"unshielded" poems
The sound of a car alarm,
"Detonating" might not sound inappropriate
Like waking into a fight that's
kicking off-
on Sunday mornings.
This is the realisation
Of how the world intrudes
Of how the the inner sanctum
is detached from the private self.
Car alarms -the drones of greater Western suburbia.
How are we expected to be overwhelmed by life
When we desire all the apps and whistles
Of electronic distraction
to keep our heart rates
Steadily rising?
Seeing a jettisoned supermarket trolley
Abandoned in a riverbed
Close to a church whose peak attendance
Occurs at summer weddings
Explains more about the human capacity for tragedy
Than most schloarly texts on Greek Drama
Surely this the curse of socities who best express sentiments through images?
The ability to make exhibitions out of emotions, of replaying journeys
Without speaking words
Somewhere a girl runs away from home
Somewhere else a boys runs to his bedroom
And even the streetlights betrayed with shattered glass
Make the sound of thunderstorms
on warm evenings.
The moon too bright to decipher as a circle
with unshielded eyes.
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 8:45 AM UTC
Million dollar haircut and a two bit soul. There's a hole in my heart where you've fallen in and swim deep in my darkness. Myopic, yet distant, your eyes betray your armor to the world and presents with a bow, a more harrowing figure to be told.
Our voices ring out in hallowed tones unveiled by the ordinary horrors beset by beasts in human masquerade. Unshielded, you choose to drop this pretense, the unjust foray into the dark night of the soul, and sound out "I am the god of this forsaken place. That contains the human psyche, I am the bull of this labyrinth. I have tamed the wild pleasures of Eros and I have befriended the mortal end, Thanatos. I have unraveled this velvet thread until time itself was my servant."
Yet, I am still pulled to the human fold. "Why is there a NEED to be wanted!" Shouted everybody in the room. The question reverberated down the gilded halls and between the cracking voices of the council.
Yet...
There was never a breath of a conceivable answer.
All in all, futility and fatalism is what we all are sentenced to.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
The rose is the flower of love
her fragrance the sweetness
of a love one's smile and
the tenderness of life in her arms
where the hours are
minutes gently passing by
The rose is the flower of love
her petals are the thoughts and feelings
that ripple through our heart
with the hopes of spring and summer
as the nearness of my love brings
joy into my life
The rose is the flower of love
though her stem be covered with thorns
still would I seek the love
I bought with tears concealed
and lay bare
unshielded and vulnerable
to the arrows of love
The rose is the flower of love
her redness the color of blood
shed by a bleeding heart
when a love dies
and memories of pain
is all that is left
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 6:53 PM UTC
The spoils of war rip the souls from defenceless children leaving them unshielded,
No protection offered to innocents in a war torn world,
No safe haven in sight,
No light in the darkness, save the fires of hell as flashlight shells leave their harbour before they are corrupted as merciless killers on a rampant mission,
In a fright of bleeding fear, bloodied shredded as malignancy invades!
The children cower as they watch parents burned,
Tears drench ***** faces as the children sob,
The children cry eternally in turmoil of dark deaths memories,
Father is marched away to certain doom on battlefield of destruction, to a land from where none return!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 1:09 PM UTC
A lot of separate sentences
joined together by the
fragile and insubstantial bond
of rhyme and some strange
and distant meanings
fragile as the stitching
between the cloths.
They can be broken and
torn by the cold and unshielded,
Winds Of The Mountain.
The mountain another wall.
Unmovable and dangerous.
Peril runs across the
several peaks.
As my breath catches
I lose grasp of my thoughts
and they wander to that which
I most attend.
The strings and bows never
cease or lose momentum
with the master Bach, command
and note join the mind to suit.
The Heart must stitch and
suit the mind.
GRAHAM MURPHY
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC
I am shaking and sweating.
I lay in my bed. I feel completely overwhelmed.
I don’t know how to handle my situation.
For so long I felt like I was holding a breath underwater.
I thought it would all be ok when I made it to the surface.
Now that I have, I realize there is still a long swim to the shore.
It is not ok yet. I am not fine.
I feel like throwing up, like putting my fist through a wall.
Like crying.
Like swearing.
Like spitting and scratching.
I feel like there is no way to not feel this way.
I feel like I am caught up in a current and it will sweep me away.
It would be easier to just let it.
So much easier to just be dragged under.
I feel like screaming.
Like kicking.
Like digging in my heels.
Or like going limp.
The stress is getting to me in ways you would not believe.
I have no release.
No escape.
My soul will not be soothed.
This is so frustrating, this, life.
I can’t quit.
I have to keep going. The option of giving up isn’t even there for me.
I don’t feel ready.
I don’t feel adequately prepared.
I feel resentful.
I feel spiteful.
I feel angry and sad and sick to my stomach.
Like nothing is ever going to make sense, and how funny it is that it all seemed so clear.
My head is pounding. My eyes are red and puffy.
All I can do is write and sleep.
I am helpless right now.
Emotionally worn down to nothing.
Unshielded.
And I don’t like feeling this way.
Feeling like my armor can be pierced.
Like I can be defeated.
Like it is all too much.
I don’t like it and I don’t know how to deal.
I don’t know what to do.
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC
Questions vacant of desirable answers I don't entertain
But insanity drives my ambition towards these brick walls
because it's always better to attempt to penetrate the impossible
So I develop tools to move mountains
I acquire skills to forecast solar alignment
and strengthen my body to swim through treacherous waters
All, to enjoy life with you
Hopefully one day my efforts will be enough
but even the bravest of soldiers
Can be defeated unshielded from distant arrows
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 3:04 PM UTC
You are perfect to me
But perfection rolls differently off tongues of vipers
So be warned because they are coming
To taint your heaving soul
In all its coiling perfection
It will grasp onto any knowledge
Any rumour
And it will spread it into the fathomless places
But you will still be perfect to me
Even as they rip away your walls
Leaving you vulnerable
Unshielded
Writhing beasts will come upon
And no one can stop them
How they perceive you is who you are
But I perceive you to be perfect
Don't let them grab ahold of you
Because they will compress every last tendril of hope
From your lungs
And murderous ink will drip from the punctures
Of their deceit
So heed warning and don't go near the viper pit
If you wish to retain perfection
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
The hillside--
a cardboard box.
And companies cut with exact-o knives along the edges,
removing the center.
Then, carry the useful pieces to me, for my white pine realty.
Leave the scraps to warm under an unshielded sun.
Burn, blacken, gradually regrow.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
I can't bear to look at her picture
I've seen it too many times
I can't take looking into her eyes
Every time I do a layer of armor
Is stripped from me and cast away
Until I am naked and exposed
My heart unshielded
From the sharp spears
It has been wrung
The grief twisted out of it
Until it has become a physical pain
My eyes have to look away
When I see her
My manly defenses are gone
I am sick and weak
And my very soul is starting to cry
I can't bear to see her picture anymore
Or hear myself say "I love you"
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
His arms wrap around me
As tears wrack my body
The unshielded pain
Revealed in my face
The hurt of hidden feelings
Revived with force
The seed of loneliness
Had grown in my heart
But through this I am comforted
By a presence I can't conceive
A forgiving force
That releases my guilt
A loving wonder
To fill the gap
An amazing hope
That cleanses my face
And soul of stains
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
The bright shining sun over light wind swept fields
The vision I see while eating my meal
You just can't convey the feeling it gives
When that's your backyard and that's how you live
Close knit with nature you sit and realize
The beauty you're seeing through unshielded eyes
It Isn't a dream ,no its quite real
I'm looking at heaven while eating my meal
Jun 18, 2021
Jun 18, 2021 at 4:02 PM UTC
I saw a grey love.
As rotten as a deserted carcass.
The hidden motive.
The rage of hunger.
Grey garnished it all.
I hesitated,
Took a step back.
The mossy green heart sparkled.
Nauseating me with the dark.
I had to rescue the promises.
Its yellow body.
Its broken limbs.
As I slithered into the grey,
It settled on me.
I smelled of blazing bricks,
waiting for the Fall.
The yellow evaporated;
steam settled on my unshielded eyes.
I didn’t hesitate.
It tingled.
It left.
And here I am growing with the mossy green heart.
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 2:49 AM UTC
Such a sunny day unshielded from rain
and I have so many spent days alone
whispering to cornered phantoms
some of ago, others taunt and appease
to melodies of utter bitter sweets
If I could turn the clocks back I would
walk back to that perfected day
standing right there beside you
but love is not unconditional
and many people die drowned in it
trying in resolutions to make it work
and you could never fight for me
neither stand up shielded in misery
and my heart is ice cold and frozen
unable to feel, digressed from love
because in my eyes, it’s a waste of time
and my soul cries with an incurable ail
as if hit with a nail,unbailed a thousand times
deep within I stand as an unpolished iron
rusted and collected in sediments
ores of amber slime tapped as a ****
but the loathe on your skin tells it all
and all I wanted is to be better friends
but in your eyes, all is faint and insecure
and the cyclones of the past outweigh the present
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 10:59 PM UTC
Whenever I am content
Or am feeling content,
There’s always an air ready
To brush away or undo my content,
Just as a wrapper of gifts
Witnesses her efforts to conceal shredded
By the recipient.
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 2:13 PM UTC