"unhand" poems
The constant vacillation around decisions that bind
The eternal struggle between heart and mind
Choose your virtues, and let them serve you
They may not confine you, but they will define you
Rise above in courage and faith
Stand your ground, bite no bait
A circle smaller, but what does it matter
True friends you acquire, unhand the admirer
You'd do away with all things shallow
If you are to rest easy on your pillow
The sun will shine bright in the morrow
And you'd rise again to be your hero
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC
Beware the bitter idiot--
That fellow with the sour
Mind,
Cankered by disillusion,
And feelings of
Left behind.
So life may not be everything
As planned--
It does, after all, arrive in
Installments called the day.
One of these is enough to try
To understand,
One enough for this thin
Vessel of stardust clay.
His voice is but a drone,
Nothing but rancor and filth
Ride upon his tongue.
Complaint the engine of his
Tone,
The wormwood ballad of
Pitiful woe he sings and has
Ever sung.
He will not be mistaken,
For the street tough is at his
Very core.
He will not allow to awaken
The malleable man of his
Youth and yore.
And so this fellow who has
Shut his soul off,
Stands in front of his mirror and cries.
He's too proud to unhand the
Lance of the scoff--
Boldness is his favorite lie.
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 10:08 PM UTC
Do you really need that second slice?
Don't you dare to super size!
Guzzling down large sugary drinks-
Do you rally think that's wise?
Your hamburger is much too large
I'd cur it down to size
until its like those square ones
that White Castle serves sans fries.
I taught the City not to smoke
in that I was thought wise.
Unhand that Nathans hot dog!
It will go straight to your thighs.
I guess I'm just a Puritan,
my happiness undone
by the thought that somewhere, someone
might still be having fun.
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 7:22 PM UTC
The Swedish Tax Authorities
were sure they had their man.
He owed a lot of kroner
They saw through his crooked plan.
When he got out of intensive care
He wouldn't get too far.
No one escapes the tax man.
Like death, their grip is sure.
The suspect's heart was failing
and no replacement could be found.
It was either a jarvik Seven
or he was destined for the ground.
Doctor's worked for hours
His life was in their hands.
He had the cash to pay them
about one hundred grand.
An artificial heart was placed
in his chest cavity
to replace his own
which had been starved
of the oxygen hearts need.
The tax man thought to nab their prey
as soon as he came around.
His attorney said " Unhand him,
a loop hole I have found!"
"Per Swedish law a man is dead
when his heart has ceased to beat.
You are barred from prosecuting
a man who is deceased."
While the Tax men sorted out
this novel defensive line
The man fled to a haven
where he enjoyed the fruits of crime.
He dined out on the novel tale
of how he and only he
outwitted death and taxes
and obtained immunity.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 11:36 PM UTC
the sea grabbed bodies, theirs and mine flaming foaming tendrils
ahold of the drifting timber trying to keep gripping, hanging
holding high salt stripped throat shouting Unhand Me, Body-
You'll not have us tonight, but the sea made belly sounds,
bleeding even the pilot, head slipping to the murk my blood
the envy, finally fell out inside and I sank to the floor with the timber and rope-the final moments of vision the setting horison the eye and perhaps an illusion; not-blak sails drifting steady my head vapor shroud eating the sun I fell into the lap of my love, my Mathilda- royalty to seakelp and fog looking on both irises jupiter and mars and thanking the stars furyos vixens above and she stood and she smiled not-blak sails- I admired her silver linen train but a din like desperate men shouting loosed me from my vision; they had seen the sails and all surrounding the lot tantalus's envy the pilot's hands raving Not today! Not today! They feared hotel raft a permanent lodging, jumping, frightened, killing themselves their poor salt-seasoned hearts drifting again more than them no signal observing the sails flurrying trumpets it might see us-it might, it might!
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
It is an ancient Poet
and he stoppeth me.
“Beware of poetry, my son,
She’s a gold digger.
She’ll chew you up and spit you out,
leave you penniless and lying in a gutter,
drunk on absinthe,
while the rich novelists and scriptwriters
step over you, laughing.”
“Hold off! unhand me, greybeard loon!”
Unheeding, I slunk off to my garret
to compose a villanelle,
heavily derivative of Dylan Thomas.
I only wanted to get girls,
but before I knew it
I was roaming with the Romantics,
bopping with the Beats
and cruising with the Classicists.
Popping some Pope, shooting some Stevie Smith
or hitting up Heaney,
I was hopelessly addicted.
And I never did get the girl.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 2:44 AM UTC
Drifting slowly
Dreaming silently
Dark and empty
Nuzzled in nothingness
Only to be violently pulled back by a feeling so real
Burning
Pulsing
My eyes snap open
Panic skips my heart
Scared
Terrified
All at once
Flying through time
I feel my scars
Oozing hot and painful
Trickling and tickling
Down my calf
Into my shoe
Choking on the lump of fear
In my throat
Reaching trembling fingers
To feel
But
....
Revealing a clean hand
Dry bumps
Scar tissues
From years ago
Remain
But they are still alive
And they speak to me
In memories that linger
Testing
Taunting
Bickering
Live nightmares
Ghost blood
Drips
Gush
And even though
My fingers can't see
My mind can feel
Warm
Cold
Shivers
Frighting
Painful
A clean hand
Reveals no blood
But still
The sensation stays
Hot invisible streaks
Whisper on my skin
My eyes deceive me
How can I feel
What I cannot see
Eye lids close
Head falls back
Quiet
Listening to the ghosts
Because they are real
Powerful
More real than most things
They remind me of things
Feelings
Desires
Hatred
Failed attempts
So I give in
And let the invasion
Sink in
Absorbing
Painful
Flashbacks
Lost
Taken away
Traveling through chaotic time
Dizzy
Light headed
Images of disaster
It's dark in here
In my head
I'm lost
In my head
I'm trapped
In my head
Ghosts
Please unhand me
I've seen enough
I've been through enough
Let me move on
I wish not to be reminded
I like my blood inside my body
Get out of my head
Quit snaking through my veins
I'm over that
I'm done with it
Shut up
Shut up
Shut up
Leave me alone
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 10:30 PM UTC
I have to unhand her, unhold her,
spell a widdershins wander
to unpick the stitches of time
sewn together.
I have to unlive her, unlove her,
-muster a fiction, a line of defence,
a charm of protection, a cobbled pretence
to convince that I'm better without her,
- but to court a dementia
that summons a shade
to centre upon the mistakes
that we made-
is, itself, a deceit.
For there were such pleasures
embossed on the soul
to remain in forevers
that cannot be changed.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 3:58 AM UTC
Remember when
a stroll , so ancient its name,
Was our universe.
Long and winding ,deep
Into the forest’s cosmos.
As Winter’s breath splashed
Your cheeks with rubies.
I stole glances of your
Perfect lips bathed
In the dying light.
As the stars played
Surreptitiously,
In your highlights,
Your hand
In mine,
I laid a kings road
To my soul.
Your chariot,
A kiss so warm
And deep its meaning
I dare not speak above
A
Whisper.
The
Man
Inside
Me
Is afraid
Of your caress
Unhand me, I say
Unhand me.
~AD~
Aug 7, 2010
Aug 7, 2010 at 8:20 PM UTC
Going to take a hike
down these old Georgia roads
Lead me to where the dust comes crawling
so I can stare into the distance and imagine
Hold my hat, son please
watch me as I unhand this plow
Feed the cattle, don't forget
that I'll be home on a wooden float
Way up there in the hills
the way the northern woods glow
A perfectly placed dead tree, that'll get
me satisfied, then I'll find a natural moat
Build a raft, sand the spikes
on my way back, I'll pass a toad
and the river will open onto woods more sprawling
until I find my way home, I imagine
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
Liberation discharge has a loud call, need
to unwind shouts boldly,
as the fettered heart feels no better until
it is de-controlled.
Caged, a muzzled soul will unravel slowly
having freedom, believing,
when turned adrift emancipation widens
as it homes for relief.
So unhand my heart, release me, disband
this neglected affair
and leave hold of erroneous persuasion
that shacked means care.
Who I am is unique and of late I begin
again to celebrate
life for my own pleasure, and not for what
others think is my state.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 8:18 AM UTC
He is a makeshift man.
Trapped between two teeth.
Unyielding.
I remain very wary and expect revisions.
We bleed into one another.
Fight back noxious fumes.
Still, I am the one that ache's intensely.
"Unhand me!" I cry,
clinging to him.
I beg this make-do man to stay.
Beg him to hold onto me.
Through fire and flames.
Vapor and smoke.
But he dissipates, as ad hoc's always do.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC
UnHAND me—!
Said the Jebusite to the Jew
—or I'll take your Sabbath
and put a miter in your mouth.
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 5:53 PM UTC
Let it go like a red balloon
Released to celebrate;
Follow 'til it dissipates
Into the vacant blue.
Unhand the kite string,
The struggle with elements subsides.
Let it go as if it died.
You know you tried,
Some things broken aren't worth fixing;
Admit to yourself you don't like it,
That one day never comes.
Do not expect a certain result,
Life happens as it was meant to unfold.
Just let it go, like gossip, like fear;
Dependency is detrimental.
Tear down the museum of victim mentality.
Stop comparing,
Stop people pleasing.
Let it go.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 12:46 PM UTC
If tomorrow never comes
It wouldn't make a difference
I know
It wouldn't make a difference at all
Must break these restraints
This isn't fair
Abandoned
Betrayed
Mine
The Sandman has given me a bed to make and sleep in
Why oh why? Release me
Unleash me
Unhand me
Remand me
Yahweh
Win some
Lose some
Great rich misfortune
Decayed withered family tree
Shambled moral poverty
Great
Hemlock
Archaic Apothecary
Toxic apple
Petrushka, Punch and Judy
Enunciate
Look at the pale reflection
**** my parturition
**** my ruination
Father, tomorrow may never come
Move forward from this lie
I must be on my way
I feel it weighing down on me
Shot nerves
It's here, times up
Get on with it, it doesn't make a difference
If it all ends today
I'm sorry
I wasted what you've given me
For a moment of weakness
You can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time
I deserve this, not your compassion
Look deep in my eyes
There is no way out of this
Illusion of existence
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
Every Moves Must Have A Purpose
Standing on the edge of the cliff looking down
at the muddy water
My body froze, my mind
wandered about life altering
The floating leaves cluster against an old tree branch
the stronger ones, hurried along: an image of mockery
An ill feeling came over me:
What the purpose of living?
I saw the younger generation shoving us
Asking us to make room!
Make room
I saw injustice about to happen:
I felt the squeeze
lost for a moment
Numb and ill emotions
Should've I jump
or should I move away from the cliff
"Hiss “whisper the wind."
What you are about to do is a sin.
Who do you think you are Tim Tin?
I felt a sudden tug on my arm
a little voice whispered,
“Satan you’re a liar.
Turn down that heat on the fire,
Unhand me!
I wouldn’t be dupe by you
I stumble for a moment,
Gasping for breath
as I held my chest
Was I brain-dead or just simply
Mad as hell?
suicidal thoughts
Every move has its purpose
And life is to move on
Thank God I didn’t take that plunge
Every Moves Must Have A Purpose
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
Elizabeth Paddington Warrington Ware
I met on a path today,
I knew by the wind that was blowing her hair
She’d not have a lot to say.
I said my hello and she turned then to go
And she stuck her nose up in the air,
Like she didn’t know me, or sought then to throw me
Which I didn’t think very fair.
I said, ‘Aren’t you talking?’ but she just kept walking
So I turned around and caught up.
I caught at her sleeve in a moment of peeve
And in doing, spilt tea from my cup,
She snapped ‘Understand me, young man, and unhand me
You’re showing that you have no couth!’
I thought she was blind or was being unkind
I’m a pensioner, far from a youth.
‘Don’t say you don’t know me, you’re trying to snow me,
Remember, we once had a fling,’
I had her engaged, but she flew in a rage
And said, ‘I don’t recall such a thing!
You’re merely a stranger, I feel I’m in danger,
I’m calling for help in a thrice,’
‘How could you forget me, with all that you let me
Back then, don’t you think it was nice?’
‘I’m Ellen Pengellen O’Fogarty Fair,’
She exclaimed, and I said, ‘then you’re not…
Elizabeth Paddington Warrington Ware,
I’m so sorry, I must have forgot.’
I thought, ‘I’m in trouble, she must have a double,’
Then thought of the tat on her bot,
‘Do you have a sailor?’ She blushed, I had nailed her,
For Fair she was certainly not!
David Lewis Paget
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 12:14 AM UTC
I would be happy to sit by you
for the rest of my natural life.
I never felt like a woman much,
but I'd be proud to be your wife.
Oh, lover, how do you stand me?
You say, "Oh, lover, how do you stand me?"
Dear darling, that I should be so lucky.
No gold is worth a second of your time.
I paid no heed to a marriage oath
when I was only a child.
Loving you isn't a set of laws;
To love you is to run wild.
Oh, lover, won't you unhand me?
You say, "Oh, lover, won't you unhand me?"
No, darling, not while my feet are standing.
No gold is worth the way that you are mine.
I am no master of rhyme or verse.
I'd make no beautiful bride.
But if there is truth in this universe,
I'm meant to stay at your side.
"Oh, lover, do you demand me?"
You say, "Oh, lover, do you demand me?"
Yes, darling, if I am to be happy.
No gold is worth the sweetness of your smile.
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 5:19 AM UTC
There once roamed a beggar
With a stark, unsettling gaze
Jutting from bloodshot eyes;
The veins resembled a maze.
His words poignant and potent,
Yet the vain were never amazed.
Though he was eager, his voice was meager.
His courage corroded from attrition and malnutrition.
For years he pleaded with the gaudy passersby
Each one despised him,
And fled before he could even ask them why.
With desperate agony
He tugged on their garments,
Their constant reply:
“Unhand me you varmint!”
Others wouldn’t even lend a word,
Only the breeze from their stride.
Trying to be seen was no different
Than trying to hide.
He stumbled through the crowds day after day.
Wasting away.
Constantly reaching for an embrace,
But he seemed to have the physical hand
Of an invisible man.
Day after day he wasted
Entreating for sustenance.
His corporeal substance emaciated.
A ***
Glum.
****
Shunned by a society gone numb.
Even though he never asked for a cent,
Or morsel, or crumb.
No, the only nourishment he ever sought
Was a ration of affinity.
A genuine bond
For a fraction of infinity.
Even a heartfelt conversation
Would fill his gaunt flesh.
Instead he was given a gauntlet to endure,
And die a myth like the legend of Loch Ness.
For years he shed tear after tear,
Till he no longer could.
But his heart still broke;
Torn, collapsing from tear after tear
Till he no longer stood.
Simmering in resignation,
He withered into a slumped lump,
A begrimed bump.
Bowing to the crowds passing in a blur.
He was an infectious disease without a cure.
He fused into the graffiti on the wall.
Till one day he disappeared, knowing it made no difference at all.
Still taunted and haunted by memories of sight and sound,
Now he wanes and decays in a cave...
Where I write this now.
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 9:41 PM UTC