"imprisoning" poems
In The Prison Of Winter, No Rise, No Set
orbit nearly closed,
the radio announcer gleefully
chirruping, the twittering fool,
"only ** graves to X off till
spring"
the weight of the prior
the wait of the more
no matter how little
yet to come
too much insufferable
having suffered
multiple life sentences
you snit **** u don't know better,
ha, they don't even run
concurrently
there are no sunsets
in the girding grays
of harsher enough and words that fail me,
are the winners in the
winter of the ****
tests and hunts,
I have successfully
failed
of course I'm wrong you
petulant hobgoblin wringing
nyet from me you'll get no concession,
**** science,
there are no sunsets in the winter
and the sunrises,
short unsweetened,
light-less, less of less,
frigid glaring revealers
of dead trees
and deader
men
maybe in the Rockies,
perhaps the Alps,
wonderlands photoshopped,
pretty lies on the Internet BS posted
where I live,
wear the wear the weary
neath the sweat stink of layers of
unbundled choking hands,
winter's damage
assessed and assessment is
never overdue, payable in
immediacy
heating bills I can't pay,
a job that said no more of you,
unpretty please,
a woman who sorcerer-scarced herself
right freaking black magic quick,
trust me I have certified verified,
me and Nixon,
X's on the kitchen calendar,
there is daylight, there is mighty night,
almighty in long and colorless
and nothing in between,
but the smog stained slush of
smothered life
but definitely
no sunrises and no sunsets
watched all day from the
imprisoning kitchen window
which doubles
as a **** you
mirror
there are no, not any,
you know what,
cannot even say them,
the pipe dreams of better yet,
pipes that have beaten down
me and my
disassociated senses,
signed sealed and now delivered,
from the formerly known as
The Summer Man
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
The woman in the window
Looks out beyond the glass
Beyond the reach of her whispers
Befogged upon windowpanes glance
Farther than the bounds
Her own breathe imbues
Out of reach her long fingered touch
Tracing her murmurs on looking glass dew
Grasping for the shadowed artifacts
Only time does nonchalantly drift past
Perched alone upon a cloud of silence
Her thoughts eddy in soundless swirl
Spinning like dizzying shadows
Swallowed by a thirst for light
The other side of window beckons
Only she knows she’s looking out through a sigh;
Seeing no one familiar looking back ―
For what hidden jewels within abide
She dreams of dancing leafless by daylight
Twirling beneath the whispering willows sway
Just a step away from being free
Just a step away from feeling alive
With first step beyond imprisoning hesitation
Crossing over the threshold of a dream
Through a liberating portal outside the glass
Just on the other side of the windowsill ...
Jesse e Stillwater
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 3:34 PM UTC
i don't fear the god above
i'm frightened of his hands on earth
thousand of fingers
knitting chains
imprisoning
these blooming peonies
in the garden of hell
*
i'll chop your fingers off
by watering
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
The government
Or the new slavery system
Imprisoning our people
Not physically but emotionally
Innocent people killed
Kids too..
No need to riot
There's nothing we can do
All we can do is sit here
And watch our world go to an end
Its a battle we are not going to win..
We all die eventually, this is just speeding up the process.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
I sit by the window looking out
And see myself reflected
Outside the glass looking in.
Reality and illusion facing off -
Or is the window the only reality
Separating two ghosts;
Or perhaps imprisoning just the schizoid singularity
Of a self-absorbed existence?
A Rowlingesque Hogwartian mirror showing
My heart's deepest desire - myself -
A true inheritor
To the mantle of Narcissus
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 9:16 PM UTC
I’d like to know what a hero is;
Pretty simple, I believe.
Explain to me how a hero is
Supposed to act
And when the fool’s
Heinous crimes will be
Given a reprieve.
What is a hero?
Is a hero supposed to mock
What causes the danger
Or laugh in the faces of
Those who wish for change?
Where’s his cape?
Where’s his dimming lights And crowded stage?
What is a hero when he
Starts the problems he was
Deemed to end?
What is he but a hero when
The foe becomes his friend?
Is he still the powerful
And mighty
When the journey towards
Greatness has become too flighty?
Is a hero supposed to cower
Behind the power?
Is a hero meant to
Lead with hate instead of love?
Is this “hero” your definition
Of the “great” America we’re still
Yet to become?
What is a hero doing with
You?
How are we going to get this
Message through?
It’s not he who is the hero
But we the people
Who went within a second From a million to zero
It’s not them who are the
Heros, but the villains
Overruled by corporations
And common greed.
What is a villain wearing a
Hero’s mask
Doing imprisoning a country
That struggled so long
To be freed?
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 1:25 PM UTC
There is nothing here
Not the façade of a façade
Can’t you see our idea fading?
We thought we were Hobbes’ Leviathan
The modern alchemists of state
We’re nothing more than rodents!
Scurrilous, maladapted membranes
Spewing from democracy forth
Ought they to encapsulate us?
They must needs encapsulate the naïve!
Whiling away at the trough as though livestock
I’m to be ground on the wheel regardless;
Nay, stretched on the rack of modernity!
By the comforts of progress and superficiality
Sought after as if vital
By the people, “We the people!”
Rallying cry for throngs, imprisoning themselves
With society, a subtle hocus pocus
The trite, aged argument
Of those who’d force you build your very tenement
Paying rent to breathe,
Countless yet believe
Tripartite consumer, greed and slavery
Surrounding you and me
Separating ignorance from squalor
In a ghetto of the mind
You're right, we're alright
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 9:11 PM UTC
We are born unto a crown of thorns.
Our tender skin rendered vulnerable
to self-made deities, rambling idols.
Our minds are roped and tied, binding
our thoughts with punishments.
Punishments disguised as pathways of love.
What love is brought into this world, when love is
taught by the bloodshed of others. What people
are created with love made from threats
of searing flesh? When did love become less
about acceptance and more about separating
those deemed worth and unworthy?
Gods of fear curse our world with tainted
versions of love. We are forced to our knees
before the power of an almighty being unknown
to mankind. In searching for purpose, we have forsaken
our freedom. We fall victim to the fears that numb our
brains liked "Grade A" pharmaceuticals.
If your god is almighty, all loving, and all seeing,
why does he rule without mercy? Why does he
require full and complete submission as the only
pathway to him?
We go to war under the guise of bringing freedom.
Our politicians preach out from mountains our right
to freedom and free will. But when the votes are cast,
and the campaigns are run, we scuttle home to spread the
single most imprisoning ideological mindset to others.
Why fight for freedom,
when we give it away so willing
to a man behind smoke and mirrors?
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
Hello everybody. My name is Neal and I'm your tour guide.
The first creature that we will see is a koala, to your right. Do you know that koala's have fingerprints very similar to those of humans?
So much so that their prints have been mistaken for a human's at crime scenes?
Anyways, this leads us to ask some very important questions: are methods of finding criminals therefore unreliable? Is it truly possible to avoid imprisoning those that are innocent? Is reality merely an allusion?
Or, more importantly, was it my boyfriend John with the good fashion sense that took my hairbrush? Or was it that little ***** Bernard that is hiding in the top left corner?
Anyways, to your left you'll see our world renowned snail tank. Snails can sleep for up to three years at a time....
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 10:02 PM UTC
the october rose is wistful and reticent
our defenses dense like sediment and sentences
love descends like a fog
and we begin as quickly to depart
our dialogue takes many turns
from staunch to raunchy in a few minutes
there is no need to be concerned
its only in our heads
our needs no longer mean anything
love is lost in forms
amidst the storms of anger and rage
imprisoning our souls
dinosaur bones roam the earth
i went out in search of chrysanthemums
and instead i found you lying on the ground
making a pillow out of superconductive fungi
to test your theories of interconnectivity
what transpired cannot be spoken about
all my doubts vanished and the words that were spoken
resounded for days in my being
as if they echoed from within some part of me
that had always longed to hear them
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
Of course the two of us
want to get away from here
We were so innocent Running
Hand in hand To the outskirts of this
Upside – down town Where were we going?
To the mansion we had built with daddy
High in the sky of the towering sycamore tree
But now going back walking the dirt trail that supposedly
brought us to dreams Kicking aside pebbles we pushed
with all our might to
to escape from the
Monsters chasing us
Seeing the
Wimpy vines
That were
once chains
and shackles
intertwined
imprisoning
all of the trunk
seemed unreal
But I had made
Peace with it all
When I saw our shanty hut
Atop the mangled, dwarfed skeleton tree
Mar 24, 2012
Mar 24, 2012 at 8:52 PM UTC
There is this idea, this feeling you say:
A revelation of profound compassion
Riddled with crippling paramount tribulation
Dribbling with drops of pontification.
Thoughtfully and yet aimlessly kicking
Unctuously vacuous presumptions. Promising,
Eventually, to unveil brick by brick
This facade someday and assure me
The imprisoning edifice, with which you keep
Under lock and key, will be effaced
And naked, soon, someday in front of me.
Yet, here another day passes.
From curbside to manhole, up sidewalks and across gravel grit.
Then a squib toward onlookers window shopping
Glaring down at me as both they and you listen
To my dissonant and hollow caterwaul.
CLING, CLANG, BANG! Look at me I'm just a can!
Crumpled and malleable, a thin sheet of five cent aluminum;
Recyclable, reusable, just a means to a mans end.
Ah! But I am not what you think I am:
Within, a bountiful boisterous bloom, unravels
The arid breath of lies and procrastination you exhume.
Your insipid words fall vapidly in my mind like corroded rust
Gently drifting onto a lapping lake.
They are an erroneous ear infection boring my wits
And dulling my thoughts, a waste of time.
All of it bottled, canned, and manufactured
From within your ******** emporium.
Keep your bricks and mortar, think they retain your unctuous pride
While this time, for once, I kick the can curbside.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 9:27 AM UTC
He knew the ache could not be recompensed
they knew it too the moment echoes fell silent
There was already not enough love
in a world grown dark as darkest past
It wasn't the color of his skin nor dialect
or the journey of a thousand miles
Not the place that he'd come from
back when ― left behind
nor a heart of gold,
that never became a home
The colour of unwritten silence
had eclipsed the waning light
On the run from who he'd become;
ashamed for all he was,
couldn't erase a lifetime that felt a waste ―
trying to untie a Gordian knot
He saw his body as an entombing barbwire cage
imprisoning a wellspring of love writhing deep therein
Immured at arms length from the outside world
where the soul of a teardrop abides within
its insignificance
Shielding the inherent maelstrom
from the innocent passersby
Buried thoughtfully for the greater good of all ―
for the unsatiated dream boundless love betides
Written artifacts exhumed like ***** secrets
a lifetime of stigma's stain swept under the rug;
just whispered words written from an unfinished life
few ever really looked deeply between the twisted lines
arising from the soul of just another passing stranger
The long road begets a suffocating silence
choking out, extinguished love inhumed
Ashes of what once had been life aglow of light
forevermore shrouded
like the dark side of the moon
rivers
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 8:35 PM UTC
Lime green envy.
Residing in me.
I understand it’s ugly.
Imprisoning me.
In my own insecurities.
Constantly believing I’m unworthy.
Unworthy to be happy.
Unworthy of education.
Unworthy of you.
And then I see you chatting up my friends.
And I’m engulfed in this,
Lime green envy.
It’s all consuming.
Taking over my rationality.
Becoming a hulkish version of myself.
And It’s certainly isn’t incredible.
I know I shouldn’t worry.
I know you care about me.
But I can’t help but to fall,
In this vat of chemicals containing envy.
Turning me into something of a villain.
And ironically,
I’m my own greatest enemy.
And ironically,
I’m pushing you away.
With all this,
Lime green envy.
Residing in me.
And I understand it’s ugly.
Imprisoning me.
In my own insecurities.
Constantly believing I’m unworthy.
Unworthy to be happy.
Unworthy of education.
Unworthy of you.
And I can try to blame my past,
My family or friends or even you.
But I know that I’m truly the one to blame.
For no one is forcing me to treat you all so badly.
It’s a choice that I make.
And I have to deal with my actions.
Whether positive or negative.
I decide to either be the successor or the victim.
So, I’m sorry.
Sorry that I’ve let this lime green envy consume me.
Aug 15, 2019
Aug 15, 2019 at 1:39 AM UTC
Your love is like a caged bird
Beautiful when standing outside looking in
But imprisoning when you are the bird
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
Debate your fate
Dont subdue to the hate
Give back a fight
With all your might
Free yourself
From the ever imprisoning gate
And walk towards hope
The shining light
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 6:09 AM UTC
Joy to our lives such Hope, supernal that
who grace this world of darkness rejects hatred, they call forth
once in an aeon. the soul and tend love;
Gripped in sadness we Purgatory cells
who have lost a lighted lamp - imprisoning the human
this mourning season; spirit for small gain;
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
PINEAPPLE LIP GLOSS
By: RENE
Not long ago
I fell in love
With her beautiful lips
I will never forget how sweet
That lingering after taste
Stayed in mouth well after she walked away
And
When
She was almost out of my eye sight
It became real cerebral melancholy of a love affair
I had misplaced
It took from me something objective
Watching her leave of absence
And
From a distance
At that very precise moment
It became a sharp piercing pain in the center of my heart
But I remember
Oh how I remember
I remember
Her
(PINE APPLE LIP GLOSS)
The way we French kissed for long periods
When I held on tightly
Tightly til midnight
The memory of her legs in white embroidery stockings
How my fingers danced with excitement
Triggering investments traveling up down her highway
I was dizzy
While tickling the measurements of her
Inner thighs
I remember this
When I was
Creating
A representation
That was supposed to last forever
The further she walked the smaller she grew in my vision
My eyes became a small rain storm drenching screaming
Pulling me away from dreaming
Away from my world as I had become too know it
I
Didn’t know what to say now
Like words on a black board being erased
I was at a loss for words
So I held on to the memory
Of
Her
(PINE APPLE LIP GLOSS)
The way we French kissed for long periods
No air escaping
Imprisoning our tongs
My own
Perfect example I visualize an imagine
I create in my mind the ability to conceive my own embodiment
A pine apple salad with the juices flowing over
When we touched each other’s lips
Among other things!
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 9:54 AM UTC
A man, passing a certain point
on a certain sidewalk,
looks back,
reflects upon his being
and is beset by memories.
The sweet fragrance of her perfume;
Her hair, like silken scarves.
The touch of her body with skin so soft.
All taken away but a lifetime too soon.
And a promise to never love again…
He tries to forget what he has remembered
but the floodgates open wide,
pouring out into a paramount vision
of his life without living.
He sees her in the clouds
(They form her silhouette)
He hears her voice in the night
(The wind carries her song)
He feels her in his very soul
(Yearning to break free)
Tears flow, his vision is obscured by hazy clouds.
He sees her in the gloom ahead.
Is it her? He can’t tell.
She turns around, face full in front
of his tear blurred sight.
No, it isn’t her
but she is there.
It happened so fast, he doesn’t believe.
He wouldn’t let go he steadfast truth
that love cannot live
after pain, suffering and grief
have left signs of passing.
But not now.
Inside his heart a feeling begins to break
the chains of self-pity
imprisoning him for so long.
They are wrenched apart,
torn,
broken,
and bleeding.
The promise breaks free from it’s cold,
dark prison and flies away,
blown on the breeze to fall
unnoticed to the street.
And this man takes her hand in his.
He had found his love again; he would never let it go.
“Do you love?” she whispered,
and whirling around, whisked him into
the still, cold night;
laughing, then falling silent.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 11:02 PM UTC
You let them live.
They were nothing more than stationary objects, Caged
But you gave them life, gave them spirit. Released them from they imprisoning bonds
My little monsters and little beings that no one else could see
And now that you’re gone they multiply
They’re beyond my control, they occupy the space that I used to reserve for you
But i’m okay with that after all
I miss you and so do they
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
Many are hamster-wheel humans
So punch-drunk from assuming
They know the way things work.
The wealthy urged them to elect jerks
To run this country into the ground
And turn it into the worst place around.
It’s a sad tale, a ***** of a story
Where those with guts, don’t get glory.
It’s a horror story, like in scary flicks
Where when men in suits get their kicks
Imprisoning brown people and kids
And laughing about the bad they did.
Afterward, they say others are to blame
But make no attempt to hide their game.
They put thousands in jail and charge them
And sing out loud their lying anthems.
They say fake news is the real McCoy
But, the real news they say is a ploy
Honest people want to stop the plunder
That, up ’til now, they kept hidden under.
But now it’s in the open meant to appease
Ignorant white people that are hard to please.
They want whites in power, think that’s nifty,
No wonder they elect only those who are shifty.
Too many quit learning in school, after ABC,
And they have no use for the land of the free.
They liked how it was in eighteen hundreds
With slaves, inhumanity to those they plundered.
They got up in arms when a black man won
And the class war was once again begun.
The very rich told lies to change the rules
People began to act openly like rapacious fools.
This is the country of which we were once proud.
It’s right now being destroyed by the elite crowd.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
My iridescent wings fall to the ground as I hear a tapping on the wall.
A promise was broken.
Violent, repetitive, ringing relentlessly through my ears. I am growing weaker by the sheer sound of it and I've lost my ability to fly away. I start shrinking, shriveling, minimizing to a small bundled form. Without warning, plates cascade around me forming a cold metal cocoon.
This is what I never thought I'd feel, what I never thought I'd see. This is hopelessness, insecurity, low self esteem, this is my own bitter purgatory imprisoning my limbs and encaging the full extent of my body.
It's like a snow storm in the middle of summer, a lone wolf lost in unknown woods. It's like a being trapped in a cave with no light or sound, and when you scream, you're lucky if you hear so much as an echo.
This is demetamorphisis.
The ultimate loss of hope in the universe. I see no cracks of light shining through, I can no longer smell of the sweet scent of grass, or taste the warmth of the sun. I can't grow or learn, I can only just "be." I am stuck and for now there is no way out because no one actually knows that this is happening.
This is just another way of coping.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
Life was an upward battle
Of intense personal frustration,
As we were treated like cattle
With unabashed discrimination.
And those of us who existed
Without rights or respect
We had a stronger hope
Than we had reason to expect.
When some of us reminded
Jesus said love your brother
They made up ***** jokes
Used ugly names of our mothers.
Some invented a phrase to use
That said God Hates *******
They seemed to imply that God
Treated some children like maggots.
Rights were something given
At birth to regular human beings
To other people who were living
But justice we were not seeing
Because justice was not for us
It was for heterosexual whites.
The rest of us had few rights.
True, it was not legal to **** us
But in court things went elsewise.
Police and judges carried on
And covered their acts with lies.
With them bad could be good.
They behaved themselves oddly
Jailing and imprisoning us
Claiming it was all very godly.
And, today, with communication
Such an instantaneous entity
Things have gotten a bit better.
We’re still surrounded by enemy
That quotes a bible they don’t read
And block those any attempt to heal
Wanting instead to make hatred
And legal discrimination real.
Brent Kincaid
4/7/2015
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 12:27 AM UTC
STOP!
CROSS ON GREEN ONLY!
ONE WAY!
WARNING DO NOT ENTER PRIVATE PROPERTY!
NO TRESPASSING!
NO LOITERING!
VAGRANTS WILL BE PROSECUTED!
DEAD END!
Oooh my, can't stand this any more sooo...
...Felt a strange urge
in my legs
jumped into my car
wanted F R E E D O M,
craved F R E E D O M,
freedom away from
this imprisoning sign-city
Felt the true call of nature
Felt my natural urge to e x p a n d
needed my
ROAMING grounds
once more
Fled for o p e n country s p a c e s
where FREEDOM reigns
like, like refreshing droplets of spring water
BOLTED out of my car
where mother earth
cushioned my feet,
caressed me,
hugged me,
And go so far as to say,
even crawled into my jeans
and heard harmonious
chirping birds
Felt this strange twinge
in my calves
Ran like a deer
Ran into e x p a n d I n g o p e n s p a c e s
flight
Felt my legs take
practically off ground
Felt twigs, grass and weeds
gently stroke my ankles and calves
Felt country refreshing cool air
breeze my whole body;
and whizz
up my nostrils
BUT SUDDENLY!!
I trip over something,
it's a rusty large sign reading,
"KEEP OUT INTRUDERS WILL BE PROSECUTED
PRIVATE PROPERTY"
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
while you were sleeping,
stars stepped out to dance,
trees whistled a tune with the wind,
river shimmered a firefly glow,
sheet of grass blades spread cool,
street mongrels howled a love ballad,
cat clawed a tune on the guitar,
the late Ravi Shankar plucked
divine on his ghostly sitar...
while you were sleeping,
world made a blanket of clouds,
crown of a dozen sunflowers
ii
while you were sleeping
I delved out of this dream
and finally opened my eyes,
saw illusions on angel wings,
mermaids celestially sing of
beauty's imprisoning knots,
dazed world of impossibilities,
eternal bewitchment, disparities,
all afire in new unbiased light,
it is the puzzle that binds you,
not its swab drab culmination,
a loop threading in forever land,
iii
while you were sleeping
I fled the valley, the valley
of hatred, fear, the blind,
while you were sleeping
while you were sleeping
while you were sleeping
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 8:41 AM UTC