"entrapments" poems
an ancient lyric, come to haunt,
no longer a shield, now thinner,
of gossamer consistency,
a tissue-thin papyrus,
“my poetry to protect me”
the poem words always were
a clarinet reed, capable of singing,
a highest pitch voice for turning
blades of clean steel clean away,
now blunting paper bunting, penetrated.
re-formed my shield, re-purposed,
into a stabbing instrument offensive,
my poetry pricking tearings in my worn
thin fabric tapestry, woven from linen
excuses of why I can’t, why couldn’t I.
this is life. moats becoming drowning
pools, castle walls reversed to entrapments,
wrecking machines, boulders hurling,
medieval defenseless against modern rhymes
giving away to free verse horde onslaught.
too late to apologize to myself, alas, my words,
my protectorate, island redoubt, now ruined
by doubts treachery breech birthed from within,
these verses hollow point bullets engineered,
Caesar’s words clarified, you, et tu, are Brutus
too, two, for the price of one, betrayer and betrayed.
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 5:44 PM UTC
Poetry is often made impossible
and forgotten it dribbles away
Experiences begot are dried
in dusty memoriam of thoughts
Locked in chipped ornaments
pictured emotions die framed
in an old letter's sentenced pain
Decorative wordy entrapments
cannot fool or command love
however many silvered words
try to stir or grab at thine heart
Whereas times every moment in
your observed, captured thought
does cradle this beating heart
"*We shall gift thought it's
touch and bites of freedom
then love it's sustenance*"
Fun's giggling thrashing bushes
of living sweating poetry
David x
Jul 19, 2010
Jul 19, 2010 at 3:55 AM UTC
rocking on this swing again
where I crept into the moon
so many nights with
and without you
twirling tongue spells
whispering kisses on the wind
I sat in blackness
sky light communion
praying begging manifestivals
for just the slightest uplift
in your shadowed lids
to peep ignite
while you steeped in other brew
as if I could pry you
from your own entrapments
you employ them
in places you won't let me
because you're scared
to open your hand
fully
dailies distract the knowing
and warm your frigid sheets
then you wonder why
there's no space
for we
I know I'm Sunday mornings
flung swift at your door
requiring all your insides
from turned-out pockets
but I'm also
high-gloss, full-color
edge-of-your-seat
content symph in inter-D
and every last **** one
of the funnies
plus those coupons in the middle
to places you've never been
they kick back everything
you've thrown in
10,000 folds
uncreasing dewy
unto you
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 4:59 PM UTC
He believes in nothing
And dives into the essence to breath freely
Freezing time and relinquishing his pretensions
Gravity was far too heavy without the enhancement
The lows more extensive than the false paradise
I prey he finds his way through small sacrifice
It's the little things in life that keep us honest
He sits itching for release as he forsakes his actions
Unfortunately at times it seems impossible to break our habits
but our wills are stronger than the artificial entrapments
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 8:39 AM UTC
.
When love grows out of time
And huddles in a grey season
Of distemper, beware chilling
Same, the deep low downing
Doldrums, the browning burn
Of the left alone flower, deftly
Dying laughter, stale motions,
The hollow rings entrapments
When love grows out of time.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 6:05 PM UTC
When love grows out of time
And huddles in a grey season
Of distemper, beware chilling
Same, the deep low downing
Doldrums, the browning burn
Of the left alone flower, deftly
Dying laughter, stale motions,
The hollow rings entrapments
When love grows out of time.
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 5:04 PM UTC
When love grows out of time
And huddles in a grey season
Of distemper, beware chilling
Same, the deep low downing
Doldrums, the browning burn
Of the left alone flower, deftly
Dying laughter, stale motions,
The hollow rings entrapments
When love grows out of time.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 7:59 PM UTC
When love grows out of time
And huddles in a grey season
Of distemper, beware chilling
Same, the deep low downing
Doldrums, the browning burn
Of the left alone flower, deftly
Dying laughter, stale motions,
The hollow rings entrapments
When love grows out of time.
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 9:03 PM UTC
Take the pills, they say
It’ll make the pain go away
Rather than address the root causes
Let’s fill her with antidotes
Temporary solutions
Hopeful lies.
Take this for your skin
Don’t question why you’re out of balance
Why there’s a correlation with the stress in your life and the budding mountains on your face
Instead of bursting at the seams
Blood vessels burst in your face
Don’t question the fact that a man will never caress your face
Because they’ll be met with medians and potholes instead of a smooth ride to beauty
Don’t question that you’ll never get to try the new updo
In fear of scaring men away by bearing too much of your imperfect skin
No man will attempt to mount the peaks of your troubles.
Take this to stop nature’s course
To allow any man to do what he wants and not have to worry about accidents or entrapments
Not have to ever take responsibility for mistakes
And they’ll call it your safety and security.
Take this for the searing pain that flashes behind your eyes and leaves you in bed on the most beautiful days of your life, unable to function
We’ll stuff you full of preventers and painkillers and not ask why a twenty-year-old has the stress of a soldier on the battlefield
We’ll ignore the pressures of school and money and relationships
So we don’t have to talk about it.
It’ll all wash away, when you wash down those pills.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
I chase the rabbit down the hole.
My only goal is to strip its soul.
Of earthly entrapments that plague the life.
Of a pure being born of the light.
Darkness invades every crease.
The paltry leaves dangle on the trees.
Movement ahead suggests my target is near.
Worms eat my heart but my head is clear.
There's a glimpse of light up ahead.
Feelings of dread infiltrate my head.
What I thought was the end is glowing eyes.
The enormity of my task takes me by surprise.
A battle ensues that shakes my core.
Blood and gore of the days of yore.
I make my final strike wearing a velvet glove.
This was an act of mercy born out of love.
Now we run through a flowered field.
Our love wields a sword and and a shield.
Hand in hand we float on the jeweled stream.
With eyes wide open living in a
perpetual dream.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
When love grows out of time
And huddles in a grey season
Of distemper, beware chilling
Same, the deep low downing
Doldrums, the browning burn
Of the left alone flower, deftly
Dying laughter, stale motions,
The hollow rings entrapments
When love grows out of time.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
.
When love grows out of time
And huddles in a grey season
Of distemper, beware chilling
Same, the deep low downing
Doldrums, the browning burn
Of the left alone flower, deftly
Dying laughter, stale motions,
The hollow rings entrapments
When love grows out of time.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
My grandchildren will read
The year had already passed,
By the time they were born,
To stop climate change.
I don't know how they will get the information.
I don't know when they will get the information.
I don't know from what or whom it will be delivered,
Or how it will be communicated.
I'm sure the news won't and shouldn't come from me;
Although it came duplicitously from me, and others;
Driving them everywhere, flying around, BBQing animals.
And all the entrapments of a twentieth century middle class life.
The grandkids will have serious questions,
Like Why?
I have loved you to death.
Will there be any to answer
When the signal arrives in 2070?
Jul 20, 2020
Jul 20, 2020 at 9:07 PM UTC
Weeping tears of buried sorrows
You never saw me
Every touch of you a precious piece
Playing on my heart
An endless thread of love and misery
I'm walking on ice
Needles laced with cyanide and lead
Pierced in my skin
Crooked ways and silent entrapments
Cut me from within
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 9:10 PM UTC
Standing in new day
I partake in a ceremony.
With no lawyers fees,
just my own valuable wisdom.
No distance to travel
but within heart.
No insecurities just my awakened state.
I stand in the proceeding of a
divorce in day
where air is crisp and snow graces mountain.
Where moments of endless possibilities linger
inside love.
Divorced I shall be
from old negative fear based entrapments
that beat me up constantly
to a new freedom.
I in breath
hear-by pronounce my divorced
I in thoughts
hear-by re-married
to my soul a part of Gods light,
and all its greatness.
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 9:12 AM UTC
Thinking I see clearly
Comes at a price
I pay it dearly
Spraying windex on glass barriers
Trapped by this transparency
I run wildly through a labyrinth
A prison of my own creation
Crimson, I move with desperation
The direct path overlooked
You are complex and unpredictable
Yet I try to predict you anyway
I put a vision of you inside my maze
I see your actions through an egoic haze
I analyze and interpret in a naive craze
And as I forecast the coming phase
I finally see this labyrinth I must raze
Wisdom is knowing how much you cannot know
Freedom is acting with that knowledge
Truth is the value that sets you free
The only path toward reality
Go shatter the glass
Veer off the path that you created
That you never knew you hated
The false entrapments in your way
So you can finally seize the day
I will not put you in a prison
I will correct this twisted prism
Come join me in this mission
Let’s create a new shared vision
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 8:39 AM UTC
They want to know if I went to Heaven,
If the moment my heart stopped,
I was blinded by the White Light
And the love of a Higher Power.
They want to know if I saw Him.
I recognize now that it is more for their own sense of comfort,
But the first time they asked,
My eyes met theirs with a scorn fierier than the seven circles,
None of which I saw.
They want to know if there is something out there waiting to embrace them
In warm and loving arms.
I cannot say.
I saw nothing,
Just blackness
Followed by the soft browns of the coma tunnel,
Bubbles sweeping gently around,
Shapes resembling sea stars,
The dwellings of an unconscious mind.
Sometimes I miss that tunnel,
Neither hot nor cold,
Jubilant or depressed,
Just floating,
Swimming almost in the vast entrapments of my brain,
Breathing in the liquid,
No emotions.
People might ask if this is my own personal Heaven,
To which I would answer ‘no.’
It was missing an achingly familiar face,
That of a friend,
Gone from this world too soon,
Much in the way I had attempted to exit mine.
They want to know if flat lines mean white gates and Heavenly choirs,
And this I do not know.
I find no glory in my own death,
Albeit only for a minute or two.
I find no great discovery of the afterlife,
Only the aftermath,
The physical pain,
The long and drawn out healing,
The fear of friends and family.
No,
I did not go to Heaven,
If there is such a thing,
For I know,
Sydney will be waiting for me.
In my coma tunnel, I was left all alone.
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 6:30 PM UTC
Over there!
Floating drop of honeyed sap
suspended in a web
of blacks, cloaked in
sallow darkness,loathe
to all mortal entrapments
poised in death’s clutches.
But the skull, weathered,
safely wise, resting
on a veil of lace
Will watch the
sins of our sons,
Our lives slip
into dusk
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 8:22 PM UTC