"unlatched" poems
When clocks strike twelve and trainings end
— lurk not, they say, in school at night.
Age-old stories tell of how there’re
things that throng in fluorescent light.
In toilets silence screeches loud,
for when school’s empty, they arise:
Ghosts of pregnant girls lie wailing,
with cleaner-uncle poltergeists.
For now I sit on chilling white,
resounding prayers in my mind;
my heart racing with dire wish
a friend of Casper’s I won’t find —
Then eeeeeeek!
Is that a door creaking?
Perhaps it stemmed from my own mind,
Hinges sing as they fly open!
Thou who entered, oh be my kind!
A thud thud thud as shoes traverse
across the glinting marble floor;
and louder,
louder as they get
much nearer to my sacred door!
THEN SILENCE
or so I wish!
But a loud knock takes my breath away.
The unlatched bolt lies there lazing
HOW’D I FORGET TO LOCK TODAY?
A hand thrusts in so hard and swift,
door’s open ‘fore I can react!
I’m facing now a girl my age,
She bawls at me with little tact —
Eyes bloodshot and tummy bloated,
“YOU DISGUSTING PIG! HOW DARE YE?!”
I dash out of the girls’ toilet
before she tries to castrate me.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
Step by step,
no louder than breath—
I walk beside
what isn’t mine to name.
No banners,
no blueprints,
just this sound
of stone learning softness.
You open a window.
I keep the door unlatched.
Let fear finish its echo.
Let the dark chants drift.
Not all ruin is ending.
Some of it
is soil.
Mar 31, 2025
Mar 31, 2025 at 6:28 AM UTC
**She bared my heart, that I did not know I owned,
and led me to the light. To redemption? Back to Hell?
To some in between twilight...**
*He saved my life, but ****** my soul,
confusing me my way. To Love?! To Hate?!
To find a hole and hide away...*
**I scream her name...
But I am alone, and only unrepentant ghosts can hear.**
*He can never know...
That much- Thank God- I know that much is clear.*
**I cry, and Demons are not moved;
To them, seeing a man in pain- even their king- is a sight not so queer.**
*I cry, and Angels do not care;
The only waters shed in heaven are joyful, pious tears.*
**When I left, my soul came again unlatched;
and my heart closed, left again to cruelty's treason.**
*When I returned, my wings were intact;
but my heart burned for the reason.*
**Though you thought I hid
my face from shame;
All the rage and pain... for you? All I did,
I would do it all again.**
*When you left, to my shame,
my heart followed you to Hell.
Though you wear such rage and pain...
I confess you wear it well.*
But he can never know my shame
But you do not care to hear my pain.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
Handsome, with a twinkling in his eyes,
the boy walked.
Drizzle dropped from gray clouds.
The boy lifted what was his, and unlatched the mechanism.
Yellow sprung
and pushed the rain away from the boy.
Calm, content, the boy’s face hid behind
the material of the yellow umbrella.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 5:35 PM UTC
Stare at the keys till the symbols blur
Till something wonderful can occur
The keys delight with every stroke
Something only typing can evoke
The clitter-clatter of the keys
Like a thousand buzzing bees
Pure flowing unadulterated phrases
Escaping my mind twisted mazes
I become unaware, detached
My mind has become unlatched
Oh it's so harmonic
So gloriously electronic
Man and machine
So flowing and clean
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 7:01 PM UTC
We wring our veins
write to the stars
fight under the moon
words of passion tune
We write about love
when it seduced
then it wrestled
words of tension swim
Our words of time
moments gone and farmed
sorrows that overload
happiness that swoon
Prime time in the lonely time
when contentment permits
when heaven is locked
and when hell is unlatched
Prime time my bold friends
keep the pen readily primed
undoubtedly trust the script
It will lead to ultimate freedom
A dedication to all the poets here at HP
We write these words on and on, we capture moments, swim the
oceans, object in the courts, run free in the forests. We are not hexed
just keep writing for one time the primetime will be ours
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 3:56 AM UTC
Inviting.
The thin blue flame in my night-burnt fire
grows dim as dawn unquiets
another day's numberless happenings,
culls light from dark and carries
life forward while I, in sated mood, watch
first ***** in sparrowed pools lost
on those still bedded and fastened to sleep,
hear Spring-born lambs' early bleat,
smell warming grass dewed with new morning
and catch first breeze stirring shored
boats as sand twirls grasses in shivering dunes.
Unlatched my window wafts lures
to ****** some moments of closer approach
as closeted dawn opens
eyes and secretes rising smoke on sun's thaw
inviting a barefoot cavort
to wild-life's awesome nature, all on my own.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 9:01 AM UTC
Can we just pretend that today
doesn’t exist?
I’d like to go back to yesterday
where you recited Shakespeare
and I kissed you every time
you replace Juliet
with my name.
I do not want to think about
how I have cried since then.
I’d like to take us to a space where
water flows up into the faucet,
all the wrong words are unsaid,
the door swings back open.
I’d bolt that door shut, then.
143 locks up and down the frame.
Then you’d never leave.
We’d crawl into bed
and morning would
never end.
I don’t think the inventor of cars
ever loved a sad girl.
Because if he did
he would never
have created
something
to steal
life
from beautiful boys.
And the inventor of stairs
probably never counted
the steps one must
take in grieving
the loss of
a loved
one.
Who left the 143 locks
unlatched?
Was it you or me?
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
Where I waved at the sky
And waited your love through a February sleep,
I saw birds swinging in, watched them multiply
Into a tree, weaving on a branch, cradling a keep
In the arms of April sprung from the south to occupy
This slow lap of land, like cogs of some balance wheel.
I saw them build the air, with that motion birds feel.
Where I wave at the sky
And understand love, knowing our August heat,
I see birds pulling past the dim frosted thigh
Of Autumn, unlatched from the nest, and wing-beat
For the south, making their high dots across the sky,
Like beauty spots marking a still perfect cheek.
I see them bend the air, slipping away, for what birds seek.
1.6k
Midnight dream
inconceivable desires.
The denizens of a simple town
In a world of complication.
I want, I need to find
a primitive land far beyond.
Far-fetched, chimerical.
My decree, to search
high and low,side to side.
For a place where I can be free.
From stipulation that seems to be
A birthright, a curse made out to seem like
a gift, as though we asked for this?
oh Mortification, all I ask is to be
unlatched from this leash
the world so generously strapped
around my neck. That is my
Magnificent Obsession.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
some of those thin moths are snowblind
enchanted by cheap tricks, trickling for magicians
past their prime.
four wings, naked lunch
moonbeams
long time.
the universe is unlatched
and just fine.
you come from nowhere
and go over there
all the time.
your eyes, some
remarkable placid
rancid with
naive.
plunked into an anagram
of our first kiss
disregardless
the Cerberus
you doubt
with.
Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 12:27 AM UTC
I know, although when looks meet
I tremble to the bone,
The more I leave the door unlatched
The sooner love is gone,
For love is but a skein unwound
Between the dark and dawn.
A lonely ghost the ghost is
That to God shall come;
I - love's skein upon the ground,
My body in the tomb -
Shall leap into the light lost
In my mother's womb.
But were I left to lie alone
In an empty bed,
The skein so bound us ghost to ghost
When he turned his head
passing on the road that night,
Mine must walk when dead.
1.4k
ok
the minute it takes..
to trace the call,
to ducktape the suspects ******* face,
is the same minute a family home explodes in a cross section cutscene like 24.
more prisoners escape,
****** pretty, but they're spies.
suckers got forks stuck in their eyes.
the trucker died, his hat now a subtle disguise.
soft talk and the novice gaurd complied.
I told the brass this whole ******* place needed modernised.
shot gun cabinets unlatched,
the last batch of canteen fat contained celephaned grendades.
outside it rains and mud slides thick as the chase vehicles flip onto their sides.
the helicopter follows a costumed imposter through the shadows of a suburban night.
people thrown out the way on the street like extras in a detective series.
"Freeze: get on your ******* knees"
"Ive got nothing to lose, ive got the the ******* hostage and im offering a trade off
don't ******* shoot,
or ill put a hole in this ***** bigger than you can fix pig, twitching at the trigger,listen quick
take a step back or ill do it, push me piece of **** cop".
blood on the concrete runs thin as it navigates and mixes with no forgiveness or mission.
track back until the dead are insect sized, centred in the wide shot of the city, wait a beat then credits rise.
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 10:52 AM UTC
The mind engaged in logic
I can barely see
My days sudden bursts
I can rarely breath
The flight of the air
Carries me through
The panic and dire
Soothes my blues
It’s the lurch
Of a flip
It’s not lunch
But a trip
Those piano notes
Cascades my blues
A remedy to inspire
I died a thousand times
When I missed him so
The baggage I build
Grazing on those grounds
******* to fly again
It’s the lurch
Of a flip
It’s not lunch
But a trip
Ferry me through
Carry me through
For I need a train
And a carriage
One for me
One for you
One for us
One for all
The lurch
Unlatched
The trip
Unflipped
Lets all have lunch. Huh?
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 7:32 AM UTC
In solitude I sit
quieting my mind
with peace and stillness all around
my inner self I find
A tranquility so beautiful
A silenced deafening roar
of normal life that carries on
beyond this temple door
Colours vivid, vibrant hues
a clarity unmatched
shattered like glass the moment that
the door became unlatched
Try as I might the moment lost
at least for now it seems
My meditation gave just a hint
a taste of the serene.
Mar 17, 2010
Mar 17, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC
How did the first poet come about
Which feathered friend
Unlatched his tongue
Pitching his wits to sky of views
To detect fire of flowers
To discern the link of above and below
To reflect on drift of words
To visit invisible nations
To conceal his creative nucleus.
Before the transformation
He must have been an ordinary man
With sleepy ears and shrouded eyes
Mundane like the face of afternoon
Whether by chance or divine decree
He was crowned by feathers of Simurgh
And given a plot of sky to wander
To sing of morning and of night
To sing of colors, of trees, of flight of birds
Of taste of wine, of berries, of hazelnut
To sing of wings of life
To relieve the pain of confinement
To reveal the crack of cage
To become paragon of originality
To settle in heaven of finesse
And brandish hell at the oppressor.
Apr 10, 2025
Apr 10, 2025 at 4:16 AM UTC
Press play:
Sensitivity has a dilution
A crutch of pollution
Pull up your sleeves
Sign here; it's nothing
Delighted by gumption
Anger to please
I'm spending and speaking
Skipping while speeding
A life that is mine
Plural me is fine
Zebra in the room
Taste of a perfume
Dandruff nearby
Unlatched or able
Benched and be tabled
Ignore the zoom
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 3:49 AM UTC
If your feelings can only be expressed
By human nature's raindrops
If you must break the dam
That holds your tears back
If you must open your eyes wider
To see past the blurry vision
As if your tears cleanses your sight
Bad thoughts, bad feelings and memories
Flow out through the windows of your soul
Keep them unlatched until the rain has ended
For storms like this come and go
The salty drops that stain your face
Are reminiscent pieces of your sorrows
They are no longer trapped
They are free to fall
It is okay to cry
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 10:08 PM UTC
fuzzy buzzy flickering light fixtures
court me for days -
tired, unlatched
and in a daze
broken hinges hang from
untapped doorways,
painted with
shattered looking glasses
and laces overthrowing
unseen faces
crawling at ungodly paces,
blind red rages boil over
onto sentient pages to die
on unlit stages,
reeking with rows
of rotting audiences,
decomposing millions of
masterpieces.
sleepless death
undertaken,
like a sorry soul,
to a hole new level
six breaths under
reborn into a dogs tail
clenched between
it's own teeth.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
i. the night you called me over-sensitive was the night
i filled myself with empty soda cans. i attempted to wash away
your scent. 50. 51. 52. times.
it all still stinks of you.
ii. you used to make me wait until three in the morning.
you never apologized. the last time was until four, and you greeted me
with a kiss that peeled my lips off,
threw me against the wall feeding me words and stale fragments.
iii. the night you said you were ******* her should
have been it. instead you held me,
and i imagined her blonde white hair, her pasty thighs bouncing.
you used to say you loved my cinnamon skin.
iv. you want to return to what we were.
but we were never anything except petal filled wishes and
gluten-free mistakes.
v. do not look for me anymore,
i am gone. i will be gone. i will be kissing stars and men with
accents and minds that are unlatched.
do not look for me anymore.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 7:31 PM UTC
I heard the neighbor-lady through the wall, she said,
"... yes, mhm ... you don't have to ask me questions ...."
Getting hot, perspiring from the shirt, I hate
the itchiness and lifted up my shirt, There!
" ... I have to go ... I'll leave the door unlocked ...."
Then heard a shuffle, sheets and door hinges,
then maybe her step down the hallway.
An unlatched! apartment--I've coveted less--
this and all the pomp, pills, and condoms I've stole,
oh I was up already, zipped myself away,
making the way between diaries and ***** plates,
oh already up opening my door--you guessed?
The hallway was empty; I went right
and door 54, was it this? I put my weight
to it, fogged the eyehole with my breath.
Hand to the **** I turned and it opened.
Augh! The managers who've stopped me,
once I was even tackled by a security guard,
was handcuffed, was once called "heartless"--
if only every door opened like this.
I was shirtless still, in fact, my hand strayed
was raised to my breast and I kneaded
the skin and tugged the hair: I entered.
It was dark and I feared the honesty of light.
I had a step to the next and her kitchen
came upon me, I saw the shadows of her home.
I wandered further as if walking an antiverse;
someone else the same template.
I wanted to find where I lived in her home,
where I sat and heard her often call,
where I imagined she curled phone cords
or refused to snore now matter how hard
I pressed my ears to the wall.
This is it? This is her bedroom,
adjunct to mine, a wall to separate--
she sleeps here.
I've got breathlessness and my hand is groping.
Does she have a closet or dresser? I will see.
She calls a boy by name, is he coming?
When is he? Can I hide here, see him?
oh soon. I'll know too soon, too.
I open the door. And she is staring back.
Her hand against the wall, the spot,
where I rock my body awake from
nightmares. To reach through the
plaster and steal the socks. It was a,
a, a great shame to be so looked upon
so, an inanimate gaze like a mirror's
that maybe can't see me, dunno.
I want to move further, can't.
Can't say anything either.
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 10:35 PM UTC
last night a door opened
it was you calling for me
such a dream light entered
when you appeared so real
and the flames of set arms
lit fire to unlatched breaths
in my silent room with you
like haloes and open wings
so short was our embrace
and time ran out a window
trailing afar in shy moment
i glanced outside and saw
a moon of breathless white
satcheled in sky the noose
pressing down over black
woods and i heard the owl
moaning deep in darkness
suddenly was i half awake
alone forever bereft of love
and the dream light brought
so dearly with your coming
left with you as a door shut.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
The car ride is normal, simple and polite. But we smile the whole way, pretending not to care, taking advantage of the light. So here we are on the way to 'LARP', you upset, yet I'm even worse. True the joke was funny, the rest of the group knew...and when they saw you their smiles simply grew. You asked for a fountain, they pointed the way, and once you were out of earshot they couldn't help but say...
''He has no idea does he?'' Kurei asked with a big broad smile.
''He's going to have one hell of a game'' Garrus claimed with a padded blade.
"He'll never know what hit him." Umbrus chimed as he unlatched his swords.
I sigh and smile at them each and said, "Lets just start this game."
How does the line go? Stab me in the face you're **** out of luck... stab me in the back you're.....?
The game begins, I avoid you like the plague. I wouldn't even fight you with in distance of a hand grenade. If I ever interacted with you, it was simply to sing a song. My simple Siren Song paralyzed you and left you to the mercy of my friends. I myself never attacked or 'killed you' I wouldn't even dare...The one time I 'took your arm' you whined like no one was there.
"Why did you hurt me?" you asked foolishly, true with a smile, but why ask at this game?
"You're my enemy," Avexi snapped, not even me. Oh how when I have the chance...I can be so mean.
The game continued, you couldn't keep alive, you still had fun though- some how you tried. You always tried to come at me, you always tried to attack. Thank the lords Umbrus and Kurei always had my back.
Finally the game was over, and the whole team knew the line. They kept back from smiling, kept back every time. 'You stab me in the face, you're **** out of luck...You stab me in the back...
I bring you to LARP!'
May 27, 2011
May 27, 2011 at 4:44 PM UTC
*Maculate Cheddar Moon nights o'er Aquarian countryside
Hinterland for young lovers , pathways for romance rediscovered
Shangri-La midnight glen , flaxen mane , astral beacons of
Smoke blue in concerto with Flame red
A reflection on a chosen star at curiosities unlatched gate
Traipsing rain washed , cool clover with strawberry tressed , porcelain 'Inamorata'
Ebony hour capitulation and seduction* ...
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
combustible
is the feeling
streaming inside you:
a rose rolled up
in a bloated tidal wave
amniotic, aglow
it tastes like gold and fury
like the atomic composition
of a dying star
and there is dedication there
an extraterrestrial fervor of love
which persists as tirelessly
as our dear moon circles this planet
even though it has been
pocked so many times by
unidentifiable things hurled
from the root of deep deep space,
even though it is marked
so physically and permanently
by the gravity
of its worship
you are full with it,
the rain-slicked gravel
the buds unclenched
the sonorous maskless
moment when you reached
for her
and she did not let you
go empty
your belly is aquiver
and your chest is unlatched
and god
billions of prisms could never catch
all this light
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC