"detained" poems
1241
The Lilac is an ancient shrub
But ancienter than that
The Firmamental Lilac
Upon the Hill tonight—
The Sun subsiding on his Course
Bequeaths this final Plant
To Contemplation—not to Touch—
The Flower of Occident.
Of one Corolla is the West—
The Calyx is the Earth—
The Capsules burnished Seeds the Stars
The Scientist of Faith
His research has but just begun—
Above his synthesis
The Flora unimpeachable
To Time’s Analysis—
“Eye hath not seen” may possibly
Be current with the Blind
But let not Revelation
By theses be detained—
11.2k
The teacher stands before her detained class
And from behind her authoritative podium
She equates abortion to the holocaust
A dangerous comparison in an educational garrison
But the other children nodded their heads in agreement
A benefit of having the ear of youth
Is being able to infect it with your own toxic ideology
What bacteria did this ear infection consist of?
Conservatism? Religiosity? Chastity?
The answer was depressingly simple
I was the only one there unaware of Fox News
I was a casualty of the confusion
The confusion engendered
By venom thoughts placing politic-colored glasses
on the entrenched masses
Entertainment
Used to convey anger and hate
Emotions worth conveying
But not living in
The intents and desires of their vulnerable receivers
become an incongruous disaster
What could I have done?
Minds as still as the pharaohs heart
We live in a society where we're all infantilized by one myth
Good and evil
Looking back on what I did do
I didn't do much
But I did do something
I didn't nod my head like a ******** sycophant
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC
~weary weighted~
flummoxed are the sea watchers;
the long rhythms of sea change reveal only minor modesties,
difficult discerned are the tidal subtleties
though repetitive thrashing extracts it toll,
only the weary-weighted see the true meaning of the beating,
knowing full well,
it beats for them
recalling their early day’d fascination with its endless chaining,
now knowing all are similar
detained-chained,
and the ******* churning but a cover up masque,
they need not longer conceal,
an unrevealed confess:
water is heavy-weighted, you cannot forever float,
constancy is of a thing to be wary,
its sadder longevity,
a chipping away erosion of wearing,
*‘tis is the knelling noise of sad respite,
an unlight lighthouse*
~for Victoria, a year later~
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
Standing on the hillside is a rustic yellow cottage,
Rusty yellow staining from the steel dust of the trains.
Passing, rushing carriages that crisscross by the hour,
The ten o clock from Frankston meets the City train detained.
Golden light of sunrise in the calm of early morning
Golden light reflected on the rusty cottage roof,
Puffing at his briar and sitting at the doorstep
Old Grandpa drinks the peacefulness whilst stroking cat aloof.
Bacon smells a-beckoning from coal range fires a-glowering
Delicious tang of coffee from my Granma’s breakfast fare,
The clattering of silver wheels as silver rails reverberate
Sings the music of the morning with not a trace of care.
Memories from yesteryear I treasure on reflection,
Memories, a little boy, recalled from times secure.
Memories of cuddles in the ***** of my Grandma
And the scent of plum tobacco giving Grandpa’s pipe allure.
Perhaps a trick of memory, perhaps my passing fancy
But I clearly recall a sign above the kitchen door,
A simple sign of welcome with a sense of real belonging
In the gentle name of “Sunrise” to warm the heart galore.
Marshalg
In memory of my dear Nan and Pop Cummings @ Mordialloc by the bay.
23 April 2013
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 2:58 AM UTC
Words untold
truth is detained
here in this heart
broken and pained
*parts of the secret
are covered in despise
surrounded by denial
but easily disguised*
Truth will be told
and lies will be past
hearts will suffer
or reunite at last
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 1:47 PM UTC
Glazed eyes
Tired sighs
Lost interest
Leave the room
Question that guy
smells like **** you high?
No officer with a sigh
Detained and searched
Reasonably
Booked and Printed
All I was doing was
eating popcorn
and playing videogames
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 5:28 AM UTC
Once at the guillotine
Now an out-of-focus angel
"Crime is shame, not the scaffold!"
She's got a '45 strapped
To each of her thighs
Speaks French with a Martian accent
Wishes she was a siren
When bathed in happy thoughts
Wishes she was the ladybird
When her wings
Confuse amuse transfuse
Into dreams of blood
Lukewarm prisoner
Detained for seven years
Now lies beside her
Asking for a helping hand
She loosens her corset
But tightens her grip
Jan 3, 2022
Jan 3, 2022 at 9:10 AM UTC
*standing on the threshold of change, I await a fresh-line
but the universe may be unready
if not, I may take to choppy-waters
all by myself*
1.
if we are all stuck in the jam of time
perhaps, if we spread it out real thin
some of us could actually lift off
and catch a ride.. out
free some hostage from the twisting temporal-joints
and the wool-gatherers mind their business
and footsore beggars dine on exotic-things
deep in the heart of the jungle
where Nebuchadnezzar parked his dreams of old
by saving your surprise for a weekday jaunt
we limp on in the vacant-dust of paradox
yet get unavoidably detained by the present
undo the ribbons and the package may unfold its.. things
espy the tick-tock riding the margin of fright
common sense of morn lies delightfully unfinished
and the wrong side of a bold idea gets squashed
the brain-weary ingest their lot and plough on through thickets of tricky-fate
while tiptoeing silent on the farthest-blades of brimstone
holding subtly aloft.. the frankness of aiding-spectres
2.
balloon of green, balloon of blue
hold out your hand and pray you get no inequalities of flame
easy catch of the sound of science scoffing in the parlour
when we try to do something different; take a chance
uncivilised-humour will argue the rings off your punctured-lobes
any germ of new plan must needs be nurtured
let any frenemy go; intolerant-ilk do better by their vacuous selves
remarkably convenient
there's almost enough water in the well
to soak up the ivory-rays and let them fly
and there's a breeze lifting the needle off the ancient-groove
spinning reels on the bay
*no, you will never convince me
that the time-keeper holds all keys
'cos I snuck out furtive.. late one night
and sawed through.. for a whole decade
and well, guess what I have here..*
:)
S T - 24 Jan 2014
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
☺☻╬☻
Finish the crackers --- grab a smoke . . .
of Ferguson my muse will sing.
A call to arms --- God’s fires to stoke;
let Truth and Freedom ring!
Take to the streets; avenge this wrong
and hasten the end of racist rule.
Justice, though it may tarry long
will find its target in the duel.
Young Michael Brown, like all true saints
found himself craving Swisher Sweets.
He robbed a store, whose camera paints
impartial portrait. In the streets
the thief refused to be detained
and so threw off police restraint.
Though sin escaped, the Law remained
and made a martyr of this saint.
The agitators did their thing:
inflaming thugs to smash and loot,
while racists baited hooks, to string
the press. Officials followed suit.
Angels, although not always kind,
do not display this attitude –
aware of how the police mind
responds to such ingratitude.
We ought to thank the police force
for showing mercy under stress.
The culprit chose a foolish course
and made a God-awful mess.
Prince Michael met ignoble fate
(that ghetto-Christ, that righteous youth)
His sacrifice in vain --- though great,
could not impede the march of Truth.
Ferguson, our eyes turn towards you . . .
are you now able to admit
while reality rewards you
that looting and lying ain’t ****
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
Two soldiers as they walk
Lamenting with much despair
Far away from that deadly grip
Of fear and deprivation
For every person everywhere
In every country tribe and nation.
Disposing of those clothes they wore
Casting away without hesitation
Removing reminders of that deadly war
Making mends and new relations
Building a world like never before
With tears of joy on this special occasion.
Two soldiers whose lives were on the line
Head towards a brand new day
They raise their hopes for the very first time
Since they were detained so far away
Behind those enemy lines
Celebrating better times and future days .
Two soldiers together in company
Telling tales of those fearsome times
Happy now they are safe and free
With parties and gatherings in the street
Time now to raise a glass of wine
Alive and standing on there feet .
So long you guns and bombs
Upon this earth you did not belong
You created a world of fear
But now those days are dead and gone
And peace time now is here
Let's hope one day the world will stand as one.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 4:13 PM UTC
Hannah.
It means graceful and calm,
like a dancers swift precise movements.
She stays firmly planted in the pre-determined lines.
She is obedient and kind,
sweet and mellow.
She is near perfect,
but she isn’t me.
I am clumsy and untamed,
like a burst of lightening detained in society’s shackles.
I am a mess of color on the paper.
I am your dream or your nightmare.
Sweet but free,
a soul carried in by the wind.
I am galaxies away from perfect
but I am me.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 6:23 PM UTC
Composed
wandering the Commons, quietly listening
to the sounds of Childish Gambino
Confused
Looking for the sixteenth time for
An escape from the Pru
Sipping a glass of Sam Adams Boston Brick Red
at a corner of WHISKEY'S on Boylston
Stopped in at Ben & Jerry's on Park:
Bought a cone of ™
Paid for it with
my Bank of America® VISA® P L A T I N U M P L U S ®
Checked in on foursquare and
read the protest tweets on
my verizonwireless® hTC® ThunderBolt™
with Google:
@OccupyWallSt
#NYPD collapses on #Sanctuary and begins arresting clergy and occupiers
inside. #D17 #Re-Occupy #OWS
\_Retweeted by Occupy Boston
@HoraceBoothroyd
@OccupyWallSt Links to sanctuary/clergy violations?
Erst I wandered the sights
and thought of thoughts
Tweeted a picture of the “pro-corporate” march
Pictured Headlines:
Area Cop Arrests Area Man for Obeying Traffic Signal
"Didn't anybody tell him that's not how its done round here?"
Cell of Young Idealists with ties to
Low-Level Terrorist Organization Busted & Detained:
Found Plotting the Grassroots, Digitized, Non-Violent Overthrow of the Status Quo
Op-ed:
City upon a Hill: “Whose city?! Whose hill?!”
#SOPA #NDAA
#OCCUPYBOSTON
~D.B. Guy, 12/17/11
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:35 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldret, Kenya;[email protected])
Do you remember one era in Kenya?
During the dark days of dictatorship
When Daniel arap Moi
Was the tyrannical president of Kenya
And darkness of leadership
Loomed like the dark clouds of el Niño
When forty district commissioners
Out of the total of forty two were kalenjins?
Whose main work was to spy and terrorize
As the people forlornly groaned under the heavy
Yoke of state terror of tribal torment
When the president claims that
He was not aware of such tyranny,
When we used to sing a lame poem
Of jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo!
On empty stomachs with no hope of food
No hope of jobs or even education
Street children swelling on the street
In total political nonchalance of arap Moi
As he only gave free milk to his own kalenjin youths
In Kabaraka schools, the Kabaraka school which was
Overfunded by the poor tax payers money,
Please President Uhuru Kenyatta as good as you are
With your dear humane heart of Bantu conscience
As you are armed to teeth with modern education
**** sapiens Gentility and polished diplomacy
Superb in quality of thought and supremacy of choices
The government of Kenya is yours and the people of Kenya
Are your political darlings, true bandwagons for ever
Kindly listen and buy my poemetics, my dear president
Remove Daniel Moi from the state house of Kenya,
Let not Daniel Moi be your adviser
Ignore him and embrace Kenyans
For common future happiness
Even if Daniel Moi is old, the truth is different
He is not a good man, he is full of Machiavelli
His full badness is measured in absurdity
Of terribly and horrendously crashed *** crushed
Testicles of poemcrats and political leaders
Of Kenya of yore and today,
Truth meted in When koigi wa wamwere became
A permanent staff of kamiti maximum prison without pension
Wangari Mathai beaten like an animal in a hunters trap
Ngugi wa Thiong’o jobless and detained without trial
Raila Amolo odinga’s testicles went missing
He looks for them on daily circadian
But once he nears their political pigeonhole
Then elections of the times flops, O! Poor Odinga!
President Uhuru Kenyatta with your suave intellect
You won’t get a pretext to say that
I was not aware or not informed
Please dear darling of the people
The people of Kenya in their 42 tribes
Novate Moi with the people
And your legacy will smile.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
To start --
being an adolescent with autumn eyes,
seeking a prophecy for long-standing bravery
to further the spinning spokes for minutes, five more,
I burned the drapes to reveal a humanity only I could see.
The expectations were elaborately existing, unsatisfying. Sons
and fathers, years refrained from matters
that reverse reverse reverse curses and maturity
without purpose.
Those idle accepted neglect, and the existence of an
unsalted bridge was quickly detained. Alone, the foolish described
to search for the future in geometric formation and coffee ring
stains fading the desk.
But the sense proposed in my decided equality drank dignity
straight from the bottle. The road that lead me between two cliffs,
Propriety and Statistics, with the rocks already pelting down,
could not diminish my enthusiasm for necessary absurdities.
There's no flesh in declared mediocrities.
I became a luminary for pleasures of eminence, hope with resolve,
opportunities in destiny. Blind gambles obliged the fear of exacting
sensibility. Passionate follies created no-regret-consequences,
satisfied stability. Only the **** are granted victories in eternal gaiety.
Mortality is irrelevant if you let mystery be your urgency.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 3:53 PM UTC
1733
No man saw awe, nor to his house
Admitted he a man
Though by his awful residence
Has human nature been.
Not deeming of his dread abode
Till laboring to flee
A grasp on comprehension laid
Detained vitality.
Returning is a different route
The Spirit could not show
For breathing is the only work
To be enacted now.
“Am not consumed,” old Moses wrote,
“Yet saw him face to face”—
That very physiognomy
I am convinced was this.
2.5k
"DRUNK IN LOVE."
Gradually I'm getting possessed, obsessed by thy love--craft, emotionally flew his heart reaching out to her's. He's intoxicated drunk in love.
Lost in the
lovesome thought of her's. His
heart is detained underneath
the water of
her soul.
So we're
sensitively
soul mates.
We met as 2 rivers confluences.
Indescribe-able
what these mean.
#C9_fm
Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 10:45 AM UTC
Existing in this infinite stream.
Observing the towering waterfall above me.
Seeking a peaceful habitat,
liberation and re-birth anywhere except here.
This excessive baggage I bear,
fighting against the current.
Wondering why I started at the bottom of this waterfall,
while others, at the top.
Detained by unrelenting forceful water,
drowning me to the shadowed ground.
Rubble marking and defacing my skin.
Hiding and scared from the revolving threats.
Burdened by understanding my surroundings.
Currents throwing me around with availability.
Examining the colors of life sparkling through the reflection of my water.
Trapped in chaos,
Starved for happiness,
Losing hope in this dark stream.
One day I will see the calm sunlit waters,
I will swim past this abuse.
© Jl 2015
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 10:15 PM UTC
I shaved away the edges until there was nothing left, but a dream of what could have been, and so with frustration i accepted the jagged.
A common law of common flaws, as my face morphs into mask.
I still wonder, when it all will collide, building up inside ...
So much.
Too much.
Electrified in the the allure of my ruthless retorts, as i struggle in futile resistance to the inevitable.
The feeling is incredible, when you let all just go.
As it gently flows from the empathy into ecstasy, learning to love thy enemy, even as they are metaphorically stabbing me in the back.
Euphorically to react to the sensations in my lap when shes next to me.
Hexing me in a shellacking smack to my mannerisms
Her summer dress to address my cynicism, as it flows back from whence it came.
Detained in her image.
Restrained, in questioned worth.
Worth a thousand words.
Words never heard but seen in synesthesia.
Synesthesia saving my amnesia from forgotten verbs that be-heave us, in forgetful stumbling of the loving mumblings before the kiss.
The kiss dismissing the winded blue lips from the fumbled wits of love.
Love drown the fires ablaze as it spirals away.
Away from the journey.
Journey of the uninterrupted.
Uninterrupted in the hunting of my comforts.
Comfort in the squiggled lines.
Lines that pack a little comfort.
Comfort in the blinds, as i sacrifice my obedience for a little bit of expedience on the smile that awaits, this toothless face.
Bludgeoned stupid, as i pace at half mass, blinded in the tall grass of empty lands amassed in colors unseen with tunneled eyes that refuse to defy gravity.
Gravity in your roads chosen.
Chosen in the glow of abodes ablaze.
Amazed in starlit eyes.
Eyes to dream.
Dream of better ways.
Ways to clean the bad away.
Away with my wayward words.
Words observed in zero.
Zeros the point in which i met her, blinded in the blur, as im pulled to her.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 6:08 PM UTC
The time is exactly two forty-five,
And I’m out here alone
Below the February sky
Just trying to find a way to feel alive.
-
You know what that’s like?
I got my headphones on,
Dressed to un-impress,
Playing my current favorite song
With my hair all in a mess.
And you’re on my mind again,
Like an imaginary friend
That I just can’t seem to grasp.
Are you fiction, are you fact?
-
You’re everything that I lack.
And I’m in a place that I can’t describe,
Swaying to the music
At two forty-five.
The longer I’m alone,
The longer I’ll survive,
So I’ll dance the night away
Beneath this February sky.
And then the cops drive by
On this cool February night,
And you’re still not in sight -
All I can see is flashing lights.
And they stop and ask if everything’s alright,
Ask how many drinks I’ve had this night.
I just keep swaying and sigh
Because I’ll never get it right,
-
And all of this is just a waste of their time.
So I say,
“Sorry officer,
I’m not drunk,
I’m just psychotic.”
And they look into my eyes,
And much to their surprise,
I’m simply sober, and alive
Below the February sky.
Then I take their hands and pull them with me,
Although they can’t hear the song,
And they try to fight, but I don’t let them,
I just laugh and sing along.
The time is roughly three o’five,
And I’m being detained
Under the silver moonlight.
And the February sky watches on…
I guess you’ll never know quite what it’s like,
No, you’ll never know what this feels like.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 2:18 AM UTC
Well of course, Your Honour, I can explain,
why I urinated on the train.
You see the first toilet appeared to be locked,
and the other one of course was blocked.
Is it wrong? You could dispute,
Do you expect ‘Moi’ to ruin an Armani suit?
Clearly men of our position,
can appreciate my pleas of contrition?
What’s that you say? Inebriated?
A glass or two, it should be stated -
for the record, which should also note,
the tear in the sleeve of my cashmere coat,
caused by the vandals that restrained,
as I was wrongly cuffed and detained.
As a chap of substance before the court,
perhaps my innocence could be bought?
No, no, not a bribe of course,
more a donation of remorse.
It’s not as if the jury gives a ****
they obviously don’t realise who I am.
It is clearly just the wrong decision,
to send a man of breeding to a prison.
A witness says that I was ******
And that I tried to stand up but missed?
What slanderous lies of lesser classes,
perhaps I’d had three or four healthy glasses.
And reports of singing and standing on my seat,
are fabricated, nonsense and incomplete.
Cameras saw me strike the face -
of a man, with my leather briefcase?
Perhaps at this stage I should refrain,
and allow you to address this stain -
on my character which I’m sure you agree,
is beneath the contempt of someone like me.
Surely you can’t have confirmed my guilt?
What about the reputation I’ve built?
Before they take me, please pray tell,
will there be a servant in my cell?
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 9:32 AM UTC
Melancholic pale moon, lovelorn shy ******
kept on peeping from her corner of the sky,
through the window we left deliberately open
knowing her curiosity, as detained ever, to be solitary.
Let her find out that we both didn't sleep
or remain quiet , not a moment, all night,
as the night sky responded vehemently
in celestial pyrotechnics to our delighted squeals.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
freedom of speech until you tear off the Hijab of a Muslim woman
walking down the street
and leave her beaten in the blood from your knuckles
exclaiming how much you hate terrorists
freedom of speech until you pour gasoline all over the floor of
an LGBTQ center and set it to flames
because you say that is not love's way
freedom of speech until you're a police officer who beats a handcuffed man
to death while he is laying on the pavement you took him down on
with five other officers by your side
because you think your safety was more at risk
and his skin color only proves it
freedom of speech until you **** a woman you had already detained
and fake her mugshot to save your department
because "the crime rate is rising" on this side of town
freedom of speech until you light up a church
because you still believe you're superior
and want to show it
freedom of speech until you walk around in a white cloak
pretending to be so pure
yelling that anyone outside of your shade is a social parasite
although your color did not always touch the grass of this nation
until you stole it
freedom of speech until speech becomes hate
and hate becomes crime
and there's killing
and killing
and killing
freedom of "speech"
and this entire world will go blind
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 10:59 PM UTC
At night the wide and level stretch of wold,
Which at high noon had basked in quiet gold,
Far as the eye could see was ghostly white;
Dark was the night save for the snow's weird light.
I drew the shades far down, crept into bed;
Hearing the cold wind moaning overhead
Through the sad pines, my soul, catching its pain,
Went sorrowing with it across the plain.
At dawn, behold! the pall of night was gone,
Save where a few shrubs melancholy, lone,
Detained a fragile shadow. Golden-lipped
The laughing grasses heaven's sweet wine sipped.
The sun rose smiling o'er the river's breast,
And my soul, by his happy spirit blest,
Soared like a bird to greet him in the sky,
And drew out of his heart Eternity.
1.8k
Do you believe the powers come from heaven in rain?
Denounce the brittle, little lies that keep you detained.
With one fell swoop your family denies that womb water
from their line ever held you. Our child, disgraceful.
Hold me now, wicked wind, in twilight to find truth,
for no amount of trying will mend the boards began
pried to the point of breaking right loose. Glue won't
fix this rift. Don't worry, I find it nice that some do
get to choose. Ungrateful mug, she rejected our
love by walking with her brow upright. Beaten none,
for the patchwork of lashes mashed in back above
the *** of property, branded and pushed in.
The sky will call a caw for you on one more day
you kept yourself from death, promising to do
your due, never invite the listless, self-inflicted
sorrow, others lip to ear in shadow gaslight to
imbue. One more day others in shadow decline
interview.
I. Will sing a prayer.
(She denies the gods given)
I. Own nothing to give.
(Free and kindly)
I. Will sing.
As much and where I would like to sing.
(She's another one with a will)
Not crying at the back of the world, not holding just to hold.
(She's another one who hunts happiness as if to others she's disappeared)
Not stopping to cry back at the ceiling holding me
to the floor in a box as its missing pieces
(When she's only a another piece)
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
Even though disappointed thousand times
or struck in a fight,
She is now finally rising from
her life's darkest night.
So, today I stand here,
Afraid to reveal my heights
recite my ideas,
and fight for my rights.
You detained me of my will,
Agonized my mind
descended my skill.
And confining me to fork and knife,
Yes, it is true that this
Is the story of my life.
She who was pressed from all sides
remained victorious in her spirits
overcoming her fetters
giving wings to her mind.
She, the nucleus of our society
deprived of her living,
with a tormented mind
and fractured within her own kind.
If she tends to be so weak,
Then the future of our country is bleak.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC