"unobstructed" poems
His hands are long,
calloused and inviting.
Scars tell stories,
scattered
across his knuckles.
He has one hand cradled in the other,
tapping and rubbing
his palm
with his fingers.
His mind is a jungle:
heavy, sticky, lush,
challenging to navigate,
surrounded by undecayed green
and unobstructed sea.
“Are you anxious?”
His hands are moving rapidly,
yellow parrotbills
flitting in and out of the tall tree trunks
and violet, epiphytic orchids of his mind.
Turning to face me,
he stretches his lips into a smile.
He assures me that he is fine,
but he doesn’t see any birds.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
O formless one
naked are we and outstretched, unobstructed
we have smashed the dead symbols together
to try to make a few useful pieces of flighted existence
walking through charcoal ashes
Carbon
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
There's nothing quite so grand as hiking,
to some secluded, green and grassy knoll;
where views show unobstructed beauty,
then I can say it's well, within my soul.
When I've reached the summit of success,
and I've realized the treasured goal;
then I can bask, in quiet satisfaction,
for it's well, so very well, within my soul.
When I ask myself the haunting question,
who it is, for whom the bell does toll;
I recall the captain of salvation,
and I can say, it's well, within my soul.
When I know, that without Him, I am lost,
when I'm aware, it's Him, that makes me whole;
then there's that peace that passes understanding,
and it is well, so very well, within my soul.
When I see waves, that kiss the fertile shore,
white-tipped water, on its merry roll;
then I have seen, a view of heaven's glory.
and all is well, so very well, within my soul.
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 7:53 PM UTC
This feeling flows
like an unobstructed stream
starting deep in my heart
and bubbling out
to my extremities
happiness
in it's purest form
saturates our words and laughter
and soon the room is soaking wet
as we dance and sing
taking hold of our youth
and our freedom
we are
loud
rowdy
drunk on
our love
and wine
we are
infinite
and in these moments
I am
complete
content
alive
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 3:42 AM UTC
A child's eyes show innocence
They are open to things new
They show with no discretion
They see all the things we do
A child's eye's receptive
To the joy and pain we see
It's a window, unobstructed
It's the way that things should be
A young man's eyes, they wander
They see the future not the past
They are open to advancement
They see things that we know don't last
A young man's eyes are blurry
They show them what they want to see
They show innocence is missing
They show that nothing good is free
The eyes of a middle aged man
They are the windows to the end
They see retirement is coming
They see that age is not a friend
The eyes of a middle aged man
They show regret and are all red
These eyes are always tired
They show what they should have done instead
The eyes of an old man show
The innocence of the child
They show recollection of their passage
They are full of love and they are mild
They old man's eyes look backward
More than at the future that is passed
They see the good times far behind them
They show the memories that will last
Your eyes, they are the window
To the world you see each day
They show you things of beauty
They show the world at play
An innocent sees nothing but
The world as it should be
So, take the time and clean your window
And see the world like me
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 10:58 AM UTC
A self-arranged route.
Ambitions led me forward.
Every step was to gain my adolescent aspirations.
I was confident.
When life was array,
The goals became my crutch,
My vitality,
The only reason to move, progress.
Idealistic and naive.
Blind and hopeful.
I meandered swiftly,
I gallivanted unsuspecting.
If I was to truly exist, I had to control my haste.
Oblivious to true adversity,
I needed to digest the lesson,
I needed to understand the complications.
Unexpectedly, the caveat stared at me.
I fought and clashed,
To only raise the white flag of surrender.
The battle was lost.
Who I was eluded.
I struggled through a sea of self-impediments.
I allowed myself to drown in the agony.
I did not have the armor to save me.
Through the fog, I heard songs that healed.
I held on to the words as they began to stitch me together.
I started to crawl,
I knew I would never be the same again.
I knew I had to start a crusade,
An onslaught against myself,
An onslaught against the organization.
I knew I would never be the same again.
As I raised armaments,
With the reinforcement in my ears,
I began to evolve.
The person I was became more substantial.
I had further tribulations ahead,
But I was more prepared, more capable.
I was humbled, yet proud.
The person I was became more unobstructed.
Through the misfortune,
My identity became solidified,
I reattained my dreams,
And I made efforts to get a steady hold.
I told myself I will not founder.
I told myself I could not relinquish.
For this was the war that would define me,
And I knew I must persevere.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
Pretentious youth--
Fervent sapling, impatient
In your early hours;
Whimpering, persuading
Premature unfolding;
Quelling such desperate hunger.
Perhaps you dress so quickly
In fear that canopy elders
Will flout your need and
Consume all of your pledged sun.
Pliable and shallow rooted,
You elope toward unobstructed light;
But are remiss of your future.
Bent, curved, blossomed--
You will feed well
As the banquet is first set.
Yet, Summer shall find you
Strained within the shade;
And only narrow filaments
Flowing between green cloaks
On which to feed.
The advent of Autumn’s wind
Shall press firmly against
Your crooked breast; and
Displace your sipping feet.
You will flame quickly, blushing--
Then disrobe amongst the clothed.
Naked and unable to suckle
the sweet reserve
Ahead of Winter’s frozen grasp.
Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 9:11 AM UTC
i'm a sunset
i have my days where i am not the brightest
i have my days where i never want to stop
i have my days where i am pale and calm
i have my days where i am bright pink and booming
the days i beg to be seen
i am not always the most beautiful
i am not always noticed
sometimes i am shadowed by dark clouds hanging over my head
sometimes i am unobstructed and full of majesty
i am not always the best, you will not always like me
i am a sunset
i am temporary
i disappear and am born again
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 2:52 PM UTC
If you decide to come back,
With an open heart,
I'll keep my tools ready,
Performed will be an open-heart surgery,
Where an incision into your heart,
Will be made to remove the blockage,
Then love will flow unobstructed in your heart.
The various crap you read about love I meant,
That surely is the chief restricting factor,
It has cost you the pure true love,
It did cost you the caring nature of mine,
I've lost the will to live,
With my sad heart,
If you will rather not come.
My body has started revolting,
Pushed I am closer to oblivion,
Though my arms still long for you,
I have my second thoughts too,
Because if I die soon after marriage,
As is already most probable,
I don't want to widow you.
So I give you the modern window you seek,
The window to happiness & harmony,
Go ahead and grasp the opportunity,
Worry not about the blame,
Because I bear the responsibility,
Cost it would more lot of money,
I fear cancer for the expenses.
Fear I don't the cost,
There are few wellwishers,
Relatives and acquaintances,
Who might help me bear the cost,
Fear I do the ensuing loneliness,
**** me it would for sure,
I fear a quiet seclusion.
Because once I could bear it,
Twice it would rather **** me,
For I am not the immortal god,
Scared I'm as ending days ****
Beckon me does a lonely death,
Death which I no longer fret,
But loneliness is a threat.
For she failed to cease my heart once,
She might as well fail even twice,
Death has had old scores with me,
Averted she was the last time,
Coz I suspect my own body now,
My happiness destiny will mow,
Give me it will grief of loneliness.
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
Take my heart,
****** your fingers through my chest -
let them reach. Rip, pull,
tear aside my weary flesh.
Scratch my decaying ribs,
rotten and weak.
Just a sharp, swift tug,
and they snap. Blood leaks,
as you pierce the arteries,
that keep my lungs captive -
chaining them within me,
so that they cannot rest, active
always, slaves to reflex.
Let them be free, at last
unbound, let them relax,
deflate, give up the air of past
days that took too long.
Toss them aside,
Useless and frail, taking
up space in your unrelenting hands,
they keep digging, though aching
and tired of brutality. Hatred
that once coursed through my veins,
now spilled and taken,
for your deathly gains.
Finally, unobstructed, a clear path
to my heart now drained
of life-giving blood is revealed.
Wrap your pale, blood-stained
fingers around it and pluck
the tendons 'till they break.
Grip more tightly, grab, clutch,
****** it from me, still and motionless.
Hold it up to the light, let me see
with my dead, hollow eyes
as you crush it in front of me.
Take my heart.
Crush my heart.
Take my brain.
Twist my mind.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
Find yourself among the sea.
(We all know you'd **** to be clean)
You're dissolved memories rotting with purity
Unobstructed details of a killing spree.
You're ragged knots hanging in the tree
Vain attempts at writing new memories.
But god my god, you're too blind to see
Hell is with you in your veins as you sleep.
So bless me, or curse me, really
Whatever's easiest for you.
Your gut wrenching sorrow is getting old, too.
Do me a favor
Just once for me, please.
Count your blessings four by four by four
And with the scripture you hold to the highest degree
Shout to the condemned what exactly it is that you see.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 1:21 AM UTC
I have thought of these words, not the ones you may hear when your body presses to the air, and the sound-waves go unobstructed, no the words lay here on a page, within a thought that didn't happen today but might show up tomorrow, recorded by the blood of bone, water, and metal, each etched mark, stains the memory of a time when oxygen was free and clean to breathe, finding out that the next moment these words are consumed, their meaning becomes a new personality, these thought words and the specific tact and errors, prolonging the flow from the head to the finger tips, thus causing minor adjustments, which make even the most thought out words seem like they have no true, maybe real, meaning, accused we stand, on trial, only a judge begging for a recess, but my closing statement is not finished.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 2:52 PM UTC
I go to sleep again, eventually
After hours of fitful tossing,
Unwilling to surrender
To the nightly unknowing.
Some nights bring forgetting of everything;
Self, days, events, time, life itself.
Others fill themselves up
With a sort of coin, of wavering moonlight
Seen through the haze of obfuscating dewfall.
Reflections broken free from the sea of self
Raise unobstructed to float,
Hanging in the cooling ether of dreamscapes
Where in the fog nameless dogs bark
And dark landscapes prevaricate.
Where clocks do not follow rules,
Where gravity sometimes suspends
Or history rewrites itself.
Judgments come down and are executed
Beyond the dignity of reason.
Nights pass slowly through a watery realm
Where nothing is concrete,
As we wade clumsily through clumps of time,
Skip through a children's maze of nonsense riddles.
And when the knowledge of being in a dream
Pierces sporadically, through the body's paralysis
We awaken, amazed to find
That we are simply ourselves again,
Then we stretch back out, into the other dimension,
Ready to dream some more lines;
Sample some more realities
Till morning awakens us with hands
Of impatient brightness.
And abstraction slinks away
To wait for the next evenings
Entertainment of amnesia.
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 7:37 AM UTC
strokes, blurs
rough chaotic blotches of color
invade a clean, blank canvas
somewhere inside
grey birds call to me
their songs bursting into blue flame
branches whine upon the shoulder of the air
secretly proud of their special burdens
black
black unobstructed markings
cry
their tears obscuring, concealing
so we cannot see it, feel it
cannot taste the bizarre sweetness
of a world untamed
of a life
unprotected by the shield
of a clean, blank canvas
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 10:02 AM UTC
In a redwood forest some place along the way
where the morning light in quiet puddles lay
and the branches hung with garlands of dew
I let my thoughts kindly wander towards you.
Perhaps I fell asleep, though that's hard for me to think
because the passing time was measured with a blink.
I've seen some stranger things, but I acted first in fear
when resting on my lap was a white and golden deer.
Her fur was spun from the same fabric as the sky
which I was slowly petting as she opened up her eye.
I don't know what I thought it was that I would find
swimming in that unobstructed ocean of the mind,
but there I found a ship with sails of compassionate well-being
to the further shore, towards an existence worth believing
where everything arises in a dynamic play of harmony
always in accord with the unelaborated nature of reality.
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 8:27 PM UTC
Beads of sweat stir up a line
Residents in queue, confined
Narrow long queues assure
A hope, a future, true of valor.
Agitated walks past cages and fences
Every minute a case of jitters
Mysterious that future
Unobstructed love or terror.
Simple little faces unaware
To those of creed and color beware
Where your place just might be
God is above, not here to see
One by one every wrist inked
Color of the ink embossed
That which will tell
Life beyond is hell
Inching past I stop before you
My eyes peer for you to be true
Birthright thrown and tossed
As a subject judged to be crossed
Wrist pulled forward
The stamp over the palette
Cruel eyes over me hover
"Sorry we do not have your color"
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 10:33 PM UTC
It’s sad really,
How something so complex can change in a few years.
Twelve becomes four,
Phrases become letters.
An entire global structure,
Now dust under a new foundation.
A conversation takes place in thin air,
Unobstructed by land or sea.
No dictionary tells them how to spell,
No teachers correct their grammar.
Languages torn to pieces,
Becoming harder and harder to piece back together.
A universal language is born,
The Tower of Babel is finished.
Words erased,
Meanings lost,
Books turned to ash.
The only thing left to do,
Is embrace it.
Welcom 2 d fucha,
Njoy wats lft.
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 5:25 PM UTC
From me to you
No intercept
Please
Quiet message
Private
Unobstructed meaning
Meaning
Private
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC
I almost believed that autumn came,
that rains castles of emotions have built.
Who is guilty of all those things?
The forest on the crust of sadness slipped.
In fall's eyes you see the leaves in the wind,
seeking happiness, weeping for the summer.
For nobody ever-ever told them
what is the meaning of a true autumn.
The days and dawns seem so far now,
the golden leaves flow in a theatrical way.
It was the end of the autumns ball,
they listen triumphantly on the unobstructed paths.
Autumn, with her untrustworthy sadness
returns again, sipping the light of the forest.
Looks like all is floating, resembling to a wave,
they curl and crumble from shore into shore.
The silent trees on the fall's fragile shoulders
are like leaves in the arms of rains soldiers.
With divine lights come through the enchanted glass
at the crossroad to give her one more kiss.
The autumn of soul is like a bouquet of wind,
like love-loving salvation wandering in thoughts.
The sap of love penetrates into the holy rains
with cold splashes, for having the last words.
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 8:36 AM UTC
with an unobstructed view of god's boot -
can also be seen
my quaint Victory
Garden, with a babbling pond -
and fresh green shoots
seeping into your Koi Thoughts; i trouble you
from dull slumbers
to great new heights
of lowdown
***** love.
and may i trouble you again ?
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
It’s eleven a.m.
I’m in yesterday’s slip
I awake to the sound of the dog licking his lips
He’s in the room
At the edge of the bed
With an unobstructed view of my delectable head
I follow his stare
Which travels down my hips
His stomach churns, his saliva drips
Suffice it to say
If he's not swiftly fed
Yours truly here will soon be dead
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 5:01 PM UTC
In the days where life is given to those,whose minds are yet unobstructed
birth takes place
in the days where lives are lost in a futile expression of man
war takes place
in the days where lips exchange touch, and bonds are given to the worthy
love takes place
in the days where words betray friends, the world listens for imperfection
a secret takes place
in the days where great toils mount great misfortune
poverty takes place
and in the days where i look, for us all, the unbiased reality of man
truth takes place
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC
It's as if it calls my name,
Mostly at night,
Near sleeps edge.
I feel the wind,
Smell it sweet and pure,
The plants and sage,
Even the rich dry earth,
All their scents are there.
The High Desert remains,
Like no other place, there is.
Steens Mountain
She beckons me too,
My roof-top sentinel
Of all I survey,
Vast vistas of startling,
Sun drenched, anointed
Wide open color rich land,
As far as the eye can see.
All so pleasantly devoid,
Of any trace of Human Beings,
I become solitarily lost as much,
As I choose to be.
With Blue skies so bright
and deep they take
your breath away.
At night the unobstructed
Black heavens are alive with
A mass of stars, the likes of which,
Most people on Earth have never
Seen with naked eyes alone.
Almost like an Astronauts view,
They appear endless and
Right at your front door.
A brightly illuminated Galaxy
Endless to infinity.
Pulsing lights vast and inspiring,
So close appearing you feel,
That you might bump your head,
Must even duck down a little,
Just to give them room.
Actually wept a few tears,
The first time I stood there,
Under the lighted umbrella of their spell.
No wonder the ancient peoples'
Worshiped the stars, the heavens.
Perhaps we all should.
To some, a High Desert is but
A wasteland of dirt and weeds.
Not true, rather it's a vibrant
Landscape alive with activity,
More Wildlife than I've ever seen,
In one place, at one time.
The landscape and the creatures,
Mostly left alone by man,
To thrive, grow and roam.
It's all as it must have been,
A thousand years ago.
Is it any wonder then,
I sometimes think I hear,
That beseeching wind,
Whispering it's invitation,
To my waiting ears?
Then barely contain myself,
Until I must return.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
i used to love walking
being one out of a big family
i could gather my thoughts
and think freely
unobstructed
now i hate walking
for the same
reasons
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC
I welcome you in
With the respect you are due
And listen to you
Without judgement or critique
I hear your concerns
And strive to understand them
I share my concerns
With honesty and respect
Acting together
We will find the solutions
To face the future
With unobstructed conviction
And uncondional love
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC