"unlockable" poems - Hello Poetry

I am dangerous and unforgiving. I know you more with the merky hours. I make you starve until your alone hearing unavoadiable agony. I am the worst part of waking up I make hope romantic. Ill be searching to keep us both unlockable making you employed to my tormenting thoughts. I am wealthy. You cant buy me out of you. I learn to hate who you will grow into. A miserable man missing all his front teeth Talks to me. He knows Adversitys a touph word if you havent looked it up In the big red dictionary. The meanings permanent Like a bad tattoo.

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Oct 11, 2013

Oct 11, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC

michael-parish

Adversity

I am dangerous and unforgiving. I know you more with the merky hours. I make you starve until your alone hearing unavoadiable agony. I am the worst part of waking up I make hope romantic. Ill be searching to keep us both unlockable making you employed to my tormenting thoughts. I am wealthy. You cant buy me out of you. I learn to hate who you will grow into. A miserable man missing all his front teeth Talks to me. He knows Adversitys a touph word if you havent looked it up In the big red dictionary. The meanings permanent Like a bad tattoo.

21

Shackled to my responsibilities like a dog tied to a tree, Left to wallow in my own storm of worries and misery, Enslaved by depression like a prisoner to desolation, Unlockable, chains dragging at my feet, Chafing, grinding, bruising my ankles, Wrapping around my neck, I gasp for my last breath, But there’s only one thing that can unlock these heavy chains, Only one thing that fill my lungs with relief, Dance. The dance that breaks my chains like a knife through butter, Freeing my ankles from the unbearable misery, Turning my body into a canvas where my feet paint masterpiece, The dance that blows away my grey clouds, Filling my soul with luminous music, My heart beating to the rhythm of my feet, The dance that fills my lungs with fresh, bubbly oxygen, Filling me with freedom, Lifting me off the ground like a pair of wings

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Mar 18, 2017

Mar 18, 2017 at 10:42 PM UTC

Bradley-Poems

Dance

Shackled to my responsibilities like a dog tied to a tree, Left to wallow in my own storm of worries and misery, Enslaved by depression like a prisoner to desolation, Unlockable, chains dragging at my feet, Chafing, grinding, bruising my ankles, Wrapping around my neck, I gasp for my last breath, But there’s only one thing that can unlock these heavy chains, Only one thing that fill my lungs with relief, Dance. The dance that breaks my chains like a knife through butter, Freeing my ankles from the unbearable misery, Turning my body into a canvas where my feet paint masterpiece, The dance that blows away my grey clouds, Filling my soul with luminous music, My heart beating to the rhythm of my feet, The dance that fills my lungs with fresh, bubbly oxygen, Filling me with freedom, Lifting me off the ground like a pair of wings

19

our hips fit, our hands entwine, fingers unlockable, laughing twogether, “mighty fine” she’s wearing the Levi’s, I’m wearing the Strauss, and it looks like we been stitched together her hand slides easy in, to my back pocket, smiling she announces, we like, fit, like a wedding announcement, we fit like, like an old country song we see a movie with our crew, lights go up, everybody loved it, she secretly, her nose wrinkly wrinkles, one too long car chase, my eyes are grinning from corner to corner, knowing she’s knowing i’m all in, full in her with agreement total they took us to a tailor, suits we required, made to measure, fit as perfect, as perfect we be, as perfect as we were, matching customized, white shirts, black tie, shiny black shoes, for matching caskets, everyone saying we just fit together, even now, crying ‘so long,’ for so long, see you guys so soon, you two fit, like an old country song, one that everyone knows, all the words.

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Jun 25, 2020

Jun 25, 2020 at 2:15 AM UTC

city-of-flips

that old country song that everyone knows all the words

our hips fit, our hands entwine, fingers unlockable, laughing twogether, “mighty fine” she’s wearing the Levi’s, I’m wearing the Strauss, and it looks like we been stitched together her hand slides easy in, to my back pocket, smiling she announces, we like, fit, like a wedding announcement, we fit like, like an old country song we see a movie with our crew, lights go up, everybody loved it, she secretly, her nose wrinkly wrinkles, one too long car chase, my eyes are grinning from corner to corner, knowing she’s knowing i’m all in, full in her with agreement total they took us to a tailor, suits we required, made to measure, fit as perfect, as perfect we be, as perfect as we were, matching customized, white shirts, black tie, shiny black shoes, for matching caskets, everyone saying we just fit together, even now, crying ‘so long,’ for so long, see you guys so soon, you two fit, like an old country song, one that everyone knows, all the words.

50

Hidden inside, are the secrets within, the bland wall has no opening, The key has disintegrated into tiny pieces, not even, the deadly acid. The key has sunk inside and has become a part of the acidic death. Now the lock is unlockable, where the secrets are trapped within. Writhe not, because the depth consumes it, deep like an ocean, like the dark world thoust lay beneath is scarce and feared, hated and discreet, and not warmly deared. As black as hell, the coral beneath is as red as the dark rose wine, looks insidious, hidden and dwell. The demons lay beneath and do not seek, thou seek when the winters are dry, the bare **** trees, and a dead body... in a bed of cries. Skeleton build with muscle, cells, tissue, organs and fat... is the book cover that had no key, the body that died in tragedy. The woman that had no he nor she, lonesome and scared, supressed and helplessly dared. Dared to die alone, rot and starve, no one gave a **** because she was invisible to all and there was no one to whom she could confide. Her ghost kept all kinds of secrets, even the ones all curable and not in weakness. She went insane, her mind thoust blood it had rained. Satanic and the devils child she became, once was heavens angel, sweet and innocent, and was always at bay. Parents murdered, home burnt down... she cried a waterfall, for endless days in her mothers gown. Lived alone, and never whispered a word...

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Aug 12, 2015

Aug 12, 2015 at 3:46 AM UTC

Ravenous

The secrets within the tragedy (The sequel)

Hidden inside, are the secrets within, the bland wall has no opening, The key has disintegrated into tiny pieces, not even, the deadly acid. The key has sunk inside and has become a part of the acidic death. Now the lock is unlockable, where the secrets are trapped within. Writhe not, because the depth consumes it, deep like an ocean, like the dark world thoust lay beneath is scarce and feared, hated and discreet, and not warmly deared. As black as hell, the coral beneath is as red as the dark rose wine, looks insidious, hidden and dwell. The demons lay beneath and do not seek, thou seek when the winters are dry, the bare **** trees, and a dead body... in a bed of cries. Skeleton build with muscle, cells, tissue, organs and fat... is the book cover that had no key, the body that died in tragedy. The woman that had no he nor she, lonesome and scared, supressed and helplessly dared. Dared to die alone, rot and starve, no one gave a **** because she was invisible to all and there was no one to whom she could confide. Her ghost kept all kinds of secrets, even the ones all curable and not in weakness. She went insane, her mind thoust blood it had rained. Satanic and the devils child she became, once was heavens angel, sweet and innocent, and was always at bay. Parents murdered, home burnt down... she cried a waterfall, for endless days in her mothers gown. Lived alone, and never whispered a word...

22

If the world be ever changing, Ever rotating on its wobbly axis, Then I, As constituent and citizen of the world, Be ever changing too. I was born hot, and wet, and loud, the last day of June. And now I have grown, And I have grown cold, Because the hurt of learning The pain of change, and the disappointment, Has eaten to oxygen from the flame of joy I was born holding In my chest. Were that I could find ignition within, Some magic bit of unlockable truth, rather than casting out my net of questions, And attending to the ones who bite.

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Sep 3, 2016

Sep 3, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC

ebelanger91

I have grown cold

If the world be ever changing, Ever rotating on its wobbly axis, Then I, As constituent and citizen of the world, Be ever changing too. I was born hot, and wet, and loud, the last day of June. And now I have grown, And I have grown cold, Because the hurt of learning The pain of change, and the disappointment, Has eaten to oxygen from the flame of joy I was born holding In my chest. Were that I could find ignition within, Some magic bit of unlockable truth, rather than casting out my net of questions, And attending to the ones who bite.

17