"hijacks" poems
We treat our hearts like fighters,
12 rounds trapped in the fear cage inside.
Pride be our fuel, anger our lighters,
Our souls wastelands with nowhere to hide.
Ego hijacks our common sense,
Making shallow love our prize.
Emoting makes our minds go tense,
Until help screams out from our eyes.
The leaps and bounds we **** ourselves for,
Isn't enough to keep our hearts at bay.
Nothing will ever even the score,
There are no words they can simply say.
So why do we put ourselves through hell?
Why can't we just swallow our pride?
Because love is a feeling they just want to sell,
And in debt there's no place to hide.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 5:28 PM UTC
*It is the Sabbath, and I am pleased to fulfill this high mitzvah and lead you to Paradise. It is the Sabbath and Shekinah Queen floating over you waiting to take you. It is the Sabbath and your beautiful ******* distil in my mouth honey of your secrets.
Tent of all Mysteries is your magnificent body. Your skin is my scroll and your follicles as the letters that God wrote on your magnificente skin and your belly adorned with my kisses. Hieroglyphs are your tattoos, sphinxes puzzles, the codices of the angelic scribe, the Angel of the Face, keeper of all secrets.
Destil out the liquor of your illuminated Vergel and feeds my world, like dew dripping morning. It is the Shabbat and your river flows now from your Eden to water my spirit. I hijacks thoughts your perfume. It incense aroma of your garden.
It's the Shabbat and already prophesies thy mouth the voices of Celestial Academy, whispering in my ear your high pleasures at the apex of your ****** revealing your messiah, your hidden light, creator of all my miracles.
It is the Sabbath and your Tantra connects the earth and the heavens, as a mystic linhame fabric with your esoteric moans. It's the Shabbat and you are the my highest mitzvah, the most sacred precept.*
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
you are a fractal
in a sea of branches
you are the air between
the dust that spirals in the sun streams
the decimal point in the equation
the dividing line between oblivion and infinity
you are a loose end
fraying
made of left over dry skin
you are the chemical
you poison my drinking water
you are
the secret ingredient
the last place they'd ever look
you are
the dark matter
the imaginary number I can't wrap my head around
you cure my melancholy
we are
alveoli
we breathe fire
seen through telescopes
we believe we are alone
we'll believe anything they tell us
they won't love you
they can't see you
you are too much
they'd never understand
you don't give
what you don't receive
you give life
as you breathe through me
I see you when my eyes close
I trace your shape on frosted windows
you spark the fire that hijacks my biology
you draw upon my skin with ***** fingernails
your handwriting is embedded in my DNA
your name echoes still
unfamiliar voices without faces
your secret's safe with me
hidden in massive outer space places
untraceable
mastermind configuration
takes ages just to give up out of frustration
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 2:53 AM UTC
On a smooth cushion of silken air
I stand moderately off kilter.
We are elated and healed
Everyone is astounded.
We stood there like living sculpture,
We fed each other hope and affection.
I will kiss you eternally
I will never treat you like a slug.
On a smooth silken cushion of air,
Standing moderately off kilter
I don't get rude comments,
From adults, strangers, enemies and teenagers.
Everyone greets us with Hello, hello.
And then laughter hijacks my mouth.
You have been unshackled
Their death, my life, our cradle,
Our bodies, our souls unfettered.
On a smooth silken cushion of air
We will lay, moderately off kilter.
Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 9:42 AM UTC
anxiety is a terrorist
who holds me at gun point
and hijacks the plane that
i should be flying.
i don't know where we're headed
or what i'm going to do.
i am not safe on my own.
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 3:30 PM UTC
If we are puppets,
Then sleepiness
Is a dangerous
Puppeteer.
He creeps up on you
And hijacks your
Mind and body
Your eyes are closing
Your body feels heavy
Your head may drop off
Anytime
Your shoulders are drooping
Your feet are weary
Your back supports you
No more
Your head is swaying
Your body is aching
Oh how you wish you were
In bed
*You can’t hear properly
You can’t speak properly
You don’t care
Anymore...*
...he whispers in your ear
And this is when
Sleepiness
Slips you onto
His puppet strings
And starts to sway
Your bearings
One, two
One, two
You plod on
Left, right
Left, right
Your vision starts to spin
*You can’t hear properly
You can’t speak properly
You don’t care
Anymore...*
...he whispers in your ear
Continuing on
Your way
You know what you’re doing
But yet, don’t notice
Anything
Around you
Until that loud beep
Jolts you from your sleep
And brings you out of
The puppeteer's spell
The puppet strings
Are broken
And you are left
To face reality
The fact that you could've should've
Died
*You can’t hear properly
You can’t speak properly
You don’t care
Anymore...*
...he whispers in your ear
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 5:53 AM UTC
party pooper hijacked the heart throb,
the party progressively got rotten-
till the day break.
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 1:15 PM UTC
anxiety kicks down the door
and holds you at gunpoint-
he, who is the most unforgiving of all,
does not care where you come from,
what you’re doing, who you’re with.
he hijacks the system. he takes over
the plane you were trained to fly. he
is a terrorist who you cannot escape
from and you cannot imprison.
you are not safe in your body.
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC
Do not talk to me of your version of God
One that personifies God by egoistic mind
For ego by definition is Exit God Out
For your personification of God
Does not resonate with my knowing of God
The hell you believe I will burn in
Is the heaven I will transmute all my sins in
The hell you believe I live in
Is my route to heaven
The hell you believe in
Will drawn you in an ocean
Of guilt and shame
Keep your fears to yourself
I can no longer entertain them
Do not talk to me of God
When you want me to silence my soul
God can never be silenced by your egoistic minds
Let me redefine for you ‘كفر’ *
Let me redefine for you ‘blasphemy’
It is being a slave to your ideas
It is being a slave to your mind
It is being a slave to your concepts
It is being a slave to your fears
I am not here to be a slave to human minds
I am here to be a slave to my creator
His breath gave life to my body
I am not here to worship your fearful mind
I am here to worship my creator through my heart
Do not talk to me of God
When you refuse me the right
To exercise my divine gifts
Do not talk to me of God
When you rob me from free will
Divinely gifted to me at birth
Do not talk to me of God
When you rob me from exercising
The gift of freely speaking my mind
Do not talk to me of God
When you forbid me from listening to my heart
Yet forcefully enslave me to your mind
Do not talk to me of God
When you fail to accept me
Do not talk to me of God
When you vilify my shadows
Do not talk to me of God
When you fail to see my divinity
Do not talk to me of God
When you deprive me
From the experience to witness
The limitless capacity of my body
Do not talk to me of God
When you reject parts of me
Yet God accepts all of me
Do not talk to me of God
When you fail to forgive me
While God offers me eternal forgiveness
Do not talk to me of God
When you abandon your son after he sins
For the God I know
Will never forsake his son
Nor shame him for his sins
Nor will he love him less
For the sins he does is the forgetting of self
When one acts against his self
Do not talk to me of God
When you fail to embody his love
For you have yet to know God
If you still refuse to embody his divine qualities
Do not talk to me of God
Till you reflect his unconditional love, grace, mercy, forgiveness and acceptance
Do not talk to me of God
When you sexualize my body that he has created
Do not talk to me of God
When you shame my body
For the sacred red fluid that flows out of me
The body that gives birth to his creation
Do not talk to me of God
When you separate me
From divine creations
Do not talk to me of God
When you justify killing
Yet vilify love making
Do not talk to me of God
When you normalise violence upon his creations
Yet shame the pleasures of love between his creations
We will not be silenced
By the barbaric volumes of your egoistic minds
Our divinity can never be a slave to your fears
You can not fears us into enslavement
Our divine faith runs deeper than the fears that hijacks your minds
Let us love each other
While we both try to experience God
Let us love each other
While we both try to understand God
Meanwhile I swim in the ocean of grace where hell does not exist
Thank you for being here - NwK
Oct 5, 2024
Oct 5, 2024 at 10:15 AM UTC
bat flies out of the night into
my headlights
loops in draculan arc
it is 4 o clock in the
dark in the maze where my
heart knows no clock
the radio is singing a lesson in
lost love where the wires
buzz and intersect
animal notes in the streets
metal on the field of my tongue
hijacks your signal
like a surprise flight of bat
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 4:07 AM UTC
Nobody reads this **** so I'm just gonna start typing. Why not? Freudian automatic writing is an old psychological gold standard, though I guess we can't really be sure how useful it is to analysis these days. Oh well, perhaps some illuminating nugget of insight into the complex inner workings of the human psyche will emerge from a later re-visitation of the text laid down here. Probably not... yeah, Freud was a strange one anyhow, he wanted to bone his mom, you know. He also loved ******* He once botched a neurological operation because he was too high, and then the patient came to him in a dream and blamed him. Of course, being the smelly old narcissistic cokehead that he was, he read some sort of esoteric meaning into the dream sequence and ignored his subconscious attempt at intervention. In light of this, it's probably worth asking if Freud is the type of person we really want interpreting our dreams... I always liked Jung better, anyway. That collective unconscious is some heavy **** man. The thought that there are disembodied essences of character traits called archetypes, living in a panpsychic mental manifold, of which your mind is a small adumbration makes some pretty awesome dinner table conversations... until your dad hijacks the conversation and directs it back to sports.
On that note... why are sports so popular? Baseball is boring as **** and boxing and football are barbaric. I always figured it had something to do with the human desire to act out our violent impulses, and the social constraints restricting us from doing so. Seems that with contact sports, people get to sublimate those urges by living them vicariously through the athletes. I wonder if revolution would come if we abolished sports. Lord knows, the people would need another hobby in light of that void in their leisure time. Maybe it would be political science, and we would finally realize how backward our government has become... nah, probably not. If sports were abolished, we would just go back to reality TV. **** there's another rant... **** this, I'm leaving.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 12:51 AM UTC
I Want to Hold Your Hand Poem
(6/16/2014)
I heard holding hands is what gives an angel its wings.
Maybe because they want to hold on so tightly,
that they need some help flying away.
They know they must go,
but don't know how to say no.
So does that explain why after we held hands the first time,
you disappeared?
Maybe you wanted to hold on.
Maybe you went to heaven,
because you didn't want the stars to see you cry.
So high above those celestial bodies you could do as you'd please,
and watch over me.
Maybe you felt...
the time, just might...
Maybe you were attracted to some other person's light,
Or maybe you were actually a devil in disguise.
One that rips wings off of angels
and traps them on Earth.
Watching with your hideous eyes,
as they hold hands with humans,
trying their hardest to fly.
While you feed off the fleeting might,
that causes their unstable plight.
Maybe you were a snake charmer,
and I, the instrument you played.
Like you could convince the sneaky shadow inside of me,
to slither out into the surface,
and convey its venomous intent,
ready to strike.
That's how you taught me to hold hands.
Maybe you were a tornado.
One that hijacks airplanes,
ripping apart houses,
and wreaking the most unnatural disaster,
that something so naturally beautiful could bring.
Maybe you held hands to stay on ground,
selfishly motivated to keep king status of your worldly mound
of dirt and keep yourself superior,
with the ability to stay,
due to simple saying "hey"
and seducing my hand to move your way.
So my angel,
Oh yeah, I'll tell you something,
I think you'll understand,
When I'll say that something
I wanna hold your hand.
I wanna hold your hand.
I wanna hold your hand.
Oh please, grow your wings
and fly away from me.
Oh please, please come save me,
I wanna hold your hand.
I wanna hold your hand.
I wanna hold your hand.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 4:11 AM UTC
Paralyzing uncertainty
Of things we haven't seen
Shadows of unknown origins
That invade our very dreams
Sometimes, it's the sounds
That go bump in the night
It hijacks our minds
And fills our hearts with fright
Imaginations run wild
As we shiver and we shake
Our voice has betrayed us
Not a sound can we make
Our eyes closed so tightly
As we cover up our heads
In fear of the monsters
That live beneath our beds
Imaginary footsteps
Keep timing with our heart
As their beats intertwine
Like two lovers far apart
The things that's in our closets
Scare our minds the most
It's filled with all our nightmares
Our goblins and our ghosts
The shadows then start fading
As the sun begins to rise
The darkness now is gone
And we open up our eyes
The room is suddenly void
Of nighttime's wicked intrusion
This, that's held us hostage,
Was simply an illusion
Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 9:58 AM UTC
and streaks my heart walls inky
intermittently
I don't want to keep
grieving the passed
it hijacks the now
it's all we have
just a string
of fleeting, fragile moments
with zero guarantees
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 11:25 AM UTC
Nostalgia hijacks unnecessarily
bleeding into a bloodless heart
where I feel peculiar
outside of my puppet body
the force dragging me to the next location
the next goal
the next unfulfilled dream.
I do not feel alive. I do not feel like I am breathing.
My stomach rises, but my hopes crash.
Every lock crunches together when I run into a bad thing
I shut myself off to protect myself
from an inevitable feeling that will not matter
once I'm beyond the earth
once I'm packed in a grave
and shipped off to the next meaningless life.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
Poetry bother me,
late night,
late in the day ,
does not matter!
.It Is a desire to *****
a new world,
a new thing
that makes me crazy,
Chases in bed ,
rips the mattress ,
I steal the covers,
I hijacks the pajamas.
.all Day bother me,
everyday,
all the time,
does not matter!
.A Poetry ****** me off
all the time,
robs me the second ,
the minutes , the entire clock.
**** with my calm ,
bare my soul ,
accentuates my anger
and stone me ,
.me Turns inside out ,
disrespects me ,
me frightens ,
***** me ,
.She Takes me
and you receive me as anecdote,
Sometimes you love me
and sometimes I hate me .
Poetry completes me ,
But never satisfy me .
So addiction me
this drug me anesthesia ,
.They Treat me like a *****
And ***** me mercilessly ,
smells all my powder
and leave me in bed , alone.
.Me Separates ,
Alienates me ,
Enslaves me ,
I still buries in life.
.Make me to be
Another toy,
poetry that complete me ,
But never satisfies .
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 9:57 AM UTC
Last night
I missed you so much
I made love to
your nightdress
... passionately.
Now your nightdress
hides from me
slinks under covers and pillows
avoids my eyes.
I can't take another night without you!
Your nightie can't take another night with me!
I am holding your dresses hostage
threatening them with kisses...caresses
if they make one false move.
Your other clothes
tremble in the wardrobe
...come back to me!
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 7:31 PM UTC
I am not ashamed.
I have survived the long, slow torment,
the only hell that is real,
the one that hijacks your mind,
steals away every thing that you love
and magnifies all of your fears innumerably.
I will not lie or hide myself away to appease you.
But instead, while you are judging me, too afraid to acknowledge your own darkness
I will have the courage to try again tomorrow.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 3:10 AM UTC
But he hijacks your mind, you see -
you start thinking
in pithy vignettes
and seeing ancient injustice
in a drunkard's bloodshot eyes
The universal
in the particular -
God, aye! Sheep
as avatars
for all society
and majesty in language
as it's spoken, and heard.
Then you imagine him
hiding other poets' books
behind his own
in Waterstone's in Dumfries,
and remember -
he's as human as you,
thank ****
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 6:53 AM UTC
Lay me down
Unveil my eyes to the world
Everything is blue
Blue poisons me
Underneath my taut bruised skin
Lies a mosaic of love
For you
Hatred for me
Don't let me breathe
The horizon hijacks your job of whisking my small ragged breaths away
The journey away from you
Burns my every step
Burns a hole in my heart
Hands clammy
Belly churning
Above the clouds
There is nothing but you
Occupying my deprived mind
Gazing down I see you in everything
Every beautiful view is you
On cold sticky dirt
Take a bath
Wash off our sins
Let the water turn black
My despair swirling clockwise
Your longing swirling anti-clockwise
Close but opposite
May nothing but death do us part
May death find you alive
For me
KG
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
the real woman
never leaves behind
the real woman
never lies inside
the real woman
never hijacks her eyes
the real woman
never denies
the real woman
it was you..
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 4:51 PM UTC