"shackle" poems
There's a color in my head, it wont leave me alone
As the peacock feathers, she's got no where to go
So I just smoked her down, left a funny taste in my mouth
No longer can I breathe in, I'll have to do without
This lung
And this heart
Is filled
With tar
He said he was your lover, with real debonair
Filled you up with warm words, that weren't really there
His hand was on yours, felt like a shackle
Frozen straight to the heart, he felt so cold
His heart
and his mouth
Were filled
With his own doubt
I swear to god I'm trying
But my lungs can barely move
Trying to breathe you in
But there isn't much space
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 3:07 AM UTC
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
the clay patio was baking
just hot
enough for the dough to rise and crisp
and for you to spread your blanket
in the sun
perfect for a picnic with the kids
and observing the man on that really tall bicycle
it’s times like these when you think
why doesn’t everyone just shut off
and bake in the sun
with a glass of peach tea and a pair
of well behaved kids
who share life like it was their job to love
each other
their mother
dad
and especially
the old dog
even the young lovers get jealous
as their gaze from the park to
your front patio
witnessing that there is something more to love
than just body heat
chocolate-dipped strawberries
and jazz clubs
that children grow like spinach flowers
in mellow
medallion
heat
until the training wheels come off
and they feel earth’s balance for the first time
and the peaches!
they shackle the branches
like juicy bombs
and you decide that
mothers are like fruit
unbruised
unwashed
and perfect
something that God
herself
keeps in her finest
crystal bowl and replants
in the summer
mother
sister
friend
shoot me some of that peach tea
you’re drinking
that sun you are soaking
that air you are breathing
the world needs more of you
and you deserve the last taste
of its summer light
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 4:55 PM UTC
#*Come after me, O glorious Divine Possessor.
Conquer, shackle, and entomb my straying,
faithless affections in Your love once more.
Sweep me up into Your strong and jealous
embrace till my heart is fully bent toward Yours.
Have Your way with me until it is all I desire,
until You are all I desire, Lord Jesus.
Unveil me, uncover me and unbind me
before Your penetrating eyes, the perfect gaze
of You with Whom alone I have to do.
Awaken me until I am wholly abandoned
to Your pleasure, completely responsive
to Your touch, utterly enraptured,
enthralled and entangled with You.
Break me for Your glory, sovereign Lord.
Pierce my soul to its deepest hidden parts
and pour Yourself into me until You have
totally claimed me as Your own possession,
Your willing captive, until there is no delight
in my heart but You and Your delight.
O Holy One above, set me to burning!*#
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 8:24 PM UTC
Each day she grows stronger.
All physical functions
require acute concentration
unwavering vigilance.
Her invisible shackle's bind me.
Tornadoes my conscience
weakens muscles, bruises skin
Splinters the soul.
Her outstanding weapon?
Relentless emotional chaos!
Sep 14, 2011
Sep 14, 2011 at 4:46 PM UTC
The tractor stands frozen - an agony
To think of. All night
Snow packed its open entrails. Now a head-pincering gale,
A spill of molten ice, smoking snow,
Pours into its steel.
At white heat of numbness it stands
In the aimed hosing of ground-level fieriness.
It defied flesh and won't start.
Hands are like wounds already
Inside armour gloves, and feet are unbelievable
As if the toe-nails were all just torn off.
I stare at it in hatred. Beyond it
The copse hisses - capitulates miserably
In the fleeing, failing light. Starlings,
A dirtier sleetier snow, blow smokily, unendingly, over
Towards plantations Eastward.
All the time the tractor is sinking
Through the degrees, deepening
Into its hell of ice.
The starting lever
Cracks its action, like a snapping knuckle.
The battery is alive - but like a lamb
Trying to nudge its solid-frozen mother -
While the seat claims my buttock-bones, bites
With the space-cold of earth, which it has joined
In one solid lump.
I squirt commercial sure-fire
Down the black throat - it just coughs.
It ridicules me - a trap of iron stupidity
I've stepped into. I drive the battery
As if I were hammering and hammering
The frozen arrangement to pieces with a hammer
And it jabbers laughing pain-crying mockingly
Into happy life.
And stands
Shuddering itself full of heat, seeming to enlarge slowly
Like a demon demonstrating
A more-than-usually-complete materialization -
Suddenly it jerks from its solidarity
With the concrete, and lurches towards a stanchion
Bursting with superhuman well-being and abandon
Shouting Where Where?
Worse iron is waiting. Power-lift kneels
Levers awake imprisoned deadweight,
Shackle-pins bedded in cast-iron cow-shit.
The blind and vibrating condemned obedience
Of iron to the cruelty of iron,
Wheels screeched out of their night-locks -
Fingers
Among the tormented
Tonnage and burning of iron
Eyes
Weeping in the wind of chloroform
And the tractor, streaming with sweat,
Raging and trembling and rejoicing.
5.2k
Whereto, Friend, apart this Direction goes
That Greedy Me besuch perpetuate
Must learn this: The Lock and Shackle bestrow
Reconcile that Key for True Joy rebate
And tell, how does your Prime Perception dock
To settle added Keys in Copper, chain
Took you a Lark; Which the Robin does mock
Outside your Cage those Tripe Clowns entertain
That Craft - your Splash - always Sacred devote
Once again calls for Adventure Beyond
Take a Year's Rest; Then to Spangles denote
Would sprinkle Silver Sands for mood abscond.
It was your Decision to sign by Pen
Absorb those Posted Stars Heaven does spend.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC
.simone biles (the gymnast)...
miles davis (the trumpet guy)...
must be black privilege;
wasn't there a movie...
starring
woody harrelson
and wesley snipes?
you sure?
i thought it was
called: white men can't jump...
sure as **** ****** can
sing church gospel!
how's that for
privilege?
if you're going to
culturally box, and repeatedly
punch below the belt...
you're quiet likely going
to get a reaction...
i have an acne wart growing
on my *** the size
of a cauliflower,
it's itchy my brain,
it's differentiating between
agitate and: lying back...
i guess the excess of...
look... you may have
the excess melanin...
i have lactose tolerance...
we're even?!
no?
so how come some smurf,
some European hobbit
shackle your N.B.A.
Goliath(s)?!
explain that one to me...
if these people were so
cock-unsure...
how they **** did they
tame the Zulu Apache Goliath
bodybuilders?!
what the ****
i already said, and it was proven...
IQ...
i don't like it...
but i'm pretty sure that
the whites **** more people
in terrorist attacks than...
camel-jockeys...
it took 3 or over three...
to perform the Bataclan Massacre...
three... the third of the IQ
that required a Breivik...
130 in France...
dissociated among 3 attackers
that gorged on testicles after the spree...
fun, fun fun fun...
like: you're trying to say that without
irony...
and how many in Norway?
77...
i only look at the IQ of killers...
so... what's the ratio?
77 / 1
130 / 3 = 43...
like i said... low IQ...
you really want your little
racial insurrection?
you'll have it, don't worry..
i'll just the narrative...
must be black privy...
if you can mash up a jazz compos.,
right?
crackers read from
a prepared script...
you ******* just, "improvise"...
rapping contra talking...
**** come to think of it...
******* boys took it too far from
your Oreos...
like... too much drums...
not enough wind, or strings...
too much drumming...
pulverizing the ears
with drum & bass and what not...
if i wasn't deaf prior,
i'm deaf by now;
******* boy to Oreo woo-oo-oops
boy;
same **** different cover.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 9:42 PM UTC
I
A body of white walls
houses familiarity
Somehow even familiarity
distorted itself
beneath raw cinder blocks
doused white enough
that I could see
the eyes of the past
the eyes of the future
looking back at me,
the eyes of the present
Must journey
behind the white walls
into the familiar unknown
For there is something there
Beyond walls
so very high
They
only crumble,
only die
For there is something there
I must look now
through the deep crevices
deep through my mind
For there is something there
Do I find?
I see people
I see minds
Beyond the white walls
looking back
at I
Why oh why
must I continue?
looking forward
only to
look back again
I am stuck,
encased inside
eternity
Only looking back
to find
a way out
a way out
of me
Me
I have always
been my own infinity
Inside, a prisoner
handcuffed to
the white walls
I am shackled here,
alive
kicking
Death
here in the
eternal infinity
Great intellects
dead,
killed by me
I am my own infinity
I must **** me
I will be free
no longer shackled
I am my own infinity
I am my own uncertainty
I am my own familiarity
It is me
I am my own infinity
The white walls
close in on me,
my own infinity
I do not want to change myself
I do not want to change me
I change
I die
Death’s kiss might be sweet
Death’s kiss may free me,
finally
Yet
I cannot accept it
I will not
I just want to be me
but I am everyone else
and they are me
my own infinity
Everything,
everything
Beyond the white walls
are nothing you see
White walls
everywhere
White walls
everything
Encasing all
of us
It is here,
it is here
The white walls
shackle us,
shackle us
to
reality,
society
There is forever
no infinity
in me
The familiarity
tastes of death
mistaken for
reality
society
The burning truth
The familiarity
the distorted familiarity
that
is
reality
society
We rely on each other
So much we shoot
each other
We are not strong
We are not smart
We can be
We can’t be
If we break
the shackles
If we keep
the shackles
I am in pieces
I am shattered like glass
I cannot do this
I cannot presume
Death’s kiss
seems sweeter than ever
(forever lost in my own infinity)
You see we
build ourselves up
so
the white walls
eat us up
until we are part of
the white walls
until we are part of
the unknown familiarity
Can I break
through?
want to
need to
break through
White walls
oh,
white walls
I’ve been punching
for so long
I am tired,
I am weary
Resisting,
rebelling
Far too long
White walls,
White mazes
Around
my infinite
familiarity
I cannot
make it out
of myself
So I
walk,
So I
walk,
This great
maze of my
soul
Humorous,
I call it a
great maze
I only walk
in circles
Forever in cycle
I’ve felt the
tears,
Fallen onto
the white walls
Hard
to tell
if they
are clear
or just another
drop of paint
Mind
loops back
on itself,
(always does)
Losing it
(finally insane)
A mad man
I am
A new coat
to adorn
Darker
darker
darker
Cracks,
crevices
the white walls
emit abysmal black paint
So-cold
oil,
(called paint)
I will make darkness burn
It stings,
makes a statement
deep within me
Have you ever
felt pain?
Have you ever
felt life?
Walls
I have forgotten
what color
infinity was
Happiness,
feels
so white
but
burns
so dark
Have you ever
felt dark?
Dark feels me
as I
wander,
wither
In
white darkness
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
Some voted for freedom from that rusty EU shackle.
Discussed immigration issues they were unable to tackle.
An establishmentarian North, South divide. When poverty strikes there's nowhere to hide.
Deep trenched anger rising from the disenfranchised vote. The pound devalued as the right wing gloat.
Uncertain times causes a global ripple. Bank of England acts to avoid economic *******
But what of our neighbours? Our brothers in arms? Democratic victors, do they know who this harms?
Young against old, divisions laid bare. Political wrangling, do they really care?
The Prime Minister resigns and a new chapter to be written.
Democracy wins in a diverse, Great Britain.
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 4:00 AM UTC
She has a place for me in her heart
I've heard the others say the same
Yet I still
May rest my head
Where she would stay
Whilst all the others are long gone
Heart is a heavy word
Reminiscent of stranger times
Comforting to say the least
A shackle and a briefcase
Share her room with me
One wonders if an invitation is real
When not in writing
Enticement is real
As real as flesh and blood
As real as her
Laced ******* with frills
Bluey green
A colour best described as teal
Or was it turquoise?
Though that never mattered
Not important to me
Not a single detail
I told her not to be afraid of living
She said fearlessness is for the dead
I enquired about the living dead
She laughed
We are the only monsters
That feed off of life
We are the only demons
That go bump in the night
She is a goddess
A truly **** mess
I would like to pay homage
To the warmth between her legs
But there are many a pilgrim
And it is well documented that
I hold nothing sacred
Though I do have her favor
For now
Yet my invitation remains unanswered
I never knew a briefcase
Could be so ominous
Though she'll never be my queen
She still ***** me like I'm king
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 1:10 PM UTC
Out with the old
in with the new
broom sweeping the past
uncluttered
and shackle free
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 9:18 PM UTC
I have one wrist shackled to my watch strap
dragging me to obey the sweeping hands of another
like a traffic cop ordering hours of peaks to start and stop
relentlessly spilling time from a once brimming cup
splish splash out into oceans of flashy imaginings
I need the delicate precision of a jeweller's screwdriver kit
to make sense of the shared purpose of the springs
pushing the wheels to wear green amber red carats
tiny diamonds that aren't meant to sparkle
but sit immovable within sealed circles waiting
in partnership
inexorably waiting
patiently forever for the sun to release its shackle
the chain dripping a ting a ting
from the earth into a new star
winding up the decayed orbiting
to trap the same diamonds on a second
hand swept somewhere afar
and with a roll ex-galaxies expired
their guest president bracelet
their gasped jewelled weight
in loving eyes of liquid gold
not ordering us two
to be a slave to anything
now time shone
free could not be sold
apart ever again
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC
"No man loves God who hates his kind;
Who tramples on his Brother's heart and soul.
Who seeks to shackle, cloud or fog the mind
By fears of Hell has not perceived our goal.
God-sent are all religions blest;
And Christ; the Way, the Truth and Life
To give the heavy-laden rest
And peace from Sorrow, Sin and Strife.
At His request the Universal Spirit came
To all the churches; not to one alone;
On Pentecostal morn a tongue of flame
Round each apostle as a halo shone.
Since then, as vultures ravenous with greed, We oft have battled for an empty name
And sought by dogma, edict, creed,
To send each other to the flame.
Is Christ then divided? Was Cephas or Paul
Nailed to the Cross to die ?
If not: Then why these divisions at all?
Christ's love doth enfold you and I.
His pure sweet love is not confined
By creeds which segregate and raise a wall.
His love enfolds, embraces Humankind;
No matter what ourselves or him we
call.
Then why not take Him at His word?
Why hold to creeds which tear apart ?
But one thing matters be it heard,
That brother-love fill every heart.
There is but one thing that the world has need to know;
There is but one balm for all our human woe;
There is but one way that leads to heaven above;
That way is human sympathy and love."
MAX HEINDAL
•||~•¥•~^\\:://^~•¥•~||•
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 3:21 PM UTC
The scariest thing is,
we're ready to evolve.
Imagine how many of our horrors we could solve.
Even darker still,
they don't want us to unite.
But after all, what's been solved with all these wars we fight
And money is of course...
the most important thing of all.
Yet funny as it sounds...it really means nothing at all
We're brothers and we're sisters,
under a common sun.
These lines we've scrawled on maps of ours...shattered instead of one.
That's the truest problem,
the final shackle yet to break.
The futures beams with brightness...but we've a final leap to take.
We must release the past,
We'll need both hands to lunge.
Balancing precipitously before the plunge,
Our consciousness transcending,
silence ringing in our ears.
The internal glow of love without the salty taste of tears.
We're worthy and we're ready,
and some of us awake.
Enlightenment expanding, like a ripple on a lake.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
What am I? Lost on the race for my on identity.
A 21 year old boy with world rising all around him.
Friends turning into adults like fields of sunflowers.
Here I sit content but people saying I should do "better".
It's not that I want to stay a child forever
I just know I am not a man.
In my eyes I'll always be something in-between.
I just want to write silly poems and play with words.
All this self-doubt of everything shall shackle me to the now.
I can't grow up if I can't achieve greatness in doing it.
Lay that crown on my head but I'll won't be a king.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
It’s so dumb and not really the point.
I wish, I wish, I wish,
I could force you to choke on it.
With every verbal message you spew,
The more the realization that the sparkle and shine,
Was just a shackle of the basest iron.
One that you released me from yourself.
I wish, I wish, I wish,
I could force you to choke on it.
It’s so dumb and not really the point.
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 1:23 AM UTC
we're all armed
with an appliance
of emancipation
we can nurture non-violent
defiance in a
non-compliant ethos of
antiauthoritarian self-reliance
we have the ability to eliminate the
vestiges of imperialism and
dominant dogmas that choke
and impede our creativity and shackle
our imagination to impotent ideologies
fragmented unrealities augmented
by fractures in our psyche
tendrils of theology that prey
upon our fear and exacerbate
conditioned responses that are
at once
unnatural and irrational
and lead
inexorably
to infantile expressions of
regression and fantasies of an
aggression rooted in the
suppression of dissent and
the oppression of dissidents
deities
as impotent
as our terror
of the unknown
by the promise of security and prosperity
a cabal of brutish thugs have erected an
imaginary hierarchy and demanded our
subservient obedience and reverence for
this malfeasant apparatus that leeches
our paychecks and robs all of our dignity
while somehow retaining the illusion of liberty
a delusion that festers like an open wound
a tumorous ulcer oozing foul fluid into our minds
blotting out our capacity for cultivating a
future divorced from misanthropy
so pour kerosene on this fluttering
flame of revolt before it sputters out
if we'd quit looking back and forth at
one another rotting in the gutters
checking to see if we have more to
our name than our sisters and our brothers
we might just muster the courage to overthrow
the vapid and misguided fictions that
divide and segregate us into pawns
trapped in this unending rat race
they've deemed the American Dream
harness the revolutionary tenacity
dormant in humanity's most important *****
infinite potential latent in every molecule
each neuron dancing across synaptic
gaps and fanning the embers of an engine
that gives motion to this evolutionary frame
the human brain is omnipotent
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
*shackle burns rub on through
long time comin’ too cells long out due
dooryard outing air comes short and timely
break today’s habit for tomorrow’s wise fellow
broadcasting brew; vomity yellow
pregnant and ******* up you did wrong
barren flesh in the obliterate womb
was it worth such worth enough to stop eating brood
stop thinking about just you
who is that in you?
a Christian?
Atheist?
or you split in two?*
Sep 22, 2010
Sep 22, 2010 at 1:30 PM UTC
I wish I could have kept that childhood wonder
where every day was something new
scary and exciting
unfolding journeys to behold
growing into eerie feelings and emotions
that weren't there before
but then adulthood comes
with responsibilities
and they smash you over the head with redundancy
shackle you with currency.
and we are abruptly awakened from all those dreams.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 10:40 AM UTC
i dreamed a pair of arctic eyes that are
so burdened i mistook them as mine
violet frost fingertips caught in time
shackle the withdrawn soul for his ****** crimes
i didn't know who it was
the corner of my eyes darkened in a way i don't recognize
but ******* when my heart would've leapt
i decided to tie it instead
like a beast that is fed
with leftovers and lifetime debts
i discouraged the feeling of staying alive
not long after their blows left me on the brink of defiance or
just waiting
to die
i tamed my heart, pray it won't be naive
because for some reason, that man in my dream
was too late before he realized
when they beat you and you scream in pain
you mustn't be the one to apologize
but for this i want to say sorry -
i'm sorry for befriending my demons enough to know my way
around this hell
and survive
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 12:45 AM UTC
Stunningly beautiful, soul full of pride,
The vision of perfection, by my side,
Enhanced is the feeling, swelling inside,
Price is platonic; our hearts must collide,
Heaven nor hell, unbound by earth’s shackle,
Euphoric by design, our love entails,
Nostalgic I’m not, we are no debacle,
View the world, no map marks our trails,
Inglorious, is the search for love
Ethereal, since you are but a dream,
Illusion is grounded, fly now my dove,
Reality is us, we are a team,
After all, you are my Aphrodite,
Yalla habibti,
Dec 8, 2009
Dec 8, 2009 at 10:31 AM UTC
The following statements of truth were brought to you
Not through, but circumnavigating fated parameters
Of insane, yet normative, largely uninformative
Mechanisms that formally give birth to ********
And instead, strategically splicing said bounds with
Ideal variables derived from the courageously quixotic,
Unrobotic, and outraged agents of, and for, capital Real:
The train of corporate reasoning derails so fast
To follow is to snap the head backward,
Far past angles within measures of pleasurable fit
And open gates to deluging tangled circular
Failures of logic that trick and co-opt the proletariat.
We are Present-Ambassadors with broken flux-capacitors
Demonstrating a consistent tendency toward error
In efforts to obtain diplomatic access to a future where
The same reemerging deficits do not manifest unfixed.
One of said deficits may include all positive freedoms.
For the record, it shall be noted that civil society
Currently arrives implicitly to find it compliantly fine
To promote systems of labor designed to illicit behaviors
That will eventually undermine the actors of exhaustive work
And make benefactors of those complicit in crime.
As case studies of this paradoxical paradigm, we observe
Nations signing trade agreements aligned with
Selling more of the goods whose extractions have
Cataclysmic exactions upon locals contracted not to resist.
Those who take issue with this are directed to appellate institutions.
The projected scarcity of over-consumed poisons causes fear
Which leads to faster hoarding and more ex(t/p)ensive death.
Thus, most human behaviors presently inflate pricing, popularity,
And rapidity associated with committing system-wide suicide.
As shackle-some power consolidation bends toward a transnational peak
I hereby slide-tackle these forwarded trends, seeking goals of the rational.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
You ever stop to think
The world would be a better place if the seas of laughter were shaped through the lesser
If Cattle Roared Among Giants
A world not grown through the substantial, but a world seeded with hope from the shade
Could we vanish this stabilization construed through faulty assumptions
Could we vanish this system of normality we hold so deeply to our soul
The limitations of wealth could no longer be our shackle
Will we ever be at peace
Please
Cattle Roar Among Giants
-Joseph B Schneider
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 6:43 AM UTC