"impassable" poems
Life’s moments and happenings are like little thieves
They don’t want any money
They still take it
Putting salt on cracked lips, stealing the warmth of a heart
Sobs resonate in lonely halls
Everything reeks
Of lifeless dust
Even darkness can’t fight them off
Or push away the pain
The cold, swift figures taste like hatred
Longtime friend with the soul of a sister
Offers a consoling embrace
It bleeds good feelings
Now they want our money
Thieves aren’t fair, nor logical
No rhyme
No reason
Life’s a poorly written song
Bad music *****
The bold melody clashes
With its vague accompaniment
We didn’t want them so we welcomed them
‘There must be some way out of here’
Said the joker to the thief
I don’t think there is any way out
The precious tokens of life should be protected
By an army of mindlessly trained children
Who fall in love with the thieves
Whose forgiving minds omit the fear
Thieves call us easy
We are forever sobbing
Cries heard only by past selves and invisible belongings
When we prove we are great
And pass impassable tests
Everything will return
We aren’t capable of such feats
Our memories sing us haunting songs
We cry out with our salty lips
And empty hearts
Robbed of any motivation
Robbed of any care
Robbed of love
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 8:41 PM UTC
Part of me says stay small, part go big
Part says eat your fill, part don’t pig
Kenko says: long life brings many shames
I say the gray sky brings winter, no blame
The impassable mountains we revere
Moderate the force of wind and water
Get the cement truck into the refrigerator
We shall honor all of life sooner or later
Anything can happen if you don’t resist
To get lucky you gotta be careful first
You discover dying’s much like living
Who should I thank for the pity of things?
O to have the smile of a lover
Who wouldn’t rather be elsewhere!
Jun 13, 2023
Jun 13, 2023 at 6:23 AM UTC
There’s a dark grotto
Under the sea
With shelves and shelves
Of bottles
Clear, glass bottles
All of my secrets
A carefully watched castle
The middle of a concentric series of impassable walls
Surrounded by a forest of kelp
With razor-sharp teeth
And then the narwhals
The narwhal guards
Armed to the teeth with halibut-slicing knives
Their three-meter horns
Gleaming in the moonlight
Guarding
All of my secrets
Skeletons, trespassers of yore,
Strewn about the seafloor
Bones picked clean
By the scavenging *****
No one can enter
No one can leave
The grotto with the shelves
Shelves and shelves of clear, glass bottles
All of my secrets
But as for the *****
For the first time in centuries
The sunlight warms the waters
Melts the kelp
Kisses the narwhals
Buries the bones and torments the scavengers
Clearing away the darkness
A nonstop route through the castle
Protecting
All of my secrets
The tendrils of photons creep along
Wary
Ready for a fight
The grotto growls menacingly
Unguarded
For the first time in centuries
But upon the first touch -
Light meets stone -
The sea shudders
Ecstasy
And in repayment for salvation
Out come the bottles
Floating to the surface
Bathing in the light
All of my secrets
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 3:20 PM UTC
You tell her you love her
she says "I know I can see it in your eyes"
you look into hers and beneath the aqua blue
you can see she loves you too.
But she won't say it. She just turns her head and bites her lip.
She's not supposed to say it.
Willpower is something I strip off nonchalantly baring my naked soul
she zips hers up and holds it tight, she's not ready to be free
You share a visible yet impassable love
a beautiful gift kept tied in a bow, never for the world to open
Two stars floating in the universe meant to collide
yet always passing each other by
Chemically balanced, but time is never on your side
The sparks fly spitting out flames
but never catching fire
All that remains is a shorted circuit
because she never could be free.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
I've hit a wall lately
A wall so tall it seems impassable.
I wake up daily to it encompassing my bed.
Making waking up a test of endurance.
Once I'm passed that, there's just another wall.
Around social interactions, work, moving, and to be honest.
It's all just ******* walls.
Walls I thought I broke down, that are now 10x as big.
Did I mention my fear of heights?
I take pills that are supposed to help,
and they do, but these halflives are nothing compared to these walls.
They're made not of cement but of sentiment and wicked dreams.
Thoughts of all the horrible options that could be.
Thoughts of a depressed self and a depressed spouse.
"You think the kid can tell?" That I'm loosing my grip?
That I'm terrified of the monsters under the bed?
I'm immobilized by my own mind like a car tire boot on my will to try.
Wish someone would tow me off to oblivion.
Or at least a place I could relax.
I'd modestly ask for just a few moments escape.
From all these walls
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 9:16 AM UTC
Keeping your mouth shut is a vaccine that has found an actual guest
Be reckless, say whatever you wish
for-They're incapable of killing the living
When did they depart
It wasn't in there off the impassable thicket.
We touch uninterrupted by the silent wasps
A trolley and a bus sinking in the sand
through the earth to join together
She nonchalantly left the lock
off of her worthless garbage to come,
three dull eternities,
and an undead caress;
what more do you want!
It is done, no more to come
less days of our *******
going too slow, too slow to not see bottom
plenty of antidote for every venom
You will never be in the way,
always in the picture,
Don't go, I'll listen all the way,
That doesn't mean you'll stay
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 4:04 PM UTC
(monsoon moments 1)
The lively colors of summer have faded
Blazing May afternoons have ended,
Clear skies are now ash-blue, sometimes blae
Blooming with soggy grayish ***** of cotton,
Ever ready to burst with crystal drops...
Monsoon winds blow.......then rain follows
Big, heavy, noisy raindrops hit the roof,
They pour longer........inundate the streets
Making them impassable.......................but
I'm raring to be out there when it falls,
Let its cold touch, give me goose bumps...
And waken every nerve in me...
Let it wash away the heat and humidity from my body
Let its steady flow, drench my short hair, flat to my skull,
Let it compress my long-running indecision: do I, or do I not?
I'd wait for all these to slide down and join the wet ground
For, I want to walk around....soaking wet, and barefooted,
Feel the grass.......subservient to the downpour
I want to dip and wiggle my toes in the softened soil,
'til floodwater reaches my ankle
'til I'm one with earth and water
And then I...
Would feel unburdened,
When I come in
From the rain...
Sally
Copyright June 9, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 9:46 PM UTC
Tired
Brain spits words in fits and starts
The internal running commentary misfiring badly
Ideas stuck in bottlenecks
Traffic backed up and down the on-ramps
Leading off the congested thoughtways
Tired
Stormwater overflow pours out of blocked drains
Sidling up the gutters of fallen leaves
And other assorted detritus of modern existence
Spewing out over footpaths and under cars
And over the tops of the boots of downtrodden dawn treaders
Tired
Mountain pass impassable under it’s mercurial precipitate mask
Features only glimpsed in snatches
Like looking through a white picket fence while running
Thought trees bunching up around the middle
Warping under the sun and the scrutiny of others
Tired
Collapsing under the weight of the wave function
Subatomic particles currently in a state of nonexistence
Abandoned altogether by the Higgs, thoughts vibrate and dissipate
In extraordinary frequency and noise
Drowned out by the audible hum of the big bang
Tired
As if running a marathon in treacle
Start with a whimper then dribble to a halt
Running barefoot on salt flats
Or over pillows in stilettos
More time spent on face than feet
Tired
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more
The court jester prances for the Big Queen *****
And her merry King of Fools with his band of merry drunkards
Quickly losing the point of it all
As words start tumbling down in random order
Staccato signal messages like binary or Morse code
Information overload threatens to upend the boatload
Like the military dumping refugees into the harbour
Buckle up armour and wait for the onslaught
Of somnatic visions, twisted psychedelic impressions
Land mine concussions in the fevered dreams of veterans
Who witnessed limb torn from limb
In the name of something nobody remembers
Lose their tempers and start a war on home turf
Jungles petrified into concrete monstrosities that blot out the sun
From the flowers that feed in the cracks of the pavement
Everywhere bereavement and none shall take leave
From the cold, impassive logic of Death
Who comes knocking as you read this
Wired
No chance of sleep now
This is why one shouldn’t write poetry late at night
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 12:41 AM UTC
ONE CRISP NIGHT in mid October, we went down the old fisherman’s trail, where the mountains meet the lake. This was before the trail had been maintained and tossed with wood-chips and at the time, it was a narrow mangled dirt path sporting thick roots and fist sized rocks at every twist and turn. You’d be foolish to not carry a headlamp and flashlight, for the woods were nearly impassable without them. We knew this, and we came well prepared even thought stumbling at points on the trail was inevitable. When we came to the light clearing in the trees, which was brushed with pine and spruce, and the tallest oak tree I’d ever seen, we sat down on two logs. They were wet through, and covered in patches of lichen and moss. Insects crept through the rotted wood, and night moths fluttered in the still air. Though half the world was asleep in their beds, and would stay that way till morning, the forest was wide awake under the crunching maple leaves.
We marveled out at the round moon, bright and pale in the sky. It hung regally, while it’s light shone upon the lake’s dark waters, holding our faces, holding the mysteries of the universe and the answers to any question we might have. Cradled by the natural world, we were. I’ve never felt as protected, since then, as I did that one night. It was as if Mother Earth cradled me in her own ancient hands.
Sep 17, 2021
Sep 17, 2021 at 3:58 PM UTC
braced against the brittle winds
no voice in the twisting swirling dance of falling snow
no traveller in the dark
no footprints decorate the expanse
the small golden light of the candle in the window
the silhouette of the mountains encasing this quiet place
from which no road or path leads
with no tale or ***** song to comfort the traveller
seem impassable
to even stout hearts
here in the small cabin
with only the light as companion
with the tenuous hours drawn thin
awaiting the breaking of dawn
awaiting the beauty of day to find its way
to my doorstep
with fleet footsteps
guide me on the trek
to find her warm hope filled hand
to find my way to that lover i searched a lifetime for
i know your out there
my sweet one
my world in your hands
i will never stop seeking your arms
a true haven in this valley of shadows
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 6:14 AM UTC
star of infant light within my chest:
shriek not as you do, shear not the rope
that wound me round this stake at self's behest
and lit the flame and poured the oil, alone.
for coring out the essence of the fruit -
that which by none is truly named -
will ruin it, tamed and mild the beast then broods,
never to recognise its place nor Wild retain.
cruelty impassable? no: taste of Truth,
like glistening auburn leaves, the chapel glass,
chopin breathing in your room, sunrise from roofs,
a boon from chance, air pregnant ere the fact.
deprive me, flickering star, of mystery fire
and watch the world compress (and i expire).
May 23, 2011
May 23, 2011 at 9:10 PM UTC
They say I'm crazy
I say, I became
exactly what I was fed with
They call me a criminal
I call myself
A merchant!
They say I'm impassable
I say they are ignorant
and I forgive them
knowing
That Struggle
I willingly take
is not
in vain
conscious
that they over time
will forgive
maybe even praise
the pounding I took
for us...
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 9:18 PM UTC
For the unworthy stands forgiveness
and judgment, impassable
for the weak stands pity
and the shame, substantial
for the sad stands comfort
and loneliness, impenetrable
for one, I don't supply
the type of emotion needed for such an arrangement
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 10:47 PM UTC
I know I’m meant to feel like the world is an oyster I have yet to crack, like the guts and savory things of life lie just beyond this seemingly impassable barrier of youth.
I am meant to love myself to love others, expected to be grown up but humble; for I am a child in a room full of adults whose legs are trees and I am a sapling not tall enough to reach the rays of sunlight that are experience and wisdom. But how am I to grow if you keep me in the shade. When will I be tall enough if you starve me with words of discouragement, deny me the promise that something lies beyond the world I know now. How will I ever reach for the skies when you tell me this is the best it gets. That I should be grateful for the lack of responsibility I have.
“Oh hush little sapling, you know nothing of the world beyond this grove.” But I know what it feels like to have storms sweep through, I have felt lightning on my skin as I witness injustice, and shameful rain as I stay rooted to the ground. I beg of you let me through! Part your branches so I may shoot forward into the sky, sing me songs of luck as I climb higher and higher, no longer sapling but great redwood, my skin may grow rough but I will grow richer; in all the things one needs for happiness. Rich in love. Rich in passion. Rich in character and empathy.
I will relish those savory things of life as they spill out before me, work to catch them before they are swallowed up by the unfortunate decomposition that happens to all missed opportunities.
And when you are tired and sunburnt, let me give you shade as you gave me, a great redwood child holding the sun up with her branches and the world down with her roots.
Mar 9, 2020
Mar 9, 2020 at 11:04 PM UTC
We have become a nation of Tennessee fainting goats,
muscles freezing in the panic of social discord,
poised on the cusp of dread, eyeing a mass grave.
In the end no one really dies, the only dilemma being unpardonable
poverty, needless hunger and children born with drug addiction,
pawns in a chess game of life lacking raison d'etre.
And shall I live my span leaving no mark upon history?
What occlusion obstructs human decency in this land of riches,
barricades the impassable gulf, as if echoing a distant waterfall?
I have walked this sidewalk to where it ends and seen the destitute.
How the poet in me shudders and like the fainting goat,
collapses in the sadness of our mutual story, our personal holocaust!
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 9:03 AM UTC
Just let these feelings
sit inside
and subside
let the tried and true
come to you
through the two
rules of this life
One
there is no rival
for love
Two
there is no love
if you can't face it
embrace it
UPPER CASE IT
because if you can't
give it
than prepare to live
a life
of receiving but not having
and traipse the edge of the knife
sort of like
a tightrope act
walked until cracked
in half complete
on cold concrete
with no one to say
goodbye to.
No-one would even remember you.
Love is the lens we see ourselves through
and it will all, one day, come into focus.
None of this 'meet and greet' hocus pocus,
life is an encounter
that you step up our back down to
but if you can come up,
then you will not go back down, you
are ten seconds of sunshine
in a night where no-one can find
anything,
you are the something,
you are the exception
we connect ourselves by strings
like hearts made of tin
there will be lonely days
when the path ahead
splays out like
a million highways.
But you can be a moonbeam
by which everything that would seem
impassable,
insurmountable
like boot set in dirt
so hard it takes up root
all these things
become moot
when held to your radiance
because there are gradients
in all life's creatures
but the greatest teachers
ever summoned to our side
will be our reflection
in the pond
do not abscond from this sight
you will die...
if you do not fight.
Alright?
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 1:37 AM UTC
He says pessimistic attitude will take me nowhere in this life
The way a solitary setback becomes an impassable obstacle solely because of my reaction to it
Howling at unfairness of reality and the trouble it tosses my way ever so frequently
With raw negativity that overpowers any sound advice or reason
Understanding my perspective an achievement nearly impossible to unlock
And deep down know he is correct
I silently resign to a few sighs as I try to turn my point of view around
My head is stuck
Stubbornness is the glue trapping my thoughts in a bubble of cynicism
Jun 21, 2021
Jun 21, 2021 at 10:04 PM UTC
The eroding sea has vicious teeth.
Destroys the endless rocks.
Making doorways impassable to man or beast.
Urging fishes on.
Families watch from cliff top edges as sea trawls on and on.
Ebb and flow online of shore.
Sea swirls around the Lulworth rocks.
As christened "Durdle Door"
(C) LIVVI
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 3:40 PM UTC
The million mirror faces
Of the specialized class
Where do you sleep at night?
Who ships whispers to your ear?
Is there a soul even in there?
Does not knowing allow for all this
All of this
To go on
Born atop a mass grave
Of scrap book photo albums
With faces human
But not an empathetic note
Of humanity
Left inside me
The task is too great
The rules were written in blood
Which has dried and turned
Black as the present ink
Where are we headed?
Where would we even go?
How do so many go on living like this?
How do I go on when I know I know so little?
Life is choice
And choice is a life
God gave us both
One and the same
Hallowed out like a
Grandfather
Red wood tree
Who watches his children
Be chopped to bits and
Pieces
For the enjoyment of our young's
Smokes and
Policies looked at
(By eyes of grey and marble)
And deemed impassable
The ladder is not ours to climb
The ladder is an illusion
They have built only a
Noose and thrown in a
Complimentary
Thick brown rope
You ask yourself, "Where do I start?"
You ask yourself, "When can I stop"
You ask yourself,
"When the eyes have finally
Opened,
When will I know?"
You will know
When it is the end
And
The beginning
And nothing
Has a
Name
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 12:27 AM UTC
I dreamt
I was beside
you
We were
on the coast
of Lantana
You got up
dressed
and looked
The ocean
was grey
and calm
The waves
ebbing
slowly
Your stomach
was flat
and shimmered
then
you walked
away
I sat
motionless
and gazed
Visions assault
but my eyelids
were closed
A boat
on the
horizon
A wall
being built
behind me
An old lover
stared at me
from the stars
An impassable
cloud lingered
in my head
Clarity
shone through
the rain
I got up
turned
shocked
The wall
was higher
than me
You were
gone, but
I hear you
I walked
into the sea
arms crossed
A cool breeze
struck me
on the face
My feet hit
the ocean
and curled
It was warm
and turned
into blue
I continued
until I
was submerged
Jan 26, 2010
Jan 26, 2010 at 12:04 PM UTC
Longing lingers
like the smell of bonfire smoke
sealed in clothing and hair
Its the feeling for not forgotten moons
silently orbiting cloaked in midnight shadow
Wayward romances
with no tongue able to explain
why the open road suddenly narrowed and turned overgrown,
an impassable bramble of thorns
causing an undergrowth of unanswered questions
and muted yearnings
Hopeless Romantics,
how many heartbroken fill the ranks of the fallen legion
growing like spring corn to be cut down in Autumn,
giving their body to feed another,
Still,
a foolish day dreamer might escape
to the short rows awhile,
evading the sickle
Fire dancers born chasing flames,
honor bound to be burnt,
the skin bubbling and boiling sitting so close to the hearth,
yet these scars are precious demarcations of the heart,
where once possibility stretched endless before rosy eyes
like summer fields of wildflowers,
Wisdom knows that the wilderness must end somewhere,
although it waits to sprout beneath all,
yet there is sad magic in never looking around the bend,
not walking through the last stand of trees
to preserve the illusion of the forever forest
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
i feel so artificial
i need to break down the barrier
the wall is in my way
impassable
it can't be broken
it can't be broken
it's been there so long
since before we remember
can it be gone
no
it can't be broken
it can't be broken
i pace to and fro
banging on the wall
i want to bring it down
it won't oblige me
it can't be broken
it can't be broken
my feet begin to falter
they curl up beneath me
i'm defeated
i retreat back inside
it can't be broken
it can't be broken
Feb 2, 2010
Feb 2, 2010 at 10:57 AM UTC
One winter day
I felt my skin grow cold again
Against the old, familiar wind
So I prepared to descend
Into the dark and dreary street
I had taken so many times before
But this time
I was wrong
For though I turned toward the alley that led
Me always into my sadness
I found that I could not go far
The block had become impassable
By strength not my own
And this, was to my great surprise
Many times had I dreamed
That I would be unable
To wander down the dark lane
But for many years I had
Been disappointed
But now to find, the alley closed
I felt an enduring heat
Not a bright hot flame that often leaves
But a burning ember, steady
I do not know how long the passage
Will be blocked and impassable
But for now glad am I
The dream I dreamt, for time unmeasured
Has broken into reality.
(theinkthatspeaks.blogspot.com)
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 12:45 AM UTC