"encumbrance" poems
Often, when I’ve escaped the strain,
The weight, the freight, burdening encumbrance
Of human society, community unleashed,
Profound distress, and a bit on the side—
I’ll contemplate
Of their judgements unknown,
Their penetrating, presumptuous eyes—
They tell me they love me, reputation irrelevant,
Trespasses, failures, habits—all disregarded,
And still I laze in my quaking of
Sleeplessness from apprehension
Pondering their thoughts obscured by their words
Heavens, a shrieking invasion!
Please don’t take that as the slightest indication
That I’m in any case a half-benevolent essence of them all
My ruminations drenched with a display of myself, my actions, my appearance
That’s proof enough that I can’t occupy a moment without me as the focal point
How can anyone be so vain
Low self-esteem shall consume my life, my breath,
And all of those thoughts,
So soon to drain...
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
Sick and cyclical memories linger, how unjust it seems
In somber city streets, her father's name she screams
When the fix is late and her body sodden and shaking
Her childhood recollections waking, every joint aching
Falling on tarmac, tearing stockings and fleshy knees
Through the distant mist it's a saviour that she sees
Marvin on a white steed, motorbike and leathers
To get her straight he only requires her nethers
What difference could it make to such a worn woman
So little that her eyes glaze as he announces his comin'
And she's immediately put to work after initial transaction
All night shifts, ****** abstraction, customer satisfaction
Returning 'home' to Marvin where the earnings are counted
Giggling schoolgirl as playful stories of John's are recounted
And Marvin's insatiable perversions are compounded
****** cocktails and deviancy, her psyche confounded
The **** sleeps blissfully beside his new top girl
And through ****** daze, she examines her world
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
Oh Daughter of mine hear my plea,
Surpass our challenge through beauty.
Use the mind to be the game's mistress,
Heart be bothered not of any distress.
Acquire grace, charm and wiles to catch,
A certain man of power is truly your match.
If he be made of steel melt it with kiss,
If born out of war then grant him peace.
Gentle as feather strong as diamond,
Bring him to his knees with every summon.
Bestow him joy and fresh breath of life,
And ease his encumbrance and strife.
Receive the gifts of different pleasures,
Which he brings in his cove of treasure.
Swallow your embarrassment and pride,
In this life we must sail with the tide.
Heed not to Aphrodite's words of passion,
Be guarded from the love arrow's invasion.
Color red for victory but grounded by black,
Loneliness is payment yet your smile is intact.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 6:08 AM UTC
We were born untainted like empty canvas; a bud of roses.
But as time linger we digress from our innocence and actual selves.
We were scratched and polished, from diamonds pulvarized to dirt.
The facade we kept after succumbing to society’s propriety became us,
And the true face and being what we were became lost in time.
The mirror no longer reveals us, because we metamorphosed to someone else.
Another face in society, swallowed by the world’s expectations and encumbrance.
The appropriateness of etiquette, social conformity, and worldly priorities.
Day by day, we became less of ourselves, and more like everyone else.
Converging needs and wants, we lost our personal uniqueness,
And it seems like our attempt to be different is the same as everyone’s else.
By and by, we effort for elopement to get out of the box is futile – rather impossible.
Epitome of wealth and exclusiveness; highest degree of poverty and martyrdom.
In between those of extreme pillars, everyone seems to be in between and at both sides.
The world has become more dimensional, efficient, yet ineffective.
For our sweat and blood goes out for the wrong reasons;
And we fight against one another, (thus fighting against ourselves), to become the winner.
The winners aren’t actually victorious; neither are the loser the ultimate champions.
And this is only a mere microcosm,
to signify how the multifarious constituents that the world has formed:
a composite, complex, compound conformed convolution.
Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 12:07 PM UTC
Creator, for you are that and more,
Of that precious life unknown before,
We celebrate, clap hands, and shower
With praises, for ‘tis you we admire.
The sounds of your child’s brazen cry
Do not dishearten, but with a sigh,
A breath, of acknowledged encumbrance,
And your power soothes into a trance.
As your child dreams on, you smile
A knowing kind of love, grace and style;
These are your modes of admiration
For the child of your creation.
Be godlike, preserver of nature;
Whenever your child is unsure,
Reassure him with your wit and charm,
Your tender care, to keep him from harm.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC
(In this poem, the authors alternate stanzas.)
AUTUMN'S CALL
In the stray
sweetness of yarrow
and starlings’ trill by dusk
rejoin the fading
without regret
as the foot worn grass will
receive morning’s frost.
And whenever that green yarrow fades
then I fade
in the dry husk
of this autumn of fire
this autumn of smoke and regrets.
Wake in sidelong sun
light half hidden
days under curtains
of violet and scarlet
leaves so soon
will bury the moss
inch by inch.
But I
being the beast that I am
will burrow through the moss
past every encumbrance
beyond hope and fear
and finally find the freedom of one
sweet day
in October
the air still
not a sound
but leaves settling
into the detritus of dreams.
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 6:08 PM UTC
Go Giryeodo, painted by Kim Myeong-guk
maybe in 1650
radiating a story, still today
riding the donkey
trees behind
the mountain track treacherous
Go Giryeodo
mind clear and attentive to all that is
There is no mind here
that is obsessed by sin
and sharpened doctrines
like the ones on the other side of the world
Detached and collected
rides Giryeodo
There is no sense of destiny or ambition to reach Heaven
There is no Theology, no Thick Books that attract Thick Heads
Giryeodo rides
Donkey at its own pace
free, no encumbrance, no demands
there is no Book, there is no Text
there is no authority or Weight that fills
The mind of the rider Go Giryeodo, painted by Kim Myeong-guk
no perversions of religion and conversion
that fills the minds of those on the other side of the world
Fills them like the Devil fills their Books and Speeches
Gentle, uncaring,
no sense of timing
riding since 1650, perhaps before
riding perhaps into timeless-ness
Not caring for an end of time
go Giryeodo, painted by Kim Myeong-guk
riding the donkey
riding the donkey
trees behind
the mountain track treacherous
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 8:01 AM UTC
Captivating, conspicuously charming
A fragrance so enthralling
Bewitching the senses
Enticing the unfocused soul
Hypnotizing, hardly hypnagogic
Such unparalleled grace
A peculiar dancer
Coaxing the mind to perplexity
Anodyne, aberrant anesthesia
Resembling an ethereal angel
A touch appealing to tame flames
Surreptitiously gathering fuel
Sacrosanct, superficially sacred
Donned with deceptive modesty
An ambiguous spark
Threatening to begin a wildfire
Efflorescing, escaping encumbrance
Soon, a firm grasp on freedom
The freedom so prematurely served
Too early to be maximized
Incantations, whisper incantations
Silence the demented demons
An unconventional ritual
To fortify the continence
Ebbing continence
Another attempt made
Stall the impending debauchery
Enunciation is needed -
Esurience is never innate, but provoked
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 5:06 AM UTC
Deliverance
Pensive admiration
It's inquisitive
Punctual and problematic
my entourage
my dwindling embrace
my niche is clandestine
hermetic to myself included
elusive equations
encumbrance,
what a term
conundrums around every turn
vague. Not vague
expensive. economical
Living in squalor
a gay romp
systematic oppression
trace it to the roots
It's sad
unsettling
deliver me always
no longer apprehensive
no longer am I
I am yours truly
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC
You shelter
The mystery and meaning
Of a thought, looking through
The incomparable charm
Of a muse
Cherished by enchantment...
You may subside...
Still, it would seem, the storm that
You hold
Stands to be an encumbrance,
Borne
By doubt and memory...
The clouds may leave
The rainbow may shroud
The apprehension that looms...
Yet, upon your coming...
Sadness and happiness
In my heart
Would be instilled...
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 1:31 PM UTC
With ignorance as a pride,
I dawn on the regular stride,
My mind was weaving its thread,
Surmising ways to spread,
Drowned under the outpouring of lore,
Suddenly a rock hit my core.
There was she, who was to be decoded,
A hapless **** make her slash,
Under the encumbrance of pain,
She did not let a single tear to rain,
Under disgust for her angelic reasons,
She did not stop showing love for the new seasons,
Two paths coalesce under the shrine,
Another cardinal lesson from the divine,
I again started to run,
For the new day under Sun.
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 9:15 PM UTC
bleak darkness and its measure:
squandering the light
no definitions
no spectral haze
no inhibitions
its onerous labor is one
with me.
live life at the edge of the fall.
holding a hand
fallibly.
live alone, love alone —
these things pulse with strength
in singleness, even the glances
of prying neighbors are sequestered
reduced to sealed shut, hermetic,
no sight or hindsight.
i'll run to where the sunlight is
and wish for the moon, slumber
like a dead log adrift in the current.
buying myself love and selling its pleasures to defunct markets.
trying to repair what is beyond salvation,
trying to amalgamate what is perpetually
scarred, sundered.
clangorous *** of metal, herding jeep
and riotous chariots; mad men fill
the lines waiting for encumbrance,
bardic in the streets of Marilao
hungry for something:
give me a blank piece of paper
and i will try to reinvent the world
with impunity and lostness.
the world gives back such awry stare
and all imperative darkness reigns
supreme, mine are all emergencies
as shadows are succored not,
retained in their caliginous thrones.
living alone
yet not so much alone.
the dog outside does not bark anymore.
the well-placed gnome of stone outside
stares stonily across the thick space.
the nosy neighbor does not meddle
through the rusted ocher grills.
the old moon wanes outside
as the lift of light sways to where
there are no disappearances.
somewhere in the metropolitan there
is a derby of fools and all mirth;
i wish myself there and curse my presence
right then.
work does not fill me anymore,
money does me no good. my soul
bangs the walls and slams the doors
it threatens to leave without auguries,
and demands a new sense of necessity.
tonight, i will go out, drink at a local pub
and crawl towards the ajar door of
my father's car. smoke will caterwaul
the pressing scenes of the vicinities
crumbling at the tremor of clocks;
i will open my dresser and discover
all books dissipated, some naked
in relished pages, others abeyant.
the curtain can fall later,
and the night too, falter evenly
widely spread across the sky.
— all is broken.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 8:49 AM UTC
It's all conspiracy
Idle hands are the Devil's playthings
I told you so
Remove the feeding tube
But not during the gestation period
By after the gastric bypass
And right before the insemination
Put the fault on the horse voiced gentry
And the perpendicular denominations
What's it to you?
You estranged neo-native
Counterfeit piety and disobedient estranged friends unnerve you
You act so factious
Deliberately making everything a joke
Ponder the trajectory of my fist to your glass jaw
And the brass knuckles to your abdomen
You'll want to get an iron lung when we're through
Maybe a respirator and a catheter
Now, go count your toenail clippings as the idle minds cast their votes for this referendum
-Tommy Johnson
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 8:01 PM UTC
Body broken from military service
Comrades gone or dead
Cast adrift in civvy street
I believed their lies. They said
They would take care of me
If service took its toll
They said there would be help for me
If nightmares sacked my soul
Instead I'm turned from door to door
My country has betrayed me
Now I'm used up, no longer fit
Youth gone to keep you free
You treat me like a burden
An encumbrance you don't need
Helpless anger bubbles
As I cut until I bleed
Anger turning inwards
As there's nothing I can do
Dulce et Decorum Est?
Is that really true?
Or is it simply if you live
A veteran you'll be
Outlived your use
A shattered wreck
Is all that they will see
The great and good
Who never served
Not even for one day
Huge great poppies they will wear
And stand and seem to pray
Yet turn their face away from you
A figure of disdain
Would be much more convenient
If you had been slain
Your country doesn't want you
Now you've served your use
They told such lies and you bought in
And now they cut you lose
So don't expect their help
And don't believe the lie
Your country only wanted you to
Do and then to die
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
& shattered cloak of light
s
l in
p t
e(Red)
embeds gaspingglowing sharps
dawn caked oblivion boil
penumbral encumbrance
feasting on cusp of day.
i did think this was a pleasant
death
May 12, 2010
May 12, 2010 at 11:10 AM UTC
How I precipitate within and around
trash to steam factory's super chimneys
Ideas ***********
amongst rising glow of cantaloupe colored sky
And why am I?
Beholden to a notion
of fanciful or foolish, concept of nuptials
puffing pother
or why bother to effuse such ******* encumbrance
Trouble sweats unease
Cold feet, that can't afford proper socks
know the sludging embankments
of Camden Crick (colloquialism of creek)
As it were, a driving force of elopement
An eschewal of plastic bottle heap
Knowing fictile landscapes
with condensations murky in skies,
chance entices
Grasping for refuge
from refuse
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 7:20 AM UTC
the hands of the clock are spinning
still
12
with broken bars on the playground
skipping stones
when things started to get a little heavy
we paused our breathing for an aftermath of sorts
but never saw it happen
14
the chiming gets louder
the bad kids come out to play
stringing words through fences
hardly a crooked smile
or stare
we're not going anywhere
16
it's daylight
we snooze our dreams because
they might never take flight
we sit on the bleachers
we live vicariously
we tear jealousy from magazine covers
because that's how we live
we step on broken mirrors but they do not hurt
18
these times in twos we're forced to live
the heavy gets heavier
the heart gets harder to breathe
we begin to look for fingers to grab
fingers of grief
kisses through teeth
we make bad decisions that spin
on some nights we kneel
but Sunday morning is not for another 12 hours
we return to wallow
in a certain hollowness still unfilled
the cycle repeats; we're waiting for night to come
around like a boomerang
were these years formative?
or maybe just an excuse for destruction
regrets fizzle
but never make it pass the sheet of ice
20
and a little wiser
just a little
the handlebars come off
once upon a time this was a vision
and now the hurdles are broken
until new ones come along
once upon a time this was a scream in the night
now there are bells
and lights
and buzzing
the chiming gets louder
the albatross is passed
around like a boomerang
an encumbrance
it berates me
we're looking for reasons to swallow
all this guilt and all their shadow
21
I scramble to my feet
to put this banner together brick
by boring brick
it feels all too valorous
to exclaim that I have broken the wheel
in time to come I shall fall back
into clutches
and fingers and teeth
and bad kissing
a half-open grey goose on the mantelpiece
half-opened desires
and some squabbling in my chest
more chandeliers
and more yet to come
as I fizzle into some chasm unbeknown
surely there is more falling to come
but for now
lucidity
the hands of the clock are
still
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 6:54 AM UTC
did the sun visit the cold shores of some daughters shimmering eyelids that held her in such perfect contempt.
O, sweet child your arrogance is the flavor of god.
(but shall not those fearful minutes
;bleeding from times slashed wrist;
splashing hot seconds over a dusty yellow)
that dangerous womb of light
birthed a frigid nothing
as my fingers slip on my buttons
trying to shield my pink
edifice from chastising
breezes briskly beating
a lonely melody
on the loose weave
of times
everflowing
river riven
plait
protect thee
thy woolen
encumbrance
is
an article
May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 12:54 PM UTC
I am tired
Oh so unbelievably
Undoubtedly
Exhaustedly
Tired
I feel as if I am
Carrying the weight
Of the world
And all its burdens
On my shoulders
When in reality
Not a soul would give me
The time of day
Let alone a dark secret to hold
Or a trust needing thing
For me to never breathe
It’s the encumbrance
Of having nothing to carry
Whilst other march
Indifferent to their darkest loads
That makes my shoulders so heavy
I am tired
Oh so unbelievably
Undoubtedly
Exhaustedly
Tired
Jun 4, 2011
Jun 4, 2011 at 3:30 PM UTC
This pen could write as others write,
all full of woe and self defeat.
Or send this ink, like tears of shame,
to tell a lie, and forge deceit.
To moan of loss, and whine of life,
and sit there seeking eyes
to hold this heart, and hear these words
and see through a dark disguise.
To never perceive in reality
what lingers beyond the dark screen.
Oh, but to shelter a pain, we hold in vain,
is nothing less than obscene.
So tell us a tale of why you are loud
and why you don't accept the fact,
that nobody cares bout how you once lost,
or that day when your words were attacked.
To write of this woe and signal denial
of the social encumbrance all round,
is to harbour injustice for false offences,
and to always lie broken on the ground.
Could we lift up our hearts and sing of the past
when love was not just a myth?
Or would you rather die to get attention,
a plain, barren, wordless wordsmith?
So, with love, I tell you, all wannabes and such,
to quiet your voices and listen.
For when your mouth shuts against life's complaints,
then that is when your life glistens.
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 10:47 PM UTC
we're desperate for connections
yet we build roadblocks of icy indifference
a challenge to see who cares enough
to knock down our walls of fear
substitute ***** of fluff for love
purring, licking, dependent lives
warm on our feet and toes as if
that could thaw our numb hearts
I found you, I see you, I challenge you
and at first you responded with joy
free from encumbrance of memories and pain
relieved to be breathing, to have life again
retreated now back into your world
where you think it's safe to hide
peeking out at me, beckoning 'come closer'
yet behind the glass you stay inside
I need you. I want you. I've said it plain
I throw myself into your walls, over and over
successfully you've built them even higher
closed off again from all desire
why is it now when you feel guilt?
as though I've had none all along
ignoring the knives that cut my soul
bleeding emotions through words and song
I'm desperate for your connection
the only one who's seen me truly
I've opened my heart, left my walls
waiting for you to return
May 18, 2012
May 18, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
Here I am looking at you from afar,
With my heart that’s full of scars.
Here I am crying silently,
Hoping still that you will glance at me.
Simple dreams were shattered,
And life left me battered.
Another hope was torn apart,
And from this world I want to depart.
But I guess this is how life goes,
And this is how the river flows.
I can do nothing but let it pass,
For I am sure this encumbrance will last.
I asked myself why not fight for you,
I answered, “I will if you feel the same way too.”
It pains when I couldn’t fight for my loved one,
But how can I battle for you if I am not your special woman?
Dear I know you are perfectly happy,
And my heart is also trying to set you free.
If I love a man, I should let him go,
Even if my own self is my foe.
Please don’t look at me like that with your eyes,
Those eyes that made me hypnotized.
I don’t wish to dream and hope again,
And then leave my heart to breakin’.
All these years I kept my love for you,
But now I know that I have to let go.
The fact that you’re taken now dear,
Look at me, I still smile with my eyes full of tears.
I still laugh the way that I used to,
You never knew what I’ve gone through.
I still have my friends to be with,
But I wish it’s you I want to talk with.
I never regret to feel these emotions,
The excitements and depressions.
I know it’s part of life and I have to accept my fate,
I know also it’s not early to love and it’s not yet late.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
I was born a hunter.
A rush of blood surging through my veins
with each poke and **** that might bring sustenance.
With trembling hands I returned to town
jowls heightened in satisfied grimace.
How the others glared enviously
when I returned over encumbered
with the weight of game upon my back.
In time I gave in to their requests
when they had contorted to desperate demands
and I shared the only truth I knew
“be patient and listen with intent”.
With age the encumbrance became too burdensome
but it was was not possible to hunt with less vigor
and still stave my insatiable hunger.
It was by chance that a merchant approached
with a cart full of seeds that are difficult to sell
in a village where every respectable man hunts.
I gave him every implement that I owned.
Every bow and spear and knife were taken away
and I was left with seeds and infertile soil.
How their envious glares so quickly shifted
to confused glances that carried pity with them.
As I toiled in the fields they became more adept
and day after day I watched them labor back to town
burdened by their accomplishments.
They gave little heed to the words of a man
whose surging pulse was made still,
so they developed ingenious traps and snares
that required neither patience nor effort.
I could not help but wonder
how much of what they attained was wasted,
when fresh meat spoils so quickly
for those that never had need to learn
how to preserve the unused amount.
I rested in the afternoons under the trees,
beneath the branches bowing with the burden
of sustenance I once had to carry on my back.
The insatiable hunger was never quelled,
nor was it ever for a single moment forgotten
when the creatures of the forest I used to hunt
came to consume the fruit I labored for.
At least now there is enough for us to share without the weight of burden.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
from beneath the steadiness of her convictions,
a minute quiver of doubt
gave rise to seismic realization.
a rather austere ordeal,
like the waning of a summer's moon,
from which springs fall.
sitting in the bulwark she'd built for herself,
she feels satisfaction as she absorbs the fumes,
her personal ritual complete.
the floor grew distant, and the walls began to melt.
a cascade of sparks danced across her neurons,
and chemicals saturated her brain.
her soul expanded; her mind widened.
her breathing became ragged, and her heart frantic.
moments passed by as hours.
thoughts blurred through her mind.
streams of consciousness streaked past.
the brainstorm flooded the streets.
her train of thought sped along,
and as suddenly as the insight came,
it dissipated into polychromatic smoke.
the numbness slowly drained from her fingers.
her thoughts became sluggish in comparison,
as the euphoric edge evanesced.
tears rose in her eyes as waves of nausea swept over her,
and pain erupted in her head, within which,
the sound of her uneven breathing reverberated endlessly.
after the agony had passed,
she returned to the outside world,
drowsy and disoriented.
the jaundiced stares of her former peers pierced her.
each word that she spoke, disregarded,
and every action judged.
she felt the weight of their censure,
but the heavier encumbrance was her basic need,
to fill each breath with her death sentence.
May 9, 2010
May 9, 2010 at 9:46 PM UTC
The transient nightfall lingers on worn clothes draped over forlorn branches and magnetic pulses pull the once ebbing forest into the singularity
The traveler astounded looks upwards as the skies sing the Earth eclectic
Possums and pretty leaves settle
the river rolls backwards
- imitation of time
Her body felt warm by the asphalt's dark light gleaming
and his body felt tired; aching bones whimper
Fizzy hollows cower, turn to you, and speak some avid gospel
Remember your immortality is limited
but tonight we fly
and fall
This is how it feels
When the embrace of flaxen foe feeds the eternal encumbrance of esotericism
When dark locks clamber through foggy basins, up river banks and over foliage of the forest floor
When the name on a thousand lips is vivid yet inscrutable, how you pronounced the consonants under the bank's stale light
When the masquerade ends and we're imprisoned in a kiss
When the dusty moon places a celestial hand on yours, and sighs, for the night one day may never return
When you danced naked under cherry coloured clouds and the rains beguiled the flesh of your breast
Remember to never forget
as the harsh morning sun will make amnesiacs of us all
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC