"entangles" poems
In the place where the moon meets broken shadows, it begins with the swelling of my eyes
Tears roll across the scars, that no one else can see
A phantom’s curse
Only this place can release my from this dystopian enchantment
The sweet smell alone entangles me with feelings of safety and wonder
For a reality flooded with forest flowers and a throbbing wind
It teases my subconsciousness, it trickles down to my soul
Like a an agonizing murmur
The hypnotic web forms
In this quiet place clouds hurry across confusing shadows
Shivering in the delicious sunlight
My immaculate hour of rediscovery begins…
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
A broken little heart entangles his tears,
that come from a person that he'll never see.
Wet rain boots and ***** feet make him forget
about the darkest nights. His bed and blankets
are like souvenirs from home; a house he'll never
remember. Lies and "I'm sorry"s are trapped in his
hair, dangling behind his ears, whispering such
morbid pain among his lullabies. With every cry he's
screamed for you, can you even hear him? He's afraid
to sleep alone, as the TV erases nightmares oozing from
his eyes, do you care at all? Lost toys and old photographs
make him plead; Oh, but why? He'll never understand the
love he couldn't have, the love you wouldn't give-
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 5:07 PM UTC
the moving shadows of
the men gathering
flicker in my vision
cause me to ponder the moment
in a way i had not seen before
cause me to fracture the vision
to decode the meanings in
each mans motion
each mans meaning
her long black hair entangles my head
as dose her deep long looking
her neat clean eyes frighten me
with their possibilitys
with their depth
with their hot beauty
it is not my place to find
a place in this womans life
i am but a distraction to her
somthing to occupy the moment
to phish for lost keys
in sections of some dreadlock music
she erased poems to fit onto the kindle
she removes her shirt
to rinse out the sweat
in the tidal pool
a young woman nearby stops
and stares
smiles when they meet eyes
and i am surfing my beach bike alone
walking it
home?
where am I
where am i going?
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 12:03 PM UTC
Go, Soul, the body’s guest,
Upon a thankless errand;
Fear not to touch the best;
The truth shall be thy warrant:
Go, since I needs must die,
And give the world the lie.
Say to the court, it glows
And shines like rotten wood;
Say to the church, it shows
What’s good, and doth no good:
If church and court reply,
Then give them both the lie.
Tell potentates, they live
Acting by others’ action;
Not loved unless they give,
Not strong but by a faction.
If potentates reply,
Give potentates the lie.
Tell men of high condition,
That manage the estate,
Their purpose is ambition,
Their practice only hate:
And if they once reply,
Then give them all the lie.
Tell them that brave it most,
They beg for more by spending,
Who, in their greatest cost,
Seek nothing but commending.
And if they make reply,
Then give them all the lie.
Tell zeal it wants devotion;
Tell love it is but lust;
Tell time it is but motion;
Tell flesh it is but dust:
And wish them not reply,
For thou must give the lie.
Tell age it daily wasteth;
Tell honour how it alters;
Tell beauty how she blasteth;
Tell favour how it falters:
And as they shall reply,
Give every one the lie.
Tell wit how much it wrangles
In tickle points of niceness;
Tell wisdom she entangles
Herself in overwiseness:
And when they do reply,
Straight give them both the lie.
Tell physic of her boldness;
Tell skill it is pretension;
Tell charity of coldness;
Tell law it is contention:
And as they do reply,
So give them still the lie.
Tell fortune of her blindness;
Tell nature of decay;
Tell friendship of unkindness;
Tell justice of delay:
And if they will reply,
Then give them all the lie.
Tell arts they have no soundness,
But vary by esteeming;
Tell schools they want profoundness,
And stand too much on seeming:
If arts and schools reply,
Give arts and schools the lie.
Tell faith it’s fled the city;
Tell how the country erreth;
Tell manhood shakes off pity
And virtue least preferreth:
And if they do reply,
Spare not to give the lie.
So when thou hast, as I
Commanded thee, done blabbing—
Although to give the lie
Deserves no less than stabbing—
Stab at thee he that will,
No stab the soul can ****
3.5k
It is docking it is tocking in the winter garden locking
over still and heavy knocking that defies the very dew.
We see storms and angels crumbling under load of dearest kindling and the fire and gases burning in the skies where clouds are churning and the snow, hail, sleet, and ices come to split the air in slices as it settles over houses, villages, shoes.
Waiting huddling drawing the blankets hot and heavy with a fear of powerful nature in the windy savory few.
Now we see and hear the howling like a wolf entangles scowling as she tries to say her fowl and angry message to the blew.
I am never quite so settled as when all around me crumbles and the anger of the desert makes the inner anger moot.
And the people seem to gather in their individual lathers but they all believe the madness that the storm will never pass. But pass it does and finding with the dawn a calm descending, yes, a calm that is so different that it seems to crush our ears. We are happy to look outward and even hear a skylark and to see the streaming sun rays flitter over piles of snow.
Ever angled up in heaven we almost see a dragon or a cannon that's protecting rampart walls.
And we know that we are safe here but it was such a battle that the scars are not quite healed.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 2:17 AM UTC
It's when your stomach
hurts
and you dont remember why you were sad and
nothing is really super important
except yourself
and you just laugh because you can and the sky is so pretty
and you can feel sunshine's essence exuding from the holes in your skin
and your bones are filled with electricity
but it's rubber
and you can do anything
ANYTHING
anything because you're you and nobody else can be you
and the world is there to look at, so full of pretty things
and it doesn't matter if there's somebody or nobody or everybody by your side
because it's just that perfect moment when the love in you body is a droplet
it hits the ground and wrenches itself into shapes
patterns that coalesce
you are enraptured, the sight is burning
into your retinas the perfectional bliss that is
being
the will'o'the'wisp that is your soul entangles with the white light and branches
the creature that is imagination and folly
folly with soft ears and kawaii smirks
*****
patches of grass
the birds are landing in your branches now
congregational hazards
social anxiety
disillusioned, giving in
but you don't mind the flocking free-loaders
YOU'RE A STAR
stellar beings never slow down
for a moment
unless they are enjoying the view
witness the retching as
spectrum slideshow
the colors spill out, tumbling
across the sidewalk
out of her veins
she is god
we are free
be happy
lift your arms
be happy
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
Gripping dripping smearing love.
Over your eyes!!!
Over your ovaries, where babies, your clutch.
There's no time to nest,
Resist!
Resist
,
be the diode, resistor to heart plunge.
Plug up the sewer.
(more like a catacomb)
My heart's in the ****** cake.
The smell, Cytotoxic invades chemical response conformation.
We; bitten, by fangs of silicon,
the world takes us away from ivy
grown homes,
torn then seamed up jack o' lanterns always smiling orange.
Have you ever grown up from being 11?
It's the saddest thing you've seen.
You see a fledgling,
altricial,
awkward,
gawk/cock,
turn from a boy
to a lady.
Plump. Or . Musculate.
Slowly they regenerate their lady parts.
Regardless of gender.
Have you seen them bleed?
Some bleed white tears that burn the urethra.
Some, never grow up.
Transmogrified they call it.
Never to be beautiful again.
Angst entangles, ensues, makes doubt
pubescence is for flowers and hairs.
Namesake.
5th Grade.
Curious formation, curious nature
It's as if we are stalagmites of the future,
We decorate walls or cave ceilings to perform our correct action.
Too bad our self image is always garbled, confused by our refraction.
NEVER GRADUATE COLLEGE.
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 5:25 PM UTC
Muddled yet accountable.
Sober yet lively.
Impassive yet doting.
Mixed bag of traits
define him.
Bowlful of big hearted fondness
he carries to embrace all.
Conviviality and amiability
are his favourite words.
Pile of rendezvous,
easy reach outlook,
entangles him in a maze.
Still an apple of everyone's eye and
quite a loved soul.
Being you and always there,
with joy I proclaim,
cuddling happiness and ease.
Best of our camaraderie,
brimming with our fond memoirs
is yet to be savoured.
Attachment and affection remains,
Love, regard grows each day, to remain forever.
Blessed to have you brother, friend!!
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 7:22 AM UTC
Tragedy entangles each and every written note
As the bird upon the paper is caged by ink
Who the artist? No one knows or why this song he wrote
As the drawing of the bird lies, the drying ink
Wings towards the heavens and throngs ringing out clear
This masterpiece that moves to tears all who dare listen
As song uttered to the room and a wonder floating from the page
A bird caged by nothing else but pen and paper
The wind longing for the touch of it's strong, yet gentle wings
Moaning in the agony of the melody that rises
Ink turns to sound and the bird, oh it sings
No such fortune for it in prisons of paper
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 1:21 PM UTC
Your arms,
Entangled around me.
Your embrace,
strong , comforting.
Not wanting to let go,
Your warmth entangles around me
Your arms,
Entangled around me.
Your embrace,
Weak, longing.
Holding on tighter,
Your heart skips a beat.
Your arms,
Held around me.
Still, lifeless.
Holding you one last time.
Your cold, pale.
Your warmth no longer entangles around me.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 9:07 AM UTC
My pen is drawn,
I play my card.
In opposition, bullets charge
At the humble hull that graces space.
I row through open,
Sound is broken,
Yet I feel the great explosions
As I begin my work of art.
His beard can change the name of Virgo,
As it entangles her with rugged work.
His fingers grasp the fins of Cetus,
Guiding him through hallowed dirt.
Upon my course of groundless ground,
A chorus spits its sinful praise
Upon the Heavens, hands are raised;
Filthy angels make the games.
Holy traitors, boundless bounds,
And sacrilege will fall as rain.
The ones who think they are marionettes,
Will taste the blood on their swords.
Controlled by delusion,
They swing from confusion,
There are no strings in an aimless space.
The pen masters dance in allusions!
Imprison the stories of old,
And execute them with ink!
A war to break out in a comedy show,
Over one wordless tome—
On an altar in my vision zone!
My pen unarmed,
My senses harmed.
A soundless token of echoing voices,
To be spoken in softness, over thundering roughness.
This altar carved with wood and stone,
This tome of words with sheets of ink,
These words wear masks— I cannot read.
Tear a page,
It falls like rain.
Observe the rage,
Let freedom faint.
Soak the page,
Its masks detatch.
Lift the rage,
I row away.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 5:10 PM UTC
Woman
I touched your skin long ago
In a small home
you made for yourself
somewhere between
brick and gates
and a
lost
key
I felt the curve of your hips
A tight grip
A wet kiss
You were shy
Your big brown eyes gleaming
In a faint light
That peeked through your
bedroom window
This
twisted lust
it sneaks in
It dizzies the mind
unravels desire
entangles mystery
lady
my heart has never met my spine.
You are tangled in your own way now
Sedulous
Passed from sight
You met a good man
At least I've heard
And I still think of you
From time to time
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 11:27 PM UTC
When I awake in the day, all is blank.
Pills, shower, school, work; a common routine, but one easily forgotten when you cannot differentiate between here and now.
Walking through the mall, wondering if I tumble over the rail in a haze of blood and screaming will I finally see stars again.
What a silly though; so instead, The hairs on my head are steadily ripped out in between my dull fingernails and wisp away to the ground.
Soon it leads to forgetting how to drive, to brush my teeth to speak.
Standing idly by while the world turns and twists and gravity keeps me grounded, but my brain is in another dimension, as an imaginary deity I cannot keep believing in.
Voices, fingertips, the trees and leaves all have it out for me, touching me and surrounding me until I collapse, into the street somewhere, late at night after the cars and people have all long since fallen under.
Did I sleep through work? Or did I even sleep?
Did I remember to eat today?
Slowly turning black, staring in the mirror with the lights off and I am in hell when I turn them on.
How many hours does one ever recall?
Thousands, some say, but what hours do we choose to hold?
Psychosis grips me like an angry father scolding his young child, topples me over like the Tower of Babylon, entangles me in an ocean of disconnection that ends with me coming back to the surface by banging my head on the door and punching picture frames.
When I crash my car into the ditch down the street and I feel blood trickle into my eye from the windshield kissing my head, I am not shocked, I don't even remember how I got there.
When I drown in cheap whisky and prescription pills, I fear not for my fate because I have forgotten I even have one.
When my lungs burn with harsh smoke of unfiltered cigarettes, I don't cringe, for my lungs only know to inhale the harm, and not breathe.
I don't know when I will remember to live. But I hope it is before I die.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 10:32 PM UTC
Careful casting blessings in tongues not truly understood
It's said there is a serpent that entangles dragon's blood
And spitfire be a voice so loose with foolish finds
Looking towards inviting angels, but be the demons in disguise
Karmic value matters in existence past the alibis
So negligent some limbs behave upon the Tree of Life
Do you count the numbers or apply them?
Do the readings code the river stream?
Divine and simple too easy to believe
I'm starting to think that many will not in aeons, come to perceive
Regressing back into the caves
To fight the tigers with their blades
Spirit can always evolve, but beside the spirit remains an umbra
The serpent that binds as the helix to merge with yours
Through the jungles in your mind and beneath your ocean's floor
Tempting to eliminate duality in disavowing ways
But comes the wave and overstep of the orchestra's score
Written by the master architect to arrest ophidian psyche force
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 2:05 AM UTC
we started out in a
in a parking lot
with no shopping cart
look at us now
appeal to her desperation
for a moment in her sunshine's bravado
she dose not think beyond the moment despite my effort
i drink her in
and she is such sweet nectar
it is thinly disguised that she is no
snowbunny as she pulls herself from my bed
her deep rich tan only flavours my desires
as i pull her back in
her thick musky taste so intoxicating
flawless in her unique beauties
we lounge in the sun's dying breath
and quietly marvel at the skyscape of colours
she places casual hand on my arm
and i catch breath
isn't to be read into
but see that allure inspite
and with that desire lingering plunge slowly back
into her subtle skin
into the long sweet night of her lips
once again i float the rational
shes as smart as sinfully beautiful
but with a quickness
towers of the absurd fall under pretender's preface
she entangles me with the most sinister of **** laughs
and we spend the night deep in eachother again
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 6:58 AM UTC
Man's greed is His noose
It entangles His heart
And when He keeps pulling
It pulls Him apart
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 12:50 AM UTC
CHAMELEON
Change colours people, even more often than a chameleon would ;
Thought the chameleon, many times I wonder, how easily a human, ever do that could
Infact the chameleon itself wondered, how come these guys are faster n better;
A passer-by somehow the chameleon's thoughts guessed; n told it, "a man is a go-getter"
"Aww.... may be, may be", said the chameleon, "but humans shouldn't so selfish be"
Said the man, "do this you, to yourself save, from your enemy; so that it cannot, you see;"
"But a man, knowingly immediately colour changes to suit his selfish motives n needs"
"Infact many times an innocent human he entangles, blames, or even outright, him weeds"
"Never must you mess with a human, because guess you cannot what goes on, in his head"
Most scheming he is; and can easily, an innocent one harm; if wishes he, in a moment, you will be dead".
With a sigh of relief, said the chameleon, "people sometimes, a blood-sucker call me;"
"But bro, as you truly say, now onwards, of a human, I too very careful will now have to be".
Armin Dutia Motashaw
May 14, 2022
May 14, 2022 at 4:36 PM UTC
Beyond the horizon lies silence:
empty-handed and empty-torsoed.
Home no longer entangles our motions of gold and twirling,
so quickly so that our spins become perception itself.
Our hair, previously matted, now catches on nothing.
It flows freely against a wind blown inward,
vacuumed through open windows
on opposing sides of the kitchen,
though and carrying the smell
of freshly baked apple pie, crisply crusted,
a thing so sweet and tasty
that tongue and nostrils beg for more
whipped cream and palate warmth.
They open their mouths and plead,
panting on their knees,
on edge of upper lip
fearing not the fall
for something that would just,
for Heavens sake,
give them something,
anything,
of indescribable necessity.
"Oh please, just another bite!"
dribbles out of lungs
until even the smallest of morsels
are licked clean from plate,
desperately, empty,
in front of all,
for all to see.
The world is everything that is the case.
When it is all eaten up
yummed and stomached fully,
it will be the next green field,
the next orchard on the horizon
with golden apples ripening at sunset
against orange and purple perfect skies
to fulfill that longing for Next.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
As of lately, I've been lost in translation
in this transcended state of thought
every thought running into one another
Impeding on the clarity of my perception
Leaving me in a state of panic
Searching for something slightly out of reach
As the needle threads the weave
My mind entangles the threads into
a mass insanity of run on sentences
Leaving me nothing but breathless
Left in a state of weak existence
Wrapped within the roots of the
stem of my thoughts and they
grow into shadows of monsters
trying to break free from the dark
but they cannot reach the other side
The light, it seems much too far
to carry on. This train wreck
of distortion is slowly seeping
into my soul. Deafening the
voices at my beck and call
A tragic winding road of
memories keeps bringing me
right back to the same place
I just left and now I'm right
back where I started again
A streaming flowing river of
never-ending thoughts
Always escaping me
Just there long enough
to hold on to a string of words
that hardly make any sense
Am I dreaming or is this death?
I cannot recall ever lying down
on that bed. Resting my head
where all those demons dwell
The lump in my throat fiercely swells
and the smoke filled coughs mask my cries
Repairs the dreadfulness of my daily life
I cannot escape this restless mind
It won't let me rest, it won't power down
The switch is broken and I've lost my crown
along with all the jewels I once possessively possessed
My mind is wandering somewhere
and I haven't a clue when It's due back
© 2013 Christina Jackson
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 2:07 AM UTC
Linking the spotlight into the dark score
Rutting out the jagged envelopes that
Refuse to be opened, clinging onto their
Sticky tape with a passion; Don't ask me for
Release, I'm shuttered up, swathes of emotive
Blankets worn out from their duty to keep me
Warm; to blot out the morning light from
Penetrating my skull. Shame.....sorry self
Introduced to the firing line. BANG....the snaked
Tongued 'Medusa' who entangles her mind
With vipers, serpents dishing out their forked
Shots of maggot infection, generating wormy
Warriors burrowing into the ruby red warmth
Chewing and bubbling neuron to neuron
Exploding at boiling point into a vast mix up
A collision on course, snapped in two, vibrating
With sheer panic, wrapped in destruction.......
Utter bilge.......built this bridge
So I'll knock it down..............
to start anew
And so I smile.......
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 8:10 AM UTC
they have sought me out
when others would not--
could not
find the world that I had
gone off to fall into
and off the edge
into the terrible abyss
where I have made my home.
I
can't find the words to describe
what this is I'm
feeling.
depression
doesn't exist,
a single word cannot describe
the vast and neverending icy oceans
that gently freeze your flesh,
petting and washing your soul
while hoping for its prize.
that cruel and dark mistress
I have many times known,
it has taken me to its darkest depths,
yet
always floats me back up to the top.
that's my problem,
it is
gravity
that always finds me--
gravity
that is on the hunt,
that chases me through the ocean
deep,
the dark-touched caverns and the
crevices full of nothing.
it is
gravity
which always finds me and
surrounds me,
entangles me in its
gentle pressure,
slowly pressing me into
a single point,
a dot on the grid.
I have truly fallen off the map,
untracked and
untouched,
though
they have hunted me in my loneliness,
have sought the scents of my sweet,
bitter tears
to taste and touch and
bottle in their dark and
sinister workshops
where the devil does the disco and
Satan serves his smile.
that
horrible
smile.
it is a wildfire
burning in his mouth,
a burning,
white-hot inferno
which burns me alive
and also
burns me when I'm dead.
I have lived
many lives,
before,
I have died and
come back from the flames
hundreds of times,
before.
I have scattered my ashes in the
chilly ocean of
night's black face,
have lost myself in the rippled edges
of the cold and uncaring cosmos.
these bits of me,
pieces and parts that are gone beyond recognition
coalesce in the waters
and
come together to re-form--
they
shine like stars,
bright and burning
white-hot
distant
points
on the silent grid
of depression's endless oceans
and night's eternal smile.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC
Everything that endlessly entangles my mind.
All things.
The soothing voice of victory divine.
These words of love, hate, and indifference...
Interfering.
Intertwined.
The twisted kind.
The only love i can find.
None.
Neither.
Either way, nothing matters.
All i do is make disasters.
Redefining refined.
Silent semesters of sarcasm.
Mental spasms.
Pure poetry flowing thru me.
Freely.
I'll never regret it...
The feeling...
When you're giving like there's nothing else to live for.
A lust for love and life...
A life of love and lust.
This place where love is born...
And hearts are never torn by human hands.
Only human minds.
Dec 7, 2009
Dec 7, 2009 at 2:03 PM UTC
It is a feeling always there, tangible in my sleep
entangles much as I weep, wings struggling to fleet
painful vibrancy, scars with red splatters
meaningful as laying under the stars chatter
sublime as deep orange sunsets in warm sand
with friends listening to our favorite bands
lodged in deep in the prefrontal cortex
a reward craved becoming so far fetched
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 11:26 AM UTC