"impede" poems
I am blind
And I ain't blind
To the different social classes
And their faces
I try and try to be impartial
But my fears and preconceptions
Give way to prejudice of thought
Love and unity fill my mind
Yet when its time
To effect some change
My feet quiver
And words can't formulate
I want to tell my brethren
you are special to me
and I love you just the same
As anybody else
But I'm scared of what he will respond
Will he reject me as we are not the same
Will he embrace me and bring forth a seed of change
I am blind
And I ain't blind
To the disdain classes afford one another
Man threatens to discard the fact we're all the same
So I wonder
Can we look beyond facades
Strip it all down to our core
Don't we all want to feel the same
Maybe we can toughen up and take down the ranks
That impede us from becoming one-another's friend
Dec 3, 2010
Dec 3, 2010 at 2:57 AM UTC
What better human quality than generosity?
They say sharing is caring, who could disagree?
Sharing bread, sharing bed, sharing deep intimacy
Sharing souls, sharing hearts, sharing vulnerability
But a world without sharing is a world that stopped caring
Without care, love will fade and cause lack of compassion
Division of humankind, is what causes war of nations
Borders are border line, they impede freedom of roaming
Don’t you think it’s absurd how people will decide
How much they’ll share with you,
How much they’ll care for you
Depending on where you’re born or you reside
Whilst the truth is that we share - the same entire planet
Borders caused our division - and used us all as puppets
To get richer and be better than those outside our borders
Made us greedy, made us needy to increase our own possessions
Some might think sharing means - losing parts of what is yours
But where true love persists - all that is mine is also yours
Sharing doesn’t halve happiness; you’ll see it multiplies it
Possession is what grows greed and the bad weeds that surround it
Dec 15, 2021
Dec 15, 2021 at 5:26 PM UTC
Sailboat on a purple sea
Yellow skies are all she sees
Lonely Captain at the helm
Lord o’er all her ocean realm.
Sailboat on a purple sea
Sailing through Eternity
The yellow skies reveal her ardor
Searching for inlet or harbor.
Where she can safely drop her anchor
Without hostility or rancor
Stay forever, or a day
If on a whim she sails away.
To search again for other shores
Unmindful of the ocean’s mores.
Sometimes storms impede her course
Fill her journey with remorse
Thunder sounds a deaf’ning roar
Through driving rain, can’t see the shore
Lightning bolts around her flash
As if to call the Captain brash
For thinking that she has control
Over purple ocean’s vitriol.
If ever she regrets her plight
When yellow skies turn dark at night
And midnight storms have lead to loss
She rights the ship and bears the cross
And waits for morning dawn to break
Sun through last night’s rain will make
A rainbow reaching far away
Certainly it will show the way
To steer her sailboat that day.
Sailboat on a purple sea
Yellow skies are all she sees
Buoyant Captain at the helm
Lord o’er all her ocean realm.
PwL 04/21/15
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
Brick walls are incredible structures
The builder must realize the need for the wall,
then for many days must painstakingly
place mortar between bricks.
They must build with intention.
If not, it is no longer a wall
it will be left to decay in the rain.
However,
once finished it will stand strong against the weather,
impede prying eyes and thieves,
dissuade creatures and man alike,
The nature of the brick wall is this:
It only takes a single person
willing enough to remove that brick,
to break the mortar and push the brick through.
Their motivation
does not matter
so long as they find the reason for it being built.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
☺☻╬☻
Finish the crackers --- grab a smoke . . .
of Ferguson my muse will sing.
A call to arms --- God’s fires to stoke;
let Truth and Freedom ring!
Take to the streets; avenge this wrong
and hasten the end of racist rule.
Justice, though it may tarry long
will find its target in the duel.
Young Michael Brown, like all true saints
found himself craving Swisher Sweets.
He robbed a store, whose camera paints
impartial portrait. In the streets
the thief refused to be detained
and so threw off police restraint.
Though sin escaped, the Law remained
and made a martyr of this saint.
The agitators did their thing:
inflaming thugs to smash and loot,
while racists baited hooks, to string
the press. Officials followed suit.
Angels, although not always kind,
do not display this attitude –
aware of how the police mind
responds to such ingratitude.
We ought to thank the police force
for showing mercy under stress.
The culprit chose a foolish course
and made a God-awful mess.
Prince Michael met ignoble fate
(that ghetto-Christ, that righteous youth)
His sacrifice in vain --- though great,
could not impede the march of Truth.
Ferguson, our eyes turn towards you . . .
are you now able to admit
while reality rewards you
that looting and lying ain’t ****
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
I cannot mitigate his momentum in my mind
He charges through me like I charge through time
He is the rhino in my brain
A powerful unstoppable train
When I am weak
Survival is bleak
And there's a horned stampede
I'm unable to impede
Until I'm trampled
Into a stamped hole
By a giant rhinoceros
Who's power is preposterous
His herd is deafening
But he's my reckoning
When his rhino's roar
Echoes through my plains
He's my dino sore
In this uneasy terrain
His hooves thunder through my Serengeti
Sand flies in the air like confetti
Obstructing my view of his breed
I'm being ripped apart at the seams
By the vultures who sensed my loneliness
And made my body their ****** nest
I lay there broken and praying
For the mercy of a rhino straying
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 3:09 AM UTC
We were equally matched
Until a plan was hatched
You became the subtle aggressor
By making appearances lesser
Using your passion aggression
To steer a passive direction
You perform a vanishing act
By canvassing flak
Balancing black
Against a sky so blue
Teaching me that which is true
Is different from what I knew
So my anxiety naturally grew
You launch a resistance
By remaining silent
On this plane of existence
Where you're the pilot
Not taking the right angle
Into the Bermuda Triangle
That is your social sphere
Where you disappear
From committal fear
Of love being near
So I throw a search party
But your presence is tardy
Because you're departing
On the journey you're starting
Without me
Slouching
From my submission
To your anti-admission
Splitting our position
Like nuclear fission
The air has become radioactive
Through light that is refractive
Through ways which are retractive
Living this ugly way to live
Sharpening my shiv
To escape this cell of decay
Where flowers bloom and fray
But can't see the light of day
Not one ray
Stuck in the marked moor
Of this dark war
I use parkour
To avoid aggressor attacks
Never cutting me any slack
Bringing pain back
Until I crack
Lost in your blank expression
I make a grave concession
Enslaved to your impression
Yet afraid of your aggression
Caught between
Taking heed
And fulfilling needs
Born from greed
I'll only impede
You scream aggressively
Like you're ********** me
Just by addressing me
After making a mess of me
With deafening quiet
You attack with a diet
Of a steady riot
And I won't buy it
You left when you were here
But stayed once you weren't near
You switched to a guillotine gear
Based on how you wanted to appear
Striking me from the equation
By utilizing deflation
For a sinister elation
You removed our relation
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:23 AM UTC
there are no limits
on speed,
no bumps to impede
that singular rush of inspiration,
that surging wave we ride
to euphoric highs
defying doubt and disbelief
within and throughout
these paths least-travelled
where rhythmic beats
of compulsion
thrill the air
way beyond the mean,
and we glide
over ambiguous bell
curves
dispelling conspicuous myths
and null hypotheses
with relative ease
where iambic warriors
and wordsmiths,
high on lyrical amphetamines,
wage epic battles
of verse and rhyme
and the blood of creativity
is spilled onto
finite scrolls and screens
where the thoughts and dreams
of poets, peasants and pimps
reign
eternal
~ P ( Pablo)
(8/2/2013)
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
I am descended of Lilith,
I am a child of eve,
I am cast out, i am trod on.
I am likeness of Kali,
re-incarnation of Aphrodite.
In my arms nations
have been built
and destroyed.
My kiss has charmed
and killed.
My hips have
cradled kings and emperors,
borne beggars and lepers.
I am all this WOMAN.
Woman
not of hips and *******
and womb.
Woman
not of servitude, meekness
and petty deceit.
I am Woman.
Woman
of pain and love
and hate.
Woman
of blood rivers and
barren deserts.
I am Woman.
So heed me
Heed my pain,
watch my deeds,
for my meekness,
my servitude,
Are mere cloaks worn
to shield, to imprison
to impede...
And as the soul sheds the body
So do I now shed
this lie, this deceit
You create for all to believe
And become just
WOMAN
Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 5:42 PM UTC
We shall be water, my love. For water flows around or through
obstacles that seek to impede it's true course.
It seeks another way to flow in it's coursing desire to go onward,
an effort to reach the sea.
We shall be water, Love, you with me.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC
My Grandma had a purse shaped like a cobbler.
It was Blackberry and soap with a good dose of thyme.
She kept it close to her side, but behind her
so as not to impede her graceful march.
At some point the original strap had been lost
and replaced with a cherry red confection
that swirled around her arm and latched
onto the top crust that is always the most crunchy.
A few buttons were picked up along the way
and dotted the top layer like ladybugs dancing.
The zipper was never fully shut and there was often
a receipt sticking out, or perhaps her pink comb
that waggled in the air like a tongue in delight.
It wasn’t a big purse; just enough to satisfy
a healthy craving but big enough to care
were you not to see it present at dinner.
I have almost forgotten the healthy craving,
the smell of Blackberries, and why the ladybugs
should ever want to dance.
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
As potential grew, a desire to write, disclosed to few
Imagination immerse, but yet to thirst for knowledge, accrued ambition address
All aboard the express, thoughts of Harry, a plot to marry
From fanciful flights to greater heights
Capturing such visualisation, twas the formation
Characterisation, of wings to soar, with metaphor
From Dumbledore, yet taking shape
Professor Snape, assume the plot, lest thoughts forgot
A forest to roam, a philosophical stone
Such creative flair of which to share
Joining of the dotted line, artistic mind
Transporting train, journeyed acclaim
Of whom to impede, the will to succeed
The ability to write, the capacity to teach, the desire to reach
An impetus for change, a literary role, a priority
Of which to seek with tenacity
Beyond horizons, beyond confines, stand undefined
Awe-inspire, great readership, a due reply
To simplify, a noble shift, outstanding writer in the midst
Dynamic plot from pen to page, persistence through to published stage
A realised dream, challenge overcome
A victory won definably, stocked supplies to library
Broomstick flight phenomenon, a mystical tale was to become
Would generate, the bus of Knight, to render right
A rebuilt life, a legacy made
From chosen craft to final draft, a world of creativity
The right to type, to innovate, an intriguing wait
A shining star that would liberate
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 3:10 PM UTC
we're all armed
with an appliance
of emancipation
we can nurture non-violent
defiance in a
non-compliant ethos of
antiauthoritarian self-reliance
we have the ability to eliminate the
vestiges of imperialism and
dominant dogmas that choke
and impede our creativity and shackle
our imagination to impotent ideologies
fragmented unrealities augmented
by fractures in our psyche
tendrils of theology that prey
upon our fear and exacerbate
conditioned responses that are
at once
unnatural and irrational
and lead
inexorably
to infantile expressions of
regression and fantasies of an
aggression rooted in the
suppression of dissent and
the oppression of dissidents
deities
as impotent
as our terror
of the unknown
by the promise of security and prosperity
a cabal of brutish thugs have erected an
imaginary hierarchy and demanded our
subservient obedience and reverence for
this malfeasant apparatus that leeches
our paychecks and robs all of our dignity
while somehow retaining the illusion of liberty
a delusion that festers like an open wound
a tumorous ulcer oozing foul fluid into our minds
blotting out our capacity for cultivating a
future divorced from misanthropy
so pour kerosene on this fluttering
flame of revolt before it sputters out
if we'd quit looking back and forth at
one another rotting in the gutters
checking to see if we have more to
our name than our sisters and our brothers
we might just muster the courage to overthrow
the vapid and misguided fictions that
divide and segregate us into pawns
trapped in this unending rat race
they've deemed the American Dream
harness the revolutionary tenacity
dormant in humanity's most important *****
infinite potential latent in every molecule
each neuron dancing across synaptic
gaps and fanning the embers of an engine
that gives motion to this evolutionary frame
the human brain is omnipotent
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
What drives a man to achieve his goals? Motivation of course!
The enthusiastic mindset that if you work hard, you'll achieve.
The unhindered perspective that compels you to think about the end goal and ignore the hardships that attempt to impede your progress towards greatness.
The idea that putting your best foot forward will gain the admiration of a metaphorical Hermes who will then grant you his winged sandals to propel you above the rest of your peers and out of your unsatisfactory situation.
What drives a man to succeed in his ventures? Motivation of course!
A burst of energy that says "I can do it if I believe I can." despite limitations on your strength or your intelligence or your character.
An aura that surrounds you and invigorates your humors, enticing your senses as well as giving you a mask that hides your unsure demeanor.
It's a revelation, that motivation, which enlightens the soul and frees the body from the chains that marked the end of it's abilities.
What drives a man to accomplish milestones for himself? Perhaps it manifests itself in something other than motivation.
It could be the desire to find acceptance, to be wanted, to get that simple thumbs up that sends a message that needs not be spoken. "You did well."
Possibly it would be the wish, the simple wish that a man will have done something worth remembering in the brief existence that he has, something he can look back on and think to himself, "I didn't do half-bad on that, did I?"
Teetering on the self-existential reflecting concepts, it could just be that man wishes to find fulfillment by filling his daily activities with anything. And that the greater the activity, the laborious hours put into completion, here man finds solace in putting meaning into his day to day living. Thus we find that goals are merely tick marks, road signs on the long drive from life's start to inevitable death.
This, this is all motivation. Anything that places reins over a man's mind and hits the spur against his brain, in hopes that this will help him move forward and do what he believes is necessary to do.
Motivation is to place one's self in this self-deprecating position as to be a slave to ambition in order to be satisfied with one's life. And to think that motivation is a blessing that leads to self-improvement.
Motivation is truly the mind's greatest illusion.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
I gaze the wheat field
gusts of wind erupt and impede to the very end
crows take flight towards the blood red Sun
he calls them back
rests his weary hands and tired eyes
before the long walk into town
his silhouette fades as I awaken
to view the captured image that hangs
from my wall
Feb 20, 2022
Feb 20, 2022 at 5:21 PM UTC
Four lepers outside the gate
of besieged Jerusalem
devoid of pride
deprived of wives
nothing left to lose
least of all, their lives
Perhaps thats why Y'shua used them
to route Assyrian invaders
even rewarded them
They weren't healed
Just remained lepers
Perhaps the most famous
nameless lepers
of all time
Perhaps that's also why
the remnant suffer
rejected, despised
just as He was
There's less to lose
less to impede one's view
of the bigger picture
Father's plan
No doubt that's why
shepherds were invited to Bethlehem
not well-heeled high priests
in pearly porsches
Oh, and absolutely why
the meek will inherit the earth
Sep 11, 2010
Sep 11, 2010 at 2:30 AM UTC
Stroking
<6:56 Am>
*this petite gesture, glorious in effect,
impervious to aging, speaks volumes
of storied nuance and sun powerful to believers,
inherent messages much refined by its singularity
all that can be, will be, transporting the living,
calming effervescence by simplest of motion implanted,
its sensory powers long lingering, instantly, uncovers
the furtive child in us all, tho well we hide it
stroking my woman’s body when errant dreams,
disturb the early morning scheming, returning a placid,
to her steady breathing, exhaling the disturbing,
erasing the fearful that wanders inside our night boundaries
stroking the cheek, of my six year old granddaughter,
pulling back the hair locks that impede her vision,
the whirlwind passes, her body sedates, and her
totality merges into mine, born, borning a Godlike oneness
these fingers air the words that my chest pervade,
there is power galore in their communicative physicality,
but nothing more powerful than skin upon skin, in motion,
continuous, circular soothing the giver and the receiver equally*
<7:09 AM>
Jun 9, 2023
Jun 9, 2023 at 7:19 AM UTC
Eight months ago we parted ways
Like a ship parts the water
When slicing through the sea.
Now when I close my eyes at night
I dream some wavering dreams.
Sometimes it feels we're inseparable
The way the ripples of your fingertips
Would embrace the warmth of my hand
And my problems would magically wash.
Or how I could be so timid and nervous
Your presence would impede my expressions
And I'd struggle to snap out of it.
Maybe it was the beautiful blue in your eyes
That would wave when I looked at you
And sometimes I'd forget to wave back.
Or even just simply hanging out with you
Knowing the hours that would follow
Will be filled with nothing but conversation.
And how my odd sense of humor
Somehow seemed to make you laugh
and smile, quite an overjoying sight.
Sometimes I can't stand the thought of you
When I close my eyes at night
Because you left me to look like a fool.
False promise given to a hopeful heart
Built walls greater than those of China
That aren't the easiest to move past.
It all seemed like an elaborate plan
That was constructed by a con-artist
And being truthful happened to be the con.
You duped a vulnerable soul
Who ventured outside his body
Because of this risky. . . decision.
I learned a caring sense of compassion
Is an unrealistic trait to look for
In someone who is kniving and selfish.
Because to walk away from someone,
with what seemed like little to no regret,
who walked into your life
and made any sort of an impact
is as heartless as Kanye West.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 9:44 PM UTC
Though the; core of the earth can be measured in Kelvin
What happens on the surface is a negative hell man.
Its a; cold world that we live in
From the government, law enforcement, and politicians.
Everything you do, where you go is like your swimmin’
Piranha on you tail take everything you've been given.
Through the gutters we roam in search of new beginnings.
Man; is this life we live really worth livin’?
Just to find out the when, where and how of your ending?
It’s a; cold world that we follow.
Pushers giving you pills and telling you to swallow.
The pills of conformity, we all had a taste.
Some just got addicted so they feigning for that 8.
Nose stuck on the internet searching for conspiracies.
Illuminati, JFK the whole entire industry.
The media’s agenda is the way we all proceed.
People tread the tail cause they all afraid to lead.
Probably afraid to bleed, to impede on the culture.
Well now it’s time to feed, swarm down hungry vultures.
It’s the; cold world that got us dying.
Fight for your beliefs and end up in an asylum.
You ain’t even gotta riot, to be quiet is a sin.
Yes sir, yes sir, yes sir. Amen
That’s the story that they preach.
Subliminal, under the surface.
Nobody knows the truth so it all seems perfect.
Well...
Does it all seem worth it?
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 12:49 PM UTC
Burdensome to breathe,
Laborious to walk,
Clutch back tears as my hands tremble.
Thoughts scramble,
'I'm a failure,'
'I'll never be good enough,'
At the forefront of cognitions.
Cycling through,
Impede on concentration,
And everything done can no longer stop it.
Crawl inside.
Shrink and revert.
I become seven again.
Take each word and misconstrue the meaning,
Multiply the effect,
Undervalue any positive utterance ,
Discount any commendable contemplation.
And all I want to do is escape.
Disappear and give up,
Start over with nothing.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 1:52 PM UTC
i see the stiffness
in you smile
this christmas
tears from crocodile
was all you got
was all you need
but on afterthought
why does this impede
me so much more
than it should
if i was to ignore
would it do any good
i do doubt it
for it does
clot and knot
every neuron
spawnss great
hexagons
pentagons
and other shameful shapes
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
A final letter I'll write,
For everyone to read,
For when I'm gone,
I will no longer impede.
A gun to the head would work,
But then so would a noose -
Tie it, hang it, and leave it for later.
Oh no, this is too loose.
I wish I could unsee it,
I wish I could unhear it,
I wish it never happened -
And I don't want to believe it.
Talking to her,
It's all a blur ,
For during every session,
I weep through her slurs.
I have been debased,
I have been misplaced,
And every time I see her face -
I feel like an absolute.
Disgrace.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
I meant the
Well, what did I mean?
I wanna say
climbing, hanging from the harness
But was that really all that scary?
No.
That, that was.
Without a rope
or companion.
But even that, I hesitate to dub "the scarriest moment"
What was, then?
So many times come to mind.
But they weren't frightening because of my height
the expanse of air between me and the flat ground
But the depth
The lowliness of it all.
That's when I truly scared myself
Scared her too
And him, the old friend who TELLS ME TO WRITE.
But not him.
No, he was on a mission.
A mission to be numb.
Numb from true feeling.
But then there were those times when
I know he felt
knew he felt
that sky-opening
light-flooding
sparkle-sprinkling
"Ah"
awe
love
I cannot think otherwise
I cannot doubt it
That would send me into a frenzy
Why?
Because I'm still her
I am that same girl
A string of memories, L asked?
More than that, I insisted.
Then what, B inquired?
Something that lasts
The soul
Soul? ... L, again.
Yeah!
So the solution to the problem is another problem.
I can't deny those moments
That would mean denying myself
My soul
Wilde teaches.
And so I don't
But maybe I travel too far
in the other direction
Maybe I'm not quite as 'same' as I purport myself to be
But I can't let that drive nonetheless
work to impede
the work I must accomplish
stifling it,
that is what I ought to do
in this case.
because otherwise
I find myself
lingering on those thoughts
and clinging to the sheets
It's not even about that infantile comfort anymore.
Well, maybe a little
But no, the thoughts are too prevalent now
They weren't back then
I mean they weren't
They be'd not
So my adhesion to
these same old sabanas
Is sourced in
different stuff now
Before it was more mist
but now it's true fluff
thicker than that though
like real cotton more than the candy kind
So the battle's tougher now
'sall
Not one I must cease to fight
But rather I must struggle
That much more
That much harder
Because the knowledge won't stop flowing in
Incessant, unstoppable
Unless I decide to end it all.
But even then, maybe it'd keep
striking me in the face
And if not,
who would want to lose it anyway?
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC