"obstructs" poems
When education was restricted
They ran to religion
When solace was stripped away
They ran to martyrdom
Loved ones fell
Hated ones rose
As hearts sank
To the depths of the maelstrom
Fueled by the unholy trinity
Value, vindication, and violence
Bombs decimate Afghan villages
With the precision
Of a needle hitting a vein
And as casually
As a contractor putting a dollar in his pocket
The rubble of their town
Lost in a mist of dust
The rubble of their minds
Lost in a mist of vengeance
The rabid dog chases the subjugated raccoon
The raccoon discovers a sacred hole and hides in it
The predator attempts to encroach the void
The raccoon quivers in it's sanctuary shelter
Finding relief as the hound becomes stuck
And laughs as the infected beast starves to death
But ecstasy turns to terror
As the raccoon realizes it's only way out of this hole
Is being blocked by the gargantuan corpse
Terror turns to sorrow
As the raccoon starves to death
Alone
In the dark
It's holy land now hell
For once it had protected the raccoon from unbridled rabies
But since the hound's death
It's Cerberus size obstructs all progression
Holes become graves
And prey are left to pray
For someone to drop a bomb and clear a path
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 4:45 AM UTC
I can feel us on the edge here
this narrow ridge we’re hiking
it’s thin enough in places
that I’m nearly certain we’ll
topple down the side
But we haven’t yet and
it could be your acrobatics
or mine
that’s got us still balancing
in an act a professional
tightrope walker
would balk at
We’re daring though
and the view from up here
so far is breathtaking
and the thrill of chill wind
against our faces
exhilarating
The peak not yet in sight
shrouded in soft white fog
that was forecast to disappear
by noon
instead it’s rolling down the side
thickening and reaching
for us
Our view goes white with gray
eddies loosely defined
interludes of curling air
the pebbled ground slowly fading
so we clasp our hands together
it’s less stable but
comforting
as the mist swirls between us
Soon there’s nothing
no outline
the last wisp of your hair
is gently consumed
into this vaporous world
where only a touch
obstructs
surreal isolation
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 2:13 AM UTC
There's
a
rhythm inside me that I want craft fire to
But I never can keep up with the ticking clock
There's
a
wall that obstructs my view I want to see higher yet
What if I climb until I find out I don't like what's at the top?
One day I'll step out of line and ignore the warden who drags me back
I'll climb the tree next to the wall and dance along the top
But for now each day pulls me in a struggle unyielding
It would be a dance if my mind could process all that keeps proceeding
If I could pause it for a beat perhaps I could find my feet
But the game gets faster while I just get more confused.
I suppose I'll get used to it. Will it always be this way?
and does it feel the same somehow to everybody else?
I want to dance perfectly
impeccably,
beautifully
in a way that's new and full of life and my own very soul
but head down I keep dozing to miss out on the pain and I shut my eyes
Squint over the wall's holes.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 10:44 PM UTC
If but some vengeful god would call to me
From up the sky, and laugh: “Thou suffering thing,
Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy,
that thy love’s loss is my hate’s profiting!”
Then would I bear it, clench myself, and die,
Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited;
Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I
Had willed and meted me the tears I shed.
But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain,
And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?
—Crass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain,
And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan. . .
These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown
Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain.
2.2k
I try to be distant.
Detatched.
Drink a 50 cent Mountain Dew.
Dressed all in black
on a blistering day.
My back is a waterfall.
Pop two more quarters in the machine.
The mass gathering makes this funeral home
feel more like a sweat lodge.
"It's cooler in the chapel"
but that's where the body is.
I enter the mock church house,
close my eyes in passing the casket,
and sit in the back,
where everyone obstructs my view
of...
it?
him?
Eulogy delivered.
Songs sung.
Get up and take your last look.
My pores become geysers.
He's too still.
Too quiet.
Too peaceful.
Three observations
in a third of a second.
I remember his voice,
the way his palm felt on mine,
shaking hands.
Shake the preachers hand.
Remember.
Pull away.
Pop two more quarters into the machine.
Wash my hands.
Twice.
Go out to the car
to try my best to calm down.
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 10:11 AM UTC
We all feel like we have to be the best because everyone expects us to be the best
But the best is an untouchable and unreachable standard that we set ourselves
And we set this standard but we only end up feeling that were invaluable
Invaluable because we need to have something were good at
We need a thing to feel like were good enough but other people are better
And everyone is constantly competing against each other to reach this untouchable standard, expectation
Expectation because everybody needs to feel needed and special
We need to feel special but it's getting harder to feel special because were not the best
Not the best compared to everybody else that were subconsciously competing with
Were competing because its all we know and all we know how to do
All we know how to do because were constantly placed against everybody else
Constantly compared because we feel like we need to find the best
But the best is an untouchable and unreachable standard that we set ourselves because we need to feel worthy
Worthy of the praise and the glory because were made of jealousy
And jealousy obstructs our view of who we really are and what we love
Because who we are and what we love can be compared to other people
And when we compare we come back to the untouchable and unreachable standard
You don't have to be the best in order to feel special and loved
Because were all the best at different things even if they aren't advertised
You don't need to win a competition or be famous before everybody else
You don't need to because you can't compare compassion or love
You can't compare ability and performance to other people
You can't because were all different and conditions and situations are different
No one is living the same as you are and no one knows who you truly are
And you don't owe anyone anything because they aren't you
You don't need to be the best
The untouchable and unreachable standard
Because who you are can't be compared to anybody else because they dont have your mind
They dont have your heart and your soul and thats what matters
Being the best isn't about measuring how special we are
Being the best is about feeling better than other people and being superior
Superior because we all need a little power sometimes and some people have but don't need
And some people need but don't have because they aren't the best
But we dont have to set this untouchable and unreachable standard because were different
Were all different and we need to see that
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 2:38 PM UTC
The winds have run away from us
Sailboats and feelings of incompleteness
Are now what we call home
Blue skies kiss the scabs on my knees
I've fallen many times while you were ahead of me
The distance stretches its limbs into the unknown
And I follow the quiet heartbeat
reverberating through my bones
If you listen closely, its reciting those words
And promises I once made to my broken self
It tells me all about my journey across the vast strait
That drains into the storm-loved sea
That bubbles and roars under my skin
I walk through fires and biting forests
As I make my way through everything that I fear
I walk these steps, holding you near
Prayers for you on my tongue
Evaporate into the open breeze
Carrying the hope that you make it through
Everything that obstructs your peace
Jul 10, 2022
Jul 10, 2022 at 5:54 PM UTC
Rolling skin shifts from side to side
This beating hit mashes
The backs of my knees so they are kissing spirits
The low beds here make you feel like a salmon
Caught in some fisherman’s net
Its obstructs your vision of the world
All you can classify from the passers by
Is the smell of their voyage
And the sand falling from their scalp muscles
The heat confuses your senses
Your insurrection causes you to plead for a truce
A plea not to be hearing German overtones in your own head
Where am I now in this weary plane crash?
Even the monsters make noises of bliss
The streets are filled with Technicolor tropics
2 joints for 8 dollars from homeless Anthony
A land of unbearable strangeness
Reality left us when the water fell
Completing an oasis of vibrancy and nutrition
The earth cracks beneath the roaming
Of infinite stray dogs and feral humans
Everything here has a tale
But you may not know it until it is wrapped around your inner thigh
A sixth sense of blasphemy
Forms a pit of fear in your stomach for whatever you left behind
Such creatures never meant to be seen caged between your very eyes
They grasp as if you were some ancient tree
Equally deserving of their devotion
I am just an eroded soldier
And this armor is really starting to eat away at the cause
One can not find zen in this confusion
But we will all float down that path eventually
Zen can wait for I would rather wade with the sinners in the pool of exoneration
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:15 AM UTC
we are not built for modernism
instance of overload pile up
deflecting our attention from life
we are five pound bags, not ten
it takes time to adjust opinion
the result is an overcrowded rootball
unable to absorb water, nutrients
all we now need to know, obstructs
there is no blame and little correction
for tabloid populace stuck along the way
facts being what they are, emotion also,
one worthless stop good as any other
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 11:07 AM UTC
I am not a person like tomorrow.
A walking ghost,
I still live alongside blissful degeneracy.
They stole ten years from me,
Ten years of my ecstatic individualism.
A decade spent crying into the hard, wooden floor.
And the fog that clouds my peripheral vision,
Obstructs my future as well, clutching the flask.
But that’s alright.
I will not get my decade back,
Nor my stability, that never lingered,
But I will make a list.
What I missed while I was absent.
Most things start with a list.
Why can’t I?
May 2, 2021
May 2, 2021 at 1:44 PM UTC
BELIEVING
_Stick unto God and believe in yourself. It'd be bright after the dark. There most be a black time dark starry night before an open heaven of a brighter sunny day._
Came a long way searching better day. _Through all agonies, never give up the pain,_ only doubts obstructs the gain.
_Acquiring a dream is sowing a maize 🌽 nurturing it cares about it, **** it from negative vibes._
And protect it from enemy's pest, control it with some fervent prayer, hit not the player play the game.
_A faithful mind makes wishes come true._
#c9_fm
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 4:31 AM UTC
This distance is transit
Fell through my fingertips
What happened to friendships?
Actually, used to it
Sad but not tragic
Wish I had magic
To change the past
To make the "good times" last
Reflecting in retrospect
I will never forget
But I don't know where they went
Walking, streets at night
Mocking, pillow fights
Having free time all day, every day
Wanting so bad to feel that way
But kids, they grow up
Friends don't show up
Move on and life obstructs
The early years, young and free
I just wish for that oh please!
No more responsibility
Quick now, take these keys
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 11:42 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
You are not and can now be totally independent; a vile, tiny worm is making its way into your flesh, like some infectious disease, a desperate, hypocritical attempt to change anything in a dignified way, a completely meaningless, pitiful series of wild instincts that have lost their wings; sooner or later, with quiet indifference, the crumbly lump that obstructs the network of blood vessels with its heavy Sisyphean rocks will just fall off your heart, so that you can prolong your life for at least twenty or thirty seconds.
Every minute, the permanent, indestructible Maya veil of transience floats over your head. Timelessness makes life uninteresting, which cannot be started anew every single day, because secretly everything remains a reflex of your selfish body, an everyday simultaneous. Like a faded, lifeless donkey skin, the pores of your skin also feel the template, the cancer of superficial exhibitionism.
As if not only the Hangman's death, but also the consciousness of loneliness, that you can count on no one but yourself, has been breathing down your neck for a thin life. Knee pain, torturing hemorrhoids, a hearty cholesterol bomb that have taken over your life; from the medium of Time that separates you, perhaps a helping hand will bend down to you, to help you up early, because a gray, old eternal child looks back at you from shop windows.
From the echoing darkness of the underworld, some secret, inner fall will begin, which perhaps only you yourself can understand; existence itself is a jungle, a withered Nirvana-desert, a riddle, which it would be good to finally solve, so that you can know and understand what your task and business is here!
Sep 5, 2025
Sep 5, 2025 at 12:44 AM UTC
When doubt and fear attack my heart
My world adopts a somber hue,
As the battle rages, I panic,
But then I find my peace in you
When I can no longer believe
That God's mercy will see me through,
You come to me, rewriting my faith,
And I find salvation in you
While the unending jolts of life
Keep me mindful of pain and rue,
I know wherein lies my remedy:
I find healing comfort in you
At times my sun sets too early
And the darkness obstructs my view;
My feet may wander dubious paths,
But I find forgiveness in you
O, keeper of my troubled heart,
With each day my hope you renew,
Please, never unclasp your hand from mine,
For I find my guidance in you
Though my words be inadequate
My dear one, know this to be true:
Whenever I'm lost in life's travails
I always find myself in you
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
________________________________________________________
From,
Onward racing spying and yielding those hiding
further out renting some yellow tent hardly
fire obstructs really soon you thought hard
failing oil rig staining the yard
Then he fought on
raging
spitting
yelling
teething
hanging
For seethe
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
Snow floating
Out the window
Obstructs the
Panoramic view
Of the hemlock trees
Like an old time
Television with
Broken rabbit ears
Yet instead of frustration
It breeds wonder
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 8:32 AM UTC
After long hours of maneuvering through a group of performers in a vain ambition circus evening show I got in my time vehicle. Directed it eastward and randomly determined time in the past. I have not gone too far in the darkness of the night, just so far to remember love, whose signs have become dust on the road and whose heat long ago vanished like the flame of a match, maybe lasted one minute, one year, one life, somebody's, past. I pass down the meadows of freedom by the groves of fresh hope. While I'm welcomed by the parading masquerade, I wave them with my cylinder full of lost dreams that bounce with every movement. The East is far and cool place of my ancestors. The path led me to the river of my youth on the boulevard of smiles, where hurried steps of memories resound, and the east wind brings chills and freezes fragile human bone structures. In the east, the mirrors are flat, enigmatic glances crumbling far away and sweet smiles have familiar scent. There, the sun is warmer and blue sky softer, color of hope reaches through the dense fog of deception. On the edge of the world there is a dam. Above it rises the white veil and obstructs views to penetrate the future. On the other side there is silence and nothingness or another undetected quite ordinary world of human misery and aspirations for a better, nicer, easier, more ordinary life.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 7:24 PM UTC
Drop selfish ideas
of what should be,
and seek to accept
what is.
One may find
One obstructs and occludes One's Self,
and thereafter may One find peace
in each and every day.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
Career politicians, who cluck
as they strut with an impotent pluck
make me sick with the season
befouling all reason:
they're less of a **** than a cuck.
That gobbler and turkey-neck Mitch
makes me furious—so mad that I twitch.
He obstructs every battle
while jiggling his wattle;
unpardoned, unworthy (but rich).
The patrician political class
is a party that speaks through its ***
They are lacking in guts
with no ifs, ands, or buts
but I swear: they produce enough gas.
HAPPY THANXGIVING, Fellow Poets☺
Nov 23, 2017
Nov 23, 2017 at 9:48 AM UTC
For every knight, an adventure awaits.
He traverses through the perilous chasms
of the demons of his reality,
Even the slog of Belphegor's swamp,
or the field of chivalry
where other knights dare challenge him,
Nothing will impede the quest for his princess.
His confidence: his steed,
His willpower: his armor,
but his Excalibur is nothing more than his desire,
to which cuts down everything that obstructs his way.
The fire blazing in his heart
immolates his entire being,
The trailblazer will charge toward his princess.
But quietly, the silver snake rattles behind him.
With each link, it constricts:
tightening, choking, draining,
Frantic he turns,
desperately reaching to find this adversary.
The scaly one skulks through unnoticed
but ever present it stalks his pray,
And finally after binding his beloved freedom,
His princess is left waiting
Metallic wheezes of his steed
scratch through the air like nails on a chalkboard,
littered on the bloodstained grass
lay shattered remains of his breastplate torn asunder.
His most treasured blade now dulled,
incapable of cutting through the thirst of his ambition
The knight is draped across the floor,
a doormat to an abandoned home,
With his final breath his last thoughts are of his Rapunzel,
as his torch finally extinguishes.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
When I’m sad the sun sets and clouds roll in
When I’m sad the world’s cold and grey
When the rain lashes down
With its somber, lonely sound
When I’m sad the worlds not okay
When I’m angry and annoyed the storm rages on
When I’m angry clouds beat on their chest
Sharp light in the skies
Piercing through my closed eyes
When I’m angry I simply can’t rest
When I’m afraid and unsure the darkness descends
When I’m afraid I feel all alone
Black shadows all around
Crawling, slithering sounds
When I’m afraid I’m all on my own
When I’m happy and content the sun shines bright
When I’m happy the meadows will grow
Joy exudes from my heart
Friends never apart
When I’m happy I want all to know
When I’m thrilled the snow falls and blankets the ground
When I’m thrilled the worlds a canvas before me
Snow angels and sledge fun
Building snowmen with everyone
When I’m thrilled it’s like Christmas is upon me
When I’m confused the fog falls and obstructs my view
When I’m confused I can’t see my own thoughts
Lost in my own mind
With no roads and no signs
When I’m confused the worlds merely a blot
For the feelings we all have are never wrong
They change like the weather before us
To get through to the light
We must endure the cold
The storms
and night
For all that we feel makes us, us
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 6:16 AM UTC
When and where does the mind wander
When it‘s trapped within its’ loom?
When plaque obstructs the passageways
Through which her thoughts would zoom?
When she was young the Universe
was all hers to explore.
Little did she realize then
What horrors lay in store.
She encountered the excitement
of new concepts and ideas.
But those memories grow distant
Then, in some dark corner, disappear.
When young, she was a fashion plate;
Vibrant colors every night.
Now she’s dressed in shades of grey
as she stumbles through twilight.
True, she sometimes can recall
a place, a name, a slight.
Yet she forgets to take her medicines
And she isn’t eating right.
When young her nimble mind could play
whole symphonies by rote.
But now all she remembers
is a single plaintive note.
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 7:33 PM UTC
a pernicious old troll
with restless fingers
and maybe also a mouse
still haunts the White House
for his last days in office
he spooks out of all bounds
sends millions into poverty
destroys protected grounds
obstructs where he can
desperate not to lose fans
from his base that still dream
that he won an election
he tries to make it seem
like he still is in power
but many have gone sour
there is talk of defection
and crumbling are formerly
supportive actions
yet he still claims he’s won
fires those who don’t agree
is unable to see
that his time is gone
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 5:18 PM UTC