"unrestricted" poems
by Desmond Makatu,
Your visits are unpredictable.
like a ghost, you're invisible.
The attacks are inevitable.
You come like a thief at night.
You seize me day and night.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Cruelty unrestricted to age.
Victimising even toddlers.
Unrestricted to ethnic groups.
My life has time gaps.
Gaps, like discrete graphs.
Cracks depict thin line between life and death.
Grace bridges the gaps and life prevails over death.
Seizures still haunt me like a demonic wrath.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Attacks are brief, bruises lasts forever.
You offer questions only God can answer.
Quest for answers is like probing for cure of Cancer.
Death seemed to be the answer but God thought otherwise.
First seizure shook like multiple earthquakes.
Followed by a pool of darkness.
woke up confused, crowd's ****** expressions said a thousand words.
Migraines raided my head, exposed to enormous pressure.
Officially baptised by wrath of seizures.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
You're a physical and psychological culprit.
Like a Yoyo, you take me into a roller-coaster of emotions.
Aftermaths of your theft are etched in my mind as if they’re on stones.
Behind my “poker face” lies devastating pains than physicals seen by the crowd.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Watch video on YouTube. https://youtu.be/VggXerYLOHY
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 8:02 PM UTC
Is there love for another?
Much like this?
One's that unconditional,
unrestricted.
One so free...
That skeptical eyes would miss.
The beauty in such a commitment,
can't be quantified in greens or gold.
Unbound by petty materialism...
That jingles and folds.
It's invaluable...
Only to the ones who would see
and acknowledge it.
It's coveted only by those
who fearlessly dare
to embrace it.
So...
Strive for unconditional love.
For it is the greatest gift,
anyone could receive
and bestow.
For it will be the sun
that fires
the beats in your heart.
For it is the abundant glow
cascading...
From the moon's
limitless flow.
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
When I was 5 ...
Your kerosene heater .. I hated that smell ..
Your snoring .. kept me awake at night ..
Bathtime .. my ears hurt when you cleaned them with the rough flannel ..
Bathing in the river .. I was ashamed to be naked like you ..
Your teeth .. in a glass scared me ..
You had no mercy .. when on the hunt for head lice ..
Now I'm 45 ..
You had no mercy .. relentless, you got them all ..
Your teeth .. I keep mine in a glass in the bathroom ..
Bathing in the river .. unrestricted & one with nature, I get it ..
Bathtime .. your ears do get ***** I use a rough flannel too ..
Your snoring .. any snoring reminds me of you ..
Your kerosene heater .. the whiff of kerosene, my strongest physical memory of you .. I think of you .. now I love the smell of kerosene ..
Every cherished memory of my Grandmother, no detail forgotten, I will always love you Nan XOXO
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
i.
An engineer of amour
Artificer of fine craft;
Abundant in moral class.
ii.
Alongside her
Astral hierarchy;
Tis, she's mine monarchy.
iii.
Fain, I taketh her cape
Made of foreign swathe;
Mixed with Filipino grape's.
iv.
Not slave's
Unrestricted with eachother;
Messenger's to thy planet, created under the milky way's feather.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
I wish Americans spoke Greek.
Did you know that there is more
Than one word for
Love, in the Greek language?
Agape. Eros. Storge.
And Philia.
Agape.
Unconditional love.
UNCONDITIONAL. Love.
I cannot even
Comprehend. How much
Love that is.
Unlimited. Unrestricted.
Unconditional.
That's how all love should be.
Eros.
Passionate love.
Sensual, emotional,
Romantic love.
The physical side...
Of love.
Intense, this kinda love
Needs a while to come out.
Don't rush.
Storge.
Love as affection.
Parents love their children,
Wives love their husbands.
Acceptance into a
Special place in someone's heart.
Familial bonds. Caring love.
And Philia.
Loyalty to others,
Mental love.
This is the love between friends.
The love of objects,
And places, etc.
Not unconditional,
Not passionate,
Not affectionate. But just,
Love.
Our one word,
Love, is broken into
Four words.
I want to be Greek,
I want people to know what
Kinda of love I mean,
When I say,
"I love you."
To people.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
to hold a photograph in my hand
and believe what is presented,
take is at it already is – why not?
if I close my mind’s shuttering eye,
will you be as candid as before?
unrestricted, unsorted from the hullaballoo,
you, freer than what is imagined, closing
in like a bullet from yesterday shot out
of the sky’s contrived clearing –
to hold a photograph in my hand
and tug closer by the mouth of the fringe
as if to pour water on a broken glass,
slithering now, a shadow of moon
at the very dull end of my cup;
you are closer than any rehearsed moment
ready to catch the inner canthus of the eye:
this relentless picture-passing, tense and
fervent, avid like bankiva to air,
water to chrysanthemum: behind thick shrub
of crepuscular, an arboreal locomotion
shatters loose, your frantic figure.
to hold a photograph in my hand
and size it down to the dimensions
of this home – there is potential in this
comparison: flaring out like smoke from
where it infinitely burns, I seek an ache
and hence place a finger to shush,
to hold this photograph in my hand
and confabulate a soft blow to the gut
and feel it realer than any dagger or berretta
held at one’s life-edge: this delusory intimation,
a slipshod work of feeling. to feel it rejoin
me somewhere I ought to be back again.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 2:48 AM UTC
*She is a breeze,
gently wafts in,
in the fiery climes
she quickly transforms,
arousal of passion
makes her
a whirlwind fierce,
her spirited twists and turns
were beyond prediction
her predilection
to dominate becomes
so insistent
she turned to a twister
had an unrestricted run
the giant redwood
was uprooted in no time*
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
I was a shape in my cosy little shell,
I stayed...
I nestled.
My cookie-cutter thoughts would
occasionally rebel...
And stray to the windows.
But still they were imprisoned by the
walls that surrounded.
I would steal bashful peeks
out a window.
I'd let my senses take unrestricted flights,
as I stared into the grandeur of the carnival
that seemed to have sprouted overnight...
Just beyond the confines of my home.
"What a marvellous circus!" I'd think...
I'd gawk with child-like adoration
and never blink.
The universe lay sprawled
in a celebration of systematic chaos.
It stretched far into the horizon...
A delight to the senses,
perceived through such young eyes.
The world had told me stories.
They were like fireworks
that speared up to the sky.
I wanted to be a part of the jubilee...
I longed for the validation of my existence.
I wished to claim the gift of life bestowed upon me.
I'd resent being held hostage by my indoctrinated ignorance.
I was a shape.
I knew I was a square.
I knew I had a home...
But not within those four walls.
Simply because...
My heart wasn't there.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 8:32 AM UTC
When not governed
By the natural forces
Your soul is unrestricted
Stretches along the
Vastness of this universe
Nothing weighs on you
Neither does forces
Anchor you to a place
Living without boundaries
Comes limitless possibilities
Sailing through tranquility
Without the obstructions
Formlessness is defined
Silhouette takes shape
You become free flowing
Wading through space
Like an expert swimmer
In the realm of
No beginning and end
When you realize
You are part of this cosmos
Accept the reality
Beyond the limiting forces
Soul become more intense
It’s the will of indestructibility
Existence in eternal sphere
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 9:10 AM UTC
throw away all of our material ********
our iphones and credit cards and television sets
throw them in a bonfire, take off our clothes and
dance around the flames naked chanting freedom mantras
we could do anything we wanted
climb to machu picchu and try to feel the past
drink ayahuasca and play shaman for a day
be wild and open and part of the earth again
for once in our lives we might feel important
unrestricted, powerful
like we have a purpose
and even after the hallucinations fade
maybe the plants will still whisper to us our destiny
when we are sleeping in hammocks and eating bugs
i guess i just wouldn't care if the guts got stuck in my teeth
because you'd be there and encourage me to give up my ocd habits
of always being clean
because you'd make it worth it to not care
i'd give you my soul if it meant we could always feel this way
so wonderfully lost in each other that nothing else matters.
Sep 12, 2010
Sep 12, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC
Agape unconditional love
leaves world's mouth
agape (wide open).
Love unreservedly
and lavishly with
unrestricted abandon.
Forgive everything
and be free.
Contentment comes
from within the
heart of the freed,
and a soul that
is truly beautiful,
happy and full of grace
with joyful tenderness.
Without striving but
thriving in prosperity,
full of light
and the living ions.
Powered by the
force of the spirit.
Even though surrounded
by numerous tumults,
immense profound peace
engulfed such a one.
The unforgettable and
unusual unspeakable elixir
of life is unleashed
to comfort him.
Delightful with
a grateful heart,
pleasant and pleasing,
so easy to placate.
A comforter full
of wisdom and knowledge.
Versatile and eclectic nature
is abundantly lavished on him.
His presence heals.
Not judgemental but
full of unimaginable
tenderness and understanding.
Such is the way of love.
Agape love.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 4:55 AM UTC
To millions, he was an intellectual guide
A source of unconditional love
Indeed Dr Cephas George Msipa was a cherished comrade
For the seekers, he was a treasurer
For those suffering, his words gave them solace and comfort
He was an inspiration
Gone but not forgotten
The nation learnt your departure with shock
To Zimbabwean, you were a social economic and political guide
Without you the nation is left poorer
He was a socioeconomic guru,
A source of unrestricted love
For multitudes he was a dear friend
A friend of unusual depth and innocence
For academic seekers, he was a fortune
For the suffering, he was compassionate
His words gave solace and comfort to several humanitarian organizations
A genuine glimpse of his precious wisdom
Is in the compilation of his academic assistance
In his superlative wisdom was a fountain of guidance,
In curbing violence, fear and anger
Without him,Zimbabwe is left pooer
Our tears may go dry but our memories will never
He was the Godfather of peace,
He is sadly missed along life’s ways,
Quietly remembered every now and then
He is no longer in our life to share realities of life
But in our hearts he is always there
Yes, he is gone but not forgotten
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 12:12 PM UTC
i.
I'm unrestricted with her
Meaning free;
I'm her, she is I, we art one
A king and his queen.
ii.
Unbounded, unshackled
Sentient in comprehension unknown to mortal creature;
We hath wing's, with moonlight ring's
A ceremony shalt be soon, with stellar feature's.
iii.
No doctor's, nor teacher's
We art ourn own healer's;
We art different than the rest
We shalt overcometh devil's, and demonic test's.
iv.
For tis I am blessed
To knoweth such an empress to mine throne;
She reside's in every space of this poetic mind
She maketh me seeith when I'm blind, speaketh when I'm mute
For tis
She's mine home.
©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
I’m addicted
To lying with gentlemen
Breathing unrestricted
To surface every now and then
Second amendment rights
Cigarettes & car rides
Away from bright city lights
In the dark society confides
An early morning fire
Pass me a burning ****
Bring me all the higher
Remove societies’ yoke
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 4:35 PM UTC
Dearly beloved,
You once asked me how deep my love is for you. I never answered.
You see.. I wasn't sure.. whether you would like what I say. I didn't want to overwhelm you with my reply.
I'm a possessive soul.
I can't share what is mine. You may call me selfish.
That's okay.
If being selfish means having you all to myself.. then yes I'm the most selfish person on this planet.
As for my answer, my love for you cannot be measured. It's unfathomable, boundless and unrestricted. There is no depth to my love for you. There is no end to it. Nothing will ever be able to suffice how much I adore you...
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 5:28 AM UTC
Free unrestricted journal publications
Words are bombs, dropping ink and paper
Typeface whistle blower and in your face
Chasing stories and truth, free the gonzo
The revolution in print, internet, television
Notepads, computers, and wi-fi
Liberated publication for all open eyes
A world of free thinkers and literary fact
No comment from the silent advertisers
Their payment in truth concealing lies
The United Censoring Of America
The political principles of censorship
Glory or death, guts and congratulations
No justice, no peace, no surrender
We’ve got the voice louder than power
The accuracy of enigmatic liberty
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 4:02 PM UTC
Cigarette smoke and suntan lines
Big ******* conglomerate of it all
California short hours away
Small town America burns hot
Scorched with dreams
Drunk and sappy on cheap beer
And wonder
How does it all make sense?
Where does it all go?
What Divine notices all that happens?
Going unseen
Uninhibited
Unrestricted.
Scene continues forever.
Worried in hot sweaty short drive
To carry on Sherman
Fall on Caves
First fill up, gas up, cookies and gum.
Girls work icecream stands
Firewood ten dollars a stack
Sliding into drunk dresses
Drunk kisses in
Drunk bathrooms
Room to love
And to fight
To hate and leave and stay
And we do stay and
Don’t mean what we said
When jealous.
Best friend backstab
And open road fall back
Drink,Drink,Drink
And fall on same old singsong solitary stool
Or walk on till all
Makes sweet holy sense.
Think where they will go,
Where they’ve been,
Sleeping in beds of tomorrow
And eat the toxic cancer of now away
Till only in remission can the
Revolution of our unconquerable youth shake.
Natalie keeps kids and complains
But truly is the best mother and friend of all
I really do believe it,
Kate drinks and dreams
And I dream with her, too
Of highways and great plains,
Ratty dives and eclectic bars
Too hip for She,
The Messiah of cool, even.
Gone.
Too soon.
How can we consent,
Look away, turn away from such terror?
It freezes, chills to bone and I light up again.
Figurative fire scorches lungs
Grass burning from the inside out
What’s she care?
It’s over anyways,
It always comes to an end,
But I really just don’t see
The beginning of the magic.
I’m here for you.
Helicopter scares,
Sober stares,
Where did they all go?
California dreams
Dust and ****
Close your eyes
See the soul,
The sun sink past sand,
The sky turns gray
No beautiful aversion,
See the orange and red,
See the beauty that doesn’t fit here.
Go.
See it all.
Go.
Jul 23, 2010
Jul 23, 2010 at 10:28 PM UTC
Euphoria takes you to places above the clouds,
Floating with the wind.
Not a ****** pleasure,
Just a visceral high.
Clarity within the mind,
The heart unrestricted in the body.
With a gentleness of child.
Euphoria floods the system deep,
Breaking past all levees of pain.
Weightlessness.
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 1:49 AM UTC
You can hear silence, if you listen.
Stop your breathe and tap
into the empty.
Oh chalice of hope, too often
left unfilled, drain
the resistance.
Lie back, close the thoughts
and open your eyes.
Believing does not
require seeing.
Allow sentence after sentence
to remain unanswered.
Be unrestricted enough
to not be alarmed.
Fountain of ice, melt away
and liquefy into sharp
pencils of vision.
Sighing in peace, letting
the lace curtains of
contentment to rise.
Skin to be stroked
with the developing
essence of being
in contemplative mode.
You can hear silence, if you listen.
Listen now.
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 6:55 AM UTC
I'm a modern poet
The white paper wasn't bright enough
My favorite pencil didn't write bold enough
My black final-draft binder wasn't modern enough
My black final-draft binder might as well be waste of time
Because instead of writing by hand with love and mind
I can select, copy and paste, relax and unwind
Instead of sitting-up in my bed, copying neatly or erasing the lines
I can repeat or forget, without blinking an eye
The words are more significant than this...
Than minuscule, locking it, hiding it, pocketing it
My fingers replaced my pen
A white glow replaced the lines
Instead of writing away unrestricted, I
have-an inch above my finger- the time
Before, I would sketch the date & time at the top-right
Now it appears effortlessly, automatically, without my permission
It's not only my paper (or screen) anymore, I mean, I didn't write that
With a push of a button I can perfectly align it to the right
I can no longer be identified by unique handwriting
A "go-back button" replaced my eraser
I can no longer hold words thin in my grip
I no longer have to protect it from getting lost, crumpled, or ripped
It's as safe as everything else here;
Not any more sacred or precious
If I'm a modern poet
The ease of art is at my fingertips, literally
And it disappears when the device locks
I don't turn the page, hear the paper sound
I scroll down with one quick swipe
I may no longer write the way I have
I'll type it out on a $200 iPad
Rather than a cheap scratchpad
Is my new version of 'scrap paper' more valuable than my work?
The words will remain in my mind
I'll **** them out one at a time
Somehow demeaning them with this
Sensational technology that corrupted mankind
So, I'm sorry, poetry, my outlet, my friend
You poor, pure thing, let us pretend
I gave you more time, and effort
Just as should for everything you really care about
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
Free. Unrestricted. Unlimited.
The ability to overcome the stares and glares of judgment and see far ahead of and beyond them.
Further than their ignorant minds would ever care to see.
Free like black smoke rising from a stuffy shack on the side of a dirt road.
The freedom that the most free of souls long for.
If Birds were as free they would fly in all directions but the set route of migration.
If paintings were as free they would outgrow the sides of their frames and become their full forms, limbs and smiles included.
If the Nile was as free it would flow like the ocean it looks up to, unshaped by the selfish lips of the forest.
If the Atlantic was as free, waves would wave and remain in mid-air for as long as they wish before hunching their backs to embrace the Inner Sea.
If words were as free, they would reach far beyond the limits of a four cornered space and whisper into the ears of men across oceans.
If you and I were as free, colours would not be afraid to be vibrant. Sound would not be afraid to scream.
If you and I were as free, our arms would always praise the vast Sky. Our teeth would always greet the sun. And even in the worst of pain, our freedom would allow us to let go of our misery.
If we were as free, beauty would no longer hide within the unbreakable walls of a mere bracket.
If we were as free, borders and bridges that fought for centuries to keep us apart would crumble.
If you and I were as free, establishments would not be established for the good of greed, but rather for the good of man.
If you and I were as free, we would fly like magic. We would take over the nation as a nation.
If you and I were as free, stereotypes and prejudices alike would cease to exist. We would live fully, even through the journey of death.
If you and I were FREE, we would be.
If the world was FREE, we would always be.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 3:35 AM UTC
Missing you is like a tornado in Kansas
Tumultuously whirling past barren grass lawns,
Shattering the glass windows of old, forgotten
Convenience stores and local barber shops,
Twisting and teasing the warm, summer air
Until it finally gains momentum enough
To come tumbling down upon unsuspecting
Rosemary bushes and rusty metal fences,
While I'm sitting here,
Trying to make sense of how I'm supposed to feel about it all,
On a beach somewhere between Monterey and San Francisco.
It isn't that you don't exist, or that you aren't occurring,
Destructively whirling your mixed intentions
Across the pavement
That once gave way to my strange, unrestricted heart.
It's not that I don't care about you,
Or that I don't notice
When you make your presence all but unnoticeable,
But, maybe I don't see you anymore.
You're sentiment can't reach me here.
The harsh tornado winds aren't quite strong enough
To blow across my indifferent face
All the way from Kansas.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC
When one looks out a window
What do they see?
Birds,
The Sun,
clouds,
trees?
Well, when I look out the window,
I see
Freedom.
Everything is outside,
unrestricted,
open to
hurt,
love,
despair,
and hope.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
No young man believes he shall ever die. There is a feeling of Eternity in youth, which makes us amend for everything. To be young is to be as one of the Immortal Gods. One half of time indeed is flown-the other half remains in store for us with all its countless treasures; for there is no line drawn, and we see no limit to our hopes and wishes. We make the coming age our own -- The vast, the unbounded prospect lies before us.
Death. old age. are words without a meaning. that pass by us like the idea air which we regard not. Others may have undergone, or may still be liable to them-we "bear a charmed life”, which laughs to scorn all such sickly fancies. As in setting out on delightful journey, we strain our eager gaze forward- Bidding the lovely scenes at distance hail!-and see no end to the landscape, new objects presenting themselves as we advance; so, in the commencement of life, we set no bounds to our inclinations. nor to the unrestricted opportunities of gratifying them. we have as yet found no obstacle, no disposition to flag; and it seems that we can go on so forever. We look round in a new world, full of life, and motion, and ceaseless progress; and feel in ourselves all the vigor and spirit to keep pace with it, and do not foresee from any present symptoms how we shall be left behind in the natural course of things, decline into old age, and drop into the grave. It is the simplicity, and as it were abstractedness of our feelings in youth, that (so to speak) identifies us with nature, and (our experience being slight and our passions strong) deludes us into a belief of being immortal like it. Our short-lives connection with existence we fondly flatter ourselves, is an indissoluble and lasting union-a honeymoon that knows neither coldness, jar, nor separation. As infants smile and sleep, we are rocked in the cradle of our wayward fancies, and lulled into security by the roar of the universe around us. we quaff the cup of life with eager haste without draining it, instead of which it only overflows the more objects press around us, filling the mind with their magnitude and with the strong of desires that wait upon them, so that we have no room for the thoughts of death.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
I want to go to sleep, to give my body a nice, long rest
But shutting down and tuning out the world, I was never the best
I want to let my mind stop caring and just be unrestricted
A luxury I thought I had, an emotion I hadn't predicted
With the events going on and the lives that were lost
The dreadful what-ifs are taking over my mind, but at what cost
Thoughts and prayers are pouring out of me, at an uncontrollable rate
The horror not setting in that this was those families's fate
What more do we have to endure, to what extent has the world gone mad
That innocent lives were taken by this irrepressible cad
But out of most darkness, sometimes comes a brilliant light
That can be hard to recognize in the chaos of such spite
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC