"constricts" poems
Is it corruption that makes me blind or am I blind because I do not wish to see corruption
How can you represent me, when you all want, is to have more money than fish in the sea,
Corruption constricts you, but im as free as can be
Blue collar citizen who works as hard as they can , white collar worker trying to turn that color tan.
No hate in my heart, just disappointed you see, leaders of my land could give a **** about me.
What ever happened to doing what was right and not for the green,
representing me is not being on tv and simply wanting to be seen.
You don’t representing anything , but corruption and greed. People working hard, they have real mouths to feed.
Now Im not saying we shouldn’t help the world and all the others in need, but what happens when we become the ones who have begun to bleed.
People in the streets . Citizens of our land. Speak up . Rise up. Do whatever that you can.
Dark is to corrupt as light is to right. Do what you can and protect your right to fight.
But the words that I say, isn’t about the fists or the bullets we could spray.
Use your mind, use your words , free flowing like the birds.
Never miss an opportunity to say yes at becoming great, reach out, grab it, this could be your fate! But don’t miss a chance and make that fate late.
Never be an option , always be the choice. Drive out the dark , and always raise your voice.
Together as one we rise to become something that’s bigger than our minds can imagine.
Or we could be remembered as beautiful mess that never was
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC
How this **** fable instructs
And mocks! Here's the parody of that moral mousetrap
Set in the proverbs stitched on samplers
Approving chased girls who get them to a tree
And put on bark's nun-black
Habit which deflects
All amorous arrows. For to sheathe the ****** shape
In a scabbard of wood baffles pursuers,
Whether goat-thighed or god-haloed. Ever since that first Daphne
Switched her incomparable back
For a bay-tree hide, respect's
Twined to her hard limbs like ivy: the puritan lip
Cries: 'Celebrate Syrinx whose demurs
Won her the frog-colored skin, pale pith and watery
Bed of a reed. Look:
Pine-needle armor protects
Pitys from Pan's assault! And though age drop
Their leafy crowns, their fame soars,
Eclipsing Eva, Cleo and Helen of Troy:
For which of those would speak
For a fashion that constricts
White bodies in a wooden girdle, root to top
Unfaced, unformed, the nipple-flowers
Shrouded to suckle darkness? Only they
Who keep cool and holy make
A sanctum to attract
Green virgins, consecrating limb and lip
To chastity's service: like prophets, like preachers,
They descant on the serene and seraphic beauty
Of virgins for virginity's sake.'
Be certain some such pact's
Been struck to keep all glory in the grip
Of ugly spinsters and barren sirs
As you etch on the inner window of your eye
This ****** on her rack:
She, ripe and unplucked, 's
Lain splayed too long in the tortuous boughs: overripe
Now, dour-faced, her fingers
Stiff as twigs, her body woodenly
Askew, she'll ache and wake
Though doomsday bud. Neglect's
Given her lips that lemon-tasting droop:
Untongued, all beauty's bright juice sours.
Tree-twist will ape this gross anatomy
Till irony's bough break.
8.6k
Tim O'Brien had the right idea
about carrying people and ideas;
we all have experiences that live within us
like a stain on our grey matter.
I carry with me every insult hurled at me,
caught by my web of sensitivity;
I lift them onto my shoulders,
my back creaking as I trudge on.
My insecurities are shackles at my ankles,
the chains tangling themselves and chafing my legs;
my knees knock and pop and shake,
my back creaks and groans.
The ghosts and spirits of the self-departed
dance their ethereal ballet about my soul
and howl their eerie opera through the night,
begging for forgiveness and understanding.
The heaviness of the future rests
inside the caverns of my cranium,
latching on to my thoughts
and chipping at my hopes.
Past loves plague our emotions
and rest in the deepest corners of our hearts,
reminding us of who we once were
and asking us what could have been.
A cloud of sadness condenses in my body,
little drops of dejection slide down my lungs.
My chest constricts and grows heavy
and pointlessly hopes to see the sun.
Everyone together carries the weight of the world,
but I'm not sure what is heavier:
the mass of the planet,
or the things its people carry.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
You have no idea, do you? You don't realize that every time you tell me you love me is another dig into my own grave. And every time I remember that you don't is another pinprick that never heals. I've got scars on my back from the last time you kissed me and there are bruises on my arm from when you last looked me in the eye. I miss you so much that I feel like every thought of you constricts my chest and makes it hard to breathe. All I ever wanted was to have your hand in mind and feel like for once I'd never have to be so alone every time I walk past another tree.
I remember the last time you made me smile. You were lying on my lap the day before you had to fly off and you were listening to me talk about the other people I had known from my journey then to now. I was playing with your hair and I remember thinking that there was nowhere else I'd rather be and no one else I'd rather be with. I remember thinking that maybe I could finally set my roots and follow one path to one place, but you took that away from me.
In the same day, you put a stake through my heart when you disappeared and said nothing, no call, no whisper about leaving so I started walking back home but waited at the end of the road for an hour to see if you would follow. You didn't. Love didn't.
I was already in love with you then. And it hurt to realize you didn't really care all that much to make sure I got home safe.
We ended things. Or at least I did. You argued that even if you were in the middle of a vast ocean and I was on the mainland, our love could've traveled distances and I reminded you that there was no love here and that you were the one who told me without saying a word that you held no love for me but expected me to love you in places beyond our reaches of the galaxy.
But my hands could only stretch so far, and my heart could only take so much before the pain of being with you and without you all at once began to dance on my skin like folk songs around a bonfire.
I know my heart and I know that it believes in the worlds away and it holds so strongly it can hardly take the pain but keeps pumping anyway. But for once, the blood pumping in my veins understand that it's alright. It's alright to let go of love and it's alright to let go of you. My eyes understand it's okay to weep and that my lungs breathe better without tears choking it.
My hands will shake and be taken over by tremors but they'll know that you were never love and love would never again be you.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
How long must you stay a Snail in your House
And thinking this Starter bellows out Air
Chance yourself a Door and try to get out
Then see such Fields breed Good Germs everywhere
This only true if Bland Pasta constricts
Yet flipping a Mirror for Crystal View
Mind the Artist. He's just facially fit
But chip the bones a Soft Marrow does spew
Never by Saint's Good Deed I took to Theft
To force your own Arrows and fumigate
A Candid Word which I thought was a Pest
And strained such Friendship to confusticate.
Let's start again. And adjust the Vinyl
Put the Record on-hold; And I Mingle.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 3:59 AM UTC
i'm humbled being here
and i'm not sure why
i'm visiting
so i'm allowed
right?
so many
the stones seem to go on forever
and i dare not step on one
no
that would be disrespectful
inconsiderate
so i walk around
sometimes hop
if it's last minute
and i find him
here
alone
a grey stone
a military stone
a proud army man
but how proud can you be
after the fact
i clean it up
the stone
brush off the dirt, dried leaves
so i can look
and i look
reading his name
my heart skips a beat
my throat constricts
my stomach hurts
i miss him
my dad
i surely, truly
unapologetically
miss him
but it doesn't really matter, does it
he's not coming back
he's gone
and i'm left here
to figure things out by myself
and it hurts.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
i should have known
from the moment i saw you
and the time when you left
to my present diseased state now
should have saw the signs
and noticed the symptoms:
my chest constricts
whenever you're around
my lungs swiftly assaulted
leaving me gasping
as if i just swallowed
an entire ocean of saltwater
like asthma, you took my breath away
at first, it led me to a good place
akin to a whirlwind floral maze
now that you're gone
i thought i would recover
but then, as with asthma,
there is no cure for me
i realized with a shudder
the painful tattoos
were burnt into my heart
and there they will
remain forever
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
Crying can happen so gently...
But oh god does it hurt
When you're curled up crying so hard
You think you might scream,
But your throat constricts
And all that you could ever muster
Is an unintentional mangled squeak of raw emotion.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation"
Fighting the blanket of oppression
Within and without themselves
The metaphorical blanket holding them
To a goal that is not of themselves
Tied to be someone they are not,
Trying to fill the wrong size shoes
Life planned out by superiors
Blinded by tinted glasses of lie and
False truths put on by others preceding
This suffocating blanket restricts and constricts
And holds the victim to one forced idea
Like blinders on a horse
Or a blindfold on a magician
Only a narrow, yet clear path is provided
A leap of faith must be taken to discover 'self'
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 9:54 PM UTC
Self-loathing, in all of its malignancy, whispers
"You're worthless, just like him!"
my chest constricts, my ribs prison to a heart
that refuses to pound its percussive rhythm
The summer's dying!
the summer's dying!
and I, I am a rose
shedding my bloom in protest
the winter's passing, my only hope
Songs of exodus soon fill the air as crows ascend
painting the horizon black like an empty womb
"They always go" I whisper "They always go"
their melody haunting to those of us bound to earth
"we must go now!" "we must go now!"
bright eyes gleam, as each one sings
"we must go now!" "we must go now!"
promising freedom to those with wings
Bending low and curling inward, I lay
as my petals fall down around me
fluttering about like broken wings
migrant hearts, like theirs need open skies
so I found my freedom in the letting go
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
a polar vortex
swirls eastward
on Siberian Tiger paws
bounding over
Appalachian Highlands
gobbling geography
gelling Great Lakes
spawning Erie blizzards
sculpting Wabash ice floes
clogging commerce all
along the Ohio River Valley
this voracious
juggernaut’s wide maw
bears icicle teeth
laughing as it swallows
Pittsburgh, Little Philly,
and a Big Apple, before
gorging itself on
generous portions
ladled into
simmering crocks
of steaming
Boston Baked Beans
growling
blue arctic
air blasts roar
bursts pipes
savages the heat
of blasting furnaces,
bubbling boilers, hot
belly stoves frantically
drinking oil, flaming gas
burning wood and
burping soot
the blistering
jet stream claws
screech a slashing
stratospheric hum
as Frigidaire blasts
swallows breath
brittles limbs
chafes cheeks
gnaws earlobes
crystallizes tears
nibbles nostrils
cubes snot
numbs toes
bites digits
diving sub zero
gradient subdues
batteries to
deaden states
delays buses
derails trains
cuts power
constricts veins
preys on
vagabonds
and animals
get the homeless
off the street!
bring the animals in
check on your
elderly neighbors
don’t get caught outside
and shut the **** door!
do you own stock
in the Public Service?
beware the polar vortex
and next months heating bill
Sonny Boy Williamson
& Otis Spann
Nine Below Zero
Oakland
1/6/14
jbm
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 2:43 PM UTC
leisure up my friend !
weaken open your shellfish hinge
and wet your beak
it’s a marked holiday break
unmarred by family obligation
there’s freedom
to make the most criminal crown of mistakes
in the name
of some frown of liberal investigation
on the town
an eager squad of collaborators are on board
they have your back
desperate, sick and starving gulls
broadened to explore the deplorable
on and on to the next and the next
death defining task
a meandering stagger of a bar crawl
perpetually powering through
as the day spans a revulsion
the heat stays as the day sinks beneath
in place of the suns rays
the heat radiates
from the baked city concrete
stepping out from the shelter of the bar
the night swelter respires fiercely
not done with our steam of annihilation
what establishment would take our kind ?
city has already bowed over it's plumage
to our ******* pilgrimage
bark melts and peels in strips off the trees
(meat shaved off the strip pole)
our heels spark the pavement
vermin and jackals follow our movement
from shimmering dark spots
and our vision constricts
our aim has become clotted...
...what was it that we reached for ?
oblivions fruit seemed a doable pursuit
it's the usual downhill shambles from here
familiar yet barely remembered
a rambling guff of bad ***** comedy
there is no plucky legend
just an embarrassment
Jun 10, 2023
Jun 10, 2023 at 9:47 PM UTC
my heart pounds
my butterflies rocket to the sky
my hormones are heightened
my throat constricts
how is it that i feel everything at once
delight.
contentment.
infatuation.
it feels surreal,
and it's all because of him.
the epitome of human art
i'm intrigued by every aspect,
every idiosyncrasy,
every flaw.
i want to be consumed by every part of him, to the brim.
i want to inhale the peace and serenity he brings,
i want to swallow his touch,
and never regurgitate,
i want to believe in the hope he's awakened in me.
i want, i want, i want.
but i fear.
fear the potential heartbreak,
the loss of excitement if he disappears,
i fear the depth of my emotions,
the abyss of "love" i always lurk on the edges of so idly
is it worth it?
to put all this power in his hands.
and in return,
shower him with the love my heart swells, threatening to burst, with,
and for once.
just once,
feel it back.
-v.la
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC
*Nothing gorgeous
About being draped
In the finery that constricts
The heart and soul*
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
Choking on emptiness
When you need someone so much
When you wish to hold them so much
But they're so far away
And your heart…
It constricts with longing and fear and love and you miss them so much
And you're not complete when they are
Absent.
Absent is awful
They are alive, they are somewhere but
They are not with you
They are present somewhere you are not
And it breaks my heart because she is absent from my life
But present in somebody else's
It's a choice they made
A priority they took
And you didn't win.
Once again you're at the back
And you're nobody's precious person
You have no one to be present for
You have no one to be absent from
You are just here
For yourself.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 7:53 AM UTC
Fear constricts my throat
and holds my chest right, closed.
The gaping wound of jealousy
is a pain that no one knows.
Do I choose to turn and run
or do I sit still and stay?
Will the Monster overcome me?
I cannot really say.
For people like you and I
reality makes for a painful life.
Dying to live in Fairytales.
The real world cuts like a knife.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
Yeah, so giddy I'll confess...
Light-years past crazy baby.
Constellations of bruises,
a silver sort of stench of starburst blood drops,
sickening rainbow... purple, green, yellow... of healing.
Anyone else would be too.
But its a gift really.
What hasn't killed me's
made me stronger, right?
Strong and brave enough
to grasp the icy tail of a
rushing shooting star
and hold on, sharp and cold and clean,
ever tighter while mountains and oceans fade.
The lunatic soul locked inside the body
constricts with each breath and beat.
Until it surrenders with unbearable brightness.
Supernova in a straitjacket.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
I sit here in the dead of night,
In these four walls, I haunt myself.
There's hours yet 'til I'll see light,
And I am feeling...not so well.
The day was cold, with warm embrace
And I was feeling so alive.
The touch of sunlight on my face,
And joy, unbidden, in my stride.
But reality, the heartless *****
Has ways of jerking on the heart.
Her nimble fingers squeeze and clench -
So fragile things will fall apart.
And so it was that I returned
To what I know I can't escape.
Something I could not help but learn,
And once I had, it would remain.
That I am independent, see,
And spirited beyond control.
I know there's things I cannot be,
For I have no submissive soul.
It would, perhaps, do me some good
To better watch the things I say.
I speak things that I never should,
And I regret them, day by day.
Yes, I have tried to change myself,
To coax out in me what is meek,
But every time, I'm lost in hell,
For such exertion makes me weak.
I struggle every day with this,
For who I am, shall always be.
Sometimes I cannot help but wish
Spirit was not so strong in me.
Perhaps it is not understood,
That I'm not mean in any way.
"My heart," I cry out, "it is good!"
And still people will turn away.
Yes, I confess, I do compare
Myself to those I could be like.
Demure and quiet, gentle flair -
I feel that I am not quite right.
I've been the same way all my life,
Opinionated, loud, and strong.
It's only been in recent nights
That I have felt...there's something wrong.
Why can't I reign it in, I think?
Is it so hard to settle down?
My heart constricts, my stomach sinks
At just that thought which I have found.
I know that I would not survive
If I would change in any way.
My boisterous spirit gives me life,
It's how I handle every day.
So why, then, must it be so hard
To get through life the way I am?
I'm only playing with the cards
Dealt from an unforgiving hand.
But it is every day I feel
That we do not walk side-by-side.
It's almost like I am not real,
But rather, wind, just floating by.
The sun is setting on the year,
And now, reflecting, I confess
That for the future, I've no fear
(Though I know it will hurt no less).
I'll wake tomorrow, one more day
On which the curtains will be drawn
And as the daylight fades away,
I'll hope that so, too, will my flaws.
I pray the new year brings me peace,
And ends the struggle I endure.
Not every challenge yet will cease,
But life gets better, I am sure.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 2:23 AM UTC
The fight of the mind twisting and turning,
tortured; I am learning,
my mind and soul conflict.
Desire enlarges,
but duty surpasses,
action thus constricts.
Dreams or delusions,
Passion or fusion,
Is it for me, really, to pick?
Where can I go?
to see this through,
and become the one who I seek?!
Jan 1, 2024
Jan 1, 2024 at 7:00 PM UTC
Everything stands frozen for an enternity, encapsuled in just a moment of time
Your notice your heart stops beating, the rhythm that has sustained you long before you were aware
Your throat constricts, suddenly unable to draw in the oxygen that feeds your body
Your next breath stagnates inside your lungs, decomposing with each missing heartbeat
Your stomach plummets towards the floor, falling further than the earths crust
Your intestines squirm inside your cavity as they disintegrate into nothingness
As your eyes begin to sting and water, overfilling until they breech the dam
Your heart finally remembers to beat, faster than ever before
And your jaw finally falls, along with the rest of your face to form a silent
"oh"
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC
Time will tick by on a watch,
attached to a skinny wrist,
the hands rotate casting small shadows over roman numerals,
silhouetted behind bonsai tress with eyes that squint tight in this end of summer light.
Phones serve no purpose until they ring,
and in hospitals life support machines beep beep electronically
as people are feed through tubes that gurgle
and words get stuck in their throats as life constricts and
in these ***** municipal corridors death stalks dressed in a stained uniform.
Men in ties crunch numbers and say, ”There is no way to say this Mrs Smith, it would just be cheaper if your husband died.”
We can turn off the switch and you can take him home in the back of your car.
You don’t have a car?
That’s ok, a bus stops just outside.”
Leaves are falling early this season turning the floor brown.
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 8:14 AM UTC
every day brings
such magic
such disappointment
where did things go
so wrong
energetic shifts
female
male
exhaustion
weighs heavily
waking to
the patriarchal
********
how weary
i am of
fighting the
status quo
one wonders
why others
opt
to check out
of this manifestation
deep deep eons
of exhaustion
tired of fighting
the contemporary
masculine mindset
tired of
swimming upstream
when did it become
so common to
dismiss
the sacred feminine?
all beings carry
within them
both energies
being guilty of
dismissing my own
feminine energy
i now pay the
karmic debt for
that way
painful after
painful
encounters
chips away at
my soul
the soul
incarnated here
weary is this soul
of interacting with
males
tied to the current
cultural norms in
most societies
while appearing
different
they quickly become
like all the rest
tired am i of
seeing the unlimited
potentional
in these small beings
it steals my energy
it constricts my soul
there HAS to be
another way...
one that reveres the
feminine....
in ALL
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 9:46 PM UTC
Standing on the intersection of
a Monet, a van Gogh, and a Picasso
Nice piece of real estate!
Water lilies ~ Charrette de boeuf ~ Tete d'homme
Let's start with the lilies:
I'm impressionable and I gaze lovingly into the pool
I see my reflection slowly unfurl in the shimmer of the pink petals
As in a dream ... I float on
The watchmaker sends an instruction: rotate clockwise
Now an ox cart:
I seem to be walking in Poe's imagination
Crows flitting about as the ox champions
His burden on a drafty day
Another instruction from the watchmaker: continue clockwise
And now Tete d'homme ~ cubism:
My world deconstructs
Line by line, shapes and forms
Fracture into the subterranean unconsciousness of my mind
Leading to another instruction: close your eyes
Shift
Your
Perspective
Watchmaker says: open your eyes
Uncentre
Misalign
Unhitch
Watchmaker says: ens causa sui: 'a being that causes itself'
Now I've got Dali giving me niggling doubts about the nature of time
Sartre with a side of Darwin and I'm being and nothingness
Ground yourself Mullin!
Open your eyes ... this is reality
There's Rodin in a battle of good versus evil
Munch and no screams! This is good
Gaugin sharing his garden view
I'm in my happy place again ...
That's better
And here's Cezanne, Degas, Renoir, and Pissarro
Bringing me back into a recognizable reality
My eyes and my mind are in alignment here
But I can feel that watchmaker winding me back up
My iris constricts and my pineal widen
Third eye ain't blind
Hope someone is around to catch me
No worries, I'm sailing with Renoir and
I've found A Muse (Constantin Brancusi)
Ain't life a musing?
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
Sometimes I think I do too many things, and that it takes on my life,
And constricts my breathing
But in truth I am thankful for at least my stressful days are full
So many die and crow, 'if only, if only,'
Perhaps 'If only I had taken time to enjoy the small things,'
But I won't regret it because I can't regret putting too much of myself into the world,
In fact, I think my only regret would be not sharing enough of it
How could I, so blessed with life for another microsecond on this earth, be so selfish?
Mar 24, 2012
Mar 24, 2012 at 2:31 AM UTC
Burly bleak plumes roll out aloft corn
Where the dragon fell post spin and ditch
A wretched hulk of ruin splintered and worn
Amongst endless blanch green fields which
Arc with a gust and apart where he treads,
Dragging his silk cape afar from flame
Clueless and concussed to a near house he heads
With a tattered scarf that constricts yet ***** about his mane
Black fists of cloud had boomed around him as they soared
His beast spat metal fire whilst the pale sky turned dull
The zipping ballet of warfare smiled throughout as motors roared
Gnashing its teeth and making forgotten martyrs of them all
Shuddering not from demise rather conflict as a whole
He is as content with death as he is to survive
Just not burn the world and condemn his soul
A horror; men of rule seem keen to keep alive
An agrarian self-dines rancorous and crocked
Half sat, improperly perched from where he was shot
Monsters had come for him once before this day
They took his spouse and his daughter and then took them away
He can hear but does not hark to the battle aloft
It is now like the rain and the trees in a gust
But to the boom and the shake he stands with a cough
And as he cites the invader he sees he must do what he must
The grower limps out with a Chassepot in his arms
As the airman’s hands reach up and he falls to his knees
With beads on his brow the man pleads with met palms
The crofter sees naught but a Prussian blue monster disease
The pilot knows his death, ‘Ich bin nicht sicher, wo ich will gehen?”
The old Frenchman just sniggers as he thinks never again
With the rifle’s slug now spent and the horror sent back to his hell
The farmer mumbles to himself, ‘je dois me chercher une pelle,”
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC