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cast off
they never wanted us
they just want what we've got
I decry
because I must
before what I remember of liverpool
is ground into dust
underfoot
of a conservative government
determined to sell off everything
that makes us
us
we must what we must
its time to take back
what was ours in the first place
its in our blood
ordered liarbility
Khoi-San Oct 2018
Loved ones
had to untie
both ends of the rope
and LIVE with the tragedy
Suicide truly traumatic
Reach out and touch
Somebody's hand
in complete melodies
the frequencies i hear
can not be contained by anything
love is drifting through the hills
and you are home to its trills
she dreams of light, the fire bright
and full of crystal skulls and eyeballs
dozens of monuments are built
just to mark the moments
when we could have said i'm sorry
merge with the mountains
find the source of fountains
shine the diamond compass
if that's what you are really here for

broken dams are our business
feed the swans their luminescent lunch-boxes
duck for cover, its a wonder that we are all together here
that's clearly redundant
the tendency to dream
is the most important human faculty
its a tragedy that the lack of nuclear power
showers the atomic world in rainbows
as forlorn teenagers in the ice-age of America
govern our equipment from their parent's basements
and carouse with comfort upon chairs, cushions and couches

a million times the victory
a million miles of rope to weave
a million are the paths to god
and a million more are the souls
who've learned to cope with tragedy

i come cherishing and bearing gifts
figures of speech are my playthings
i am furniture remodeled daily
and intuitively placed around your home
the finer things in life are free
so see me there upon your television set
i am electromagnetic static
within the black and white of advertisements
i am figures of forgotten speech
so record the unwatched programs
in your mind’s virtual memory
the hard drive of work and play
creates hundreds of new retirees each day
hundreds of haunted expatriates
knuckle-headed people
that couldn't tread lightly
even if they wanted to
so will you please untie me
and remove these binds and chains
it's time to free the lover from the psyche
for that is all she wrote

i am a silent p
i am a violet apogee
i am a cosmic minority
i am a message in your tea leaves

but if you stand too long in my shoes
you’ll likely drown in solitude
Amare Leslie Dec 2018
When I first learned my relationship was a red balloon
A world of love previously unseen was revealed
Somewhere along those lines of love and lust and time
Our relationship couldn’t rise
But I made sure that I would remain the helium to our love
So we could be inseparable someday
Because that’s the most important thing for a balloon to take flight right?
I was 11 the first time we were dragged back down by a pain that lurked.
I remember thinking our love was gone and pain had moved in.
A rock tied at one end making sure that we couldn’t levitate past the sky’s limits as I sat at home thinking, “Why me, just let us take off and rise to new levels.” Swinging in the air with no where to go,
Denying that our relationship is suffering,
When the reality is all we have to do is untie the knot. Something so little but is the defining factor of our pain. So let’s untie the knot, and fly, fly away.
Stu Harley Apr 20
oh
love
i
say
untie
my hands
before you
i
want
to
be
beside you
then
i
shall
be with you
Britney Lyn Feb 2017
My grandmother always said I look more beautiful when I smile but never thought to ask why I wasn’t smiling. My heart could only bring myself to smile back at her in return. I would spend every summer day I could at her house, swimming in the lake, basking in the sun, drowning my sorrows and letting them sink till I couldn’t see them anymore. I thought maybe they would stay at the bottom with whatever else was lost in that lakes depths. But I was only a child, and we think such foolish thoughts. I guess you could say my sorrows came back like ghosts with a vengeance because nothing was scarier than ghosts and nothing haunted me like my sorrows. I was thirteen years old and scared of the dark because it looked like silence felt and I was so overcome by it I hardly got any sleep. Then I asked myself what is sleep? Are we all just stuck in a nightmare or a dream, stuck in an infinite loop, a broken record, repeat. I wanted to scream as loud as I could but I didn’t dare wake the beasts in the next room in fear that I’d get beat. Emotionally, physically it was all the same to me because what’s the difference between visible scars and a broken heart, they both hurt. Sixteen years old and I’m staring at a rope tied in a knot, representing the hold my sorrows have over me. I tried for hours to untie that knot in hopes it would magically cure my problems. I cried in frustration and finally took a knife to it, determined to be free but only for a moment because the knot was me. I made a masterpiece out of the flesh I had come hate, trying to find some beauty in it but all I felt was sickness, pain. So I tightened that rope around my neck a hundred times, saying goodbye and I’m sorry a thousand more, ready to end my life when all I really wanted was someone to notice. And if that makes me selfish than at least I’m something more than a disappointment. But don’t worry I’ll still see you in the morning because I never could bring myself to commit. Eighteen years old, a legal adult and my only friend said he couldn’t love me if I couldn’t get better on my own. Said it was too hard to be with someone so far away even though I could reach my hand out and close that distance. He broke my heart and walked out of my life and the next day he didn’t have one. That day I came to terms with my life. No one could destroy me because I destroy me. And my worst fear is no longer ghosts, the dark, or the silence. My worst fear is one day, being as oblivious to my child’s suffering as my parents were to mine.
More of a story about my life than a poem but I still think it's poetic :)
Samantha Cunha Nov 2018
scent
of freedom
lilac coated
heaven
sent
paradise
of simmering
dreams
nirvana
lights
agleam
trek
beyond
the doors
which lock
you in
beyond the
man  
who clocks
you out
untie your
own noose
set
yourself
loose
Salmabanu Hatim Jul 2018
She was beautiful,
The moon scowled at her beauty,
The Sun shied away from her,
The stars flickered with jealousy.
Nothing mattered to her,
She was complicated,
Her mind was a tangled mess of thoughts.
All I wanted was to sit beside her,
Gently untie the knots  in her neurones,
Connect to the correct ends of the
dendrites,
Let her talk,
Spill out her secrets and frustrations
See her awaken,
Hold her tight and never let her go.
S Bharat Apr 11
If You Were

If you were my friend,
All things you would share;
I would not be alone there.

If you were my friend,
You would not talk to HER;
I would not be the stranger.

If you were my friend,
You would tolerate my SLAP;
You would not widen a gap.

If you were my friend,
You would firstly ask "WHY?"
Binding you would not untie.

If you were my friend,
You would not make a fuss;
I would not be YOU but US.

S. Bharat
i come cherishing and bearing gifts
figures of speech are my playthings
like furniture i am remodeled daily
and intuitively placed around your home
the finer things in life are free
so see me there upon your TV screen
i am electromagnetic static
that illuminates your blankets
and i am the black and white of advertisements
i am figures of forgotten speech
so record the unwatched programs
in your mind’s virtual memory
the hard drive of work and play
creates hundreds of new retirees each day
hundreds of haunted expatriates
knuckle-headed people
that couldn't tread lightly
even if they wanted to
so will you please untie me
and remove these binds and chains
it's time to free the lover from the psyche
for that is all she ever wrote
Now here lies in a garden a shrine ,
which reads  she.will  be forever mine .
Those words etched in stone still stand in a grave yard alone .

There was a garden where roses.bloomed ,
red  yellow , white ,and pink,
a Lilly pond where Lina would lay to ,
untie her long fair hair in May,
when she heard my herdy Girdy.
“:Won’t you read me a poem she said as the waters danced ,
and rippled to a stone I had thrown with a plomp to the middle .
“ Read  me a tale of you and I as the sun turns red ,”:
and the light finds it’s shade to you’re thoughts are in you’re head .

Here’s a rose wear it my love for I might be here in the morning.”:
“ My love you’re bleeding ,
let me find a bandage dear “
“ l feel faint my love I believe the rose that was picked was of poison! “
Her white dress now stained in blood ,
I held her in my arms as Lina lay dying ,
Her once beating heart turned to white ,
her rosey cheeks turned yellow  ,
how still her lifeless body I held before the night ,
for  now only the water rats would lay in hiding .



And so they built a shrine on a cold slab she lies ,
In her white dress and rose at her side ,
and the fragrance of pink roses .

To this day when the red sun falls into the night I hear her song ,
of love for that night ,
I search for the key lost in time,
to open the door to hear her singing .
“#;For where the Lilly pads lay ,
we shall meet there one day ,
my love “ .#
she sang as the birds were singing .
Deep May 14
Tonight is the night of renunciation,
O weary heart, shed that person
In tears and sobs—
For moon is weary carrying the grief of world
Wane her a little forgetting your woe tonight,

Tonight is the night of renunciation.
O perturbed heart, untie the hinged boat from
anchor and sail away from hopeless dreams—
For stars are burdened with undue hopes of men,
falling and fading from sky, reduce their weight
Bidding farewell to those memories tonight,

Tonight is the night of renunciation.
O innocent heart, love is despot, so end these grieving
for a person’s absence—
For the air is sick and sad sailing house to house
Lower her sadness abating your loss tonight,

Tonight is the night of renunciation.
O withered heart, saunter in the lawns this approaching dawn
Born anew, listen the chatter and flutter of birds,
For the sighs of lovers have turned their song melancholic,
Sing loud, O heart, return their gayness
For they’re not meant to suffer for our melancholy.
Marie Mar 25
Arise in a morning dew
God says "Hello"
He demands the sun to rise
To untie the ribbon of hope

Soar like the birds in the eastern hill
Discover how life's journey is fueled with thrill
As the white fluffy clouds turn into blue
Let out a smile with a glow

May your mind be in a state of zen
May your sense of sight be keen
Hold on to His promise of grace
Wake up!
Take the pathway of life with ease!
jerelii Apr 12
a great effort
must come at the strong will of mind
carry the burden of one’s pain,
must take the leap to lead
the thought
to fill
the sorrow
of shaping one’s head, throat,
heart and gut.
and becoming true to self
must come to learn
of letting go,
of detaching drama
worn about life’s tragic death.
how will you survive?
if there’s no change,
if there’s no willingness to embrace,
forgiveness that is hard to accept and own.
Although you’re trying to untie
the knots of being in caged,
your words that only deteriorate
you by your own illusion mind
and thus;
delivery state of confusion.
can you suggest some title for this?


i’ve been challenged again
by random word generator:
effort
thought
fill
drama
delivery

thank you so much for the suggestion!
@M-E


Jerelii
April 12,2019
Copyright
Lexie May 15
You make dead things out of living things just to make money
You make lies out of the truth and make anyone who tells you otherwise to look a fool
You make God cry and you made me angry
You tried tearing Yggdrasil up by the roots
But those were knots your fingers could not untie as carefully as you twist your tongue
Emeka Mokeme Sep 2018
I definitely don't understand
how to get a hold onto this
complex and dynamic
complicated and sensitive
thing that mesmerizes me.
I'm so breathless and short
of words to delve into the
heart of the one whose heart
is disturbed by the troubles of
the knots he can't untie.
How would you explore this
uncharted course of the heart.
You must be a psychic and
a clairvoyant to delve into
the habitat of the divine.
The heart is deeper than the deep,
like a deep still pond with no clue
of what lies within and nothing in
sight to give it away,
but just silence and a sense of awe.
You must have depth to
deeply go deeper than the
submarine to know
the thoughts of the heart.
This heart of mine
is a thunderbolt and
I'm so powerfully pulled inwardly
on my quest to make it right.
Knowing that I am nothing
but just a dreamer meddling
with something so profoundly different.
©®2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
No world could explain me; no daughter of life,
No saint, no flowers that watch in warm silence.
They are of surroundings—I feel separate.

No tongue could untie me; language I scorn, in
Thoughts I rest uneasy and unknowing.
Deeper through layers abstracted I lie.

What I know I have no way to prove. I sit in a
Room of no walls, on a chair that houses a ghost.
No words, no words, from hence the sadness comes.
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