"deadlock" poems
You tore her apart for your own joy,
Her soul lies vacant and fragile,
Yet she faces the axe for getting *****
As no case ,can be filed.
You still roam around and live your life,
While she carries a perennial pain,
Who gave you the right to commit such a heinous crime,
And leave her miserably insane."
Unfortunately the past cannot be altered
but we can certainly look for a brighter future.
"I hope one day, there will be no stare,
I hope one day ,no one will care,
Whether the fabric ,is short or long,
Visible garments ...
Whether a mini skirt ,or a cloak,
Clothes aren't right or wrong,
It's your mind ,facing a deadlock.
I hope one day , no news of ****
I hope one day,no obscene tape
Is it so hard to achieve
A world free of harassment and eve- tease?"
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
i could not hold on anymore
to the desperate plea of the futile ones
who live off another wallet
so i set out that night for the south
to find the great parking lots
where i might find a space and place to rest my weary head
where i might find a place to be safely reckless
with her potions and instruments
but the violin she played spun a queer note
and i knew that if i did not go on with
whatever she wanted she would be the end of me
the end of poor poor me
gather my slim riches in my carpetbaggers coat
and picked up the threadbare bag
that had all the steam-pipes and tools
for making a new titanic
lets sink it right this time
we ended up just east of Pensacola
in a fairytale land of flea markets
trying to barter our yesterdays
for a bowl of thin soup today
gather my threadbare deadlock hippie chick companion
and counseled her against talking too loud
against the tourqouse monsters
and she told me i was just nervouse
and stripped away the rationalizations
to show that the fat man is only selling tickets
to the free show
so i follow her
having made up my mind that she sees the reality
of this sandy soil wasteland
we ended up leaving Pensacola
and with a quick prayer
we were on the the boat to the Bahama
with our lives intact
maybe next time we will escape
maybe next time you will come back with another woman stead of me
and i said that's a possibility
that wouldn't make either of us happy but
that's the way it should be sometimes
life doesn't always make sense
well most of the time it dont
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 6:15 AM UTC
I am pure subjectivity
I am objectivity contained by a brain
I am an entity
Inside a body
I control my limbs
And my organs control me
The apparatus for my entity
I am a being that seeks understanding
While remembering who I stand under
Those who sneakily seek to plunder
The developing enigmatic wonder
In my mind's torturous tundra
My mind uses my body as a slave
But is also a slave to the shame
Of my body's interactions
Within marginalized factions
There is a fight between the two
Like the fights between me and you
My body won't quit when my mind is through
And my mind stays conscious while my body is blue
So I'm stuck in a deadlock
With a mentality of bedrock
Once I cease to be human
I can be the perfect judge
When my emotions won't budge
I'll see things the way most organisms do
Inside this zoo
Animals have the flu
And give it to each other
When we communicate through pain
The flu actually seems tame
Compared to your game
Of taking humanity
And leaving an entity
After you entered me
My somber soul left
Because of personality theft
My mind moves my arms
To block the pain
My mind moves my feet
To do the same
Yet I lost these advantages
When I had to walk too far
My life only got more hard
After experiencing your entropy
I became a disembodied entity
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 4:17 PM UTC
Difficult to say it is a crisis of faith
Deadlock stubbornly cracked
Divide intensified with fact so backed
****** is truth, lost memory's wraith
"Who's to blame?" as so often "they" saith
Forget this daft idyllic hope, loyalty
To nothing has my life compared
And as most humans, no heartache spared
No limits to its reverence and constancy
As God shapeshifted, any form but royalty
Kings of Kings, my Makers, Lords on High
Omnipotent theories to query
Over verses I've traveled, all but Kashmiri
Reasonably these to view before bye-bye
Off I am to Pir Panjal, where I shall quake and die
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 2:14 PM UTC
O’er the hill the rampant stampede
and the sound of thundering hooves,
as the mighty men of steel and armour,
hasten their steeds with all passion and eagerness,
to have at the fray in which their fellows are in
deadlock with the enemy.
Following the noble banner as it
twists and bends under the speed
of the horsemen’s noble steeds.
as edging ever nearer to the battlefield.
Then, with a shout of ardent Patriotism,
and the silent but deadly ring of cold steel,
the beating hooves trample,
as the swift sleek movements of the sword
befell the helpless enemy troopers and drones,
sent like sheep into a slaughterhouse,
and hence few shall return unscathed,
for these generals havent the decency for
diplomacy and discussion,
only to make ****** war.
And should they have cause to panic or fear,
they shall hastily mutter such words as these,
“Send in the cavalry!”,
and with little argument, we shall go,
over the hill in a stampede of
death and glory,
like the Valkyries,
we shall ride,
and hasten the deaths of they,
my generals enemies.
I am their last resort,
I am the cavalry.
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 3:24 AM UTC
Fear makes our rational minds corrode
Empty, paralysed and in shock
Our sense of hope starts to erode
Plane-bombed towers stretch and implode
Bone dust smothers a city block
Fear makes our rational minds corrode
Suicide bombs start to explode
None live to stand in courtroom dock
Our sense of hope starts to erode
Buses are blown up in the road
Red heart of a city they mock
Fear makes our rational minds corrode
Another gruesome episode
We’re held in a violent deadlock
Our sense of hope starts to erode
Where is the truth that we are owed?
Death’s time is set on Terror’s clock
Fear makes our rational minds corrode
Our sense of hope starts to erode
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC
Paddle
Paddle
Paddle
Up and on my feet
Falling, thrill of the initial fall
To catch the ride
Colliding currents crash waves
Into mental deadlock days
Winter swells come at shore break
Building momentum and grind
Like breaks at homesick Pipeline
Ride, curl and slide
Rip
Sweep the sides
Slick
Don’t choke this good vibe
Stay on this wave
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 10:39 PM UTC
I think that I shall never know
Why I am thus, and I am so.
Around me, other girls inspire
In men the rush and roar of fire,
The sweet transparency of glass,
The tenderness of April grass,
The durability of granite;
But me--I don't know how to plan it.
The lads I've met in Cupid's deadlock
Were--shall we say?--born out of wedlock.
They broke my heart, they stilled my song,
And said they had to run along,
Explaining, so to sop my tears,
First came their parents or careers.
But ever does experience
Deny me wisdom, calm, and sense!
Though she's a fool who seeks to capture
The twenty-first fine, careless rapture,
I must go on, till ends my rope,
Who from my birth was cursed with hope.
A heart in half is chaste, archaic;
But mine resembles a mosaic-
The thing's become ridiculous!
Why am I so? Why am I thus?
1.7k
Demarcation embossed on her skin, puncture point left with a pin
Fishnet stockings for the masses, Wiccan enjoyed in classes.
Personality goes from void to resigned, alternate progression good and primed.
Keen eyed father takes it all to heart, seeing his daughter’s wrist opened with a part.
Packs up and moves them all down to San Tropez
Hoping freedom in peace would take it all away.
Clean cut, concise and thin, award worthy with a stellar grin
An esteemed academic decathlete, salacious in the recesses of his sleep
Pressure mounted at too harsh an angle, fell back on those that dangle
Clean and cut with a proclivity for exposure, an outlet to relinquish his composure.
Packed up and moved down to San Tropez
His father thought it could take it all away
Fed and bred on notions of sin, premature birth, no more spin.
Baggy-eyed and caught in heat, the reasons that led her to cheat.
Husband took it as the answer to a problem, the baby could no longer haunt him.
She fell back into a deadlock stare, her husband thought it was a prolonged glare.
He packed them up and moved down to San Tropez
No amount of travel could take that all away.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 12:59 AM UTC
Difficult to say it is a crisis of faith
Deadlock stubbornly cracked
Divide intensified with fact so backed
****** is truth, lost memory's wraith
"Who's to blame?" as so often "they" saith
Forget this daft idyllic hope, loyalty
To nothing has my life compared
And as most humans, no heartache spared
No limits to its reverence and constancy
As God shapeshifted, any form but royalty
Kings of Kings, my Makers, Lords on High
Omnipotent theories to query
Over verses I've traveled, all but Kashmiri
Reasonably these to view before bye-bye
Off I am to Pir Panjal, where I shall quake and die
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 9:06 AM UTC
#Tick
In the tyranny of the measuring clock
Death is but a tortoise in this timeless race
With every slow tick and echoing tock
Forever keeping its careless pace
With so much to do I stay awake
With one foot in front of the other
Running with knees and feet that ache
Time feeds worms a salutary supper
In the end we must lie and nap
Embrace eternal slumbers deadlock
We are just hares caught in times trap
In the tyranny of the measuring clock
Tock#
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 1:47 PM UTC
Grading curves....
Wrongly ruptured neurological nerves.
Condemned by societal hate,
his fluctuating brain synapses tend to create
vicious, malicious and practitious acts
that gravitate to attack the faith
in every church enlisted in every homestead household.
Retaliation puts him in a chokehold.
A headlock, a leglock, a deadlock of the mind
consciousness revoked, the button is broke
vain attempts to find rewind.
Press Pause.
Bask in his murderous glory,
the bodies of the converted; epitome of gory.
Bloodshed because god is dead claimed Nietzche
He kills all his idols and struggles to think freely.
You see the doctors had his mind locked in a cage,
they built the bars since he was at an illiterate stage.
They taught him how to act, then how to think,
a mindless drone choked cause they revoked the power to speak-
toungue in cheek, they'll chop off your arm just to make sure
nothing's hiding up the sleeve
and questioning authority's their biggest pet peeve.
But enough is enough...I CHOOSE WHAT TO BELIEVE...
Drop my textbook, throw my desk, and through those
guidance doors I leave.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
*I was a false prophet in an unknown land.
Things used to be better,
With my hand in your hand
I fell asleep on the typewriter and wrote this poem while I dreamed*
Sprites dancing across my eyelids,
We made a game of nervous glances.
Touching fingertips like bits of flint,
We ignited fire in our voice boxes.
Screaming the sonnets of dead poets, we pronounced our love like rotting words.
*Cracked, marble lovers.
Tumbling together
breaking piece by piece
We drank gasoline and swallowed three lit matches
You started a scene when you kissed my dream
With your eyes glowing silver* and your eyelashes curved skyward
you talk of UFOs and astronauts
Complex and ever-changing,
I search your lips every night, looking for a sunset.
You catch stars in the corners of your smile, you are my favorite constellation.
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 3:52 AM UTC
We reach a time in our lives
Shuffling along our own dusty highways
In the warmth of a whisky stained dusk
Watching the honeyed heat of our future seep along the horizon
Into bruised sky of overburdened past
We each meet the same crossroad of decision
The two sides of our soul extending welcoming arms
As we stand, a prize in the feud between mind and heart
Practicality and passion
Security and sensuality
Who am I to choose which gravelled path to follow
Whether to take the wrinkled hand of prudence
And crunch the stones of wisdom and logic with each familiar step
Does my future lay ahead
At that point where the sun kneels to kiss the ground
And throws its glowing arms across the earth in a blanket of safety
Not in passion, but affection
In the comfort of routine
The reliability and purity of what is, and what has always been
Or does it sit within the flicker of a fiery heart
In the sigh of breath that creeps along with the breeze
That trickles down my spine
And dares me to turn my head, to look down roads of impenetrable darkness
To embrace the possibility of the unknown
And the leaping tongues of flame that might lie where those paths end
To be engulfed, and to know myself within that destruction.
Is it the voice that whispers inside my veins
"should there be more than this?"
I stay static
Leaderless
A spectator to the conflict of the soul
Stuck fast in a deadlock of inertia and indecision
Awaiting that moment
When the last glimmer of sun has bled through the cracked earth
And I open my blurred eyes to icy silence, shapeless and pure in its clarity
To see, without obstruction
That the decision is clear.
My future transparent.
That there was only ever one road I could take.
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 3:46 PM UTC
There are two sides of me struggling against each other yet they remain joined in an epic campaign.
Both are determind to remove any obstacle which lies in their way
The constant pull from these two conflicting forces is stifling, their goal to maximize my pain.
Together they make me whole, but their differences are as drastic as the night is to the day.
I swear some moments I can hear the moon lit sky calling out to me.
When the taste of the wind makes everthing burst into a magnificent spark.
Within a flash I'm drowing a million hands drag me to the bottom of the sea.
In this frenzy I'm left silently screaming ,scared and in the dark.
There are times when the love within me almost consumes me, my entire heart and soul, it has a furious intensity only matched if the sun and moon would collide.
Without warning a nothingness slowly starts to creep thrusting me into a darkness, swallowing my everything , from it I can not hide.
The purity in which I can feel some emotions is nearly impossible to bare.
The force behind them starts to frantically grow until it begins devouring me.
Keep your head held high I whisper, as our eyes deadlock in a wandering stare.
Reminding myself that they are only able to see the me I choose them to see.
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC
*we don't talk
is this a deadlock?
i'm stuck
can we just take a walk?
near the shore i set up a hammock
where we can ignore the ticking clock*
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 2:48 AM UTC
swift inset of love's Sanskrit,
a thorn of contestations.
make cadence this sensorial music.
centrifugally waiting bodies
to cross Earths.
a plethora of annulments.
lion-telling Sun singes through intersections of infinities:
we cannot wait to quash
the morning, the scent of guava leaves
and the cerement of flour on chicken.
earth-hewn mounds of meat pressed
against beholden kitchen clangor.
declension of memory past wood
and pillars of home. lattices of light
forerunning fingers, let down the curtain.
wind swings with maddened turbine,
afternoons high with deadlock.
of all that is not here, the force
reawakens a long-stumped ******
beating us back to edges ruthless
with angels entirely curved, singled-out,
wings clipped, dancing at the tip
of the candleflame.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
Once I was a preserver
a wayfarer
a maker
but later
you turned me into a useless stargazer
by losing the will of being your tracer
I ceded my kismet on becoming an engraver
I grew to be nothing but a moveless eraser
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 3:40 PM UTC
I will rise up early
and dress myself up nice
and I will leave the house
and check the deadlock twice.
and I will find a crowd
and blend in for a minute
and I will try to find
a little comfort in it.
and I will get lonely
and gasp for air.
and send your name up from my lips
like a signal flare.
and I will go downtown,
stand in the shadows of the buildings
and button up my coat,
trying to stay strong,
spirit willing.
and I will come back home,
maybe call some friends,
maybe paint some pictures,
it all depends.
and I will get lonely
and gasp for air.
and look up at the high windows,
and see your face up there
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC
We both felt
the crumbling
rabbits heard
the sheep bleat
the rumblings
that had no stomach
for what eagle's eyed
ahead
but neither spoke
we kept standing and looking
for quite a while
as if staring at the tumbled rocks
would cause a path to appear
as if this were Narnia
somewhere
entranced
someone had to break
the deadlock
move the mountain
over the mouse
and move on
I did
deciding the end
going from shared
friends
straying from the flock
through an open wound
and it hurt
back to what was
almost
eyre
then my sole
gently turned over
a new soft leaf
but it bothered me
even now
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
If I could buy just one more day..I'd pay the Earth.
To open up my eyes again and feel the loving pain of life and stretch my arms up to the sky..
..But here I lie..Alone in death..
No Angels came to give me breath to breathe in paradise...and let me tell you..
..it aint nice.
So..
If I could buy just one more day I wouldn't waste my words to say."what time is it"..Shit..I wouldn't care.
I'd nurse each second like a baby in my arms and handle gently every minute..as if a cry would spoil the spell and send me screaming back to Hell and if I heard the clock at all that echoes loudly, I would fall again into despair..
..Something I care not to do.
But what I have is what I've got..a six foot plot..and lost somewhere along the way was any hope of buying one more day.
So I will lay.Wishing I could gaze once more upon the sky.
Wishing I could buy..
..Another day.
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 2:59 PM UTC
I thought I saw
something in your eyes
when you looked at me
so undisguised.
I thought I felt
a pierce from your gaze
while our eyes were stuck
in a deadlock game.
I must have misread
what you had in mind;
I felt a pierce, no doubt,
but of a wicked kind.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 5:41 PM UTC
The cost of living fast and lean
And getting what you're owed
Is feeling always in between
And strung out on the road
I sink into the motel bed
And stare up at a water-stain
I take a pill and rub my head
And listen to the rain
The blues and reds are easy meds
Embalming for my brain
They drive the creeping minutes out
I count the loss but gain
The easy buzz of Secanol
and bourbon brings me peace
One-hundred-forty minutes flat
A fleeting, sweet release
I run my fingers through my hair
Relaxed, as I come to
I lift the satchel off the chair
I've got a job to do
The headlights through the curtains
Trace a line across the floor
I pull them snugly closed and
Flip the deadlock on the door
Pull the slide and pop the spring
Wipe the action with a rag
Lubricate with kerosene
Reassemble, slap the mag
I shake the cardboard ammo box
The rounds are heavy, cold and clean
I flip them over, one by one
And press into the magazine
The sun is slowly rising though
I cannot see the light
As sure as I'm about to blow
Tonight will be the night.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
If I thought that we would crash and burn
faster
than he and I
There is nothing that would stop me from walking away.
Finding myself in you
So that I may go on forever knowing.
Bemusement be ******
You see,
I owe it to everyone involved
to see this to the very end.
To see this to the wreckage.
through the turmoil
and dismay
until we find ourselves in
deadlock.
Our own
inferno of fulfillment.
Ultimately
I will be with you.
Without being animated by old knots.
Damage undone.
Relentlessly
loving.
Present tense.
To have you,
however I may have you,
I am at ease.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC