raised voices, sending jolts of fright into the young girl’s fragile minds. I send my sorrows to you ladies, to see such beautiful creatures suffer then be used and thrown away with the ****** that was just ****** deep into their *****.
Then I see women and men of marvelous stature, romantic in the streets holding everyone and everything in high regards. Finding beauty in anything and anyone. Enjoying every second as if the rapture was over head eating exotic foods from unheard of countries and cultures. Bouncing to the sound of whimsical , reverb ricochets and sense stimulating music. Huffing inspiration to create something out of thin air. Dancing to retired jazz and swing albums as if no time had past since their conception. Wearing bold colors and patterns, thrifty leather shoes or suede.
Dawning pre-owned blazers because why spend hundreds of dollars on new clothes just to look good but feel uncomfortable with a hole in your pocket. Dressing up but dressing down, so class yet urban I love it, chinos, pea coats and flannels so simple but chic.
At night they go to underground dens, sweaty bodies, loud music and freedom. Expressive manifestations glowing fueled with MDMA and other substances to further their enjoyment of the dark glorious occasion. Kandi kids sporting colorful bracelets, not watches for time is of no concern to them, they have all eternity they know that.
Going to book stores, coffee shops just to have some peace of mind and a moment of silence to themselves so that can weave the tapestry of imaginative innovation. Writing their own versions of the same story, endless doors of perception, reading news papers and taking it with a grain of salt. Watching the news on TV with a hand full of salt. Searching for the real story so they can know if the world they all live in is actually safe.
She who made her own way breaking hearts, rolling blunts and making deals. The flower child of the modern age, left the rainy days in search of radiant sunshine, idealistic. Reality was subjective, purple dyed hair, multicolored sweater with sandals on her feet. A ten inch bowl with bud from California packed in tightly. Coming from Dumont to Bergenfeild then on to Philly to Mount Vernon. Off to Astoria and the Heights. Now to Sweden laying in the grassy plains below the mountains. Good for you my friend whom I have loved, may fortunes of unsullied joy come to you and all you meet.
Since you’ve left I have encountered drunken burly firemen just trying to have a good time. Pounding down Pabst Blue Ribbon as if it were water; as if it were good tasting beer. But heroes none the less.
EMT's, young eighteen years old high school graduates, saving lives reviving people who are a mere inch close to death.
Sport stars getting scholarships thanks to their superior skills and strength.
Striking beauty school students who are into making the people of this world a little bit more beautiful on the outside.
All these people, successful, doing things. Departing to their desired destinations. I see inside them, they carry baggage, loneliness and insecurities. I can feel their guilt slowing them down. All have their loads but it’s the way they carry them that shows who they really are. And to me their all gems.
Not far in Paterson I watch the junkies limping across busy winding street, perusing a severely needed fix. “Diesel!” they shout beneath flickering streetlights, asking for spare change and if bold enough a ride to some shady sketchy place. I give them a dollar and politely decline. They’ll die without it. Vomiting up bile and blood, twitches and shivers are all you feel when it’s not in you. They cannot stop, they need help. Why not help them instead of “assisting” those who are homosexual? Cleansing so they can be granted entry to the kingdom of God. Looking down on people who have found love and understanding and a deep attraction to others who just so happen to share alike genitals.
Narrow minded uproars about the spread of AIDS, nonsense! The puritanical onslaught of those who want nothing more than the rest of us, love. "Gay", "****", "******", "queer", how about "kind", "funny", "genuine human being"? The right to be married and divorced should be an option for everyone to enjoy. The strains and hardships of matrimony are yours if you want them. If you don’t agree don’t hate or harm just allow them to be peacefully. Same goes for anything for that matter, Jehovah's going door to door, Mormons from Burbank. New ideas are never a bad thing, they’re not a waste of time. On average you have about eighty years to mull over your options.
Some people don’t live long enough to do so, cancer is rampant, blood diseases, ****** diseases, natural disasters coming right out of left field and blindsiding the innocent bystanders of both hemispheres. Some go through life handicapped, autism is apparent these days. Schizophrenia, Asperburgers, ADD and ADHD. Some lose their golden memories of their many valuable years walking down Alzheimer's Lane, not being able to remember whatever transpired only a few moments ago but revisiting gold nuggets from from fifty-some-odd years ago with ease. Some go through life delusional or bipolar. Some can't even sleep at night but they still carry on. And if assistance is needed it is our job as a race to help our brothers and sisters, no one deserves to be excluded from the gala of life. Or be denied by society and pumped with brightly colored pills from doctors promising a cure but prescribing a crutch.
Finding solace in sincerity.
The serendipity of it all hasn’t been uncovered and that keeps me going.
“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world above, below and across. Unhindered without ill will without enmity.” Oh Buddha the truth as it ever was.
Who is he who keeps these thoughts from the conscious minds of the population?
Who is it that distracts us from the humbling beauty and overwhelming devastation of this place of existence we’re in?
It’s they who do under the table parlor trick behind our backs.
Those who broadcast mind numbing so called reality TV shows without an underlying value or meaning.
Those who produce music, proclaiming extravagance to be the end all be all gluttonous goal we all should aim to achieve.
And those who turn noble causes into money making scams and defile pure ideas.
And of course those who give false promises of easily obtained  bright futures, those who don’t care, those who steal, ****, curse, bad mouth and lie. But still manage to get elected into positions that more or less decide out fates. Monsters, demons, banshees howling inconsequential worries and leaving us deaf to hear the real issues.
The
Marty Jul 2018
Chains around my wings
Chains lining the soul of my heart
Clouds taking the shape
The shape of chains

The future tied
Tied by the chains
The past drug along
Drug by the chains

Wretched ungodly beasts
Wrapped around my neck
Choking the wind
And robbing the smile

When shall you let me breathe
Breathe the life
The life back into my lungs
Returning life after death
BILLYtheKidster Jul 2010
I often wondered what thoughts were running through his head
as he stared out the window chained to the floor by his bed
watching the gallows being built that would soon seal his fate.
Was he planning at that very moment his last great escape?
Did he know then that his hanging would never come to be?  
Did he know then that before nightfall once again he'd be free?
What ever his thoughts he was interrupted rudely
by Deputy Bob Ollinger, one of his guards while in custody.
"Word has it you said that if we ever met again you'd **** me on the spot.
Well here I am Kid. Now's your chance. Show me what you've got.
It's a shame that you'll hang in another week or two,
because I'd love to be the one who gets to **** you.
I've got 16 silver dimes in each barrel of my shotgun.
I'd love to try them out on you, but I can't unless you run.
If I free you from those chains will you run for the door?
Oh by the way Kid, your Ma was one sweet ******* *****.
I'll **** you before you hang Kid. That's a sure bet."
"Be careful Bob," said the Kid, "I'm not hung yet."
" Bob thrusted his shotgun hard into Billy's gut.
The Kid looked up at him in pain and said, "Now what?"
"Don't do it Bob," Bell said angrily, "or you'll be the one who'll hang for sure
for killing a man in cold blood who was chained helplessly to the floor.
It's time for the other prisoners to be escorted across the street to be fed.
The Kid's not going anywhere. He's chained to the floor by his bed.
Anyway, I took the prisoners last so now it's your turn.
Go and have yourself a beer and I'll stay here and guard the Kid until you return.
Bob Ollinger placed his shotgun into the gun rack.
Before he left he said to Billy, "I'll see you when I get back."
No one can say for sure if the above dialog ever truly took place.
One thing's for sure. Ollinger tormented Billy at a merciless endless pace.
They were arch enemies who fought against each other during the Lincoln County War.
Ollinger was in the posse that killed John Tunstall, Billy's employer, friend and mentor.
"I have to use the privy Bell," Billy said to the deputy.
Bell kept his rifle trained on Billy as he tossed him the key.
Billy unlocked the chains that kept him bound to the floor.
Still in handcuffs and leg irons, Bell escorted Billy out the door.
Billy entered the outhouse closing the door behind him.
"Let's not take too long in there Kid," Bell said with a humorous grin.
While in the outhouse Billy managed to slip one of his hands out of his handcuff.
"You fall in there Kid," Bell laughed, "You've been in there long enough."
"I'm coming out now Bell," Billy said opening the door.
"Sorry I took so long Bell. I must have ate something bad for sure."
Deputy Bell then escorted Billy back to the jail cell.
Once inside, Billy spun around and smacked hard Deputy James Bell.
Bell lost his balance, dropped his rifle and was momentarily stunned.
"Hands Up Bell!," the Kid yelled. In his hand was a gun.
"Please don't do it Bell," Billy pleaded, but Bell tried to run.
The Kid had no choice but to do what had to be done.
He shot and killed Bell, then went for Ollinger's shotgun.
The Kid never found pleasure in killing, but Ollinger was indeed the exception.
Knowing that Ollinger heard the gunfire, Billy stood by the window
and waited for Ollinger to appear in the street down below.
One senior named Godfrey saw Bell fall dead down the stairs.
The moment probably gave Godfrey a few more grey hairs.
Ollinger ran out into the street as Godfrey screamed, "The Kid's killed Bell!"
Ollinger looked up into both barrels of his own shotgun and whispered,
"Now he's killed me as well."
"Hello Bob!," Billy called out with a song in his heart just prior to blowing Bob Ollinger apart.
He blasted both barrels into Ollinger's chest and face.
Pieces of old Bob lay scattered all over the place.
Billy smashed his shotgun in two, threw it at him but missed.
"You'll never rifle me again," he screamed, "you *******!"
On the balcony he addressed the crowd whose jaws hung agape.
"I don't want to hurt anyone, but I'll **** anybody who tries to prevent my escape."
In the office he found a sledge hammer and smashed the chains of his leg irons free.
He told Godfrey to fetch him a fast horse immediately.
As he walked down the stairs, he came upon Bell's lifeless body
and many eye witnesses admit
that The Kid looked upon him and said most remorsefully,
"I'm sorry I killed you Bell, but couldn't help it."
As Billy mounted the horse the chains of his leg irons startled the beast.
The horse reared up and threw Billy down onto the street.
He was at this point his most vulnerable laying down on the ground.
The crowd could have overtaken him easily, but none made a move or a sound.
Once again Billy mounted the horse and fled with the sound of his leg iron chains ringing.
Many say that as he rode out of Lincoln County that they heard the Kid singing.
Billy had escaped danger so many other times in his past,
but this was his greatest escape ever. It would also be his last.
Akhil Bhadwal Jul 2016
Binds you away
Shivering, you just can't sway
These my friend are
The Chains of Misery

Can't get hold of you
Are you free? Hell nou
Feel for yourself
The Chains of Misery

Reshuffle the pieces inside
Time to showoff the might
Now you break away from
The Chains of Misery

|AB|
No matter what the circumstances....it's always you against you \v/ Get yourself together, and move on \m/. Follows a a b a rhyme scheme.
Chains on my heart, squeezing
Chains on my legs, chaffing
Chains on my mind, breaking
Chains on my soul, crushing

Babylon is my prison
Shared with my reggae crew
The keepers all bald
My visitor: you

My poems bring freedom and fat reggae beats
A ***** island boy, I walk these streets
On my street, I see baldheads: curse those neats!
They can pay big rent, mines late 2 weeks

I get home and water my tall herb bush
Its heavenly branches provide me with kush
I pack up the bowl, sip smoke from the chalice
I feel close to  JAH  he erases my malice

My chains are broken, dust in the breeze
The only way to stay free, smoke more trees
My liberated spirit rises up as I cry
United with JAH we Touch the Sky
My spiritual journey.
Deepest and most humble gratitude to all my reggae writing friends.
They bring joy and light to my mind
Austin Morrison Jan 2017
I was told by my peers that letting my voice be heard was preferred, yet they say the words I speak are absurd

What's the point of freedom of speech if my words still have a safety lock. The day I will be happy is the day I find the key to chains around my throat

I don't want to drown in this ******* but just stay afloat. if I always wrote by putting my pencil on paper, why does someone else have to be my eraser

I am a chaser of dreams and a speaker of my thoughts. I will untangle the knots that they keep tying. I will preach my beliefs even when I'm dying.

— The End —