Best Prisoned Poems
“It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.”
David Levithan
I will forever be as pure
as white virgin fibres,
in your onyx
field of ravens.
When the
star-crossed
silhouette of
bleeding ink,
ricochets like
vindictive arrows,
within your
hollow walls,
quenched with
muted echoes,
I am reminded of
your ebony eyes,
cradled under
black decomposing flesh.
I shove my
misunderstood identity
into a pocket journal,
embalmed with a
fragrance of peace lilies
and rhapsodical prose,
amidst doleful dusks
painted with
past mistakes
hidden beneath
narratives of sinful
tangerine nights.
But, remember
that your fallacious
name is an
erased footnote
in the history of
relentless runes.
My tormented tongue
has become
immune to
your false screams.
There is no need
for close-fisted
fingers to flip
through pages,
of the story
I left behind,
as visions of
venomous verses
cremate into
ashes in my mind-
as mere memories
of monologues from
ice cold monsoons,
which don’t define me.
I’ve sculpted fragile
paper boats and
watched them ferry my
demons,
floating on daisies
in a ravishing rivulet
of truth and tranquility,
whilst you chase
impassioned imprints
within chapters
written in patterns
of insincere phrases.
I am a survivor of
your storm,
drawing dreams in
drowsy darkness,
blooming my
amethyst artistry,
which vibrantly
beats to burgundy
evolutions of a
blossoming flower,
who's scent you
will never savor.
My petals
may be fragile,
but I refuse to remain
prisoned in toxic
traits of a
weathered wildflower -
I only attract
majestic butterflies.
I rise from the white-wine siesta,
letting go of the serpentine songs,
like a crimson-winged dragonfly
lost in the poppy prairies of Persephone,
untangling my prisoned heart
chained by the churning
deceit of Hades’s immortal chains,
savoring pomegranate promises,
pirouetting through petrichor nirvana,
as the sky smells like a saffron rose
above the castle of emperors
dressed in fallen flowers.
Yet the diamonds sometimes are
engraved with ominous omens
and remorseless remnants,
while I return to cinnamon seclusion,
dancing to the mood of my moon.
O divine dandelion,
in your eyes I see suppressed sighs
of a splintered sunrise,
flickering balmy zephyrs of paradise,
as my soul is tied to the softness
of your delicate dusk~
like a faithful disciple,
forever following your footprints~
while velvety roots of florals
face the glows of alchemy,
amidst the array of arrows,
left as ashes of gold gone cold,
and the gracious gusts of gloaming
devouring the unscrupulous wounds
of a fragranced dawn.
I am the aching pigment
in your palette of purples,
longing for butterfly blurs
to bring me back to a
kingdom of kindness,
where I’ll forever breathe tender lilies
rinsed with wind-swept wishes.
But amidst the clusters of jewels
and raining sakura,
tonight I choose to walk with
specters of scorching stars,
allowing curves of my scarred skin
to burn from the blazing breeze
that bleeds nefarious narratives
upon the bleached borders.
So watch me waltz into the
infernal waters of the deep, bruised bay.
There I’ll write an elegy,
for the sorrow that swallowed your spirit.
I will find an anchor to pull
you back to the land of paper lanterns
as I surrender to the
haunting hues of the horizon;
the sweet sacrifice of a beloved blackbird
singing farewell in silence
to save you from the devilish underworld.
As dandelion dreams
are designed in lucid lies,
carving my essence into wintry wires
of woes and verdicts
from the
growing vines of a
villainous valley.
I feel the blackbird weep, it’s everything
I see the blackbird quiver, it’s what you bring
dreary
d a n d e l i o n
Encage us we are of collective souls
Display us in prisoned wallpaper as ghouls
Send us into these sepsis tanks, in tin cans
in torture dungeons, in faraway lands
Mistaken for us are the migrants
who don’t belong in our black hole,
ripped from their family’s arms,
and broken, it has a toll
Try to discern, unchain me,
give me the time of day
I’ve not done any of what you say
I’m here, do you not see me?
I’m tucked in all of your publicity
Before us you stand prestigious -n- tall,
your toughness shared inside our halls
Donning is the blood red Maga cap a telling of your gang
and Jackboots as they were worn by the Sturmabteilung
Wings reinforced by the sword’s blows, in your case
against the chains that contain, and any empathy inside
Keeping you safe an expressionless speech,
seal the deal it shall seal my unmerciful fate
Judged and sentenced without any assemblance
I see right through your imminent coarse leather, and
by the end of your reign, hard you’ll fall
And later the field forces in which you thrive
rotting torn in shreds, but still alive,
as shall be fathers ripped away from family
Have you not exhausted every remedy for me?
Infection is your reasoning,
concede for me and it shall be litigation of guilt
Rewards you’ve given, they’ve taken
and so, forsaken I be
Regardless of it, they have me in error,
as prison wallpaper
I work in the fields, a visa allows it
I wear pastel colors, a straw hat covers
possessing no tats, what of straw hats
What of straw hats?
Her grateful kiss moistens the dawn, raised arms embrace the sun.
A light like fire burns for all time, a new day has begun.
When Sunday morning’s church bell chimed, brisk steps tapped with the song.
Gray walls of stone held prayers within, stained glass cast shadows long.
She stood hunched low prisoned by sin, carved statues froze her feet.
A face of slate hid darkest fears, her path walked in defeat.
A voice of hope from prayer spoke clear, love shined from grace unbound.
With arms held high and knees bent low, soul praised without a sound.
On high, she saw gold haloes glow and wings spanning blue sky.
This Sunday morn behind church doors, to hate she said goodbye.
With love, each new day to explore becomes a welcomed gift.
The world around her is her church, God’s beauty does uplift!
Heavenly song floats from high perch, the birds know all too well
God’s love brought forth a melody from Sunday’s old church bell.
Then when the bells toll solemnly, she’ll rise to a new song;
bell’s chime will call to other souls as new days come along.
for Isaiah's Interlocking Rhyme Contest, 1/24/15
Poppy the parrot
Picked pus from a pimple’s peak
but then Poppy pricked Poe’s pajama pole
Patrolman Pat picked Poppy up by his beak
Prisoned Poppy pleads for parole
and pecks popcorn and crumbs all week
I shall never fall in love with one who left her glass shoe
Neither will I ask your hand just when the poisoned apple unchoke you.
Never will I dare marry one who in ages has been sleeping
Nor elope with a looong-haired damsel prisoned yet painting.
For there can never be a sweet fairy godmother
But mothers-in-law acting god and bitter!
And you tell me we shall live happily ever after
When you would not even taste that pumpkin in your platter?
Stop staring by your window waiting for your armored knight
He will not fetch you with his horse tainted white.
And will you please stop thinking those birds sing songs for you
Fairy tales are not meant for someone as unloving as you!
From Epiloge for novel “Eleanor Rigby”
This music has really transformed our world.
It stressed greatly the Central Asia (previous part of USSR) also,
in the time of Cold War and Iron Fences,
when our old fathers-communist leaders,
rotten in power and ruling by Soviet empire till the death,
fighting with freedom, capitalism and Beatles also
as with the decadence and poisoning art of dying West,
until USSR itself collapsed down from stupid governance
and violence and supressing of right of man.
By the way for our olders known
that according with an ancient Kyrgyz prophesy
every millennium bring to world the singer,
who might to crumble mountains and great evil empires
just with his stunning powerful songs.
Now we are going to understand
who was been really John Lennon.
Thank forever, bard of millennium,
singer with Irish-Kyrgys root,
the modern Ossian,
Orpheus who saved our world
and presented freedom for prisoned East.
You are deserved the deepest our respect and love for that
in generation to generation
as long as sounds
this unusual music here and everywhere -
Mind games, Stand by me, Imagine,
Girl, Instant karma, Across the Uneverce.
It is a pity that I'm not your baby,
the fruit of your flesh and blood,
you will have provided me with such care and attention,
that nobody on the ground could imagine about.
You have nurtured me and grow from early years,
day and night kissing and plying tenderly.
And long before that the wholly nine months
I would be concluded in the placenta
prisoned in your belly and you gently brought me,
as the most dearest yours patient and heir of your life,
you constantly talking with me,
though I do not understand what these words matter
but I felt the eternal warmth of maternal love and strength
when your fingers so gentle touch to my body.
And then one day I was born in that world,
and put on your warm stomach carefully,
and the birth pangs unbearable
turned to the flash of limitless tenderness.
And I have lived with you till your last day,
enjoying by the ineffable love and happiness
And maybe then, dear, my lust, thirst and love for you
appeased and satisfied completely and forever.
1995
http://www.adlibris.com/se/sok?q=Rigby&pn=1
Feelings of my heart, pouring like a foss
To the queen goddess of Pothos and Himeros
Before her alluring reflection I’m nak’d
My bones, flesh consum’d and spirit possess’d
With a fuddled heart fallen out of ease
Drunk of love like palm wine to the lees.
Omosi, pretty woman, daughter of Anwu
Me, none of the women of all climes do
Make sojourn ten seas and vales by heart
In one day and yet not a single step far,
The mystery of your nature to know
If beauty a mask worn and love a shadow.
What’s this desire for her that’s prisoned me
That bitter herbs turned sweet honey?
Her whisper is music divine that diminishes
A host of Angels echoing Gloria in Excelsis;
Her embrace’s elixir for life’s incubuses
And I’d forget my worries in her embraces.
Sweet love, sweet sweet love making
The body swings, the heart ever longing
To eat of her forbidden fruit and so
Be drown in sensation as deep as the Congo
That ever more takes freedom and innocence
From me and leaves a heavy heart thence.
Is’t by fate my heart be ever restless
For her? Or predestined to be I guess.
Though beauty fleets, love an illusion pass
And the acid test of time makes her carcass
She’ll rouse my heart and my manhood too
To refute the norm that makes a taboo.
She’s my heart made to be ever forlorn
To our love that’s worn a crown of thorn
By them who never know or can tell
That the pangs of being denied love is hell
With consuming regret, desire and endless sigh
And that’s all there’s, nothing else beside!
The day you cut me wide open,
I bled tears from a hideous face
And pure prisoned blood from my sealed benevolent cocoon.
I was not as pitiable as pathetic purple onions,
So you wouldn't weep for me.
The ruffled white sheets mourned with still ripples,
For I was a cruel painter, who have painted her
With the colour of doom,
Red.
You troubled my secret sacred place with your ritual.
You were the herbalist who reared the fatal **********
With the beak of a razor.
And then,
You pierced me,
After idiocies of incantations.
I was gullible,
Because incantations are meant to be charmingly convincing.
And, perhaps,
It was much more than your words that lured me,
So I endured the pain,
Because pleasure is greater than pain,
The act of two, greater than one in disdain.
This once I was lain,
Was the day you cut me wide open.
Heck, you asked for it
The base in a vortex locked
Crumbling with the torrid shock
Of maligned money
Bonding the world in duress
Spewing for policy cess
Who fooled you to vote
For shrivelling tax and more
Crime and crumbling of the store
The sinister laugh
Like golf balls beat my temple
Mubarak for example
The Arab spring parked
At wall street, and fell asleep
I want to hear the fire weep
To smell revenge stale
Like urine where drunkards leak
The magnate's charm for the meek
Drugged to forget love
The tent cities brimmed with wrath
Subsiding in urine's froth.
It's a busted world
We prize, nothing good is left
Except the brave will to die.
If I were a church
I would be altar on fire
Making sacrifice with ire
If I were the pew
I'd demand a broken chain -
Refund of profit and pain
Unemployed, prisoned
In myopia, dangled
From banner star spangled
What the hell is grief
The blood stains on rag dripping
Mothers' hands, clammy, shaking?
We have aborted
More than birth, nation killers
Political platform swillers
Swine gruel makers
The vultures gather for who
No bell tolls ... death has no clue.
Zest for life
Zest of living one discovers
Inspired by life’s demonstrations
Beyond the desolated wastelands
within wintered caverns frozen
oppressed body of its mind
outside prisoned visions
where gleams of hope are found
thresholds on new foundations
spark of life’s creations
sunshine in the distance appearing
peace and understanding bestowed
comes from knowing we belong
to life and its living
Hearts at rest deep in healing
within the time of now extending
un ended ever ending moments
you are given within its coming goings
On all our travels that we travel
the sky sublime as it is great
wide earth beneath its treaded feet
which mark the paths we tread
A Moment of your Time
I was just going through my head notes and re-wrotes....
and came up with a finished writing that will become a re-write piece to say the least....I begged and pleaded with this now completed much needed sheet of paper that let my pen...that I used...
to write a complete poem to compete and show 'em me the "Eh Hem Pete"..... hi....may I....have a moment of your time? to unleash my mind from this surge of words that I purge from my eyes so I won't be going blind no more
or suffer from the eyes sore that I bare and bore before...it's not fair to endure a nightmare...or stare at the door when I'm awake...looking for...something to adore...but see nothing more....I care...but I swear...I will not compare my writing free to my daydreams and streams of words that I see to other people's poetry
I am merely just being me...
myself and I...hi...can I have a moment of your time? to unwind these blind binding words that are becoming more and more my vision...it's like I'm in a prisoned prism...locked down pen in hand...writing position...GO!...but woah...where do I start?...how could I part the ink from the pen...
and begin to write a rewrote note....on this sheet of paper? I know...here we GO....creator...Roses are Red...Violets are Blue...never mind...can you give me a moment of your time....?
can you be so kind...and listen or read and comprehend as i stand here and recite these blinding words that I will rewrite....
that my Pen's ink will bleed to
write from its statue of nature onto this sheet of Paper from my mind the creator...
Can I have A moment of your Time?
Keep digging trenches,
Enemy bodies piled in ditches,
No intuition for this is no heaven vision,
Where is God in wars religion,
Indecision, nervous flinches, Napalm bombs on all divisions,
Stoic mission, missiles hissing,
Men in anguish hate to listen,
Crosshairs within and cowards prisoned,
Reapers laughing no repentance,
Superstition is omission,
No surrender in fears secretion,
Wage extension that hallow pension,
Shell shock stock all ammunition,
Peaceful fission the last redemption,
Death so vital in attrition,
Nuclear assistance,
End of existence,
Vision intention of nations decision,
Sanction schism, bomb in rhythm,
Open up lets make a difference,
Now the world is a burning pit,
Legions of generals worship it,
Reason the guilty of dying unequipped,
Bleeding lesions in war never for the innocent only belligerents
borderline
between what may i ask?
floating whilst the clock ticks by
tears on the night of your life
pain in pleasure
pleasure in pain
doors closed
the slams still echo in your brain
in-prisoned by your own name
dust scatters over where you lay
an endless impossible escape you planned at 5
imprints of those who held you tight
just to leave you in the night
sky’s are blue but your mind is grey
it makes no sense why you feel this way
but at least you know borderline is where you stay
there is safety in that pain