"jailbreak" poems
Ok, there’s no jailbreak.
Make room for my innocent alter ego,
because there’s nothing to rebel against.
There are zero classes in my nascent,
year-long, Harvard master’s degree.
They call it ‘self directed study’
and like rockets have stages,
I’ll have ‘self paced modules.’
Am I suddenly at Oxford University?
They’re quite famous for that (no formal classes).
Or am I suddenly grown up and trusted?
I obviously don’t have it all figured out yet,
so I’ll just trust the process.
When I started that other school
(that shall not be named), my advisor
handed me a computer printout - a list
with something like 40 courses on it.
I thought, “Oh, my God,” but one by one,
year over year, I checked-off those courses
and voila! They handed me a diploma.
It was a process.
I understand, if you’re disappointed about the jailbreak, but there’ll
be coffee breaks, lunch breaks, study breaks, bathroom breaks
and more than a few self-directed dance breaks. So stick around.
“You know,” my therapist said, so very seriously, a few years ago,
“you keep laughing.”
.
.
I've Got the World on a String by Robin McKelle
****** Soul Picnic by Ledisi & Billy Childs
May 29, 2025
May 29, 2025 at 10:47 PM UTC
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Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
# *written in collaboration
with Glass Slipper Girl*
Is it ecstasy or agony
How you make me feel
What you do to me
Bliss when I am with you
When you're gone, I'm incomplete
My mind you have infected
Gave you my heart
Which you gladly keep
With just one taste, I was addicted
You fulfilled my every need
Yet, I fear that everything's twisted
It's too late though;
I'm in too deep
I've been robbed; only you I suspected
My mind convicts while my heart sets you free
If common sense is a train
then I missed it
Took a chance, circumstance was defeat
All my plans, with one dance
You dismissed them
Still, these actions I'll always repeat
----------------- -----------------
*Is it fantasy or reality
fleeting feelings defying gravity
what you do to my sanity
bona fide madness
sensuality off the charts
our own poetic sensual Rhapsody
Dizzy dazed lost in your Oasis
chasing your sweet enthralling embraces
**** salacious temptations
seductions of ***** flirtatious
stunning me senseless
leaving this Texas girl breathless
A harden criminal
for “the love” you had become
detained and handcuffed
you had to know I was gonna run
trapping a thief of hearts
just can't be done
escaping your enticing assaults
this prison cell sweetheart
made her jailbreak, the Great Escape
before you knew it
I was already gone
Yet, sometimes
every now and again
with my “Get out of Jail” free card
this fugitive still takes a look back
wishing I hadn't gone so far
jumping that railroad car
running away from those
Train Tracks of Love*
#
Jul 13, 2021
Jul 13, 2021 at 6:36 PM UTC
keep this.
it's yours. you might enjoy the rambling brook with both toes.
we can't sleep now. this is how jailbreak is **** Salomon's Mines, all yours.
say what you will. i got you. relax and configure
the dark nook of my profile...
come at me at an angle, and i'll arrive untethered; coping with real ****
stitching heirlooms to re-breathers... pinning neon
to your gold tooth.
all dribble. no bib.
just an avalanche of weightlessness, jamming signals. a sumptuous void,
undulating in indefinitely... keeping me sane and losing my things.
in ivory towers of strange radio
this is eclipse....
gone nova.
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 12:26 PM UTC
You have a body.
I know you never sleep there,
spend less time breathing than contemplating,
jailbreak daily from your ribcage,
harbor kitchen spoons to feed your escapism.
hide the entrance
under stale white hotel sheets.
Born to be an actress
with no script, you ponder this
in every mirror.
In every mirror you inherit this vacant body,
enough money to live in a studio apartment
in Washington, Vegas or anywhere
men would pay for three phone plans,
calf-length black socks and pseudonyms.
A room at the Marriot to trade scars,
connect you again with your skin.
At a political dinner
roasted hog, blueberry pie,
gilded knifes protecting the spoons.
Dog mouths are wet for scraps.
They bark beneath the table,
"Unoccupied bodies, should start charging rent.
Have you considered being a *** worker?"
"...Oh come on,
you never even turn on the lights."
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 3:54 AM UTC
I'm compartmentalizing my thoughts and delivering them to you on my tongue. Gift wrapped in a silver metallic paper, with a tiny pink bow on top that bounces jubilantly with every step I take. Waiting to be opened and heard, the gift sits on my tongue.
Sometimes no ears are lent so I swallow the thought and redigest it. It falls into the black and finds itself trapped back in my head. It ricochets from wall to wall, eager to be released.
One day I found out no one wants to listen.
So I bottle it all up, and the thoughts start getting crowded. I become scatter brained, my head hectic with inmates, jailed without a crime. They riot, burning me out each time. My head sizzles like road **** in the heavy heat.
It's time for a jailbreak!
I pick up a pen and release the inmates into my veins. They pump through me and fill me with life, violently pounding their way through my fatal heart. Once I channel their energy, they flow out my fingers, into the ink and onto the paper.
They bleed as they're released, finally free,
singing the song of a man compartmentalizing his thoughts.
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 9:53 PM UTC
Thai smoke swirled,
uncoiling snakes
reaching into Heaven,
lungs exploding,
ecstasy released.
Harmony we found,
us herbal warriors,
brilliant,
enlightened smiles,
high-fives all around.
We sped in slow motion
across the emerald sea,
only to be stopped
by a jailbreak
blaring
so loudly
on FM radio.
It was silly,
us on the bridge,
******
bewildered,
looking around
as others drove by
sober.
We laughed till
our buzz blew away
with the fading traffic.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMFYs3gfgis
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
I'm trying to escape this body but I'm trapped
I'm hammering my fists against the walls of my veins
but there's no way out and no way in
I'm left alone in this dark space that used to be my mind
there's nothing left here besides my slowly deteriorating corpse
I'm sorry
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
I could scream all day
In my cage
Shouting all my questions
And curses
Behind sound-proof glass
My mind is a prison
That I built for myself
And this is a jailbreak
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 12:53 PM UTC
I wish you were my cellmate
In this secret jailhouse heart
Shackled wrists and captive soles
Our bond a metal spark
Of sharp steel keys
In sharp steel locks
That hide us from the air
The air dragged in through two great lungs
The gateway to this lair
We’d spend the days devising plans
For solace and escape
While secretly devising plans
Preserving this round shape
For there’s no jailbreak from ones frail heart
As small as it may be
This red hot blood flows swift and coiled
Sanguine cycle will not cease
Until my red hot pedigree
Flows free and unconfined
By walls of flesh and stark white bone
A mortal contract signed
The day we swim in freedom blood
The day we will return
To mingle true with dirt and roots
And end this prison term
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 7:21 PM UTC
it's not a prison that
keeps me segregated from the
general population to
protect their neurotypical minds
that are terrified by
a blood lust directed toward the self
or perhaps that urge to consume
and consume
all just foreplay for the
grand finale where i'm
bent over the toilet and riding
that stratospheric high
catapulting me out of this world
and into the forest of stars
a pinprick in the infinite black of
space
but do not misunderstand
it is not some sort of jailbreak
a streaking figure in the
black and white stripes of shame
clinging to my exiled body
it is more the futile pulling
i am not stuck in the trap
i am the trap
and i lock down on my
vices and the
self destruction that sings
the most sickly sweet songs
that somehow convince me
that if i am pulled even tighter
i might somehow break the mould
and no longer lash myself to
those actions and thoughts
that terrify
and destroy
i worry i am the strip
of glue that hangs in the kitchen
to catch the fruit flies that
come to visit in the summer and
pester me until
they land their feet on my
sticky
sickly
trap
they can't escape
and so they die
is that what i do to them?
is that what i do to you?
do you become paralyzed
by some sort of
noxious agent or
a viscous bog that
cements you here
and forces you to watch
eyelids held open
as i dance with the demons that
you assure yourself
you will be able to tame
you will be able to banish
but they're the one's who've been there
decades of companionship
and torture
Stockholm syndrome that
ties me to them
through some sort of
vital connection which i can't escape
clipping the umbilical cord
and leaving me bleeding on the ground
aching for that part of me
that is gone
so i pull myself
i stretch myself so thin
and the harder that
your fingers fight to escape my trap
the harder i clamp down
because i want you to go away
to prevent the inevitable pain
and yet i pull you tighter
i lock your fingers into me
my nails digging into your back
as if somehow i can affix myself
to you.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
I put on my mask so I can take
These scars from life off my face
I brake these bones they begin to heal
These open wounds begin to seal
But the damage I've done for much too long
Leaves me scarred and all alone
Loaded gun but 5 bullets shy
6 and 1 chance to die
Ill leave this world and utter mess
Six to one five to guess
The drowning spiral of a life misused
Born with a short fuse and a lit match
No chance at all no lock no key
To put on this latch
To keep my demons locked away
Jailbreak an easy escape
a lousy morning for a beautiful wake
I put on my mask so I can take
These scars from life off my face
Loaded gun but 1 bullet shy
Five times the chance to die
No more need to live a life a lie
I remove the mask scars revieled
One tear one eye
One to live five to die
(gunshot)
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
Held in the pens
Of womb, little one
Squirms to see light,
Before the bars of crib
Encroach and bind one
Growing into childhood.
Then to be left off, bounded,
For chaste schools to yearn how
To keep such place whilst learning,
Never knowing that old, bracing sun
Is all around until frightful bell— calls
Recess, for these are the walled gardens
We made for ourselves, the coldest brick
And mortar chambers we place as lambs
Are encased, when finally we are pushed
Into the dark, the drabness, of the drowning
Work a daze whirled, the open prison of our lives.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
Stunted, the same, by
highs
and
lows
alike.
A jubilant parade inside
some nights.
Silver linings? Ticking timebombs! Infinite splinters!
No good time left unexploded.
Rusted blood iron and red wine
filling my eyes.
Tired of feeling "weird."
Tired of knowing I'm being.
I wish I wanted anything in a way that didn't
scare me.
I wish I could love anything in ways that
couldn't hurt--
--inward or out--
I wish...
_I think..._
If I sit on _this_ bench...for a _long_ time,
and keep _perfectly_ still...but make subtle
eye contact
with some of the crows...
they'll accept me as one of them?
Teach me to fly
Or, at least, hide
in plain sight.
A new vocabulary for my quiet
when it starts to get mean.
Entangled, alike, by
lows
and
highs,
the same.
Convenient jailbreak for a Name--
--_Say it._
Chewing paper? Eat the playbook. Shred this formula.
No good night goes unpunished.
Rusted blood in my mouth, and red wine--
crying outside
Tired of being fragile
Tired of knowing I know.
And how 'bout the crows?
I'm good for a laugh, they suppose.
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 11:39 AM UTC
it’s true i’m drawn to mystical madness
because I feel the terminal sadness
my mind a jailbreak plan
when man is wolf to man
and omens regarding women
haunt me, keep me swimmin’
Neils Bohr and quantum theory
when I’m down and wonder weary
opposites together
like me and joyful weather
reality beyond appearance
craziness adherence
if Emily’s species stands beyond
where to share their coming dawn?
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 8:50 PM UTC
We passed the precious stone
at lunch hour,
great buds all of us,
young ******* cowboys
flipping birds to those
authority figures in blue,
we called them the men.
We knew we had the power,
lizard kings
with strong lungs,
filled with
the burning stick.
They called us
real quick studies,
banging heads
& knocking boots
of a few cute ones.
The beautiful peace pipe
made its rounds
& we inhaled deeply
to find
the true meaning of life
as we knew it.
Whiskey & tequila
on the rocks
were our
second & third choices,
that made us cocksure,
but the ****** made us mad,
just like those eggs
seen on the tellie
frying in a cast iron pan.
Thick magical-smoke
uncoiled around us
like cobras
& with their venom
coursing through our veins,
we cruised across
glimmering shades of azure
in the noonday sun,
jamming to Lizzy,
crooning loud
about
our jailbreak.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
It's more than just a silly game,
this thing we call love,
heartbreak
& I always go to jail,
while the rest of the world
quietly passes by.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 5:47 AM UTC
My poems of you-
my poems-
Always feel unfinished
The poems come alive in between times my eyelids are open and they ***** their feelings into my eyes
Metre and foot and rhyme and symbol and comma and comma and period.
I count out the syllables and hear you
Wait, the sound again I hear it you
You led the jailbreak the day they hanged me but at least the noose whistled
i love you
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 7:49 PM UTC
.
Held in the pens
Of womb, little one
Squirms to see light,
Before the bars of crib
Encroach and bind one
Growing into childhood.
Then to be left off, bounded,
For chaste schools to yearn how
To keep such place whilst learning,
Never knowing that old, bracing sun
Is all around until frightful bell— calls
Recess, for these are the walled gardens
We made for ourselves, the coldest brick
And mortar chambers we place as lambs
Are encased, when finally we are pushed
Into the dark, the drabness, of the drowning
Work a daze whirled, the open prison of our lives.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
what are you waiting for, little bird?
the day has just begun, there was an angel
at 5th street and she told me to say hi to you,
little bird. what’s your plan for today?
you cannot sit around and wait for a suitor to offer words of praise,
you must learn to sing your own.
you will not get a thousand retweets on that little bird app but you must
do, anyway. do, anyhow. do, do. i do.
i bear with me no key to help you flee
there will not be a kind knight to hear your plea
o little bird, remind me
of your plans of jailbreak last night, speak
to me, have you learned to bend metals with your beak?
will you set yourself free?
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 1:24 PM UTC
The Only
One Left
Here A Stain
On My Heart
That Tells Us
Apart
Our Bars
Are Divided
By Love
We Were Born
All Alone
Here
In A Cell
Awaiting
For Our Jailbreak
For Our Lives
To Be At Steak
To Be Free Of
Our Lives
Without Chains
Without Hate
We Are, Innocent
Of The River
Who Have Cried
Our Hearts Out
But Always
Unheard
Always Abandoned
In The Cell
B59 It Is
I Have No Name
I Am A Lone Survivor
Seeing Blood
On Every Corner
Pawprints
Smeared In Killers
Blood
I Must Get Out Of
Here
I Am A Wolf
With A Chain Over
My Heart
~Paris Styron~
B59 Is My
Name It Is
A Scar That
Has Numbers
That Are Black
And White
With Strips
59 A Number
A List
Of Neglect
Of Hatred People
Have Given Me
Long Enough
Loving Prison
Is A Place
Where My Acid
Burns
Where My Pain
Burns
~Paris Styron~
B59
Is A Name
B Stands For
Burst Of Pain
59 Is A Number
Of The Number
Of Patience
I Have
Before I Break Down
In Tears
~Paris Styron~
Its Either Love
Or Be Loved
~Paris Styron~
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
It was a match dropped into an oil field
And so these flames depicted the hellfire that reigned inside of me.
A pure rage
Unbridled and ever growing
What volatile emotions unleashed while their warden was away.
A jailbreak of hatred enticed with frustration and fueled by confusion
A soul that once new peace
A heart that bloomed love
Now fields of brimstone wishing harm to those who destroyed the garden
Oath breakers, eyes void of soul. Liars the lot of them cast together with no sense of right or wrong
Yet wielding a hammer of “justice”
There is no balance to these scales
No punishment befitting this imaginary crime.
I pray you all be destroyed, in worse ways than you destroy those around you.
My hearts misses who I was.
My soul has forgotten peace.
And my mind is ever burning with the devils blue flames.
-Mr. Vaun Niklaus Morningstar.
Jan 7, 2020
Jan 7, 2020 at 7:32 AM UTC
Chasing darkness
surmising depth lies in the depths
trenches are dug in craters
the holes we dig make us special
so we keep on digging.
Subterranean cranium
head in the sand—soul buried in soil
paying the undertaker in advance
the shovel feels lighter once it's smoothing the dirt
guarding the top of the grave.
Coffin solitude
dormant tears loosen the Earth
the clay dam breaks
jailbreak mudslide
birthed from a muddy womb
crying, gasping for air.
We cleanse ourselves in the healing waters of time
donning our Sunday best for church
joining the choir boys standing at Jesus' feet
singing a chorus of denial
"I never asked for this".
Aug 26, 2020
Aug 26, 2020 at 7:40 AM UTC