"deadlocked" poems
I had a dream I smoked some ***** with a Rasta Man
while we jammed in the name of the lord to some tunes
the children of Africa roaming free like wild beast
once the cradle of civilization turned into tombs
by the ungrateful, heathen souls that ran amok
in the name of annihilation and war.
But we are fearful pious men, as we inhaled the herb
the grass is the shepherd that nourish us like Giraffes
the sky is the ceiling that we reach with our blessed hands
the rivers gives us skins like Crocs to be able to survive
harsh whether, the blood-stained desert left behind by men
witnessed by the pale eyes of the torture souls of this land.
And so we inhaled and puffed like chimneys in a North Pole night
we talked about the smiles of our seeds stretching far and wide
how beautiful is a voice when it’s brought to life by a loved one
how the scent of a pure woman can bring the dead back to life
deadlocked, we are dreadlocked like grapevines until Jah lets us
the mental slavery that keeps us chained to the ships of our ancestors.
We never once conversed about the frail indignity of the mortals
the uselessness of hate, the ways material possessions can’t help you
we reached Nirvana without taking our feet off the common ground
we shared a spirit, bonded between long hits made of peace and love
in the freedom of those free thinkers tinkering with words without rest
in the children of Jah, daydreaming at night in a warm bed made of bread.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
There's some sort of magic between the eyes of a resting jaguar. Their languid yawn, opening the gaping maw that lies between their strong teeth, more energetic than their tired paws.
Still and regal, wearing muscles like fine silks, their fur like that final kingly cape and their ears their crown.
A zoo jaguar once met my eyes and in a deadlocked stare, saw the camera in my hands, and turned his head to pose. A prince always knows when to please his peasantry. As a pleased peasant, I snapped pictures and nearly cried at his serene posture behind a wall of glass. There was some sort of uncharted beauty in the way he spoke without words oversaturating his meanings. It was a way I wished to speak. He was a comrade behind glass, silent yet observant and knowing. Though my head might be a good fit for a maw, I nearly wanted to keep him close company.
The dark spots that adorn his body are the only betrayers of the fierce undertones of his monarchy. Well, except for the teeth, of course.
Though I try to unlock my gaze and detach from the gossamer threads that were beginning to tie, the jaguar eyes and jaguar prince incessantly seep into my brain, for when I close my eyes all I can see is theirs staring back at me. All I want is just one hand, a single touch, a gift to feel their crowns and robes, to experience the powerful royalty beneath their quiet eyes, even if being taken by their maw may end up being the price.
My affection becomes jarred by the human hand jostling my wrist, and I blink for the first time since seeing the posing feline prince. My head turns, trance averted, and I'm looked at with perplexion as my body has sidled up to the glass, and the Jaguar, now alert, is swinging its tail and staring in wonderment at me.
My eyes magnetize back to their rightful place, his green eyes on my green eyes, and I wonder what lives we would live like if I could see into his mind and know what's he's like. Perhaps we would be friends, or family, or hunters, or partners, in that other life.
Or, perhaps he'd want to eat me nonetheless.
One more camera shot of my jaguar prince, and a silent nod as he situates himself back to his pose. Restful, regal, serene. Turning away, I feel myself leave a part of me that always stays with him and taking that part of him that stays with me.
Every wild eye does, and our secret we will keep.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 10:53 AM UTC
To be wed ceremonies
Traditionally brisk time
Wintery- divine sacred
rituals
She elevates every success to the
Sublime
Inner power bells of chime
Sometimes resistance
Need more patience
Internal flame Solstice
Too many humans come
with a price looking into
envision unto whatever will-do
Internal flame nowhere to be tamed
Who is to blame no red carpet
Why do they call it fame?
Winter Solstice chilled wine
Shared/unpaired/homebound
On- our- own- time
Christmas time prayer of hope
Feeling land-locked on tight rope
All disguises internal flame bruises
Masquerade party
On a deserted Island all booked
But where are the people shell- shocked
Dreams are dangerous internal fire
Sleepwalked no life desired
Some people have it all well- stocked
In the apartment minds go deadlocked
Looking out of a window if we can only
see the same beautiful sky
So many endangered species
no
wings
to- fly
Looking at the bottom
the big family dish
My only wish
Seeing our loved ones
In a starfish*
Jul 9, 2023
Jul 9, 2023 at 11:07 AM UTC
The *** Gardeners there were twelve in all. Hurrah! Hurrah!
everyone a Hero and answered the call. Hurrah! Celagh!
they were going out to war to fight the ***
soon be back as Heroes when the work is done
so get the Cheer Leaders ready...
the *** Gardeners are coming home
poison gas threatened from afar. Hurrah! Hurrah!
Soon be back as Heroes and first at the bar. Hurrah! Celagh!
they climbed over the top of the fields of fire
and complex networks of barbed wire
so get the fireworks ready
the *** Gardeners are coming home
deadlocked enemies on the Western line. Hurrah! Hurrah!
their bodies were earth their hands were slime. Hurrah! Celagh!
they didn't have time to take a breath
out of duty to the King they laughed at death
so get the flagpoles ready
the *** Gardeners are coming home
specialist bombers of an infantry platoon. Hurrah! Hurrah!
our Heroes longed to be home so soon. Hurrah! Celagh!
overhead shellfire scared them out their wits
dropped in their trench and blew them all to bits
so get the coffins ready...
the *** Gardeners are coming home.
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC
Where do I begin.
It's been so long since I've been so close to the end that I could smell the earth around me.
I think I've been playing both sides of the field so long that I can't differentiate between a graveyard shift,
and a cold dead sunrise. But I wouldn't know the difference between differentiating and diffusing dreaming
Dead dawn rises opening up this world
Dead dusk down on a twitch throe, circling the fence around my collapsing line of vision
Sorrow and *** the two things I like best that I want less of the more that I get.
If I could go back...I would have kissed you on the river. I would have shown you with tenderness, what it is like for your life here on this world to be wanted. I would have given you what love feels like beyond the shade of fear of loss, the ultimate gift I would keep on giving. And then I would've stricken you with my oar until your beautiful body no longer broke surface intentionally. It would have been the gentleman's way of settling things. Instead I chose the dreamer's.
I've been in camouflage, hiding well from you. hoping to escape within the community of a seemingly functional
system.
Found it hard to keep my cool when utterance of a simple name or phrase could throw me into breathing lasps,
When the sight of a single stone upon the ground could be a city in the sky, my last gasps are playing and
rewinding and then playing, and rewinding, and then playing, and rewinding and then playing, and rewinding and I'm laying down the sheets upon the floor, because the bed reminds me too much of the perfect story memory I'm
alone. In a
building. In a
desert. In a
deadlocked staring contest between me
and my reflection in the moonlit water memories that make up all I am were was are is will ever ******* be
If you can't escape in a ******* dream then where the **** else am I gonna go?
I've wasted my life, observing, becoming less a part of all the things I spend time looking at.
Removing myself from the final edit. Hoping somehow,
That total abstinence,
From your world,
And my worldly desires,
Will
somehow
put Me in
CONTROL.
Love is about control for you. I believe in you.
I don't know if I believe in control.
It doesn't matter if I believe in love.
Someone please just see the justification for anything I do. I am begging for a partner. I have no one to observe
me.
If I seem hellbent, please...I am merely driven by demons to an end I would have no means to reach if I was...
left alone...
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 5:41 AM UTC
the goddess deadlocked sweetly
her pale eyes pierce my soul
with the words i hear in her face
reproach me for laying loves upon the alter
of her freedoms
she lifts one delicate hand
signify
but it is her warm hand that catches my eye
for i know within that strength
within that tender caress of a woman's gentle forgiveness
i could find redemption
tears break upon my face like waves
as i struggle to find the words to sway her
this dreadlock princess goddess woman
lifts one hand
signify
her swift eye
and pale thin lips do shine far too brightly
the goddess deadlocked sweetly
please forgive me
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
In misplaced demographics, an underlying figure
Gets lost in the middle of double-helixed bound’ry lines
Dissolving past parameters, confounding to the mind,
A deadlocked debate decides if pain or love is bigger
It’s like the world’s hardest riddle, answers buried deftly
That no savant or prodigy is able to surmise
And the truth does differ from what words can now describe.
I’ve learned that one can tread life’s forest with a steady course
And with the best of intentions and stark, concerted path
Turn winding bends ambiguous: mistake a birch for ash
So to end the tiring journey in tangent to its source
The nature of the Earth is neither white nor black
It’s more like the palate used when blue becomes grayish sky
But, then again, it’s not this easy to describe
Inside my head there lies a circuit, closed unto itself
So, through this loop I’ve learned to see the difference between
Progress and regression, what has been and has never been,
Is like finding from a deck why each hand differs that is dealt
But the answer matters not, for the circle spins again
It’s kind of like the ocean where the calm and break collides
But, then again, it’s not this easy to describe.
I’ve watched a daunting fog descend upon my clouded eyes
It curbs the hue of ev’rything to darker spectrum shades
So this shroud submerges light until definition fades,
Frustrates the sense of passion; luster steadily subsides
When the mind’s only window is comprised of rippled glass,
It’s like a drunkard’s double vision having not imbibed
But, then again, it’s not this easy to describe.
Each step I take grows even more uncertain than the last
If I could convey to you the shape of this confusion
If I could draw a diagram or picture of delusion
Then you and I might, together, construct and raise a mast
So with to steer life’s wayward ship back toward a purpose
At times, I’m unsure if living’s just learning to survive
So, in this pall, I reach you now, and in you I confide.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 4:34 PM UTC
Hopelessly wandering
I am at an impasse
Immobilized by desire
There is no way out.
Freedom awaits me
I can hear it's cries
But I turn a deaf ear
My lover pulls me back.
A hypnotising smile
And tranquillizing touch
Invade my mind
And Control my body.
Liberation will come someday
I can hear freedom cry
Another day I will leave perhaps
Today my lover needs me.
Captured in a conundrum
Intriguing mystery abounds
Captivating me to decipher
Perpetual perplexity.
I hear the screams closing in
Freedom is more persistent
I ready myself to join the calls
But my lover has my hand.
© Tina Thompson
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 7:20 AM UTC
Some things for which I'm grateful always seem to go unmentioned
And I'd like to tell these things to you that clearly deserve attention
I'd like to thank you for the times that I needed your help
The calls you answered every time in sickness and in health
I know it might seem strange to give my thanks for all the struggles
For all the little things for which I managed to get in trouble.
For some reason you accept me and I find that quite absurd
But I'd like to reciprocate and give you my sincere word
That regardless of what you do, regardless of what you say
I'll be there for you no matter what at the end of every day
I'm grateful for you always and I'm grateful this thanksgiving
I'm grateful for my friends that always make my life worth living.
I'm grateful that God blessed the path that I chose to take
The path that led me to meeting you, just a culmination of my mistakes
The mistakes I made, the struggles I faced, and the stupid things I've done
I've lost so many times but finding you means that I won.
I've lost so many people but I've won so many more
And I'm thankful for every open window and every deadlocked door.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
Hello there, too, mister
I see you more like a stranger
Just stop it right there,
don't even try to win my heart,
I tell you, it's deadlocked already,
don't you even dare.
I won't open it
for you --- you will just come,
and take the pieces of me with you
without my permission,
and vanish eventually
just like a thief in the night
who comes and steals
and then run away.
T.11.I
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 4:46 AM UTC
‘Why do you colour your lips so black,
Darken your piercing eyes,
What are you hiding behind your back,
Have you been telling me lies?
Why are you wearing those knee length boots,
Pulling that cloak round, tight,
Where are you going, under the Moon,
Where will you be tonight?
Christabel grimaced but wouldn’t reply,
She turned, with her hand on the door,
Gazing right through me, I’d thought that she knew me
But there was no love like before.
Her brows, they were furrowed, her eyes hard as glass,
Her lips they were pursed in contempt,
I should have left then when she’d put down the pen
But I didn’t know then what it meant.
I knew she was moody, I knew she was dark,
She’d flutter round blind, like a moth,
She always wore black, even out in the park,
They warned me, they said ‘She’s a Goth!’
I’d found her entrancing at first, I admit,
I tried to get into her mind,
But once in those raveling tunnels of darkness
The deepest of thoughts were unkind.
I picked up the note she left ******* on the floor
The moment she left for the night,
‘I have to see Jack,’ she had scribbled, ‘That’s that!’
I must put my nightmares to flight.’
I knew there was darkness and heartache to come,
She’d promised him plenty of strife,
But then I’d jumped in to his bucket of sin
As I thought she was out of his life.
I asked her at first was she over him yet,
And yes, she assured me she was,
But surely his name wouldn’t drive her insane
If it wasn’t a question of loss!
A terrible feeling came over me then,
I needed to know where she went,
So headed on out to where Jack hung about,
I shouldn’t have gone, I repent.
I saw through the window the angel of death
Her cloak streaming out, like a moth,
And he in the corner, not catching his breath
His throat in the grip of a Goth!
I tried to burst in but the door was deadlocked,
I saw the knife raised in her fist,
Then plunge, and a scream like some terrible dream,
For just as he died, she had kissed!
She came out toward me but covered in blood,
On hands, on her lips and her face,
While I backed away, I had nothing to say,
But,‘Heaven above, lend me grace!’
She ran away, stumbling, on through the dark
But she’d not seen her nightmares off,
I found she was hung on a light in the park,
In her mouth was a fluttering moth.
David Lewis Paget
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC
discover frozen effigies of foreign gods
in a town without whispers
we'll find a maze
of EXIT signs
get lost
searching
for escape
until the inevitable
heat death of the status quo
we'll waltz
deadlocked,
mercurial eyes
in the glittering sea
of black hole leftovers
the spacious sound,
the silence stretching
.
.
.
you'll drop a bottle
and time will slow
in that moment of collapse
I'll fanatically search
for all the shards,
as they turn red
in my petrified grip
and try to piece together
this unsolvable puzzle
on our cheeks,
the irritating scratch
of a bitter wind
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
Salt-grain-taken greetings
from the land of curmudgeons,
powwow in these
craters of overblown canticles.
Dragon-puff proofed spirits
with the matchsticks of nigh-nights...
till we add eyes to the lambs of
Johnny from Patmos.
We can disturb the peace, till it
spews war from windows--gag
reflexes of great purges.
Catching venom samples in our
plastic cups, for posterity's telltale tipples.
Etching paralysis through deadlocked
saints and sinners.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 1:05 AM UTC
the writers block entrances to stone vestibules
life congeals and appeals to those despicable few
creaky mattress, true, but we flew by burnt capitals
the grass's dew dried up at four o'clock in the morning
we learnt the vastness of our own chaotic complexities
it's impractical, doling out the pasts to our moping guests
insight into their creature comforting me, smiling languidly
he saw those hooligans dance above his crumbling tombstone
impregnated by the rain, headlight shone into impending gloom
waiting, moaning, mourning in a deadlocked, deadweighted room
we're inclined to drown in our own questions, in irreconcilable fate
and a hateful frown, the tasteful waste adorning those latest to bloom
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
the writers block entrances to stone vestibules
life congeals and appeals to those despicable few
creaky mattress, true, but we flew by burnt capitals
the grass's dew dried up at four o'clock in the morning
we learnt the vastness of our own chaotic complexities
it's impractical, doling out the pasts to our moping guests
insight into their creature comforting me, smiling languidly
he saw those hooligans dance above his crumbling tombstone
impregnated by the rain, headlight shone into impending gloom
waiting, moaning, mourning in a deadlocked, deadweighted room
we're inclined to drown in our own questions, in irreconcilable fate
and a hateful frown, the tasteful waste adorning those latest to bloom
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
<i> I thought I could just wipe out the bad memories that ***** left behind
We had some really fun times and some bad stretches as well
The good far exceeded the bad in my debatable opinion
Sadly I am losing the battle of self confidence and reason
Your lack of trust in me feels like a dagger to my thigh
So much so that I thought of just leaving without a goodbye
I am not proud of most of my actions in this scenario
I know that I agreed to forgive and put this behind us
It’s that arrogant ******* guiding me as he sits on my shoulder
I can’t guarantee you that tomorrow will be any different
I will try my best to make this marriage whole again
I was posting our wedding pictures on Facebook with pride
I was bragging about my beautiful bride from long ago
So why did I have to end one fight only to start another?
I let the forgiven past come right back to taunt me
I gave the jealous demons the keys to my mind
They made me do things tantamount to treason
It was like I was going insane for no logical reason
Reinventing myself all over again is what I need for success
I know you are leery of handing out another “second” chance
I am so sorry I awoke you from your sleep,
Then accuse you of marital malfeasance on unproven theory
I was convinced that you were guilty of infidelity
There was no way you could walk away without some punishment
A deadlocked jury was not to be swayed by unproven facts
I had verified almost every call that went through her Apple 5
I must really keep those workers at Verizon in stitches
I lost count of how times I logged in and then got booted out
I am so thankful that my wife continues to support me
Time will tell if this marriage blooms into a beautiful flower
Both of us are headed to bed early tonight
We are backlogged on sleep and no energy is present
I know that I have been taught a valuable lesson
Jealousy is a very strange emotion
It can ruin a marriage just by one stray thought
<b><i>If you fool around chances are you will get caught
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 2:04 AM UTC
What tipped the scales
What has caused the rift
The straw that added the extra
Weight...or was it a feather
Has the lights gone out, has the grid
Finally broke. Leaving us again depending
On God; And his scary Revelations.
Clutching our blankets for heat.
We wait for man to repair that
Which he has put in place to fail.
What ever can go wrong-will go wrong-
For sure.. We use to know that before
We stopped misplacing our convictions
When neighbors knew it was all or none
When rent parties and waistline parties
Were how we got through the worse days..
But now we just yell “save yourselves”
Pack yourself up some pillows, grab your
Smart phones and outrun the storm until your
Gas has finished or until no--one accepts
your money for a bottle of clean water.
When shops are closed and the super wealthy has
Imposed on you their plan… separated God and man
Leaving you to appeal to selfish men with deadlocked hearts.
© Vicki Acquah
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
I face the wall solemnly,
Hoping to hinder the
Perpetual stream of humdrum afternoons.
Sunlight sidles through curtain cracks,
Only to be shredded by the dark,
Gloom-encrusted walls.
I am confined to my dreary room,
Deprived of liveliness,
Bound to insipid repetition.
Time moves ever so quickly,
Yet my life is standing still.
Deadlocked in stalemate.
Though my senses function adequately,
My heart beats factitiously.
How ironic it is to be alive,
But not to be living.
I yearn to possess merriment,
Yet I sit idly alone
As a component of a drab,
Recurring cycle.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
Does depend on the day
but the mention of his name
jolts her into a restless
alarmingish warmth
armour amour as such
Touching to note that
somehow every time - yes
so often she looks for him
on social sites or streets
where he is pictured
at a conference a corner
sauntering in that suit
Deadlocked in memories
hypnotised by appearance
between shore and ship
indeed, just like the shipping
forecast a warning predicts
the storm yet cannot foresee
the monotonous rhythm of
Hearts melting still breaking
Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 9:30 AM UTC
The intersection is deadlocked,
Blocked by reality of living.
The overpass has fallen,
Causing a traumatic breakdown.
Life is at standstill,
With no traffic being averted.
Congestion on the highway becomes worse,
Thinking there will no solution on the streets.
When bridges collapse,
Destiny tends to find a new route.
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 7:23 AM UTC
What are you doing on Christmas Day?
Oh, having a quiet one at home. My family lives too far away and it’s nice to be alone.
Oh not me, I love a fuss! The more the merrier, I say. It’s really a must to be surrounded by love on a happy Christmas Day.
Suppose you could see, if you’d grown up like me, you’d better understand. My family gatherings were more like a slathering of trauma and animosity.
Maybe one day it won’t be this way, I look forward to some change. I’m hopeful to break the generational hate that’s been deadlocked age after age.
But until then, I can only depend on the peaceful tradition I’ve made. Eating mince pies by the flickering light of my mobile phone screen.
Dec 25, 2024
Dec 25, 2024 at 6:33 PM UTC
Your inflicted memories
Lick my wound with tenderness
An established testimony
Nobody ever confess
How bereaving is to strive
When our souls deadlocked
They heaved alive..
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 1:52 AM UTC