"encumbered" poems
The autumn sun slides low
against the hours,
peaking over the day
as if barely begun
and almost finished.
There is something familiar
here in the half light,
not quite vertical yet
bright enough to see
the path I ride is not as rough,
the wind is not as strong
and my heart is not as hard
nor encumbered
as days since passed
where in hind-sight
I peddled for sanctuary;
sanctuary from
a morbid kind of half-sight
held tight by a half-life of
loneliness and lies
now long lost
and finally made right.
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 11:11 AM UTC
I was dancing at a dance club
Two stepping all about
When my thumb, it found a belt loop
And I couldn't get it out
I shifted and I wiggled
I ****** my hips out front in time
I bent over and I shimmied
I was twerking on the line
Now, I ain't no Miley Cyrus
You can believe me now or not
I wasn't up there twerking
It's because my thumb was caught
I sashayed and I moseyed
And others got up too
My thumb was still encumbered
What the hell was I to do?
I was twerking like a mad man
Not knowing how, or why
But the pain in my one digit
Just made me want to die
Maybe now I know the reason
Miley Cyrus did her dance
She wasn't up there being slutty
She had her thumb stuck in her pants
Now, I'm through with twerking
And there's is one thing that you'll find
That unlike young Miley Cyrus
You don't want to watch me from behind!!!
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
Marooned
Vapid beauty of this room
Frothing carpet, ocean blue
One wall me, the other you
What lies between is residue
Scribed on soggy, shipwrecked parchment
Questions asked, time forgotten
Who are we?
What do we know?
Into these questions Summer flows
And thrashes at your Autumn’s brinks
Yearlong they torment my brain
Infringing on every season
If not for the manic scheme
To love and having loved be loved
This correspondence to a distant land
With stars, more numerous and brightly lit
Than my burgeoning highway exit
Would by no means have left my hand
But if, against all odds, it will prevail
Extolling truth’s folly, my sorrowful tale
Quells with reason my groundless pride
At having docked on your passionless harbor
Unloading platonic cargo during our youth’s ebbing tide
Must not create union of body or mind
You swallow my horizon, like the sun twilight
Though, one need not chase that orange orb for tomorrow
In this night without fortitude, lewd humor consumes me
Singing with the mouth on my head and your voice inside
I plunge into darkness
Skimming its silky surface
Before zipping it behind me
Shall I drown, as I have lived?
In vain, my dreams your subjects
Taken for ransom in your heart’s Tripoli
Not surmising recompense, I forfeit this
A note belying resonance
Of my heart’s last echoed throe
One desperate effort, giving up
Feed every vestige to the void
Wading, torso encumbered
Each sullen relic of your memory
Falls to the deep’s frigid ebony
Then, only too late am I cognizant
That my own breath is tribute yet spent
Therefore if I were to float or swim
I’d give you every ounce of who I am
Convince you to relinquish me
From your tepid, spurning sea
Then lying beneath moist underbrush
Slowly, breathe no more
Aug 9, 2010
Aug 9, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
Here lies a continuation of being.
View it as scenery indifferent to the weather channel.
A silent, exponential inverted sunshine euphoria
Warming the deepest letters of the soul:
U and I swaying outside linear cubic conventions corroded-
We sway like flowering Earth Resonance blooming as foreign
[Sensations]
A toe-curling in the chest stretched intimate at the highest hour
[Movement]
An unconditional syncopation of the heart and mind echoing a
Design as Liquid Resonance - I am that which you are.
“I could cry solid tears. Where have I been all these years,” says
You to reflected I rippling
[Perception]
Never spoken, only written as an abstract entity aware of vibrations
Tethered to timeless stories never read, only felt as I and U in
Reflected them, the missing strangers with a need to be found
[Immortalized]
Twisted eyes, encumbered lips, everflowing knitted letters stuttered. Kissed. Growing from itself a rehearsed mantra embroidered pattern discord. Mythical. The murmuration of a serenade’s evil dermis that feigns thick to tooth and claw, but silences to love as the overture.
Wide-eyed, you and I are a nascent reprise of words cloaked in inked pages turning in the billowing wind.
"Read them to me."
So I read in heavy rain.
From Monday to Sunday.
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
It seemed that out of battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which titanic wars had groined.
Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then ,as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall, -
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
With a thousand pains that vision's face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
'Strange friend,' I said, 'here is no cause to mourn.'
'None,' said that other, 'save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also; I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something had been left,
Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled,
Or, discontent, boil ****** and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery,
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels,
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.
I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now...'
2.7k
I sat behind the barricade between the street, the bar, and the park overlooking that glistening pause-asteric of the water... my phone was clamped closed at zero battery life so I was alone with the city and the city was alone with me. as subtly as I could, I pulled my pipe from the bottom of my over-encumbered backpack satiated with 6 books (and they tell me knowledge is power, but they'll probably just drive me insane with question after question after question because the study of the world is one in which the brain falls victim to exponential growth 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256)
MY SKULL ISN'T BIG ENOUGH
I couldn't find my grinder, so I tore the bud by hand. More than half a nug was spent, pushed solid in place like a **** mound about to reach apocalyptic ****** thanks to the soft clitoral bonfire of a red Bic lighter.
blaze, set, and fade til you rise again
little stoner boy.
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 2:45 PM UTC
The shortest distance isn't the one
We find waiting under mid-day sun;
It's the one winds through the street,
At the lowest point, then goes beneath;
Or the one who calls at three a.m.
Needing coffee, or tonic and gin;
Needing a ride, to anywhere
Some place that’s dim, and never clear.
It's arms that wrap around our own,
While knowing, it's an unsafe trek-
But still a journey, we know too well-
The paradise-encumbered road to hell.
Jul 23, 2010
Jul 23, 2010 at 7:28 AM UTC
A loon communes on the lake,
the lake is a tear drop on Mother Earth,
the ripples flow like glass being blown,
I am perched on my porch.
The loon cries once more,
I puff on my cigar,
the smoke shifts indecisively,
it moves much like the unchained around me,
free willed and wild.
I dream of being unchained.
My branches stretch out,
they yearn for the sun,
but heavy grey clouds hang on puppet strings.
Overcast and encumbered by responsibility,
they shroud the sun,
blanket it with regret and doubt.
I dream of being unchained.
I lower my branches and shout,
but no one hears,
my voice is chained.
The loon cries out,
it echoes unrestrained.
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 12:52 AM UTC
I am.
I am a cold, crisp autumn field.
I am a plush scarf in the breeze,
I am omnipresent, and yet never near.
I am a crackling fire in a winter freeze.
I am crumbling, cold, and free.
I am encumbered by the slush and snow.
I am waiting toe-to-toe.
You have seen me,
slouched, burdened, fatigued by the stress of the day,
waiting in the back of the bus bay.
I am all, and I am more.
Mar 19, 2021
Mar 19, 2021 at 2:37 PM UTC
As I am absorbed
in ol' buttermilk sky,
I stand ***** whilst my bare
feet skim neighbor's roof.
I'm pulled West, up. Setting sun
fans rays. Here, I am emitted
in nebulosity.
I care not what
hankerings loosened, let go,
drift back to earth,
to rosy, lilied yard
where chain link encumbered.
Clinical conclusion drawn
in misty misconception
no longer.
Intrinsic am I as air.
Spread my molecules
in scintilla of light. Yes,
even into gray of smog,
as I must admit,
to ***** parts. These
may rain acidic intrusions
in your backyard. Too
much to assimilate?
I never asked for
what rained in mine.
No impurities
have been intended.
Still, I must emit.
My sky awaits.
Catching next cloud out.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 9:33 AM UTC
Shall I open volley,
spike with clenched hand?
Acquiesce to athleticism,
or drop return?
Is there a score?
numbers imply a plan,
encumbered; ******** clad...
jockstraps and leather,
tube socks and man.
****** courts,
exotic terminology,
words of reduction,
redacted, redacted, redacted!
under spells of seduction...
What more?
Who the **** cares.
Piles can be chucked,
and strip smiles, 1 grain at a time,
throw a bone, throw another,
you'll build your own monster.
What more?
redacted, redacted, redacted!
join me down below...
I'll give you history,
it will set everything aglow.
What more?
**** more.
Questions?
redacted; for your own security.
Not Goliath,
not even Iago... wait, that may be whom you cast!
Laughter man, so much laughter,
I grow darker;
a product of your mind; that's just a reminder.
Had I plotted, had I connived,
had I been...
trolling gutters,
sexing the populace,
setting parties to war?
You gave me the part,
and the act was in pantomime...
improbable for paralysis
severed spine,
redacted, redacted, redacted.
You set loose scenarios,
and now I willingly oblige...
I'll take my bow,
and cunning smile.
Sep 9, 2010
Sep 9, 2010 at 6:19 PM UTC
Allow me to inform you of a road less traveled
The road our minds ignore in fear of being rattled
Simple, yet this road we won't walk out
Too afraid to confront and rarely talked about.
The TRUTH is it's title and it's not sought out
Lies become shortcuts and more common routes
Why does the TRUTH have so many confused?
The TRUTH hurts, so the lies become abused
"Honesty is the Policy," that statement only exists in Utopia
Our would consists of people suffering from a TRUTH phobia
We tell ourselves the wrong things that seem better
We wake up and our moods are decided by the weather
This makes it hard for us to acknowledge the TRUTH
Some will travel, work, or go to college for the TRUTH
To discover it and uncover it
Seeing what it's encumbered with
A gilded body, because the lies numbers win
I'm a weary soldier walking fatigued and intrigued
down the road where the TRUTH was conceived
In the midst of discovery I'm confronted with a lie
Unsure and uncomfortable I ask the TRUTH "Why?"
I find out the existence of the lie I cannot deny
So I face the lie looking it in it's eyes
I state, "Before I believe you I'd rather die"
Holding my head high, I walk into battle
A protector of TRUTH on a road less traveled
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 3:45 PM UTC
I dwell alone here,
a prisoner within
my own mind and life,
encumbered in burdensome
shackles of my own invention,
locked restraints of self-delusion
to which solely I possess the keys.
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 1:10 PM UTC
Between earth and sky
is where I abide.
Grass grows beneath my
feet and inbetween
moments of deep thought,
longings and unuttered
desires,
as I sit, communing
with the trees
and for a while, just
doing as they do...
just simply 'being',
no matter what
as they hold majestic
limbs up
toward the heavens
in adoration or
perhaps
interrogation.
And that is but
speculation or
imagination
on my part.
I sit, quietly,
somewhere between
this moment
and tomorrow
and wonder those
simple, complex
questions of old...
What does it all mean,
in the end?
What price do we pay
for passion or apathy?
Why are we here?
In my mind
worlds collide, die
and begin again
and this most
encumbered heart
still holds hope
by the throat,
refusing, yet, to
let go.
Between earth and sky
is where I abide.
That is where
you'll find me.
Full to the brim,
with questions,
wild, vibrant dreams,
and a never ending
sense...
of wonder.
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
Stone by stone,
stacked with Roman concrete,
the wall must be built.
If I build it,
some part of me will be lost.
If I do not,
some part of me will be crushed.
My own vanity and pride
cannot withstand
the passing whims of others.
If only I could dig a moat
around my heart.
I feel dramatic,
but I will not remain
encumbered
with this nonsense.
I have always longed
to be a warrior,
to fight, to defend that
which I love.
But until this day,
I failed to love my heart.
So I must be a shieldmaiden for it.
To protect myself, yet know
when to raise the gates.
Perhaps I am too immature,
I ask for that which
only comes with time.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
I wonder where i would be ,
wonder if somehow or maybe.
Where the world would have took
I who was too afraid to look
would I be in space on planet mars?
be floating above, up there with the stars?
Look beneath the big blue waves
beneath the sand or inside the caves.
the sound of my heart lost to comfort
big in regrets and deeply encumbered
blue, it is stagnant in it's hollow
waves crashing against it ready to swallow
For I regret not having been curious.
I forsake the days i settled for less
regret not having followed adventure
not finding myself in the process.
having wasted my time with such adult ways
been ****** into their incurious gaze
curious was I before those days.
Myself, who are you, i will never know
who is this person who gave up on tomorrow
are all my hopes now gone like how curiosity left me?
you have given up hope to ever find glee?
I sit among the "what if" shadows
will I ever really find my purpose?
never will i get back the time I have lost
know I will make up for it at any cost
Everyday I will search not a moment I will waste
I will rush into the coming days with haste
will I have ample time to ever find me?
search I shall with all leniency.
not a storm so large will make me sway
a large pay check will not take me away
moment I find myself I will say
"I am greater than I am yesterday"
will I find what i am looking for?
waste no time I am ready for more.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC
A clay *** holds your happiness.
It's halfway tall,
reaching up to your thigh,
Narrow, blown up in the middle, narrow.
Simple lid with a spherical dot for fingers to grasp,
and a black drawn line
that curls from base to lip,
and over.
Insides encumbered by sweet darkness,
shaded glory,
because outside,
gleaming.
Spiraled gold that must have dribbled off the sun's ice cream cone
leaked through the bottom where the end had broken
and flavor escaped
to land on your mirthful urn.
Blue so clear,
the sky surely lost a piece of itself
as a crack appeared
and a fragment cascaded downward
to shatter along your pleasant chalice.
And in between,
are lines of green
that could have only originated
on pinewood trees
in a forest so dark
that monsters beware.
Bordering a little town
where children played
and only truth was called,
never dare.
Because there is red on your delighted decanter.
Spattered droplets
of coagulated sparks.
Jaded needles saturated,
with pine fresh essence
emanating from your zesty flagon.
And a single spot,
Barren.
Bereft of treasure.
Parted from cerulean.
Robbed of Viridian.
And severed in the roots of a blushing Amaryllis.
Occupying there,
a white blemish,
a shape of infinite corners
immaculately defined
and so small,
you will never find it on the canister
that harbors your smile.
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
Born into this carnival of rust
Fancying for your touch
Fancying for your love
All I see around is dancing to the rhythms of lust
Blown away by the winds of infernal heat
Colors bleed in the rain of angst
Desiring for your touch
Desiring for your love
Emptiness fills the vacuum created by life
When life was swept away by the waves of gust.
In the chaos, eying the gates of carnival of rust.
Drenched in the muddy slush of pain
Thirsting for your touch
Thirsting for your love
Caught up in the maze of a cruel game
At the end of which stands the gate.
Walls of vast abysmal expanse of mind, closing in
Encumbered by the dust of fears
vision blinded by the smog of illusions
ears assaulted by jarring sounds of confusion
Craving for your touch
Craving for your love
Don’t turn away.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 3:42 AM UTC
Seagulls hit the horizon's backboard
off the sands of Pacific Beach.
In my lungs breakers burn out
some forty feet from shore.
They will return.
This jetty'd be a monolith
if this ocean were a sky.
Silt on this deserted
coast scene is encumbered by
bits of driftwood and sun-bleached glass.
The living in this town
are accustomed to the weight. And
tidepools are their hearts:
shallow, mossy, little things
fending for breathe.
This jetty'd be a monolith
if this ocean were a sky.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 3:03 PM UTC
the gentle touch
of the moon's light
lifted her encumbered
soul
of its plight
her inner harmony
bound in unrelenting tears
she'd wept
for an eon
the solace of the moon
steeped her in its
healing grace
to bring
unto her
a serene embrace
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
*Life is quite eccentric,
Its motives are arcane,
Storms may rage and sputter.
The sun may rise again.
Agony may perish.
Ecstasy may dwindle.
Days may last forever.
Time may lie or swindle.
Life’s but a dalliance;
A ripple on a wave.
All in life that’s certain
Is life cannot be saved.
Will you be encumbered on the day your life says goodnight?
Or will you melt in anguish as your soul takes final flight?*
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC
I stood on the bridge at midnight,
As the clocks were striking the hour,
And the moon rose o’er the city,
Behind the dark church-tower.
I saw her bright reflection
In the watrers under me,
Like a golden goblet falling
And sinking into the sea.
And far in the hazy distance
Of that lovely night in June,
The blaze of the gleaming furnace
Gleamed redder than the moon.
Among the long, black rafters
The wavering shadows lay,
And the current that came from the ocean
Seemed to lift and bear them away.
As, sweeping and eddying through them
Rose the belated tide,
And, streaming into the moonlight,
The seaweed floated wide.
And like those waters rushing
Among the wooden piers,
A flood of thoughts came o’er me
That filled my eyes with tears.
How often, oh how often,
In the days that had gone by,
I had stood on that bridge at midnight
And gazed on that wave and sky!
How often oh how often,
I had wished that the ebbing tide
Would bear me away on its *****
O’er the ocean wild and wide!
For my heart was hot and restless,
And my life was full of care,
And the burden laid upon me
Seemed greater than I could bear.
But now it has fallen from me,
It is buried in the sea;
And only the sorrow of others
Throws its shadow over me.
Yet whenever I cross the river
On its bridge with wooden piers,
Like the odor of brine from the ocean
Comes the thought of other years.
And I think how many thousands
Of care-encumbered men,
Each bearing his burden of sorrow,
Have crossed the bridge since then.
I see the long procession
Still passing to and fro,
The young heart hot and restless,
And the old subdued and slow!
And forever and forever,
As long as the river flows,
As long as the heart has passions,
As long as life has woes;
The moon and its broken reflection
Aand its shadows shall appear,
As the symbol of love in heaven,
And its wavering image here.
1.5k
something looks and creeps on the countertop
parasitic cyst
up on the table
a phonograph feeding me from way back
a comatose short
you made me outnumbered and sorts
a different flesh
but you feel the edge
and feel suprised but
you know just what i am
a different life
and we were encumbered
and adorned
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 1:35 AM UTC
Many days I have pondered
about our friendship
what I always wondered
will I lose grip?
To face the reality
takes a brave brain
even so
when there is little gain
what if I become encumbered
by relativism?
or become blinded
by logical positivism
All I've ever sought
was your authenticity
but the world has hidden
your certainty
At the end of the day
I hope and pray
that you I will trust
not the devil's rust
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 8:11 AM UTC