"freest" poems
.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
be found.
It's a book shelved high that wants to
be read.
It's the freest of all birds caged but
unbound...
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
colours.
It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
translate its thoughts.
But it can see through the eyes of
painters...
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
of musical harmony.
It doesn't follow the conventions of
genres.
But it sings its voice loud without
restrictions of melody...
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
It's an exploding universe, that merges
back into galaxies.
It's a sought after painting, that boasts
of unfathomable beauty.
It's an everlasting song, that echoes
within the poet that embodies...
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 10:54 AM UTC
One’s-Self I sing, a simple separate person,
Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse.
Of physiology from top to toe I sing,
Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse,
I say the Form complete is worthier far,
The Female equally with the Male I sing.
Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,
Cheerful, for freest action form’d under the laws divine,
The Modern Man I sing.
4.5k
If I have a daughter
I will name her Katrina
Remind her she is beautiful
Brought forth from the passion of the sea
She is a mix of warm Atlantic winds
strong enough to devastate a nation in
just a puff of her breath
wild enough to tracer the ocean
stretch out her wings and fly
watchful enough to remember
that spinning is dangerous
but curious enough
to want to go find land
In Winter, she hibernates
waiting for warmer weather
to envelop her soul
and bring life to her feet
In Spring, she stretches out her arms
and yawns, smiling
as the sun’s rays caress her face
In Summer, she giggles and
asks to travel,
whip across the ocean
sprint across the earth
She has no idea that exploring
Surging through the sea
will bring destruction
but when I tell her
she only laughs and says
Mom, you are the eye of my storm
and I will keep you safe
So, in Autumn, I will buy her
a ticket to anywhere
and as she spins out
of my home
I brace myself
for her eye to shrink
and her storm to intensify
because I know what is coming
While she loses herself
in the ecstasy of life
I shield myself as the eye wall,
the freest of her passions,
crashes down on me
with the force of 400 tornadoes
But I smile
because I know it will
be over soon
because winter is coming
and the rains
will cease to fall
and she will settle down
into her new life
and her new home
and one day
I will get a call
“Mom, our daughter’s name is Sandy,”
And I will smile
and watch from afar
as history repeats itself
and once again
I will brace myself for
the most beautiful of hurricanes
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
The old order changeth, yielding place to new
-Tennyson, Idylls of the King
Like dinosaurs our institutions gasp
In spasms of existential death; they pass
At first unnoticed by the casual unobserver
Who trips over a covenant that isn’t there
If you vote they give you a sticker
The ephemeral Constitution changed
Like sweaty skivvies by each president
Law libraries catalogued for pulp
By obedient functionaries in tees
If you vote they give you a sticker
The faithful escorted out of the cathedral
By a bored security guard on overtime
The altar linens for sale at Goodwill
And the sanctuary repurposed on T.V.
If you vote they give you a sticker
Some of The Just Plain Folks cheer for the Reds
And the others cheer only for the Blues
As the reincarnation of Jack Chick
Blesses their four-wheelers and plastic caps
If you vote they give you a sticker
Election placards on abandoned buildings
Promise again prosperity for all
The **** lab cooks behind The Kute Kidz
Private Academy of the Dance and Math
If you vote they give you a sticker
An outreach of the Bright Light Free Will
Missionary Temple of the Lord Jesus Christ
Of the Lamb Sanctified 501C The Reverend Doctor Master Bishop Billy-Bob Hairdo PhD, DD a-brangin’ Messages and His Esteemed Lady Apostle Heather
If you vote they give you a sticker
And blessed be the Holy AR-15
God gave to His People to defend themselves
Here in the freest country in the world
Which you can find behind the barbed-wire fence
If you vote they give you a sticker
While fleets of luxury presidential jets
Arc high over our public housing projects
Reminding us of our prosperity
Here in the richest country in the world
If you vote they give you a sticker
And them Jews for Jesus I guess they’re all right
But them other Jews they just ain’t no good
Nor them Cath’lics nor them Mormons neither
And don’t you get me started on them Baptists
(We seem to have been otherwise engaged)
“The old order changeth, yielding place to new” –
(But neither cares at all for me or you)
But if you vote they give you a sticker
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:30 AM UTC
Lee was posted up in in usual spot
back by the stacks,
with his phone on life support.
Its umbilical cord was knotted up like a nest,
and held together by electrical tape.
It sat next to his vape
box and a stack of books
about the GED, twenty-fist century
side hustles and back issues of Ebony.
People come in and out of the library
and everyone says hi to Lee,
He is the man to see,
He asks about their lives and gives sage advice –
How you been, my man?
How’s the kids doin’, girl?
How’s married life treatin’ you, my dude?
My man, you gotta do this.
Babygirl, look into that.
Don’t wear your hat like that,
Boy, ya look silly.
Lee lives in a van
that he parks nearby
so he can job-hunt on the free wifi
even when the place is closed.
If you feel sorry for me, don’t
says Lee
I’m the freest now I’ll ever be,
so, don’t you dare take pity on me
I’m doing all I can do,
being all I can be.
Everything’s temporary.
Tomorrow I could be you,
you could be me
we’re just one bad day,
one scratch-off lottery ticket away
from swapping places, my man.
Yeah, I live in that van
parked outside the library
but if you think I’m sad,
you’re thinking wrong,
Won’t see me moping, or doping
floating along
you won’t see me frowning,
or drowning,
singing a sad song.
I’m happy with all that I got
who wouldn’t wanna be in my spot,
I’m The King
of the Library Parking Lot.
Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 1:17 PM UTC
from the day I was born
I wasn't meant to belong to myself
a cursed being without any power of control
my fate was written
in a lazy handwriting
on a wrinkled piece of paper
very early in life I learned so
that I had strings tied to my limbs
and I'd never be able to walk alone
any glance of freedom
where I dared to dream
was followed by a unwanted label
I've always been
someone's sister
someone's youngest child
someone's crush
someone's heartbreak
but never
in the purest
the freest
form
me
May 12, 2021
May 12, 2021 at 10:20 PM UTC
The freest we can be
Is between our Mentality.
Fiends try to ween us
From seeking the unseen.
Heed what we need from those
Who lead with dishonorable greed.
We are a tough breed
And we're planting the seed
For a new Mentality.
The history that we read
Is not guaranteed,
It's even ****** and mean.
There was no shift, it seems.
No awakening time,
When the people did decide,
That we were finally through with
Conquer & Divide.
Their intentions, they hide,
Through Distraction & Distortion,
The information is there to find,
And from there, for us to decide,
The direction to turn the tide.
Is this Awakening
Still left for us to find?
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
This balance is unsteady.
I am no wanderer.
This is no conquest.
“Would you rather have this moment?
Or that one?”
Othering myself into eternity.
Plop that in your goblet
And drink it up.
Huge, cool gulps of consciousness,
Whirled creation.
I spend my freest time
Dancing in the stuff that spills out of me
When I’m just too full,
My soul confetti,
The lumpy fungus that grows
While I’m not looking.
Undulating in the ins and outs.
Roll in it, rip it up, squish it together,
Choke it down,
The sticky glaze of “I don’t know”
Getting my fingers *****
I sleep in an acid washed dreams
Inhaling and exhaling every part of
This constant spin cycle
That stirs my existence
And shakes me like a cocktail.
Rest easily, cradled in the fluff
Of all of the possibilities.
Eat them like Tic-Tacs
Smell the minty pleasure of it
On my breath
When I splatter my being against the walls.
My life is a lemonade summer
I dream in sweet bits
That sting my throat like sour candy
Back into reality.
From there,
I daydream to car keys
knocking the dashboard
Sing to my own chaos
And laugh to my drumbeat.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
Hurricane season
All throughout my cotton pocket
Comfort, such a tricky muse,
I found it!
Nope.. that’s not it.
But it was, a subtle fuzziness,
My nerves suddenly honey dipped
The sweetest,
**** here comes the bees
& once again i’m running stiff.
Freest when i’m knotted up
I gotta bottle up
The ****** such and such
Until I’m still enough to drift beyond the cusp
The same setting sun,
The same son will set unsettled.
Another silent night,
Another fight against the nettles.
I need a rest,
To feel closer to death.
To keep me at my best.
It’s like a test,
Each time I lay in bed.
I have to try my best.
To stay there,
Blankets wrapping round me
Don’t ground me.
Still awake,
I lay, awaiting sleep to come and drown me.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 7:53 PM UTC
How embarrassing is it to be human!-
That we eagerly hate others
and repel those who disagree with us (or who we disagree with, as well).
In the -ostensibly- freest country on our planet,
whose birth came with the ideology of individuals being united,
it's so ugly how quick hatred spreads like a fungus,
covering cities in days, if not hours.
A proper, just people embrace diversity,
adore questioning,
and reinforce rhetoric.
We are animals, playing drunk in the same filth we use to feed our children.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 7:06 AM UTC
I'm coming home to you.
Do I embrace your with a kiss, a hug, or not at all?
How do we act?
Love and passion tempered by distance and time,
I've fallen out of habit.
Doubtless, all has changed.
But what into?
I'm learning to observe natural fearlessness,
To be the fluid Ever-change.
The night blossom welcomes the moon effortlessly.
The river does not veer from the ocean.
The wind is the freest lover.
When my eyes finally find your face,
I know I'll smile,
and Together our lips will connect
In fervent osculation.
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 9:31 PM UTC
Enlightenment for me is knowing one’s capablities and possibilities in life, yet deciding to choose the most peaceful and freest path.
Knowing...
...the path itself might not have any overall importance and influence on the world,
but knowing
it’s the path that makes you feel most ‘happy’ and at ease, living in this world.
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 6:15 PM UTC
unable to know the struggles of womanhood
unable to identify with the patriarchy
unable to sympathize with the lowest classes
unwilling to sympathize with the highest classes
not of color due to a privilege by birth
vehemently rejecting of ubiquitous white supremacy
not of a divergent sexuality
not so steeped in the norm as to reject the very idea
aloof from generational narratives of tenacious entrepreneurship
slave to demographic trends of marginal employment
born with a leg up in the freest nation's capitalist paradise
dreams of one day seeing it destroyed
tasked to be normal
i begin to wonder
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
Born from dove like divinity
Eros emerged in the freest fiercest forest
Far from the sights of man
And it effortlessly enchanted all it ever met
The branches, critters, air, and ground were,
Consumed in continual craving
That only Ero’s fair gaze, sweet touch, serene scent could quench
And for many eons Eros ran and reigned
Until by chance it happened upon a new source of light
Stepping closer, it saw the outskirts of an outpost
Running into the town Eros encountered the children of mankind
Lamps, roads, houses, wagons, and strangest of all, animals bound
Then finally Eros met humans
At first they were awed by it to the point of freezing
Then snatching back their senses they all sought to win her
Men and women, babe and elderly,
All wanted a piece of Eros
Overwhelmed, Eros tried to explain
That it could never dwell in a place so compact, close quartered,
Constrained
But their ears were clogged by lust, and
Eyes clouded in heat to conquer
So Eros ran, later referring to civilization as,
The Champions of Chains
Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 10:31 AM UTC
How can the public be so judgmental when all they know is lies.
I'll be that failure I wear that title well.
I won't cast a VOTE I'm not part of their lies nor do I support the whole deception.
I need to see the place beyond the ice where giants still build pyramids and chimeras all fear the wrath of God.
I'm headed south for the winter and to save myself from this system I'll never be apart of without a number around my neck and shackles across my heart.
I need to be where corn is eaten three times a day, siestas are expected and people are the color of the earth.
I want to die amongst the depleted Monarchs and the migrating
Quetzal Hummingbirds.
I wish to put my mind down for its final rest in a place where lies are not respected and the truth is nothing but the truth.
Somewhere thats far away from here.
A place that does'nt feel the need to claim its self the freest of the free while chained to things like laws, debts and the television screen.
I'll be where I don't speak the language and the people don't care.
I'll spend some time in old Mexico drinking away all my bad
memories, dancing with ficheras, making real Love to ****** and finding a way to start over.
A new way after I break free of the lies, bring myself to an end and build up the courage to leave you all behind.
So I can start myself anew.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
i tell myself
i do not need
to live in the
wild,
as a butterfly
or a wasp
or as a bird.
i tell myself
i do not need
to cascade the
skies, because
to fly around
your ribcage
feels like the
only freedom i
ever need.
i thought that
maybe i would
come back as a
sparrow one day
to show the world
i was joyful and i
was not afraid.
i tell myself
that my sandpaper
heart finally
met something
soft around the
edges, to teach me
that love heals,
helps tend to the
wounds i tried
to lick clean when
my tongue was
laced in acid and
i tell myself,
i must have done
something worthy
along my timeline
to be blessed with
arms coated in baby
powder and blankets
to shield me from
the rain, i tell myself
i do not need to
live in the wild to
be free, for your
ribcage is the freest
a bluebird can be.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 8:08 AM UTC
*with me it's all ***** free, she laughed me teasing ***** and not her **** and then i said: i was bitterer free than a caged slave freed; so tell me... when did rhyme rhyme with untrue and dry prose with truth?*
none of the free women could uncouple ******* from the *****
none of these free women
could love me like a ***** the "master,"
but they did - common free ****** themselves
while the saints arose to challenge the antichrist
deciding it was better to salvage driftwood than the whole ship,
and give common fee to ******* than salvage
common freedom from common ******* fees with ******* the commons
of sedating parliament of freedom feeing freedom:
but the ****** became saintly snakes
asking for less and the common woman for more!
what mattered more was slapping the cheek,
none of these free women could compete,
none of these free women could salvage the ****** slaves,
instead they asked for opinions through actresses,
and while i broke chime of dirges with sirens
for the chandelier flutes dropped - i heard of demonic
song being poetry, and angelic songs continued without poeticism;
oh lark and sorrow i heard that no free woman ever bore
the freed love from sexing it asked for yoga exercise
to thrill a lost packaged youth,
but the free women sexed up, and the ****** were
skeletally libra minded to tangle the heaviest with the lightest
and the freest with the most leathered up to tangle in whip lost
sparking less gallop and more thought:
as once in town a randomised woman to my writing said:
now that's the devil, said, and i walked on.
none of the free women who spoke of feminism ever
gave third introduction up, with limping the second artillery was
salvo dis-loved, for the third introduction was sold
to ***** and man managed all, but not this;
none of the free women could ever pair man with her involvement
satisfactory: first ***** second **** third lips and child goodnight:
for the free women were more than ****** could be,
found the woman, entering a brothel and hearing of whores' graces
to do not what free women did: no **** no harsh movement,
the ****** dictated that freedom felt what it wasn't with me bought,
****** a ***** and kept **** to myself
while i argued the digestion in reverse and liberated them
from a child engaged to be tucked in, and sweetly dreaming of mothers
of tomorrow with hanky and bacon and scrambled eggs for schooling,
marching into marsh and sweet mud, in order that some general
might satiate the feel of ordering a fee of orderly salutes into hades'
6ft gape of a yawn of cracking marble into moulding earthenware to
suit root and worm.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
we can be like alice
but not like the one in chains
we will be free, freer, freest.
swallow the magic potion,
shrink from the drink that dripped
onto our palms.
your palms will be sweaty and cold pressed to my face-
your eyes are ice, your love is lice
it makes me scratch my head.
we'll be small
but we'll feel twenty thousand feet tall.
we are a leaf of grass.
maybe it's just the change in the weather,
but i want to shrug on your sweater,
and ride your miniature horse until sunrise.
hushed voices are almost screaming
and careful footsteps seem to be running
i'm thinking of the way i used to feel.
*beautiful??
lovely??
a godess??
stunning??*
worth it.
riding those miniature horses
until sunrise
seems to be a waste of time again
because when morning comes
they are always men again,
and i don't want to be small anymore.
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 1:28 PM UTC
I din't tell you to read my ****
never wanted to make you feel bad for it
split myself opened up blood and veins, transparent on pages
saw you quote song lyrics like they were designed to spit in peoples faces
maybe you meant me, and maybe ya didn't. i aint mad if it wasn't me
but it's ******** for me to fake it and this is where i'm freest to be me,
so if it's here that makes you say
"never underestimate a man's ability to make you feel guilty for his mistakes"
well look in a mirror and don't be like that man who forgets his own face
face it, i'm not the only one who's made mistakes.
I love you, now let's move on from this place,
together,
i hate the silence and the distance
and the slightest semblance, the bleakest resemblance
to what we might have had, or thought we did,
to what we swore to when we said we accepted all the **** that comes with each other
why are we acting like this when we were almost, maybe, sort of, lovers?
when we're friends,
the rare kind,
that come once,
maybe twice if you're lucky three times
in a lifetime,
(all different of course)
I am tired.
I am sore.
I miss you.
Let us rest together, if only a moment more. . .
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:25 PM UTC
Ya know
It's kinda weird
Livin in a country
Where some of its people
Are called
" the N-word-ers"
And that we used to lynch ******
These N-word people
While singin
Of
The land of the homeless
Slave and the free
(Or some such crap)
While Strutting around with guns to protect us from the government
Of the freest and greatest democracy ever
As if these are two things
--
While watching kids go suicidely bat-shit
And the bat-shit stupid people
Sayin anything an everything
About nothin
An me
Who used to be called an N-word guy lover
Still on the **** list for
Questioning why we are ruled by international
Financial entities who pay no taxes!
--
YOU DONT NEED TO **** YOURSELVES (suicide)
(They'll do it for you)
.
There is only ONE TRUE REVOLUTION
///
(HINT---it doesn't use American made
Weapons!)
Or any other
For that
Matter
--
--
--
It is REVOLVING
NOW
FOREVER
SEE
AND FEEL
THE REVOLVING
SEE AND FEEL IT
AND START REVOLVING
REVOLUTION
FOREVER
//
It is truly
YOUR ONLY NAME
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 1:30 AM UTC
What do I pluck in a field of flowers?
The peonies bloom with such sweet intent
I can’t just sit in this grass for hours
It is hardly a choice, why do I cower
Blue delphiniums with fearless content
What do I pluck in a field of flowers?
If I delay I’ll be in spring showers
Must I choose one blossom if I relent?
I can’t just sit in this grass for hours
The bee can choose all, each it empowers
Roses and violets? I will not lament
What do I pluck in a field of flowers?
Just pink or blue is shouted from towers
But lavender’s love is the freest scent
I can’t just sit in this grass for hours
These meadows are solely each of ours
Lilacs in my hand I will not repent
What do I pluck in a field of flowers?
I can’t just sit in this grass for hours
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 8:58 PM UTC
32,000 feet above the lot of you and examining the strands of cloud, looking down and wondering just how safe I could be.
When can you start to discount coincidence as no such act of random encounter,
Instead start to look at fate and decide that this is a risk that needs taking...
///
Cutting through the grounds of sacred legislation and mystic men in Brooks Brothers suits,
So far from Hollywood, but matching 1929 *** appeal and romanticized images of gilded ghosts of America.
How do you keep all these agendas upon the people who claim to be the freest on Earth?
You making your living on collective barriers—
Has never stopped me from taking to the skies and leaving my confusion in the clouds,
All my worries absorbed by the cold cotton ***** I have no option but to soar through.
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 8:12 PM UTC
Fall to be
Life, a sea
To freely see
So calling me
Feeling leaves
Crunching frees
When, but tithing
The freest breeze
Is but every,
Astounding thing
Maybe a remedy
Cradling dreams
glowing streams
Foggy sheens
Making these
Diamond seams
Echoes seem
Frailer things
Which beauty brings
Castigating, floating beings
Though without,
The warmth they bring
Though within,
Melodies teem,
with no strings
Welcoming.
I was glad
Just to have seen
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
Kyra, Dad's got some paper and pens
and that's it
A cup of tea at 1am'll
push him just a little bit further
to finish all of his scrawl
about the things in the world you deserve
and how he'll go get it all
He'll push the pen to the page
at an age that you can't read or write
But it's more about holding himself accountable
to the crawling days
and if your smile stays
at least he'll know he did some things right
By the time you read this
you'll be learning how to doggy paddle
Through swimming pools full of stuffed animals, on tuesdays
And on days that start with "S"
You'll be air lifted in a fairy costume
to the civic center
so we can see the what's it's on Ice
And i promise I'll stop smoking
and at night you'll have a team of interpretive dancers
teaching you and your 9 ponies the classics
in a better way than I can tell em...cuz I have this whole monotone thing...that I do
But I'll be there the whole time
to try to fight back the impulse I feel
to steer for you on every step, and miss step
Because I know you won't forever need me here
You been the freest spirit, since the day we first met.
And if you're reading this and I'm bald
maybe take it easy on me....I'm pretty sensitive about it.
By the time you read this,
I'll have put the work I needed in
to pay whatever school to teach you everything you wanna know
and I promise I'll quit smoking
and I promise I'l never make you feel like less than everything to me
and though your father may have been a failure when he found you
The sparks that you emitted through his heart that night,
with fingers wrapped around his thumb,
erupted seas of roaring flame around his very soul
bolstering a furnace to replace the heart you stole
the foundry drove his will that night
and has done ever since,
even when all he does have
is paper and some pens.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 12:12 AM UTC