"stonewalls" poems
The need to stare through people
is leaving my eyes crossed,
faster than lines on paper.
Left is the desire to scratch
this itch; an exasperating need
to mark one more line.
What sweet intent leads to
discretionary electrical impulse
that grasps the heart tight,
and stonewalls a swallow.
To recall warm beams of light,
with internal engaging delight,
watching nature bend
towards the will of the sun.
A Push
A Pull
Gravity
displaying its omnipresence.
Invisible forces
envelope our globe.
Dancing in little corners,
from time to time,
as if meant to
find a lone soul.
A private affair.
To stare at,
not through.
A normalcy embellished
as a miracle,
made for you.
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 10:13 PM UTC
As a white, middle class female, history and society have labeled me an oppressor.
And the fact that I have come so far to face is that, by nature,
and by that I mean by the socialized conditioning of my white ancestors, I am.
An oppressor of the people, of the land, of myself.
The history of mainstream culture has deprived me of a connection with nature.
It is this social history that I tire with, that I struggle to accept.
See, but with this wisdom comes freedom,
a freedom to reject the path that society and history has paved for me
and to find my own, to find my own truths.
I am a conserver, and I have found nature to be a conserver too.
Traces of my roots and my life reach further than any town limits or cemetery stonewalls.
You can’t cover my spirit with foundation, eye shadow and lipstick.
It may hide death in my face, but it won’t beautify my spirit.
My soul needs no resting place.
It will continue on to live and breathe in the absence of my body,
which has only been a vessel.
I will not be confined.
I can not be confined, not by religion, not by my race, not by my class.
I will not be put in a box, not in life, and not in death.
Aug 12, 2011
Aug 12, 2011 at 4:43 AM UTC
I fell in love with a boy I knew, could never be mine.
At some point, I thought it was fine.
I didn't want my heart on the line.
For I knew that it was a sign.
What chance did he have of coming inside these walls of mine?
After everything that he has done because of his last "mistake",
how can I allow him to come back into my life?
Her words were enough to finally make him break,
it made him realize that he stabbed my back with a knife.
I gave him my trust, my life...
He wanted to make things right, so.. just this once, I let him try.
As expected, he found me cold and distant.
I wanted to ask him...why?
My feelings at this point, were non-existent.
To what extent, is he willing to go?
As time passed by, he began to tear at my walls.
Was I ready to let him inside...
Inside these stonewalls,
the deeper he went, the more I wanted him outside.
He was close to reaching the wall I no longer allowed anyone inside.
But no matter how hard I tried to make him stop,
he allowed himself inside without any problem.
My world came tumbling into a flop.
The feeling of being numb,
it's gone... Replaced with an actual heart.
My walls were tore down,
I thought my castle would be safe and he would protect me himself.
He did the opposite and let me drown,
a dragon, a problem...manifested itself.
I knew I was on my own.
He was too scared to face it head on,
face these feelings he had going on in his heart.
He was so far gone.
It tore him apart,
and caused him to recreate his own walls.
Disappointed, the girl began to cry.
How was it fair to him to do such a thing?
Leave her to die,
that was probably the best thing for his heart contained no meaning...
No meaning to the relationship they began to grow.
So now she's the one fighting for him,
fighting to tear down the walls he built up.
This was grim,
she was upon the last wall.
A wall similar to hers, the one she did not allow anyone in.
The best way to get rid of this wall was to wait,
because within time, the rock hard wall would sound erode.
This was her sealed fate,
it was too late to go down another road.
She knew where her heart was and she was willing to wait for her chance.
But yet...
There is another part...
No matter how much I tried to deny these feelings,
they're there.
He refuses to have any feelings now because it stings...
There's a pain in my chest that I find hard to bear.
The walls for me are becoming higher and harder than before.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 11:06 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Dar Dar Dark-ness is-fu-tile-to this lit-tle-dream
I have,
hid-den in cre-vices of things-to the-ones I lack,
The past is the past and even in the past seeing what I use
To lack and given up,
Confusion is nothing new to a couple of youngins' cruising
On the country roads in a big truck,
Life is so much more precious than a diamond or a gem in
hopes to shine bright as they were,
We all can not be perfect in a mellow dramatic world full of
Politics and secret purge,
I I I-could be-everything-to all-of your-stonewalls,
you-break-them down-for me-and all-of your-
worries fall.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
Beside me on the table lies a small green stem;
This stem once with it carried a lovely botanical gem.
Outside the window yonder is a city caked in snow;
Such that all is cancelled and I have nowhere to go.
It's funny that this stem of green shucked clean and here laid bare
Gets mention in this rhythmic verse 'bout all that white out there.
For you see, my friends, that stem, to me's a sad reminder
Of a time (and time again) to me, that's so much kinder.
And now, of course, I have a day, no deadlines, dues, or debits
But that stem is what remains of a stash worth several credits.
A tragedy to none but those who also will partake;
To me, a dearth that stonewalls my voracity to bake.
Alas, I open this white page and 'ply my verse unto
Lament for being 'void of green...what has my life come to?
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
Razors, did you know they show a kind act of love?
Picture me at 18, not taking life or myself seriously enough.
Well not as seriously as some would take razors and love.
See, I discovered one day just horsing around on a carousel ride
of trauma, that we can all chase dreams, but few of us will catch them. I discovered I needed to be careful where I was dreams to.
Careful like I was in love, careful like I was using razors to chisel through the ground until I reach the earth's bones. I also
discovered, rubbing razors and love the wrong was can feel as if you had a brush with death.
See, God got it wrong, love should barricaded by stonewalls instead of hearts and songs. Love is messy, and poetic, and it carries a ratchet razors that I often use.
Understand cuts are messengers too, and they tattletale and dry snitch every change they get, about my anger, my fear, and my secret stash of razors to a world that couldn't possibly understand.
What the hell didn't they get the memo?
That I am looking for someone to feed on and stay full off of.
because I can't love normal, just insane and misunderstood. Someone to understand, this is why I stay quiet barely hear.
I got voice as loud as silence, and in the bedroom I make as much noise as a butterfly. Ironic they call me Navah the Butterfly, because when I speak it's poetic and no safe words.
Just someone else's slit wrist pouring out of me, O Negative premeditated blood drops to what is really wrong with me.
And I confess, I sick and creative. I am something you can't just simply sleep off, so sweet dreams.
and it is going to take more than razor shape words and music that sings to what's between my legs to fix me it's going to take God!
Running from every direction at once just to come and hold me.
And I will tell them, I don't know how to stop using razors or a world around as a mirror a world that is someone else's heaven and someone else's hell. So Sometimes I play the hero and the villain as I try to pick up the pieces of myself 5 at a time to put me back together again.
but Cant so I hurt with razors for now but one day I will hurt with kindness and I will be amazing! And I will teach my how not to use razors
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 11:25 AM UTC
*Child be whatever you want to be
don't become a lost child like me.*
find yourself a fresh new stream
a different sky to draw your dream
walk not the way I strode
set out on a new road
one that's still green
not stained with my sin
retrace not my history
be enslaved not in ancestry
bonded not of our war and greed
our stonewalls of caste and creed
walk not the way we trailed
we missed goals we failed
then lost our way in selfish needs
our hopes buried in overgrown weeds.
*Child be whatever you want to be
don't become a lost child like me.*
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 11:48 AM UTC
I strung the movements
with my heart.
With shrieks of desperate madness
to escape my self enfetter.
Paper beats rock but
My notes bounce back off blunt
damp stonewalls,
cornering me off.
I'm trapped.
My music goes nowhere,
An eternity's echo
Rings of despair
I model after myself,
each movement, each blow
A craft to my hole.
Where I yearn to see the open sky
Where my music can soar and fly
Just let it go,
Uncage it,
Let it flow.
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 1:23 PM UTC
Fields lie green before the eyes of the world.
Media reports tales.
The old stonewalls are glowing.
Seemingly lined with fairy lights.
Highlighting the flowers.
The beautiful flowers dropped by the little girl with smiling eyes.
Long hair of piercing shiny blonde is draped about her neck.
She's carrying a wicker basket.
Her flowers seemingly overflowing.
They appear to be poppies you know.
Some flaming red, others a perfection in innocent white.
She flicks her hair away from her delicate shoulders.
Her feathered wings released.
Today, she comes bearing beauty.
The child of the angels returns.
She is begging for world peace.
(C) LIVVI
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 8:33 AM UTC
Solomon rides his chariot of fire
the sun, sky-high and singular, eyeing
his war waged in the dirt
with ant soldiers carrying banners
of men who trade blows for love
patrilineally doth the crown fall down
tumbling from head to head
'til two heads beheaded are consulted
as double-minded words of wisdom
make the world spin like unwise heads of state
molecular clock ticks and talks until
the ancestors come unglued
and the ancestry unravels into
yarns of pride and dying for
tales of glory, written only in blood
prehistoric fathers sacrifice daughters
before the mothers could file complaint
of double-edged swords in the house
where Hammurabi's word in etched in stonewalls
but falls on deaf, stone-hearted heroes
deforestation dreams destroy wooden wands
and depeople dozens of homes; magic gone
the holocaust costs more than halos and crowns
'cause caustic causes contrived by the man
make the world burn twice over
and there's only so many do-overs 'til it's truly over
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC