"shakles" poems - Hello Poetry

Where will this take us now? Is it us who outruly guiding us as we march dramaticly to the next room? Will it be us who slams the door shut, or will we be boxed in with some automatic door opening and closing as more and more people come right in? Will we move along romanticing every little acomplishment we do, or will we morbidly and silently stubble on as we are poked and proded to keep moving? Will we finally rest as we see fit, or will we be told we have done enough? We all can easily anwser this in a way most people would generaly. We could stubernly and pridefuly declare that nothing shakles and moves us from one feeding trough to the next. We could so easily be just another rebel with a hollow cause that eagerly awaits to rip open the binds of all those around him, and finally take his spot in the limelight of respect and admirition. We can continue to dream and strive to be the philisophical moses of our generation, and lead our fellow brothers and sisters into a time where we all walk at our own pase, we all slam the doors we ourselves opened, and take any path we wish to travel in a way we feel best suits us. We could all be the one to hold on to the chains, or let the cattle go, but all of us are simply black sheep. So again I ask, who? I do not know, but I non the less seek an anwser. Where will this take us now?

0

Mar 27, 2014

Mar 27, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC

ghodan

Where?

Where will this take us now? Is it us who outruly guiding us as we march dramaticly to the next room? Will it be us who slams the door shut, or will we be boxed in with some automatic door opening and closing as more and more people come right in? Will we move along romanticing every little acomplishment we do, or will we morbidly and silently stubble on as we are poked and proded to keep moving? Will we finally rest as we see fit, or will we be told we have done enough? We all can easily anwser this in a way most people would generaly. We could stubernly and pridefuly declare that nothing shakles and moves us from one feeding trough to the next. We could so easily be just another rebel with a hollow cause that eagerly awaits to rip open the binds of all those around him, and finally take his spot in the limelight of respect and admirition. We can continue to dream and strive to be the philisophical moses of our generation, and lead our fellow brothers and sisters into a time where we all walk at our own pase, we all slam the doors we ourselves opened, and take any path we wish to travel in a way we feel best suits us. We could all be the one to hold on to the chains, or let the cattle go, but all of us are simply black sheep. So again I ask, who? I do not know, but I non the less seek an anwser. Where will this take us now?

4

*Round and round, it wouldn't even matter Go catch monkey's bars, like the beast you are yourself Tragedy is that you will never be able to look at light With your frail eyes and flaccid heart I purge, I clease Away with the torment of calling myself a fool Your fool- Don't you remember what shakles are? There's a vacuum in your mind- Is this not true? Swim in the ale that consumes your youth; You won't know tomorrow, anyway.*

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Sep 30, 2014

Sep 30, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC

jaanamj

hyperion to a satyr

*Round and round, it wouldn't even matter Go catch monkey's bars, like the beast you are yourself Tragedy is that you will never be able to look at light With your frail eyes and flaccid heart I purge, I clease Away with the torment of calling myself a fool Your fool- Don't you remember what shakles are? There's a vacuum in your mind- Is this not true? Swim in the ale that consumes your youth; You won't know tomorrow, anyway.*

12

To pelt the world in ice and graves. To feel how quiet this part of town feels When the lites turn on we will not sleep. We will not dream of anything tonite We will run like the chinook salmon runs To flood the world in rivers alive With pain the pain of peace. The pain after loss. What will come here when the hedges pop Out like boxing gloves. Out of me is songs apollo sang. Out of him and I we dance with Wounded leggs. And prove How sweet salt tastes on gashes of death. How sweet to taste imortality when The cars speed. What now is a world full of saints. To fill markets with fresh fish. And throw the bottles of whiskey Where they belong. Where they are warm Proves how hot my sweater gets when my Forhead clams up. My scarf unwraps and we run With out our cloths down pearl street. Let there be muse forever on feet and side walk. We mustnt forget why we break free from The shakles of eternity. The horrible shakles of wild life. Are finally pure gold. The softest medal to bend. And we leave the tempting Medal behind and choose to Drink the rain drops.

0

Nov 15, 2013

Nov 15, 2013 at 1:08 AM UTC

michael-parish

Why we run down pearl street

To pelt the world in ice and graves. To feel how quiet this part of town feels When the lites turn on we will not sleep. We will not dream of anything tonite We will run like the chinook salmon runs To flood the world in rivers alive With pain the pain of peace. The pain after loss. What will come here when the hedges pop Out like boxing gloves. Out of me is songs apollo sang. Out of him and I we dance with Wounded leggs. And prove How sweet salt tastes on gashes of death. How sweet to taste imortality when The cars speed. What now is a world full of saints. To fill markets with fresh fish. And throw the bottles of whiskey Where they belong. Where they are warm Proves how hot my sweater gets when my Forhead clams up. My scarf unwraps and we run With out our cloths down pearl street. Let there be muse forever on feet and side walk. We mustnt forget why we break free from The shakles of eternity. The horrible shakles of wild life. Are finally pure gold. The softest medal to bend. And we leave the tempting Medal behind and choose to Drink the rain drops.

33

There's a stabbing memory that I hold dear to me It's that night you tied my hands behind my back and rocked me to sleep Barely, drunkenly, I awoke to frozen veins with the cold shakles still on my wrists I sat, and shifted, and turned and tossed No matter which direction I faced, I smelled your scent in the wind My trampled fingers retraced my steps in the fields of hair on your chest until you opened your eyes You turned towards me, pressed your foot against my body hard enough until I slid off the edge of the bed The shackles pulled me down head first, smashing against the floor and making a crack in the dark hardwood A clean break But instead of resuming the usual routine of a graceful departure I locked your door, dragged the angel out of the closet and demanded that he tell me why I couldn't have you He told me to table the conversation

0

Aug 1, 2019

Aug 1, 2019 at 7:53 AM UTC

jalisaallycia

The Nerve

There's a stabbing memory that I hold dear to me It's that night you tied my hands behind my back and rocked me to sleep Barely, drunkenly, I awoke to frozen veins with the cold shakles still on my wrists I sat, and shifted, and turned and tossed No matter which direction I faced, I smelled your scent in the wind My trampled fingers retraced my steps in the fields of hair on your chest until you opened your eyes You turned towards me, pressed your foot against my body hard enough until I slid off the edge of the bed The shackles pulled me down head first, smashing against the floor and making a crack in the dark hardwood A clean break But instead of resuming the usual routine of a graceful departure I locked your door, dragged the angel out of the closet and demanded that he tell me why I couldn't have you He told me to table the conversation

13

Almost all hide truth Almost all It is the few that are essentially mad Who expose the private Compulsively divulge Who, nakedly unknow any and all shakles No time to receive your judgements They're busy with deep enlightened laughs for days And we dare not overcome our terror to look these souls in the eye These tidal waves of truths These callers out of our **** These unpredictable prophets! There's no telling where they may point their magnifying glass!

0

Nov 10, 2016

Nov 10, 2016 at 8:25 AM UTC

timspartacus

the nathans

Almost all hide truth Almost all It is the few that are essentially mad Who expose the private Compulsively divulge Who, nakedly unknow any and all shakles No time to receive your judgements They're busy with deep enlightened laughs for days And we dare not overcome our terror to look these souls in the eye These tidal waves of truths These callers out of our **** These unpredictable prophets! There's no telling where they may point their magnifying glass!

16

My mind is full of memories I cant remember Some arent real Does that make me twice the false dreamer? Or have I just not found the words to that letter Have I found the seal? I hear drums in the air Keeping a beat I know isn't there I know its dark in the distance Yet I rush in like my life is but a hindrance To something People laugh at death, saying its conquered Tell me, why the hell do I cower? A foolish fear? See, we smile all day long Laughing, Singing lifes oh-so-happy song Pretending we dont hear the warning, bronze gong's warning I try to be unique, tried to be different The only difference was the path Im taking to be the same You cant see them. Only I can, my shakles of shame Its depressing to think Because then all the lines begin to link Forming an answer One that brings clouds joy.. Lower My only thought now and ever, To console Is His voice Its slowly seeping through the noise of my choice Like a powerful river or hurricane It is shaking and destroying Yelling, Shouting 'Never Again' And so as we looked up through the rain With all our mistook pleasure for pain It dawned on us It was going to be a long walk to A long walk to No Where Yet we felt it, we were already half way there -FEELS LIKE NO WHERE

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Apr 13, 2014

Apr 13, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC

Koffi

Feels like No Where

My mind is full of memories I cant remember Some arent real Does that make me twice the false dreamer? Or have I just not found the words to that letter Have I found the seal? I hear drums in the air Keeping a beat I know isn't there I know its dark in the distance Yet I rush in like my life is but a hindrance To something People laugh at death, saying its conquered Tell me, why the hell do I cower? A foolish fear? See, we smile all day long Laughing, Singing lifes oh-so-happy song Pretending we dont hear the warning, bronze gong's warning I try to be unique, tried to be different The only difference was the path Im taking to be the same You cant see them. Only I can, my shakles of shame Its depressing to think Because then all the lines begin to link Forming an answer One that brings clouds joy.. Lower My only thought now and ever, To console Is His voice Its slowly seeping through the noise of my choice Like a powerful river or hurricane It is shaking and destroying Yelling, Shouting 'Never Again' And so as we looked up through the rain With all our mistook pleasure for pain It dawned on us It was going to be a long walk to A long walk to No Where Yet we felt it, we were already half way there -FEELS LIKE NO WHERE

39

My shadow speaks in prose's tall, Of where it's been and the things it saw. Of mountain peaks and valleys long, My shadow could write a travel blog. I alas can't say the same, Though I've visited all the places same. My worries and my fearful heart, Couldn't quite fathom this extricate art. A prisoner of my shouting mind, The words aren't silent, the fear divine. An orange jumpsuit, is what I've adorned, All my life without a single cloth on. Locks and chains are lighter still, Than the shakles of this panicked ***** I'd trade my mind, I'd give it up, I'd make it silent with that powdery white stuff. I crave for silence in a quite room, A moment of peace, some quietude. I wish to travel like my shadow does, Living and experiencing, not a reflective stop.

0

Aug 20, 2018

Aug 20, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC

ishaan-khandpur

My Shadow and I

My shadow speaks in prose's tall, Of where it's been and the things it saw. Of mountain peaks and valleys long, My shadow could write a travel blog. I alas can't say the same, Though I've visited all the places same. My worries and my fearful heart, Couldn't quite fathom this extricate art. A prisoner of my shouting mind, The words aren't silent, the fear divine. An orange jumpsuit, is what I've adorned, All my life without a single cloth on. Locks and chains are lighter still, Than the shakles of this panicked ***** I'd trade my mind, I'd give it up, I'd make it silent with that powdery white stuff. I crave for silence in a quite room, A moment of peace, some quietude. I wish to travel like my shadow does, Living and experiencing, not a reflective stop.

20