"padlocked" poems
In my shyness . . .
At times I retreat to my "shell,"
Clinging to the security of being alone.
In my shyness . . .
I may attempt to merge with my surroundings--
To be ignored, unnoticed, a silent voice rarely heard.
In my shyness . . .
I can feel completely alone,
Although surrounded by people.
In my shyness . . .
I'm perceived as having a padlocked soul--
And few try to gain entry into my realm.
In my shyness . . .
Few will dare venture to really know me--
To hear my quiet voice or to really try to understand.
In my shyness . . .
I can have a myriad of words to say,
Yet, my sealed lips will not release them.
In my shyness . . .
The words I do speak will at times be jumbled,
And I'll feel worse for having spoken them.
In my shyness . . .
I will be viewed as "stuck up" and unfriendly,
Labeled by the presumption of a troubled past.
Yet, despite my shyness . . .
I will at times emerge from my "shell,"
And you may catch a glimpse of who I am.
And despite my shyness . . .
I may put on a good "front,"
Disguising my innermost insecurities.
Despite my shyness . . .
A select few will manage to penetrate these "walls,"
With the sharing of time and the evolving of trust.
My shyness . . .
Frequently unrecognized, seldom understood--
A shackle, a haven, a veil.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 3:18 AM UTC
Here's an ode to myself, or what I once was
For each day we change and begin
To become different people and it's okay because
Sometimes we need to be different to win
Here's an ode to myself, or what I won't be
Because I've ventured this path for too long
My eyes closed, I fumbled, and failed to see
All the good deeds in life and the wrong
Here's an ode to myself, for I've never once heard
That it's taboo to talk of one's self
Though truth be told I could use that one word
That I padlocked away on the shelf
Here's an ode to myself, or as much of an ode
That will ever be written to me
For I fear in the future all poems will bode
An ill sort of meaning for me
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
Loves' tribute;
was a traumatic bloodletting,
at the feet of Earths' foundation,
passed over through resurrection,
as the author; Perfect,
penned the first song,
startling in Red;
chorused;
Sacrifice and Redemption.
A soul melody,
padlocked on repeat,
a key,
to live,
to move,
to exist;
the act of human being.
A dance of humiliating instruction,
'twas the universe's orchestra simply conducting;
a priceless,
yet eternal concerto,
forever titled...
‘Unique-Spring-Awakening’
© Qwey.ku
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:56 AM UTC
*When I was just a little girl
I wanted so much for my life
to resemble a beautiful secret garden,
I'm aware that this may sound
crazy and bizzare - if it does,
then please do beg my pardon.
A secret garden in the woods
with such beauty hidden deep within,
Full of secret pathways and passages
that only special people would know about,
fitted with padlocked gates - so not to let
any bad people in.
Pretty little flowers
in vivid colours
that please the heart and soul -
seen through the eyes of everyone,
Butterflies dancing above pristine hills -
with hedges making mazes;
for a touch of fun.
Crimson tree-tops and rose bushes
in every beautiful colour
ever created,
A place that is so unique - from it,
no soul could stand to be seperated.
Ineffable in its beauty,
like a magnet souls are attracted,
This secret garden,
like a heavenly day dream,
in a daze -
from it, you cannot be distracted.
Whether there was a blue sky,
or dark clouds, as a daily rooftop,
Love and happiness
would be nonstop.
A place where loved ones
always felt safe and secure,
Never wanting to find
the secret garden's door.
They'd always be free
to be themselves,
A wish
That we all have for ourselves.
When I was just a little girl
I wanted so much for my life
to resemble a beautiful secret garden,
Now I'm all grown up,
and still trying
to bring this aspiration to life;
this vision, is one,
I am never, ever discarding,
I really still want my life
to be just like a beautiful secret garden,
And if this sounds crazy or bizzare...
then, please do beg my pardon!
By Lady R.F ©2017*
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 4:24 AM UTC
*Feelin’ like a new model keepin’ thoughts in a safe
Nothin’ but new beginnings while maintainin’ the faith
Of better days ahead, walkin’ away instead
The world on my shoulders while walkin’ on eggshells
Difficult steps lead to redemption, no need for attention
Dowsin’ my sorrows in drinks with a fear of reinvention
Weakened souls lackin’ ambition – ones that we attend to
Distracted by the means to makin’ profit
Pharaohs and kings reach Ozymandias
Castle of the manliest reduced to rubble
Inspiration's a privilege, the uninitiated struggle
Lookin’ to the stars closer to Mercury
Celebrating longer than a single anniversary
Build the padlocked building blocks of the brain, preventin’ burglary
Intellect protection needs remedial advancement
Followin' the lessons and morals of real testaments
Crimson waters divided by Moses, halving the sea
Aidin’ people across, the shepherd leadin’ the sheep
Heated cycle of violence by disciples
De-escalated by the sacred teachings of the bible
Able to color-code their understandin’ with a cipher
Gifted in nature, minus robotics turnin’ sentient*
WE MARCH!
*Hand-in-hand in unison! A unit full of sin
But we protect the world from Judases,
Our doubts are in the wind
A state of peace we feel the crew is in
The rest will follow soon,
Our inner voice of hate is ludicrous
It sings a hollow tune.
Leavin' this place without askin' just where the exit is,
Keep a steady pace as we're headin' right into exodus.
Lessons are taught to help you rise from the fall,
Nirvana awaitin' – you better answer the call.*
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
Helicopter in the air
Searching for those on the run
Holding the greenness of shattered glass
A tight embrace of the natural beauty
A rock tied to mine locks
Padlocked as I creep the stairway of life
Evolution of flames and fallacies
A sly that promises no tears
Compelled to paste the puzzle together
A locomotion of pieces to a system
Never to be afraid of who we are
United uniqueness to be the ones of a kind
Are we the loyal dogs who bark by the rivers?
Waiting for the tides to wash us away
Singing as the sun reflects beautiful ways
The tales of a long ago uncovers my soul
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 10:47 AM UTC
i felt your flourescent heartbeat
on a ***** southern sidewalk
i was staring at my own barefeet
and i saw your eyes from a hole in the ground
you spoke like wind through the air
your words whirled above the garbage
i found a corpse under the floor last year
i keep my pages padlocked in the basement
my stomach is a pit of decaying pipes and retching waterbongs
you are a monster squid walking silent and sunk in thought
i have your eyeballs in my sheets
i have your memory in my bathroom mirror
i have your legs wrapped around my blue veins
i keep my secrets in a lump of tin
and we will scatter these ashes at dawn
we will fly forward on the western wind together
i am the mouth of the void
i can spurt unimaginable wit directly out of my skull
i contain jars full of indecipherable arrangements
you asked me where the rain came from
and i told you we'd be frozen this way
you left a message beside my pillow
i heard the music of your mind
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 10:16 PM UTC
a liar once told me that i write good poetry
i laughed and continued drinking,
the sudden rush of despair, the wicked beast, the dry pages
the man had no credentials
but he persisted, declaring me an inspiration
like seeing a strand of hair attract a magnet
or amber jewels lolling in a dimly lit case
imagination is a felony, i wagered as i poured another
a combustion i know like the back of my hands
i told him i dreamt of a morgue where everyone i ever loved
sat upright as sunflowers, declaring their love for the sun
and of a newspaper rife with disease and the passion of a janitor
there is a raccoon near a river somewhere cleaning an apple
with a heart as big as an artist in drunken euphoria
taking better care of it than me when i sit down at a typewriter
it's wearing a cape just like edgar allen poe
and having better conversation with an oak tree than i've ever had at a party
about the sunday crossword puzzle he completed
yesterday i drank myself into a masquerade ball
arriving in a limousine being driven by a bearded mickey mantle
i was the guest of honor, sword fighting on table tops
and lecturing the guests about shakespeare through a garbage disposal
while a horse played backgammon with my father's brother
and there was a girl there behind the facade of an owl
who danced like the wind and everlasting light
and no one could stop her or look her in the eye
i am the only connection between my mind and the paper
merely a vessel, a john boat clearly breaching it's depth
either drowning like a fish in a sand dune or
being bounced like a baby on the knee of god
slavery, i call it, and hand him a glass of warm bourbon
as the splashing of my journal pages slap my crushed trachea
the typewriter is padlocked and painted over with cement
the metamorphosis trapped inside a bullet, boiling with sheer fury
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
The sky is ripe with stinking wet scorch marks,
And bleeds in petrified phosphorescent snapshots,
Trapped by droplets that
Pour from scratched gorges,
Clawed into the ether by electricity's unkempt fingernails:
An unholy flow, funneled to quench
A celestial ****** of tap-dancing crows;
Their flickering ***** miming pastiche skeleton shapes,
Beckoning black hole embers
Through trap-doors to some ghastly Cathedral of Mirrors:
A padlocked whinstone veil of white lightning,
Encasing maze reflected upon monolithic maze -
Paths billowing torrents of burning shadow -
Thrusting day, night and apocalypse between
Those rusting bars of strobe.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
Would you pay to come inside
Come and see the secrets I hide
Would you want to take a look
Inside this tightly padlocked book
Come and see what you could find
In the depravaties of my mind
Stuff hidden away
Forever ever and a day
Unpleasant sadistic thoughts
That really shouldn't be bought
Come and see what you could find
In the depravaties of my mind
Things stored away for years and years
Things that would bring the sane to tears
See a twisted world of sin
Where there is no choice but to give in
Come and see what you could find
In the depravaties of my mind
Don't stand there at the rim
Delve deep into the grim
Things will never be the same
Once you have witnessed the insane
Come and see what you could find
In the depravaties of my mind
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 12:02 AM UTC
A butterfly trapped in the wheel of your deception
Forever turning
Spinning delusion
I listen with padlocked ears
Frantically beating exhausted wings
Against the torrent of your ********
(C) Pixievic 2016
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 1:47 PM UTC
A grand gateway, reaches
Towards heaven, burrowing
Into hell itself, resides in ridicule
To an immortal being, in mortal flesh
Nightmares are cocktails for truth
Incantations to shatter bones into keys
Padlocked manipulation and deceit
Failed attempts echo in magnitudes
Both sinister ploys and moments of joy
Ripple into cracks, teasing of another side
A truth for the ancients, beings without moral
Fathomless worlds of nuetrality and power
If ever for a moment, and not a moment more
These shockwaves of the mind come shattering
Blowing down this door, screaming rage and ruin
Then I will be free, of the chains which bind me.
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 11:29 PM UTC
You are not allowed to like me
I'm afraid of what it will do to me
I can't let you get close to me
I'm afraid of how you will hurt me
I've caged my self up for a year,
not letting anyone have the key
my padlocked heart never beating
just a fist pounding against the wall,
mimicking my missing emotions
awaiting the realization from those around me that the key to my heart is not in my pants,
and THOSE need a key as well
the key to my heart is in my mind,
if you can fool me into believing you like me, you get my heart,
if you can fool my heart into believing you love me,
you get my mind.
so maybe i am a foolish person
the walls of the cage my only comfort,
cold metal my closest friend,
the slightest movement and it caresses my skin
the words I speak bouncing off of impenetrable walls
sinking in to my skin, my veins
slowing the blood flow to my emotionless heart
compressed, depressed, soulless and asleep
You are not allowed to like me
There is no reason to
The words i speak sharpened to daggers, in the hopes of removing your flesh, freeing your blood to the floor mine has stained
My skin a canvas for the art of pain, my emotions wounding me,
My scalp the hidden salvation for my nails, leaving holes as claw away the thoughts of a happiness I am afraid of having
Blood and tears the last memory of happiness
blood and tears the ocean i drown myself in
Blood and tears washing away my fearlessness
blood and tears the ocean i drown myself in
Blood and tears washing away my fearlessness
Blood and tears
scabbing together what is left of me
You are not allowed to like me
I'm afraid of myself
I can't let you get close to me
I break too easy
I'm fragile
The walls of the cage my only comfort
they hold me
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
Allow me to introduce you to the scene:
Empty rooms with padlocked portals
Absconding the identities of the small town
Metropolis.
Crawling through it's empty corridors;
The syrupy melodies, of muddy songs,
Humming themselves.
I see the earth raining into the clouds.
The bone marrow
Injustice bleeds through the Kevlar canvas
Calling out to severed limbs
(of porcelain trees)
On secluded islands, crowded by
ten-thousand concrete angels.
Ten-
Thousand.
"COME ONE COME ALL"
"PREPARE TO BE AMAZED!"
Cries the vulture on the Master
Of ceremonies shoulder, as he circles
The empty bleachers in Padlocked rooms.
Erogenous melodies now;
Creak through the cracks of the hardwood
Floors, whitewashed seven times over.
Is the television too loud, masking the tune that's
Cascading through the room?
The nocturnal sun goes to sleep at night
Tonight.
Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock.
The grandfather clock awaits Its final
Stroke.
The overwhelming smell of bathtub
Moonshine, awakens the vanity,
And drowns royal dignity.
Tell the truth,
You have heard this story one million times now.
The ending is ALWAYS THE SAME.
And yet the tape is rewound
And fastened to our eyeballs.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
I cannot find you anywhere
Not behind heavy-lidded eyes
Nor underneath those covers
We used to share, do you remember?
I cannot find you, though I search
Trust me, I search high and low and near and far but you--
You remain a mystery, an abandoned house sitting
Among fields of wildflowers
Boarded up, roof caved in
Creeping moss along cracks, ivy climbing up your
Cold, concrete cast.
They say eyes are the windows to the soul
But you've pulled the blinds shut
Padlocked, hammered like
Every single Friday night
I cannot find you anywhere
Not among the stars in the skies
Nor in the dreams I used to discover
With only you and the cold air of December.
As it stormed, the leaves on the birch
Fell like snowflakes, like the doves on our tattoos--
We were one, but now we are two two twoanditstings
It stings that I can't climb this tower
To rescue you. We can begin again!
But you slipped like shadows out of this door (our door)
A missing person broadcast
And suddenly I am a boat without an oar
I am human but you are the eye of a storm and my heart!
It reels me in for the strike.
I don't fight
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
The song played-- muffled, hesitant,
As if the tabletop jukebox
Seemed unsure of the tune’s suitability,
As out of place and time as ourselves,
It being Wednesday morning three A.M.
At the all-night diner on the Klondike Road
(The mills, going full-bore down the road in Montmorenci Falls
Making such a place viable, indeed necessary),
But we laughed loudly and nonchalantly
Between bites of nearly adequate cheeseburger,
Ostensibly unaware of all those inevitabilities
Which were tangible but unspoken, indeed unspeakable,
This being the last of the last summer not careworn,
Textbooks to be exchanged for neckties,
Plastic sandals swapped for sensible flats,
Other lives to take flight in other places,
A mere handful of evenings remaining
Before the clumsy process of untying
All that which had been loose ends from the beginning.
Would I go back? In a sense, it does not matter.
There was always a laundry list of reasons
That it could not be, cannot be, will not be:
Irreparably meshed gears of relocations and reconciliations,
Gordian knots of logic and desire.
Still, in my dreams, I often run like a madman,
Chest burning as my sneakers slap the pavement in the darkness,
Back toward the diner, but it has been razed to the ground
(Likely the case, for all I know,
What with the mills silent and padlocked all these years)
And I paw madly, feverishly through the rubble
In search of some remains of those vinyl chanteuses of love songs,
Those epitaphs of our failures,
Those three-minute odes
To our compromised and conditional successes.
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 10:07 AM UTC
(my greatest failure - five years later)
What is this covet
Inside of my mind,
This subtle inscription
So purely defined?
When fairy-tales ceased
And images stopped
I padlocked my door
Yet, inside you walked
The present; suspended
Your hand on the frame
Your question extended
Amidst my derange.
Constructing the green
Encased in your eyes
Surrounded in gold. . .
Abundant inside
Under your slumber
I found my abyss;
Subtle as thunder
Perpetual hunger. . .
Holding the moon;
Discovering you
Our lives, intertwined
By golden fused blue.
Once, you accused me
Of not needing you
Yet, nothing you’d utter
Could be more untrue
No matter how distant,
Undone and askew;
No matter the question
I’ll always keep you.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC
I can remember
that there was a time
when I was young
and nothing was real.
Nothing made sense.
Everything was happy,
yet so complex.
So many...
Discoveries.
I've forgotten all these things.
Like an old, damaged film.
Dusty and grainy.
I envision the emotions
The excitement and confusion
Frustration, and discovery
Aromas and sounds of the ocean.
Allergies...
I feel as though,
that I can't remember.
More than I should.
More than I would.
If things had been normal.
I would have felt less.
Maybe remembered more.
More than before.
Bitter-sweet things come,
and are rough around the edges
of the corners of my room.
At this crazy moment
I suddenly realize
the true and healthy path.
The old doesn't matter.
The past is what it is.
And the truth really is,
the meaning is long lost.
I'll tear my sleeves right off my shirt
and shed my fears and loneliness.
My secret trail...
is in my own back yard.
Sacred and peaceful.
Thick and scarred.
A giant padlocked door.
But it's okay,
that's just the way it is.
I will stand strong.
Anything else is just surface rust,
but not enough to fail.
Not enough to sway.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 3:04 PM UTC
the dance I do with
myself
somehow, deliberately stomping on
my own feet.
stopping just before the gap oh-
I mind it
don't mind if I
do pass right THROUGH it.
shoot the foot? I have holes
to the stars.
I could hang hooks on the wounds I've
pierced in my nervous little soul.
Confident bark, blink and nod.
"Padlocked and sealed," I'll say.
But through my teeth, raw, I know I'm just treading mud
and banking on the Gods.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
19/30
My memories do not corrode
Incapable of being broken down
Sap stuck to the branches of my mind
I remember it all
The first time your fingertips grazed the ridges of my back
How your breath felt speaking silence onto my neck
I remember it all
The nostalgia once sweet to me
Now tastes bitter
I've learned
To swallow it down quickly
In order to
Prevent it from coming back up
My memories are trapped in the lyrics of
Songs we used to play on repeat
Ones that
Used to define the whole moon that we were
That are now
Merely a crescent of what you left me
I am still trying
To figure out who I was
Before I padlocked every door of myself that I once kept wide open
I have learned that
My memories do not rust
So I am still trying to figure out
How we became iron
I am still trying
To figure out
How I could still long for something
That was never truly gold.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
I keep my sadness padlocked
until it festers and rots under my skin like a disease.
I'm dying from the inside out
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 7:21 PM UTC
Your muddy shoeprints are engraved into the carpets. And at night when I stare at the cracks in my ceiling, your soul is all I feel. All the watermarks on the coffee table remind me of your brown irises. The sky is gray, the ground is cold. In the living room, flowers are sprouting in pots, and his smile flips my frown. He’s growing, taking up space, a mere fraction of the space you hold. I miss your rumbly, sleepy groans, your thighs intertwined with mine. I hope the sun comes out soon, because it’s growing darker in here each day I live without love. I know she makes you happy, and it both makes me laugh and cry to know that. I hope you’ll understand someday just how much I loved you, when it all has faded like smoke into the summer air, and I walk in a white dress to a man who didn’t just rent my house, but bought it. But for now at night I lay with lonely legs and one heartbeat and tears in my eyes as salty and bitter as our handful of goodbyes. I wish you were here, and I wish you’d never come in the first place. Every day I check the weather, and I feed the boiler, and I do my best to stay warm without your body, but it never works. Teeth chatter while I count sheep, and I lie awake wondering why the sparks ever faded and why you can barely say my name anymore. Blood nourishes the ***** but not its treasures. Dogs bark and sleep folded in half, inside their little cottages. Where is mine, where is mine? I cover the roof and walls, with their creaks and faults, with convenient and daily tape; it’s holding it all together but isn’t healing it. The sheets are forming ice, and my head is forming thunder and snow. Darling, oh darling, why did you go? I swallow the medicine, I shovel the walkway, but I’m stuck in eternal January, with the front and back doors padlocked. This might just be a dead end street. Nobody wants the house with ***** rugs and splintered ceilings and ruined furniture; house for rent, house for sale. Somebody please just knock on my door. I want to float into the clouds like an angel, rising above it all not like a snow-capped mountain, but a green and grassy hill, rolling and free.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 10:50 PM UTC
my chest ripples whilst my eyes bleed ocean waves
and i cannot make you stay
i cannot make you stay
i have padlocked my heartbeat and your smile together
please save me
save me
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 4:17 PM UTC
Deep in my mind
There is a box
Padlocked with a key
That I fear I have lost
Inside is all of the things
Needed to bring me joy
Friendship, love, peace
Locked away from a sad boy
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 10:39 PM UTC