"unreleased" poems
Evert night at 2 AM
Different poems are written
Different words are scribbled
Different papers are crumpled
But only one thought she had
Yet, word can't help her convey the feelings
"Empty" has much more than herself
"Sad" is not sadder than she thought
"Broken" is more whole than her
"Hurting" ain't just bleeding just like her
And when words can't take the role
It's the blade that play with her
Every cuts has meaning
Everything is her unreleased feeling
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 12:23 PM UTC
& so my nightly routine begins...
1.) I turn on my unreleased Lana Del Rey mixtape
2.) light my last cigarette
3.) turn off the lights
4.) crawl into my unmade bed
5.) cuddle up to my favorite stuffed animal
6.) and I begin to cry
7.) then finally... sleep comes for me.
8.) & the nightmares begin.
Oct 24, 2022
Oct 24, 2022 at 11:18 PM UTC
Silence.
That’s the
First thing you
Can hear. The sil
Ence is just so loud,
So real, so close, so true,
What everyone needs sometimes.
That’s my favourite part of being there,
Underwater. The world passes away, and
You can hear yourself thinking again.
You can just simply: Be. For once.
The feeling of oblivion, the pressure of
Unreleased air, the escaping
Bubbles to the top
Of the pool, ocean, lake,
The clear water with sunlight
Shining through the depths till it
Reaches you, the feeling of
Oneness with the world
Its past, its present
Its uncertain future, the
Feeling that everything will be okay
No matter how hard it seems now. The
Feeling of weightlessness as your hair undulates
Through the clear water, your body buoyant, your mind
Finally clear. The stillness that overtakes your very
Soul as you stay at the bottom, holding on with
All your might, not wanting the moment
To ever pass, knowing it has to even
As you hope you can breathe,
Impossible as it seems. The stillness
Permeating every aspect of your being, from
Your previously weighed down limbs to your dancing
Hair to your stressed mind to your frazzled soul, giving the
Much needed calm from a busy day. Pushing off the
Depths, feeling the sunlight get stronger, the sur
Face grow closer, feeling the nostalgia to your
Second home where you can see clearly,
Even with your eyes shut tight, your
Breath held. Where you are you.
Underwater.
May 17, 2012
May 17, 2012 at 9:42 PM UTC
the early morning silence is good for me
i usually miss out on the sunrise,
but when i don't, i let myself soak in it
my fingers prune under the rays of a sun unreleased
this in-between --
the not quite day, but not quite night --
sets my world in motion
time stands still and life forms inside my window pane
bliss in a 5:30AM lilac sky
the early morning silence is good for me
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 5:37 AM UTC
Moist and monochrome, clouds are gathering
On a Sunday afternoon.
Look up idly from my browsing, at the building 'cross the pool
Winds picks up, the monsoon breezes
Lick at the curtains twelve floors up
On the terrace, woman standing
Arms outstretched, grasp the rail
Legs stressed back, footloose in sandal
Lightly muscled, slightly formed
Kimono slips from lighted shoulder, designer ****** strawberry brown
Fabric glides across the hip-line
Revealing all to me below
Wearing nothing on the landing
Hint of shadow, ***** mound.
From the sliding doors behind her
Steps a man not quite unseen
Waist encircled in one movement, undergarment stripped away
Rigid stillness then the thrusting
Tension mounting at the breath
Woman gasps the O shape forming
Through her silent, varnished lips
Mahler moaning on the ITunes
Waves are forming, silent sound
Thrusting, busting, flexing, ******* arching back crescendo reached
Sun comes out, just at that moment
Roads diverging in the wood
Disconnecting, and uncoupling
Might and maybe should and aught
Trembling fingers, taught in temper
Blink the eye and pop the top
Shaking hands that hold the taper, to the unformed smoking spliff
**** the wreaths in, breathe the thought out
Bottle clinks across the teeth
Unbelieving, unconcealing
Unrelieving, unreleased
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 4:38 AM UTC
*how this came and come to be,
from gone to come to gone rediscovered but unreleased,
a passage thematic that birthed
fully formed, formal in its inception,
contented in its first appearance and
its primary coincident deception
who wrote this? not me? could not be!
yet a scented hint of
eau d’familiarité
suggests that I may have
inadvertently
plagiarized
myself
this old poem mine,
we certifiably have never met,
but nonesuch a hail fellow met,
that upon our (re?) acquaintance,
the heavens marked the occasion with
hail and neither of us deemed it strange
so we well recall our ancestor’s words*
”there is nothing new under the sun”
adding our brand new imprimatur
”not even June or the Moon or other iconic loons”
*we may have borrowed from the insights,
recollecting what happened to us when separated at birth,
envisioning like the prophets of yore what was implanted
long before we remembered it well
upon its birthday
our intertwined twinning
fate befallen*
postscript
**quaking heart, trembling pointer
dawning and dying
simultaneous
neither tissue, cell, molecule,
i am but a composite of
letters, alpha bits and bets,
recirculated songs and tunes born
like me,
compromised, bridged,
newly un and recovered,
lengthy and unabridged,
my appearance faulty,
my eyes ****** ruddy and red,
my fingered tips blend and bleed
words acquired, words invented,
marching before me,
old lands recaptured,
new ones set free
take and give -
there’s no difference -
intimation, initiation,
all
bring me home
to where my boundaries begin**
<•>
this one, for the ladies who loved its
predecessor
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2367267/the-temple-of-you/
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
Moist and monochrome, clouds are gathering
On a Sunday afternoon.
Look up idly from my browsing, at the building 'cross the pool
Winds picks up, the monsoon breezes
Lick at the curtains twelve floors up
On the terrace, woman standing
Arms outstretched, grasp the rail
Legs stressed back, footloose in sandal
Lightly muscled, slightly formed
Kimono slips from lighted shoulder, designer ****** strawberry brown
Fabric glides across the hip-line
Revealing all to me below
Wearing nothing on the landing
Hint of shadow, ***** mound.
From the sliding doors behind her
Steps a man not quite unseen
Waist encircled in one movement, undergarment stripped away
Rigid stillness then the thrusting
Tension mounting at the breath
Woman gasps the O shape forming
Through her silent, varnished lips
Mahler moaning on the ITunes
Waves are forming, silent sound
Thrusting, busting, flexing, ******* arching back crescendo reached
Sun comes out, just at that moment
Roads diverging in the wood
Disconnecting, and uncoupling
Might and maybe, aught and should
Trembling fingers, taught in temper
Blink the eye and pop the top
Shaking hands that hold the taper, to the unformed smoking spliff
**** the wreaths in, breathe the thought out
Bottle clinks across the teeth
Unbelieving, unconcealing
Unrelieving, unreleased
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 6:15 AM UTC
With eyes like Neptune
she carved a hole in my soul
Somehow the sun gets lost inside and freezes
Discovering your love
with a mathematical prediction
Hiding true thoughts
to avoid an friction
Weighing on my soul
like a Great Dark Spot
My love for you is like the sun
it's just ten times as hot
I don't know why
i've go to keep it bottled up inside
These unreleased overwhelming
feelings that i hide
But since your gaze has frozen over
my ever burning heart
I'll light a spark on Neptune
it's the only place to start
Look at me baby
I love you
Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
Words unreleased congeal
Within the agonies of conjecture
Tormented by solid sorrows
Sounds that can not be pacified
Plague my presence
In unannounced pronouncements
Who will be summoned?
By this secret voice
A piercing sorrow?
Our the sensuous meaning of tragedy
The grief of eternal exclusion
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 5:46 PM UTC
Meeting you was like an assassination
The moment you spoke
I felt the recoil
Point blank shot between the eyes
In one instant I was alone
Plenty sufficient at self-mutilation
I was content
To wander alone in my own thoughts
My personality cold
Chilled by the ice of the desolation
Of unreleased sorrow
One minute I am still
Content
Meandering hopelessly in my world
Then there was you
Your first word was a slug
Dressed in copper it sank in
Sending shockwaves through the gray matter
I took the hit
My skull accepting the whiplash and allowing me
Some semblance of strength to move
I had no chance to heal before I was hit again
Your touch was electric
A million volts multiplied by the fluid
That is your glowing stare
The sound of my name on your tongue
Becomes a garrote
Taking my breath from my lungs
I can’t speak in your presence
All that I was because to die away
The lonely man who sought shelter
In the desert of loneliness
Blown away
Bleeding out in the back of my mind
All who I thought I was
Gone
In the blink of a muzzle flash
Meeting you was like an assassination
The man I was
Destroyed
Some other man sauntered off that day
Someone I don’t know yet
But am striving to figure out
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 1:55 PM UTC
A stone terrain waits
A landscape deserted
Devoid of real
Or imagined explorations
For it turns inward
At a tangent that
Precludes inquiry
It has an articulation
Of slow deliberate movements
Where particularized
Geology has painted it
Cut off and disconnected
By an estrangement of creation
Other existences only serve
To magnify its sense of isolation
Its blank uncaring non-geometric
Dimensions of observable
Unquantifiable location is obscure
And unrealised
Producing an immediate
Initiated sensory experience
Of unreleased silent appraisal
But why does it wait?
What for
Does it anticipate or foresee
Some expected prediction
Of apocalyptic presentiment
Is it recalling color?
Or is it experiencing
The present like floating in a dream
Alas there is no clue
To its tilted yet frozen expectancy
A stone terrain waits
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 4:29 PM UTC
At the end of the day, it could go either way
much like at the end of this song
Well I write for a while then I sink to a smile
when I think how you draw me along.
Well we came with a story, a beautiful poem,
unheard verses locked deep in our soul
and to way to discover what's locked in a lover
find the key that will fit the keyhole.
Must we all be inspired? Seems like that's how I'm wired
I've got something to share, but it seems
that I still blame myself for what sits on the shelf
unreleased from my closet of dreams.
From rejection to strife, anger cuts like a knife
and it tore at the door to my pride
it was then your sweet voice through the keyhole rejoiced
and released the deadbolt from inside.
So now I can tell you just what's on my mind
I am corny and weird and unkind, sometimes
but I say what I feel 'cause i know what is real
and it sure beats what I left behind.
Thought the answer was finding the right key
for the words and the music to roll
but the Master unlocking life's sweet mystery
is the Love sown in each others soul.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 10:40 AM UTC
we taught each other
to enjoy
a lingering kiss
soft touches
loving glances
the built-up tension unreleased
but in secret solitude
at night
a yearning for fulfilment
never to be granted
as we moved out of school
and into different lives
I saw her last
only a few years after
alarmed by news from mutual friends
two days before her death
she did not recognize me
any more
as I stood terrified
beside her bed
in a secluded section
of the cancer ward
I had arrived too late
my loving stutter
already out of reach
her blindly searching gaze
passed on through me
it hurt
like nothing else before
I cried my grief out
in long sobbing nights
yet still not long enough
to heal the pain
nestling since then
quietly
in thinly calloused
wrinkles of my heart
* * *
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
The cut is yet deep.
Standing in the crowd holding her hopes like a child with a balloon
the rain wet street mirrored on her cheek
she sees only ghosts and memories around her.
Her soul contorts and twists under the weight of her loss
weeping for that which was
and faded dreams lie in litter at her feet.
Shadowy solace hovers impotently
loath to approach lest he be burned in her cold fire.
Her thoughts hang in strands:
"O, fountain blood be my salve
for hollow loneliness is my home"
Unheard, unheeded, unreleased
they echo and play across her mind in metallic tones.
And the cut is yet deep.
Pain sings in her heart
marking her world with it's dissonant pallette.
Bright and brittle, with a lover's hunger
offering a seductive embrace she can no longer resist.
Siezing to it's sharpness and brilliance like a keepsake
she draws it to her willingly
and loves it.
But hers is not the step, the end, the sleep.
"I am queen here" she cries to an unknowing world
"Heed me, for I shine"
and shaking off the woe she turns from the path.
Fierce Nike takes her hand and leads her forward,
onward to a new beginning, a new season, a new hope.
For yes, the cut is yet deep
but cuts will heal with gentle touch
and even scars may fade in the sun.
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 5:22 AM UTC
Got a condition
Under my skin
Ain't going to be solved
With simple addition
These days are short
These hours are long
I'm whispering to myself
In a tune of a song
Here comes Greg the gong
Standing straight as he cracks his knuckles
His face his old, his robes are grey
He tells me, "Your stomach looks like it's about to buckle."
Outside the cafe
We sip on coffee and biscuits
Looking at a world
Caught up in its own mischief
Lies are spread thin
Truth a little thinner
Then, we see something move
Behind the building of the barber
We go to look and later on
Wished we were a little smarter
We saw
A rock painted in blood
An eye inside of a glove
I nod my head and Greg tries to say,
"Death is a caught fish in a stream far away."
The night fell like an anvil
Onto my sagging shoulders
I was never taught the rules
So I can't say I've forgotten them
Caught in a fix of my own creation
Where the truth and the lies mix
"There's nothing in this life that is quick"
I nodded my head at him and paid my tip
Catch the break in the pause
"Smells phosphorous," she smiled.
I've travled a thousand miles
But what I've seen
Never amounted to nothing
After I saw her
She was the cat's purr
And the dog's meow
The air behind
The desert winds frown
I'm torn apart
Left for dead
Waiting for that moment
When one become two
Wishing I'd chosen
The other instead
Can't see a way out
The tunnel's caved in
Dynamite went bad
Only darkness around me now
And I'm struggling to breathe
There was no light
No way away from myself
I tried to recall
Everything I'd ever touched
But all I felt was
Soot in my nose
And rocks in my eyes
And then a phrase came to me,
"It was all a big lie."
I died and became
The whistling kettle
Of an unreleased song
By a well-known singer
A whisper whose sound would be better
If shouted by a heated young lover
There is a night
Without vanity or despair
Where life runs free
Without injustice or duty or care
Find that Night
Seek it
Search for it
And take what you were born for
Find the Night
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 4:19 PM UTC
The crushing weight inside of my chest
Makes thoughts of you harder to digest
Burning tears fill fill my eyes and steals my breath
Filling me with a pain 10 fold worse than death
The tears that fill my eyes refuse to fall
Denying me the releasing relief that comes only after a waterfall
Trapped in a lake of unreleased tears and untold pain
The screaming in my head, my own voice as if I've gone insane
I fear that in this lake of tears I may drown
And that the last sounds I'll ever hear is the deafening silence of nobody else around
Oxygen free to all others to me is refused
Fighting for every breath leaves my soul feeling bruised and abused
Treading water ever rising inside my own personal hell
Silence so loud it echoes with the pain that it has come to foretell
And only you hold the key to my release
"I forgive you" is all I need to achieve a little inner peace
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 4:27 AM UTC
Take me down
The leaves grow upside down
Where the breathe leaves a puff
The drinks soothe me
And my scattering mind is at ease
Down in New Orleans
The ghosts and queens of spirits that fill the shadow
Stand by and you will see: swamplands where the spirits will rise
Listen as the willow weeps its blues on to your shoulder
The humidity sweat drips on your head as a droplet of chaos
The buzzing as a shock in silence of noise to distract the pain
Noise fills the empty caves and hollow trunks hold the empty souls
Behind your head is a dancing spirit
One drinking
Another dancing
Another smoking
Many partying
Many suffering
Unreleased from ties and pain
The pain many are tied to down in New Orleans
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 2:18 AM UTC
I have a hidden side,
Cast in the shadows of my mind,
Crippled in the fetal position,
That often myself I find.
He is the side that loves,
An unreleased sorta love,
That only wishes to hold and kiss,
A pretty lady under the covers.
****** desire in the back of the mind,
Absent in the feelings of belonging,
In a love I can hold.
Yes, I often do think of this,
As I sit alone in the basement,
Doing that same old thing as every other day.
I feel empty like a prison lacking prisoners.
They might hate to be there,
But without them the jail is pointless.
Where is this love and why does it avoid me?
Deer in headlights,
Who always manages to get away.
One day I'll hit it,
Pounce on it as it jumps.
Caress it in my arms,
And then I will finally have enough.
May 12, 2012
May 12, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
In a clear cosmetic inclination
Of my vast amount of limited intelligence
I resolve what's known to sever the connection to oneness
With my passive excessive alarming calmness
I hide my humanistic conflicts in an unconscious state
In the compression of unreleased hostilities
I combat my unreserved civilities
In a melting *** of unreasonable measures
I find sensibility has lost its pleasure...
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 9:25 AM UTC
Wouldn't that be so much fun?
A whole page of nothingness!
Just potential, imagine;
Everybody's happiness!
Untarnished and untainted,
Clean slate for a masterpiece;
Poetry or picture painted,
perfection, yet unreleased!
Blank page does intimidate.
Too much space to fill with verse.
So much pressure to create,
drained of ideas, such a curse.
This blankness does need a genius;
Wasted canvas, so meaningless.
Jan 9, 2011
Jan 9, 2011 at 1:25 PM UTC
Miles for Smiles
Mere Pounds to Pound.
You gave away Rage
And locked me in a cage.
Locked me in a page
-my own advice- Sage.
Why I didn't listen,
Found myself missin'.
Heart gone. Heist.
My heart robbed and sold
Cheap and ***** I feel cold,
He wanted me to be mould
or be moulded for him.
He took all I had and more.
Heart stole in a Heist
I'm a *****
Love bleeding out of my core.
Drab, grey
Life's a Chore.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 11:20 PM UTC
one—
for a day filled with extremes
happiness to sorrow
sorrow to contentment
and eventually,
exhaustion.
two—
for hidden stories
locked in for years
triggered open by loneliness,
kept in again before dawn
three—
to evaporate unseen tears,
burn out unreleased emotions,
while watching the embers glow
and fall slowly onto moist concrete.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 4:16 AM UTC
Weighted steel tugged by gravity,
A mile above this tranquil house–
its payload designed so carefully–
is yet unreleased from the mouth,
for there is danger involved:
I’ve hung Pandora’s box
And it, wont to fall,
Damns as it drops.
slowly swells desire–
a bloodlust is taking hold
for a world entombed in Fire.
The image of a once happy home
Brought with only a directed word
to dissolve into shadowed foundation,
Encouraged by petty quarrels endured,
Matures to become a palpable creation –
resentment resides within every thought
and fiery images are fanned ‘til they fuse
In a flash into sound, suddenly brought
On a table within a voluminous brew
of word, sentence, and ireful mind,
And the room is left in silence.
In the wake I stand, alone,
uttering penitence.
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 5:39 PM UTC
Well, you see, not everyone has that as an option.
Not everyone can go as they please.
Some people have ties, obligations; they're unreleased.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 9:13 PM UTC
When in Rome
No browsing is allowed to the public
50 miles of unreleased documents
The lies of Jehovah witness
Every story of every lost prophet
Curiosity of a Californian
Talk about blessed
Talk about blurred
I lost myself in ancient knowledge
I need to know if aliens exist
Only 24 with a 4 year old kid
Running around like lighting hits
My son will grow into God
Cause i will not let him fall for the nicktoon facade
They told me hip hop is dead
but
This is more like the Zombie apocalypse
Just woke up from a rapped up coffin
War and the churches involvement
Racks on racks full of top secrets plaques
Home of the brave
Home of the raves
What you know about spiritual warfare ?
Plug your ears n blind your eyes
That psychological propaganda will make you lose your mind
Dont pay attention to the predictive program
They want the silence of the lambs
Your not a herd of ham
Your super humans
The time has come to save the planets
Let us stick together like working magnets..
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC