"gridlocked" poems
Heed these words, write them upon the tablet of your mind for I have returned.
When you finally come to the point in your life and comprehend that the dreams with which you have been bestowed are to be used as a blueprint, you then and only then will win remarkable success in what ever calling that you adopt. You will begin to visualize things with a much greater understanding and you will experience sights stranger than you have ever seen before. You will know that these new visions are all true, for you will see that you have been given the ability to pick out and notice clusters of confirmations and on an imaginary scale. The fear of premonitions and ignoring notable occurrences by dismaying them all off as if they are just figments of your imagination is to be avoided. It is not out of random chance, the thought that things are bound to line up from time to time and for no apparent reason or that evolution had a major impact on us to evolve into begins to recognize pattern recognition, but rather, it is to be construed as if you have been blessed with the gift of foresight and you will notice that you are able to think and speak things into existence. Never again will you live with the fear of the unknown for you will know all. The truth of all things will manifest themselves and be disclosed to you in a vivid clear contrast. There will be many people who will find it extremely difficult to interpret what is being explained to them and in the process they will then start to display that they are trapped within there own gridlocked mind and be confused with just your mere presence. You will find that people who do not understand you will then try to get you to conform to what they see, ignore them. Life is but an enigma, one that is full of complex-ed riddles, when you accept to follow your dreams and with an open objective you will then have the opportunity to harness all its power and in return all the pieces of the puzzle will be spread out for you for your taking. Once you find the first piece, you then will be given the license required to take part of this phenomenon so you can complete life's grander picture found outside the ivory tower. You will know with all certainty that you are not dreaming and that what you are witnessing is not a mirage, that is until, the silver cord be loosed, after that, when death finds its way to sting and the grave can then claim its victory, welcome and accept a Re"quies'cat In Pa'ce.
As always, Welcome to the show!
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
Go back to your violent grace
Your elegant waste
Your newspaper paste
Trained tweaker taste
It’s all good
It’s all legal after all
But the future is moving
Too slow at a rapid pace
When the rabid ones
Are not free to die
An every electrical device
Unmoving, ruins your life
Soon the candles won’t burn fire
And the night will tame all desire
Slave to light sockets
Which were paid for from your pocket
You’re walking on a street of waves
An even dead trees somehow misbehave
When on every corner, inside them all
There’s the dearest, faintest, little hum
Yeah, there’s always an end to this
But knowing them they’ll ruin it
Do a down periscope on your soul
Is there anywhere left to go
That’s not gridlocked or sold
Well, now I really know
The worst is yet to come
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 8:35 PM UTC
Things blow up
People throw up
And then walk on
A land mine
When they talk on
A landline
I try to enjoy myself
But enjoyment has stealth
And eludes
Which secludes
Happiness hides
Behind sentinel shrapnel
That makes us abide
The rules of this flat Hell
There are frequent explosions in my mind
They are sequenced implosions through time
I have poor explanations
For my inflammations
My hands fumble
My brain crumbles
Progress is lost
That's the cost
Frustration cooks
From holy books
And constitutions
That can't be changed
Or rearranged
So we're gridlocked in an explosion
In Hell's fruitless fire we are frozen
Explosions dot the planet like acne
Humanity has no choice except to get older
Sharing information is our main asset yet we grow colder
We must evolve together
We're doomed to be tethered
So we must gel
To avoid Hell
There are monsters in our midst
In our mind is where they sit
We must expel them together
Or we'll be exploding forever
Oct 22, 2017
Oct 22, 2017 at 11:08 PM UTC
They call it repressed
But the memory’s gone
I swear, it’s gone
Can’t you see the struggle
Can’t you see the fight
Can’t you enter my body, my mind
I suppose you can’t
Got me thinking it’s all a trap
Got me thinking body-snatchers
Got you thinking of ironic ways
Got you thinking of my end
Never meant for it, no
Thought you’d read the words
Not twist them, no
So where do the sinners of misunderstanding go
Never an answer, just gridlocked throes
I’ve believed it for so long, still haven’t seen the pros
Just ex-cons with teeth for wings
Black angels never wept like this before
No, black angels never wept like this before
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 7:31 PM UTC
We are at a standstill
Dead weight
Anvil
Rumbling engines
Gridlocked
In all directions
Blaring horns
No progression
Motionless
Frozen
Roads are smoking
Angry as fire
Smell of burning tires
Freedom
Not for miles
Seething
I'm feeling wild
I hate it
Being held captive
**** this awful traffic
-V.v.V. Ds
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
Your children roam the gridlocked streets
hand-in-cardboard, feet firmly on uneven ground,
eyes heavy with the rubble of their foreclosed homes.
They live in grocery carts.
Forget Fifth Avenue, or the Villages,
or the cobblestone streets of young and old,
or the unseen gates of Striver’s Row.
Your heart lies by the subway stations
that ring with the songs of a lonely old man,
his teeth yellowed, but voice golden,
asking not for introductions nor coin,
but for a listener.
New York, they cry for you to hear them.
(Your poor, your tired, and your weary)
Bowery, 6.13.15.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
i. Here, there is sand in your mouths when you kiss. Sweat and long hair. A shared water bottle glinting in her hands. She finds a succulent plant and slices it open, drawing her finger through the clear gelatinous discharge it bleeds. She touches that finger to her cheek and glistens heavenly. You are dry heat desire and she is your oasis. You drink her with stinging eyes.
ii. In this place of neat grass and gridlocked streets, there is not much to do except make chains of wildflowers for her neck and yours. There’s no one around to hear you tell each other how you feel. You feel like a sparkler, so you say so. Like a lit match. Condensed brilliance. She holds your hand in the middle of paved suburban wasteland, squeezes it three times. You know what she’s saying. You say it back.
iii. She draws your initials in condensation clinging to subway glass, while you thunder beneath the metropolis in claustrophobic darkness. You can’t see all of her in the changing light, just fragments. Her lower lip. Her nose. Her jaw, holy. The city makes your want electric. Her mouth on the edge of a cheap coffee cup and crowds jostling the two of you together. Curry and gasoline and the sapphire smell of her hair. Adoration in alleyways and open streets. Here, you can be two girls in love and the world will not punish you for it. Here, you blow her a kiss and a bearded old man says che dio ti benedicta. Bless you.
iv. To love her in the mountains is dizzying. High altitudes and mist. Leaves caught in her hair. When you stand at a precipice and look out, she photographs you without you noticing, dilating the lens to catch the rosy burn of your cheeks above your wool scarf. She finds you painfully becoming like this. You against the violent, beautiful sky. You in love and unhidden. Her heart is thumping as fast as yours when you turn and move into her, wrapping her up as if she were some ephemeral thing, a moonbeam from a passing orbit. Together, you breathe the thin blue air.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 2:14 PM UTC
In the schisms of light changes,
Between the honking horns of crying babies
And angry mothers,
The cars hunched in anticipation
Like the smoker’s tongue rolling
Against the teeth for that nicotine speed.
A starry-eyed woman blinked with no destination
In her husband’s Bentley.
The rumbling is the crunching grind of helmets
In a pigskin scrimmage.
I can barely stand the
Stop-Go
Inch-Worming
Of brake-lights.
Car’s trembling is the twitching squirrel
Panic-caught in a lightsocket.
Even if the slim traffic-conductor
That burns like plastic on the fire
Yields us through like a coaxing father,
Hollow eyes don’t yield the lethargic feet.
Remnants of the second millenium’s gas-scorn,
Our can-do attitudes goad our chariots to
Hack
And
Spit
Dust-Sludge in gridlocked gossip.
Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 11:45 PM UTC
Driving in on I-278
The world is in a hurry
When the skyline appears
The top of the Chrysler; The Empire State
A sea of mirrored glass and steel
Windows on the world
On the FDR
The East River by my side
Burnt out buildings stand hollow and haunted
And my mind is on you
Racing towards you through the gridlocked kaleidoscope
Five bridges surround me
Only one leads me to you
Wait for me… I am almost there
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 4:40 PM UTC
As you pour your first cup
think of me
as you check your makeup
think of me
as you sit gridlocked in traffic
think of me
and all day long at work or sick
think of me
As I do so think of you.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 6:23 AM UTC
Gridlocked teeth keep gritting
Blistered cheeks keep splitting
A ******* freak who keeps spinning
I think they think I'm thinking
My dreams are drowning
I think they think I'm quitting
Ice Giants wage war
My hands are losing
Mythical beings try science
My nerves are bruising
If my life was a string
Their theory would be confusing
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
The pterodactyls are screeching,
Flying circles at tree line level
The devil took yet another apprentice
To his obsidian lair, the core of
The earth has gained a new
Resident.
The sky is falling down,
There are shards of the glass
Ceiling embedded in the roof
Of my mouth, and I am screaming
A guttural sound
But only tattered feathers
Come flying out.
Meanwhile, the cars are screeching
Gridlocked, teeth bared for
Hundreds upon hundreds of miles
A variety of cigarettes are
Puffing out clouds,
A sea of brake lights are
Swimming around, shining brighter
Than the almighty sun
Glaring through the half
Cracked windows, blasting
Through the tinted lens covering
Half of every blank face
In town.
We are gridlocked, of course,
In more than just interstate traffic
The state of our economy is
Nothing short of tragic
Right and left look
More wrong
And wrong
Everyday, cannot
Keep up with the flip flopped
Politicians, a planet
Built on indecision
And blame, blame, blame
Still nothing has changed
The devil took yet another devoted
Student today.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 10:22 AM UTC
Maybe it's two years feeling lonely,
or I'm juiced from drinking way too much coffee.
But, when the Springtime shows its Joker's face,
I'm less likely to sneer and turn away
Than I was this time last year,
when I had lost all ******* bearing,
while I was swearing at the stars,
aping Oneida's* navigating.
And, now, I'm on the eastern side,
I'm walking slow, it's early morning.
I don't even want a brush,
to paint a blackout on the sun.
Well, I've had a few false starts,
I've made an art of second guessing.
Finally don't need a crutch
to clear the days of all their must.
'Cuz I think I'm aware, now...
that the frost is gonna thaw real fast
and trickle down
into the topsoil 'neath my feet.
Well, maybe we should lay off the whiskey,
or maybe it's two years in this city.
But, when the Winter creeps down 'round our heads,
we should welcome her just like a sneering friend.
'Cuz the other shoe will fall
and we'll be walking halfway barefoot.
Frozen roads'll get gridlocked,
we'll ***** for months that we can't stand it.
For now, I'm drifting through downtown,
I'm striding fast, it's early evening.
Ask a stranger for the time
and wonder what's been on your mind.
And I'm always running late
but make an art of playing catch-up.
I'll catch up with you next week,
we'll kick the pattern off repeat.
'Cuz lately I've been thinking...
that the frost is gonna thaw real fast
and trickle down
into the topsoil 'neath my feet
and green things up!
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
In a stirring river,
Garrotted by mud and each rusted carcass
dumped over the slow years -
The dredgers cut down
And saw the metal of a woman,
A frothy corruption, naked, open.
They prized her from the mire and saw the city
through the eyes of the sewer.
The Lady from the Thames.
Her skin broke when she flopped on board.
-
Caved in by the tumbling sky
and the air, dry like leather,
Caught in his throat.
The Kilburn high-rise walls peeled like fingers
and the cogs clicked to fast to bite back.
He turned to the sepia city
like new life
And looked for her.
River of time elapsed
churning up memory
Each gallon lurches grit and rot.
trolley and corpse shudder
Forward, backward.
Teasing in smashed bottle
She was young once.
Looked just like her mum.
'What a muddy little angel you are,
What a muddy little angel you are.'
Til the glitz, the cracking lips
bet on kindness.
'I remember being a girl -
I waited for my mother every morning -
She was smiling and never sad.'
The sunken root scratches for life
Underneath vast, forgotten hangers.
The widow maker sheds her bark
and keep pace with the smog.
Sees what we all don't know.
Lives where we all can't see.
In a squealing Kings cross they met,
He led her to a room with broken windows
and one swinging bulb,
She wasn't scared.
Dank Amazon.
The roots intertwine with wires
sprawling grip for sulking glass tress.
'I'm a cruel joke don't you see?'
As her eyes slowly rolled
'I'm sorry'
As her fist unclenched
'It sorry'
As her knees went limp
'I'm sorry'.
Belted up, un-silent night
Screeching myre, gridlocked light,
He left her in the silt
And to the sound of screaming vans,
Runs rabbit down the hole
The hiss 187, 187 from the radio.
Alive in neon puddles that shatter
Under his pounding feet.
-
It was her who the dredgers found and
As looked to her form and
As they looked to her cuts
They thought that
She was the river.
Just another smashed bottle,
Un-watered.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
The Moon sleeps and slips beneath the horizon,
while the sun wakes and takes its place in the sky.
I feel the warmth of its rays on my face,
and I feel her breath as she lays by my side.
My mind sparks and my heart begins to jump,
and when I finally roll over,
I'm met by her gaze.
Oh that expression she wears so right...
I shall awake to such perfection for the rest of my days.
And one by one,
the minutes fade,
the seconds stop,
time halts and everything becomes clear.
My thoughts, my feelings, my love, my purpose.
In her eyes I'm confirmed,
she deserves all of my years.
And as I lay there and marvel at her beauty,
she moves closer and sinks into my arms.
Her scent washes over me and surges through my body.
Here I am secure,
safe from all harm.
She's noticed my transfixed stare,
and she kisses my nose and whispers into my ear:
"I see the look of longing in your eyes,
so tell me, tell me everything you see, my dear."
That same bashful smile slithers its way across my face,
and I begin my reply:
I see two young kids so far in love they're lost in each other.
I see a first kiss and shy fingers meeting for the first time.
I see years of emotion and unexplainable feelings.
And I see gridlocked stares and naked bodies intertwine.
I see promises for the future and plans to the end of time.
I see a family ready to be brought to life.
I see our lives being brightened by the joy of living them together.
I see my first love.
I see my only love.
Apr 19, 2010
Apr 19, 2010 at 5:07 PM UTC
Do we inquire to just be heard? Or found?
For I thirst both!!
A movie, a toast, to all concupiscence!!
An attraction between Atlantis and mythology!!
An ideology,
Gleemed between twos kisses,
Where two benches shall be made one!!!!
A clasp tightend by staunch extremities!!!
One soul connection,
Two entities,
Unflawed by mans ***** delight!!!!
A tunneled heaven,
A table polite!!!
Musteth I gait this ill-fated terrain?
Where there's no love, yet all pains to come as womb grosings!!!!
Unrelenting!!!!
Disheartening it is to find mine other fragment,
Where no dialects cometh with mints,
No fridges to hold enduring magnet!!!!
Gridlocked I am to such erroneous enterprise!!!!!
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 6:34 AM UTC
Take a seat and settle in
The masquerade will soon begin
Fallen heroes and angels in the snow
I listen in and clutch the ropes
Gridlocked traffic lines the roads
Satellites are good to go
All the people cheering
For the man who breaks the ceiling
Astronauts who time forgot
Pioneers and cosmonauts
The hairs upon the dogs stand still
I feel a shiver and then a chill
The flowers withered in the gardens
Jet engines roaring
All systems go, the show is starting
I ****** a feather floating in midair
Frozen cold and solid, caught her icy glare
We're living proof of bitter days to come
Chase the rabbits down the holes they run
Hold the light don't let it go now
Grab the love don't let it slow down
Love, joy, grief, belief, hope, and fear
Seize the moment
Hold it dear
Don't let it end like this
Don't hold out waiting for the final kiss
Aug 20, 2020
Aug 20, 2020 at 12:56 PM UTC
The love between was escaping into
clogged gutters, each drilling sound
a shattered sound crumbling in fallen
syllables, a dangerous wave of
accelerations gone astray.
The stark sun that used to shine
inside our bedroom window was
slowly backing away into closed
infinities, gridlocked gates, a chamber
of backdrop kingdoms.
The scattered dishes overcrowding
the sink were filled with pain, lingering
in abandoned dreams, as I stared at
their smeared appearance, damaging
reflections driven stone cold grey.
Burnt picture frames hung in a cell of
confined chains, drenched dungeons,
crouched corners, an empty existence
wrinkled and strained. My heart was
frozen underground and shoveled,
stripped and scraped, a dragging
depiction like an old man, like
a slow ticking clock, like weather-beaten
tires.
I could see the blackened trees beating
against the windowsill, a smashed
soul growing numb in dull hours,
hopeless innocence, ghostly planes
of hazy boulevards, rusted bitten
leaves turning pale, as I stepped
towards the kitchen sink, my hands
pressed against the surface of the glass,
embracing the rotating rhythms of
bone breaking beats.
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 1:20 AM UTC
you can tell when someone
has never stroked curly hair--
never pinched a sea wave between
their fingers, been gridlocked on
a Sunday, never been held in place
by a ringlet, blissfully stranded in a
net like a fish, wide-eyed and gasping
fully expectant of what's to Come.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 8:47 PM UTC
Bodies replicating displacement,
twisted growths
Streaming up walls
that separate and segregate
The once spacious and spontaneous.
Brimming past allotted space,
Gridlocked in a postmodern wasteland
Deprived of wonder,
no ability to wander.
Stretching,
aching to escape the odds,
The masses stacked against each other,
wrapped in suffocating saran.
Plastic and detached
We clamor for peace
As they bury the hatchet
Separating bone and flesh
De-spining our fragile backs
In an effort to preserve class.
They tie us up on strings
For an elaborate show,
Distractions make us feel we’re in control.
Puppets and human beings
Become indistinguishable.
A pre-allocated placement
only masked by possession.
This land of the free is weighted
towards the monetary security
of them,
Never us.
So will we,
modern day slaves
of the service industry
placidly toil to please their every need?
No, indeed
The chosen few will turn back,
Ready to be trampled
by the stampede of society.
Itching within,
beneath skin and muscles
through blood vessels and malleable marrow,
All vibrating in frustration
and we will exclaim
with little more owned than our given names,
We are no longer
willing to play survivor,
fighting against our neighbor
To climb this invisible ladder.
We’re digging through the ********
elbow deep
and dredging up with two clenched fists
The forgotten sediment of rebellion.
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 8:11 PM UTC
In frozen terrain
with ash set ablaze
we stand together
through chilling nights
and searing days
Two forlorn war torn refugees
cribbing messy illustrations
of listless ****** creeps
hanging out on the back balconies
watching aimless graveyards
where cyber-gridlocked dissidents
reluctantly go to die
But we remain
and through the strain
the wrong side of history stares us down
with viper haired stone sober gaze
We ignore their judgement
and thirty pieces of silver
and instead scrape together
fists full of dollars and hopes
of change
to guard against
their pointless mutual choke point
when they absurdly perceive
our attempted dignity
and fragile windowsill garden
as signs of sinister takeover
Even as it all collapses at their necrosis
riddled feat they
diminish and return
Assets freeze and insults burn
threatening to bring forth
the death part
of that 'until death do us part' line
before we ever had a chance
to make that pact
Still
in the grim twilight of anguished
frostburn soliloquy
whispered by a tired world
begging to expire
You will always be
a godsend
and my reason to survive
against the fury
of a planet besieged
by endless storms
of ice and fire
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 1:59 PM UTC
The bin-men and bin-women
of Birmingham
are on strike.
Black bin bags barricade the streets,
decaying vegetables
rotting meat
and putrid fish
perfume the pavements:
an odour brewed
in the vat
of spending cuts.
In the park
families picnic
between discarded
takeaway boxes:
their children chase
windblown paper towels
round an assault course
of half-empty cola bottles.
Rats big as cats
prowl the roads
like tigers
and eat car wires
bringing the city to
a stinking, gridlocked stop.
Jun 5, 2025
Jun 5, 2025 at 12:53 PM UTC
Can you hear the music inside you, the instruments of pure passion?
I can see it in your heart
Beams overhead singing deeply, warming and glowing
You are merely the product of my dreams
I hang sweeping this fog alone and icy
Swallowing these purple and red words, pale and invisible
And my chest opens to you, but to you my heart is invisible
I can feel my soul trembling, can you sing to it with passion
Can you hold my heart in your fingertips, cold and icy
smelling the goats and strong and mature bark, dancing with my heart
How can I forget you, when all the time I spend with you is in my dreams.
Load this gun and place your passion in the chamber and watch me fade; glowing.
Can you feel my heart glowing?
Do your eyes penetrate my soul, or am I invisible?
Can you trap my thoughts and steal away my dreams?
Can you share your light and spend some of it on me, enlighten me with your passion
Take my heart
Can you sing to it, can you defrost it, it is icy.
Be like a thief and steal me away, take my heart, and the shadows that are icy
Your bag of hearts you have stolen, deadly and glowing
These souls tormented by you also, you hang their heart
And still, I remain invisible?
I scratch at this cage, haunted by what – your passion
Let me lay here still and die in my dreams.
Why do I continue to hope, why can I only have dreams?
This aisle is deadly, gridlocked and icy
Submissive to the heights of your words in passion
Take my feet here and steal, your footprints are glowing
Mine are – to you- invisible
But they lay down structures for my heart
And so, I beg you, don’t steal my heart
Let me rest and hope in my dreams
Make yourself invisible
Cold and icy
Leave the shadows glowing
And leave me alone, struck by passion
Just let me go, you have struck this chord and left me with passion
You have left my heart glowing
And now I shall sleep again, cold and icy.
Nov 1, 2024
Nov 1, 2024 at 10:37 AM UTC