"restrained" poems
I'm afraid of what's coming
And it's approaching so fast
I don't have time to decide
And I don't have time to look back
I'm leaving soon
And hope it's not too late
To look around and say goodbye
Before I leave this state
Of being so dependent
Of wanting to be free
Of never realizing my freedom was only restrained by me
Change is in the air
And it's scattered on the ground
It whistles through the wind and tugs our happy smiles down
All the people I knew
Will no longer be the ones I know
I'll have to start again
When it's time for me to go
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
I used to think that sadness was beautiful,
But what is the point of it all? We're supposed to be youthful!
They said time and time over that it would pass, but to be truthful:
The feeling and expressing pain or sorrow for sins, it's all we feel: ruthful
So in the end, what is the point of life at all?
When all we do is sit around and bawl,
"I just wanted to be pretty Cristi, just like a doll!"
But isn't it more important to be happy, above all?
All I have been feeling for the past couple of years is pain,
Even though all I have wrapped around my neck is a golden chain
Rather than his clenched fingers restricting against my jugular vein,
With a voice in the back of my mind reminding me of my engraved Mark of Cain,
It begs and exclaims, and it can't seem to remain restrained,
But to ease me of my pain, they'd say: "Here, have a glass of Champagne."
Can't you see what this mystery is doing to me?
I can't seem to break the shackles that would set me free,
All I'm reminded of is of my unfinished Master's Degree.
"Is that all that matters to you?!" I dare to plea,
"But what about my happiness, or my hemophilia b?!"
Their expressions are forever carved in my mind: dropped jaws and widened eyes,
"If it is such a sin to be happy, can't one consider the act of decriminalize?!"
They'd all put up such a convincing and eerie disguise
As if it would turn back the clock to avoid their end, their demise
But I could tell by their silenced, hushed lips and snake eyes:
My inquiry deserved a Nobel prize
What was it about my question that turned my loved ones against me?
They wouldn't dare turn their heads my way, they'd continue to sip on their black tea
As if I were a ghost, or some sort of banshee
The loss of my sanity is what they could foresee
-
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC
Resuscitate our dead memories only just to die again;
Waking from a deep slumber, Staring out the window pane;
Counting hours, how long can I endure the need to restrain?;
Nothing have changed I should just get back to sleep again.
The sun rises slowly as it burns my pale tainted skin;
It just felt so good just to feel pain! For so long I've been so keen;
I grew weak in my dreams when I'm asleep, the thoughts of you makes me sick!
It's not that you vexes me, It's because of what I did to you that worries me;
Never before I have felt so sensitive within this lifeless body...
Lived only by drinking blood! To be confined in this coffin just to feel lonely!
And then you came... The one I thought who restrained the beast in me;
The one who gave warmth not burning me, calmed my soulless fury.
But we must all know that the nature has its way of breaking;
Something that is beautiful, Something profound! A new beginning...
And so it came to that point where I fed on her! left her dying!
Perhaps it was all meant to be for a while just to forget the craving...
I'm a killer, a monster! An abomination to this world!
But I can't take my life...Believe me I tried!
I bathed under the sun turn to ashes and died!
Only to know that when darkness falls I'll be revived...
I must make a choice... It fancies me just having this thoughts right now;
What could I possibly do?If the beast within is the one who contains me and how?
It seems like a personal attraction just to add some satisfaction as I reach for the ****
A little drama, show some masked humanity, make them live a little just to quench the thrill!
I have glared, I have grinned, I have laughed and I have seduced...
As I get closer for my teeth to sink in, let loose, let the hunger reduced;
But after the feed do I feel remorse? For hours I thought I did...
It's been like that through all the years... Feels redundant indeed.
So how far will this story goes? For centuries I have pondered in circles.
I have been there the evolution, the changes, the life as it cycles.
And again...Here and now as I stand where once I become capable staring at the sun;
I will forget the unforgettable, sail away! Far away from this land...
Remember my story as it will never end;
I'm finding a way now to break free from this curse;
To be one with my prey walk free no more blood to quench thirst;
So long and goodbye from me Dracula...
Serenity is what I seek...A redemption of what they speak.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
Bound, wound, and tied up all tight
With porcelain features, I drowned in her sight
Dominant I control her, she submits to my needs
I punish and tease her with preferences of sinful greed
Bound, wound, and tied up all tight
She lashes and thrashes but I control this fight
Blindfolded and gagged, aroused from my touch
Candle drips between her hips; she loves this so much
Strapped to the bed with a fistful of her mane
She enjoys pain and pleasure; I love this **** game
Bound, wound, and tied up all tight
My fledgling fun toy I command her tonight
She moans with pleasures and screams when she’s bad
Electricity attached, her fears makes me glad
Vaginal to **** play, or no *** at all
A new ******* kit arrives; I’m bouncing off the wall
Bound, wound, and tied up all tight
Under the bed restrains, ****** clamps, and leather cuffs in my sight
She’s cuffed, restrained, clamped and all ready
She needs me it feeds me and keeps me rock steady
She gives me her all in suspended animation
Together we are driven by a powerful lustful twisted sensation
For Bound, wound, and tied up all tight
You’re my favorite present, my fix, and my all through the night
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
You watch these videos
Of people shouting BLM
Because if your black you are condemned
To them,
Because to them you are not equal
And somehow ****** is legal
But only if your a white cop,
SAY MY NAME
My name is Rayshard Brooks,
I am only 37,
I feel asleep in the cops car,
Resulting in me being restrained and shot because I was believed to be intoxicated,
SAY MY NAME
My Name is Daniel *****
I am 41,
I died in 2020,
I died due to strangulation from cops,
They used their body weight to slam me to the ground and strangle me,
SAY MY NAME
I am George Floyd,
I am 46 years old with a child,
A cop sat on my neck for 8 minutes and I died due to strangulation,
I had a kid and a wife,
SAY THEIR NAMES
Their names and lives are more important than your privilege,
SO speak up and speak loud,
Because you are their voice,
You can be the voice of the unheard,
And the misrepresented.
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 10:05 AM UTC
Two fine films: The Lost City and Blood Diamond.
I joined Blood Diamond during a village massacre
and said to my wife A gun in every home.
Those devils would think twice
before razing the village and seizing the boys.
A well-regulated militia.
The local militia the most interesting moment
in a strong film with motive (economic, emotional), action (chases,
fights) and a **** sexless love story.
Use of violence by the local militia for a limited purpose: protect the
community, the young
from the janjaweed. The crop from the ****
Limited scope and defensive posture
but armed and coordinated, cooperative, the men (and the women)
side by side.
Warriors at the gate, you will not run, you will not bargain.
Just violence = limited scope, defensive posture.
Great music. Cuba, Africa.
The Lost City, when the communists tell the club owner under threat
of violence
No saxophones in the band. The saxophone!
Invented by a Belgian--Look what the Belgians are doing in the
Congo!
When the state's violence is turned against the citizenry
for non-violent acts.
This quiet neighborhood, July,
undergirded by violence, force. That's a given--
any farmer, custodian, EMT will tell you that.
Without just violence
Gandhi's scope, and King's, might be vanishingly limited,
negligible (but not non-existent)?
Regarding King
the matter is simple -- he was non-violent but dependent upon
federal force to counter the South's violence.
No doubt without the larger force, the non-violent would be
overwhelmed by southern violence.
Here, non-violence was a tactic, not an ethic.
Gandhi, however, had no violent partner to protect him from the
British. Or did he?
1. There was the potential violence of the population, which Gandhi
restrained but could release which the British feared, and
2. It was the restrained (limited scope) violence of the British that
allowed Gandhi to exist rather than be extinguished--this restraint
was a (British) cultural imperative (limited scope) as well as
emanating from Britain's view of India as a protectorate and
valued citizen of the United Kingdom (defensive posture).
What about violence or threat of violence to compel compliance with
community
as in mortgage foreclosure, driving without license, drug possession.
Perhaps it is necessary violence to maintain orderly commerce, the
common space, and preempt bad behaviors associated with
otherwise neutral, private acts.
The defensive posture is the common good; the limited scope is
forgoing deadly force.
But the citizen, too, must maintain a disciplined, armed non-violence,
in case the state (the janjaweed) engages in an unjust, autoimmune
violence.
Hence, a gun in every home.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
How deep were we in?
Restrained by chains that burn our skin
Car headlights, a hush falls over
Shines through the window, time feels slower
I hope he knows that we care
He grabbed him, dragged him by his hair
Cry, scream, or maybe not
Could have done anything, but we couldn't make him stop
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:10 PM UTC
My life is like a river
winding down unto the sea
and if you sail my waters
then you can get a look at me
I may not be the greatest
of the rivers which have been
but you'll never find a body
that is more proud or genuine
Starting at my source
My family and home
filling me with substance
as I flow off on my own
my water, crystal-clear
alive with plant and fish
and to always be that way
is the one thing that I wish
Friends contribute water
and it helps me as I grow
Flowing ever deeper
running faster as I go
Some would irrigate me
but i'll never be contained
others hope to **** me
but I cannot be restrained
Raging with my water
sometimes my borders overflow
as I give back the sediment
thad borrowed long ago
my water moving mountains
slicing channels through the land
I may not be the greatest
but my canyons have been grand
When I wished to merge
another river I did find
and at once our separate waters
had forever been combined
Our banks were overflowing
from the substance that we shared
and so we pass it on
into the rivers we did bear
Meandering through life
My river not as deep
My water not as clear
and my angle not as steep
But my inside still is living
and that's how I will always be
Until my waters do depart me
when I flow into the sea.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 1:18 AM UTC
Are you misunderstod?
You are misunderstood!
Are you misunderstood?
You are spiritually touched, in tune with oneself,
yours roots are solid for which you still call.
Are you misunderstood by others, by many, not all?
Why then hide behind a persona as she walks before you?
Hurry up, catch up...
becoming closer to within, almost connected, an old friend, soon to be whole, a reunited soul.
Are you misunderstood?
You are very powerful, more powerful perhaps than even you may realise,
restrained slightly by anquish, may civil unrest be put to sleep, may the cracks reside.
You are misunderstood?
Though as you have seen, tainted through life your heart is pure,
untarnished as it always has been but there,
like an invisible curse,
for it is just your mind ie, other peoples minds in which your aura walks first.
Are you misunderstood?
You are only now becoming who you are, who you already are,
who you have always been, who you were always meant to be,
dont you see, free, free of tense,
free from any external force bearing influence.
For right now, you are not misunderstood!
For right now, you are the most important woman in the world,
yet in the same breath you are irrelevant and not the most important woman in the world
Your desires and aspirations now second, instinctively, to your child and your world.
They are now your universe, the flower in your palm,
May you blossom together, forever, as one.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC
When does our weekend begin
Time flies in contemplation.
The day ends, quick to start.
Belittling how the nights are not the same.
Caught in thought.
The laughs that start soon as I see you.
Things that occupy time until the next time.
Again becoming a past time.
The season changes in a matter of days.
The weekend still so far.
The human heart a mystery.
Full of affection. Restrained throughout the week.
Fond with anticipation.
To see you, to feel you.
The embrace of like minds melting in the torch of where we dwell most.
The week becoming longer and longer.
When can my heart beat it's fullest.
Running away with every throb.
Taking you further and further away from where we have to come back.
When does our weekend begin.
Holiday included, extended weekend.
Seeing you smile.
The weekend is near
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 10:28 AM UTC
his lips would remind you of cold tuesday afternoons made for coffee and falling apart. he never really kissed with so much intimacy but he kissed me nonetheless, and maybe those were enough — those steady, demanding kisses, until all i'm left with are sighs and shoulders carved with his name. my fingers, lost in his hair, like withered roses catching fire. my lips, swollen and red, like sunsets begging for the night to come home. my heartbeats, carelessly, hastily stitched inside the hem of his sleeves.
but i stayed in his apartment, slept in his bed, and wore his clothes; like an incoherent word misplaced in a haystack, like a poem, half-naked on the kitchen sink, unraveled by the faintest brushes of skin. slow and claiming. fast and rough. he never really held me close enough, tight enough, but he held me nonetheless, and for a while — just for a while, i could pretend that he wasn't the embodiment of all the things i got to hold but could never get to keep.
he never really looked at me with love or with an intensity that burns, but he gazed nonetheless — almost lost and lust-hazed; calculating and restrained, like i was every poetry he wasn't supposed to write but had written anyway. and i gazed back, at my hands resting against steady movement of his chest, at his dim-morning eyes, at the slight part of his lips.
and his lips — i know they would remind you of cold tuesday afternoons, made for coffee and falling apart. and i know that it wasn't love.
it wasn't love,
but it's pretty close.
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 7:29 AM UTC
This is the sign you’ve been looking for.
So live darling. Live reckless and brazen. Don’t you dare hide how you feel & never try to meet the set standards. Don’t think, just do. Forget how it’s ‘supposed’ to go, and all that could go wrong. Disregard all the illogical cause and effects Society determines. Ignore the 99% likely outcome and go after that 1% with everything you’ve got, kid. ‘Cause if something or someone makes you happy or gives you a sorta feeling you can’t explain, even if it’s just for a little while- ignore all the ‘advice’ & the whole doing the ‘right’ thing, and hold on to it till your lungs give out, regardless of what form you get it in. Here’s the truth darling; life’s too short for norms and logic. Too short to hide your feelings and god knows, way too short to spend even a second unhappy & restrained due to fear and the abstract ideas that things are meant to go a certain way. So if you love someone, scream it at the top of your lungs, and if you feel like crying, collapse and shatter. Live impulsively because there’s nothing purer than the desires of the heart.
-c.j.m
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
Like some kind of metamorphosis,
You changed so rapidly,
Once you were quiet,
Yet so abrupt,
Then you didn't care what the world thought,
Once you laughed with me,
Once you chuckled lightly with a smile spread wide,
Once you'd hug me,
Even kiss me,
But once this metamorphosis hit,
You've become cold and unwelcoming,
So restrained,
You listen to their lies about me,
You let the world decide for you,
Now the laughter,the chuckles and giggles,They are gone,
The smiles have faded,
No hugs or kisses,
Barely a glance,
Only receiving ignorance,
Now,Because of this change,
This One evil metamorphosis,
We are like are like strangers in the street,
All we have are the memories,
The ones you say meant nothing,
The only proof we know one another,
Is the look on your face when you see me,
Near disgust,
You put up your hood and run the moment you spot me,
Those moments hurt,
But it is proof you knew me,
But that was all before your metamorphosis,
That was when our memories meant everything,
Now they mean nothing,
At least to the one who changed....
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 5:05 PM UTC
I am a sculpture
Of life' beautiful scars
Frightening when viewed too close
Perhaps better glimpsed at from afar
Twisting wounds
Healed over scratches
The heart entombed by loves hand
Blood covered latches
Oh masterpiece
Of intentional cuts and scrapes
Purple raised blue bruises
Hidden carefully from the world
I employ delicate spiderweb curtains
And my sleight of hand illusion's
It is only the bearer who understands
Where the deepest wounds are hidden
Bitter tears in a deep bottomless chasm
The unforgettable kiss of affections contusions
These shadows must never be loosened
Forever restrained even by deception
Guarded by spiderweb curtains
And sleight of hand illusion's
All Rights Reserved@ Tammy M. Darby Jan.13, 2013
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC
My heart pounds for your smile, Dogbreath
I like you more than a ****** likes ****
you may be family and I may call you bro
but it’s not ****** when you’re a Juggalo.
I’ll never forget the day that we met
one kiss and I wanted to be your Juggalette
my passion for you burns like a thousand suns
it can’t be contained even if I were restrained by nuns.
My desire for you isn’t even satirical
if you think about it it’s kind of a miracle
drawn together like magnets – how do they work?
and the way you touch my **** drives me berserk.
You wrangle records like a big money rustla
I like Lady Gaga and ain’t much of a hustla
I was born this way, but my heart can grow bigga
if you’ll take my hand and say you’re my *****
Apr 21, 2012
Apr 21, 2012 at 7:37 PM UTC
Sitting alone under a darkened sky
Oft leads to meandering thoughts
Of things both blithely blissful
And bitterly biting.
Like the time we held hands
On a road trip across the country
That ended in sour silence
And restrained rhetorical retorts.
Like the time we warmly watched
The sun set over an orange ocean,
Only to go home feeling colder
Than the biting breeze that rose with dusk.
Like the time I said "I love you"
To your goofy grinning face
And in the same breath, "Goodbye"
To your vanishing visage.
Two sides of the same coin--
That's just life.
I guess this is why it's called
Bittersweet.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC
Again the time has come for all to gather round the fire,
"That time again", we say, while we assess the money drained,
The looks of disappointment from the ***** with stupid attire,
And truth will leak from drink fuelled mouths, with need to be restrained.
Your mum is singing drunkenly, while flirting with the vicar,
And dad is out the back sneaking a joint with cousin victor,
The dog is ******* aunt Jemima's artificial leg,
And someone just had a turkey fart,the kind that makes you sicker.
The christmas lights have fused again, so grandad's on the roof,
Sheer will power keeps him up there,and of course, martini vermouth,
Grandma's lost her teeth,and someone screams near the eggnog,
They're sent flying across the room and land in the fire on a log,
You feel your patience slipping as the pandamoniem mounts,
With thankless moans of "Oh well, its the ****** thought that counts",
And not forgetting Glenn, invited by your mum, but why?
So you and he can marry, and honeymoon in Hawaii.
With no idea that Glenn is gay, i guess the joke's on her,
I mean, what straight guy wears his y fronts entirely made from fur??
The night draws to a close,as bitter, crying family leave,
And relief is all too short, as there's still new years eve!!!
Dec 20, 2009
Dec 20, 2009 at 7:54 AM UTC
Never allowed to grow
Beyond ornamental,
Small perfect leaves
On small well pruned branches;
To please the eye
Of miniature torturers.
Cramped in a micro life,
Roots restrained
Within un-natural boundaries.
The promise of a tree
Never really fulfilled,
Beyond a whisper.
Fussed over relentlessly,
Like an O.C.D.
Perfect shape and form,
Trained from natural beauty,
To sit on a shelf
Hidden from reality.
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 5:55 PM UTC
No buttressed vaulted ceilings here,
or monkish men in robes of cloth,
a space where things are sold and bought
and yet, there is an atmosphere:
A cloistered hush outside of time,
etched in rows of words, wooden,
the self’s restrained demarcation
seeds this scene for the sublime.
“In the beginning was the word”,
nothing before that differentiation,
in the assemblage of imagination,
a whispered restless breath is heard, as
marks on paper command the motion
of eyes and thoughts across a texture
in which silence is a rapture,
the echo of yearning and union.
Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 5:03 PM UTC
A sapling restrained from its dirt prison
Wanting to sail across the vast seas
Yearning for liberation
Rain brew in the mighty sky
The little sapling endured valiantly
The sporadic growth of the sapling now on tie
Tempest devoured by the radiant sun
Absorbing nutrients from the sun’s jubilance
The days till maturity became none
The petals of the primrose began to blossom
A majestic scent pervaded the boundless air
The options veered from lean to awesome
Spain, Germany, Belgium, and France
Foreign mountains, towers, and customs
Now in sight from the blossom dance
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 7:28 AM UTC
Similar to a wave in the sea,
I cannot be restrained.
Rising up after falling
again and again.
Each time stronger,
crashing down harder
than before.
Resembling the messages sent in bottles,
rippling waves inscribed with purpose.
Drowning my anchors
in the deepness of the water.
Destroying what destroys me,
refusing to stop
kissing the shore line
even after being pushed away.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
Here, I sail to regions unknown.
On the tides of bliss, you are shown.
Your sweet strokes can calm my heart.
As fear and pain depart.
How the sun is dim to your smile.
West winds blow as I dream of the Isle.
For one day, we will lock our hands.
Upon the golden sands...
Writhe and roar! Sea and tempest grow!
Rise, my Dutchman! Rock to and fro!
Set the sails and man all the helms!
Postpone our journey's end.
Death ascends upon the throne.
As wild as I am alone.
Come to the sea, and cut through the waves.
Hurry to your watery grave!
And my love, who can't be restrained.
I will vow that I'll make you pay!
Drag them, bind them, take their souls!
And hear the death bell toll!
For my love, I gave you my heart.
So that we will never part.
Forever you were my always.
I'll set the sea ablaze.
How I've dreamed we'd meet on the lands.
Words of love have crumbled to sand.
For years, I drown with misery.
I want my liberty...
Unlike you, my heart isn't chained.
Hear my ***** feel my pain!
Lost and cold, my heart knows no rest!
Within this dead man's chest...
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 1:13 PM UTC
Forced by covenant to conceal
The wound you carry deep
Too dangerous far to now reveal
The secret you must keep
The truth, it’s said, can set you free
Whose truth, I ask my heart
Some truth must hide, to shadow flee
Or slay as a poisoned dart
A truth which must be guarded well
Though to be shouted loud it cries
Must be restrained and forced to dwell
Within a citadel of lies
A soaring fort of alabaster walls
Splendid turrets as disguise
Conceals pits beneath its gilded halls
Where love lies brutalized
Though we ache for all the world to see
To the heart, it matters naught
Two souls are not united by decree
Nor love with license bought
So truth must wait and a prisoner remain
In lonely cell, there to abide
Believe dreams of freedom are not in vain
That gates, one day, will open wide
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 7:42 PM UTC
Crimson maple buds magically pucker
under brightening skies
Lenten rose reluctantly unfolds
absolving the shadowed snow,
stemming the wintertide
Spring's impending bloom
mystically stirs the delicate human heart
soothing from outside its sheltering shell
A converging pleasantness
of a sunshine sown awakening
cleanses each morning breath drawn
to sate an urgent restrained longing
The wilderness carpet comes alive
with a burgeoning salient sweetness
drawing out a glimmer of gladness
from stale suffocating darkness’
wallowing in the winter ennui
Another kind of poignant balm sinks
from the tall mountain willow tree
touching the sprouting blue sky
Furry fragrant catkins blossom sweetly
like the remnants of a love once known
softly brushing against a fading memory
of unerasable stains begrudgingly beget
Like fawning flowers falling fallow
in a passing season’s pollination breeze
Manipulating frayed heartstrings,
unhealed as the deer peeled scars
and rubbed bark of a mountain willow,
scarred from another season past
Some protective shell ― never grows back
when benign heartwood is brought to light
harlon rivers ... Spring 2018
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 11:59 AM UTC