Best Supressed Poems
"Although I'm familiar with the art of poetry,
no one has inspired my muse
to inscribe my own journal. -
so I placed my soul in her hands." Silent One
I used to be a journal,
daily dips of ink dripped
deep into my dilapidated soul.
Supporting sorrows of the one
who wrote with endeavour,
'letting go,' of the blackness,
infested within her veins.
Endless chapters of vents,
tears, fears and misery,
bleeding from ruptured arteries,
etched upon the fresh fibres
of a canvas of compassion.
In times of fantasy,
I was a field full of her
supressed wildflowers.
In reality, I was her diary
of deep, destructive desires.
Now her pen rests,
with a sharp nib pointing at me.
Like a shield, preventing
her ink to reveal the
truths behind metaphors.
I'm an anthology of her emotions,
wondering how the next chapter
will be written - is there more to confess?
But in her mute melancholy,
I can think of reasons to express,
but many more to remain inkless.
Yet no other 'ink-toxication' can fill this void -
I'LL FOREVER REMAIN WORTHLESS
as what purpose do I have
without her words perpetually
nourishing my empathic existence.
In this slumber, I collect dust,
feeling bare, but in her rejection -
hungering for her verses to soothe.
Categories:
supressed, analogy,
Form:
Free verse
Her heart is stone cold she cannot be loved
A wall a defence she's built years to protect
Raw emotion nor attraction ever expressed
Heart closed to letting inside her chest
This wall has withstood the test of time
But for what benefit? to strengthen mind?
A saviour from feelings she wants to deny
Not ever experience what life is like to know
Perfect world in her eyes, no tears to be felt
All thoughts simply a matter of black and white
No colour, no sunshine, no rainbow or smile
Just a two dimensional life, day and night
The heart unloved is surrounded by steel
Long supressed emotions no longer real
Stripped and seperated mind and heart
How long can one sustain until falling apart
This world sealed for her until death thy part
Categories:
supressed, fear, world, heart, heart,
Form:
The Waiting Room
The April weather shifted high to low,
Exposing those early clout casters
To the concluding bite of winter;
Footsteps full of foreboding
Trudge their last legs up the inclined driveway
To the Doctor’s old house.
A hotchpotch of chairs and wooden benches
Cling to the borders of the waiting room
A ballroom of romance for the sick.
In varying degrees of ill-health
A gamut of the townspeople
Chorus a cacophony of coughs
Sniffling and wheezing feverishly,
While the readers’ digest stale stories
From the well-thumbed publications.
Eyes darting around the room
Surveying the afflicted to kill the time
Conjecture at the probable cause and severity;
Childlike comparisons to ones’ own condition.
A new mother fails to stifle a yawn
Spreading contagion to the assembled
Her flushed snoozing baby
Unaware of her blaming chatter.
Life-weary pensioner invited to the inner sanctum
Chilled to the bone, sciatica stricken,
Accepts the decree of the medic
Without question or comment.
His framed degree, long faded,
Enough to stifle her to silence
His stethoscope, as a Priests garb
To her, underpinning his status.
Two codgers still await their summons
More regularly neighbours at the bar
Boisterously chatting across the room
For the oblivious benefit of the throng;
Socialising symptoms best supressed
Public bravado before their private hearing,
Selective honesty, the order of the day.
Quiet couple with obviously hidden issue
Whisper conspiratorially in the half lit room
Embracing the background murmur
And the dimness, aid to their privacy.
Vice-Captain of the junior team,
Fit, and embarrassed at his minor disorder
Conjures up exaggerated “near death” vocabulary
For future reportage to the team
His shame cajoled into the ether
By his twisting of the physicians’ imagined words.
And all the while the waiting room remains
Constant, a silent witness to all ills.
Categories:
supressed, health, humorous, life,
Form:
Free verse
As he walked,
Breathed,
Talked,
Sneezed,
The root of all evil was indeed marinating deep within him,
A natural seasoning,
A cue for treason,
Short side of critical reasoning,
His attire was outfitted for any season,
His shoes covered many miles,
He supressed plenty smiles,
The eradication of the same breath he enjoys
dazzles his need to cause
pain and suffering.
He likes to be the Big Bad Wolf,
Follows his prey and performs a Houdini act,
Dangerous is an understatement,
Violence and cruelty is the aftermath,
He doesn’t know any better,
Desensitization at its finest,
He takes pride in adding the minus,
He takes pride in fulfilling his addiction to adding the minus.
Categories:
supressed, dark, life, pain, violence,
Form:
Free verse
They stood on highly placed podiums
In densely packed stadiums
Making promises, unwitting and false
And now we wait as time slowly crawls
Now we see
The so called promise of a fatherland
Smeared with cruelty and blood stained sand
Treachery and fear of the dreaded boko haram
Bringing tragedy, pandemonium and widespread alarm
Tainting a religion of peace. Noble Islam
Fanaticism some say; but terror is their way
Now we hear
The blood curdling screams
As we awaken from terror filled dreams
Outcries of electoral rigging
From supressed political teams
Woeful tales in news broadcast
And we wonder, how long these will last
But now we know better
Than to hear their sugar coated words
Or to see their finely painted worlds
Yes; now we know better
Categories:
supressed, introspection,
Form:
Ode
Depression
There is no one reason, some remain depressed.
One could be, a fear to stand before – undressed,
looking at all their natural beauty – glory repressed.
Never to see, to feel, to know reality- their story supressed.
A dear john letter ?
I have moved on to better !, ?
Winter winds tearing at our relationship.
The fires of those winter storms, burn deep,
scorching the fragile fabric of spring,
of summer, of the decaying hours of autumn.
This, leaving me feeling, as the deserted beaches,
hammered by relentless waves crashing down.
The essence, the face, lost after being touched
by the raging, thrashing waves of spring tides.
Lost, after being caressed, fondled by summer waves.
Lost, after being cleansed by autumns thrashing surf.
Lost, after being ripped to shreds by winters door closing,
on all that once could have been something better.
Moving on
A coarse, I believe, you have always been taking.
It has been a long time, in fact, years in the making.
The earth upon which you / we have walked is shaking.
There is no longer, any good reason for you to be faking
all – that I feel – have been the reasons for this braking.
I do not – for one second – blame you for moving on.
I understand why what you may have had is all gone.
For the light you so desperately sought, never shone
upon the dreams you had of me.
The dreams that I would never see.
For they were of someone I could never be,
in this world of mine, where being free
from all that tears at this fragile heart,
of which I no longer want any part
of, and for many good reasons
of which, in my final seasons,
need not – ever again – want to become a part of my life.
For, at my age, and with all my experiences, strife
would only be the stiletto, a dagger, a keen knife
that cuts deep into the heart and brings nothing but rife
to this old man’s days and nights as he stands
at the threshold of new ways, in new lands
where there may be no foot prints in the sands
as life changes. moves on, is out of one’s hands
B. J. “A ” 2
May 19th 2004
Categories:
supressed, life,
Form:
Rhyme
The beast has been unleashed
no longer willing to be supressed
and hidden in gloomy chambers
no longer willing to hold onto the anger
which has been a long suffering burden
Constantly beholding fake smiles
on the visage of pretenders, lovers of illusion
master-creaters of volcanic-like pressures
seeking to behold a stupefying explosion
People and things testing how far they can take me
cause me to wonder they're watching and plotting
to see if they can break me..
Well, now the beast is hungry
stalking his prey
ready to pounce on whatever's in his way
So go ahead, waltz your presence by my lair
I'll show you about playing fair
Just remember you asked for this!
It was never my intention to unleash this beast
but now it's time for him to feast!
And, when he is done there won't be much left
just a whirlwing of destruction
hanging on his last breath..
Categories:
supressed, imaginationme,
Form:
Somewhere in the dungeon of my soul
was a memory I supressed,
and a song, a scent
reignited the place and time long forgot.
And I remember leaving the cocoon we called home
I remember moving to city estate
A communist Block of dingey brick hopelessness
Four stories of balconied flats
Assaulting the horizon with their oppressive ugliness.
I remember unwrapping cotton striped sheets
Claiming a new bed and a corner
In one of four bedrooms
Floors concrete with grey linoleum
the coldness hurt my feet
I remember the pink woolen blankets and the hard grey blankets from council.
Upon opening an obtuse door,
a boxy toilet with an exterior exhaust spinning,
and chain hanging down behind the toilet bowl
The room was always unspeakably cold,
always had to strain to use it.
A kitchen with two windows onto balcony
And a meter for adding coins to buy gas, for bath and cooking
I remember the bathroom separate from toilet
a rectangle room with a bath tub and face basin.
With a noisey point of use gas furnace for hot water. From any part of the miserable flat you can hear the flames heating up water,
And also always unspeakably cold.
I remember the massive parifin heaters that burned all through the night, the soot and the glare
Only the living room had central heating, a one buyer gas grate that heated the living room
I shed many tears on the concrete balcony staring at countless hapless pensioners and dolers alike
Faces stamped on hard with one expresion, hopeless resolve.
Our flat was on the third floor
Past ground, one was fine, two thighs burning,
three, always the stench of stale piss in puddles
Not on the wall like men do,
No these depositors stooped to render their rank fluids on the middle bank of the flight of steps,
a little privacy there.
I would never call this place home
Like a prison I would merely bide my time and fly away.
Categories:
supressed, childhood, depression, england, sorrow,
Form:
Free verse
He cried for help using a silent cord
but silent cries always get ignored,
he couldn't remember how life rewards
and from his eyes the tears then poured.
He ran away from life because he became scared
but he ran into the wild and he stands impaired,
with too much time passed since he last cared,
in this isolation he thinks how better he's faired.
He realised the run from people guided him here,
but he now wishes people were somewhere near,
stuck still in this spot on his lonesome chair,
now thinking that unsighted decision was unfair.
Supressed anger created this mental cage
and out of practice his mind won't engage,
without exercise he's to weak to turn the page
and there are no steps leading up to the stage.
They say a man's got to do what a man's got to do,
but what does a man do when he hasn't got a clue?
When there are no thoughts in his brain left to choose,
when he's lost it all and yet there's more to lose.
He's a prisoner to depression and all its dark forces,
cornered with one card and it requires endurance,
survive and get lucky or die of natural causes,
avoid the actions of suicide are of the most importance.
Sometimes all you can do is survive,
and hope for the day of the changed tide,
sometimes all you can do is survive,
it's a certain death if you move so just hide.
The weeks pass by with the outlook bleak,
everyday he weakens, he feels completely beaten,
the adult with special needs that no curriculum can teach,
sinking deeper into his own mind in an act of retreat.
Lonely with only his own thoughts reality's out of reach,
dehydrated, yet he weeps to himself letting tears leak,
each drop releases anguish this reality's no beach,
drops his head in his hands where there's no light to seek.
Continuously sinking into a reluctant isolation,
he wonders why to give a with no reason to care,
thankful for his loneliness because it hides humiliation,
staying in his hiding because no options appear.
Staying still for now thinking it's safe right here
but all the while his thinking clarity disappears,
driven to numbness in a world that knows no fear,
a far distance from pleasure and all is unclear.
Categories:
supressed, anxiety, confusion, depression, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
The haunting past which sits in my mind,
of that slow dark shadow,
floating across my wall as I try to sleep,
fearing of what it will do,
I freeze in my soul,
wanting to shout,for it might go away,
The attack is without pain,but of shock,
the man I've known since birth...why?
In my head,swirling past the thoughts,
of the touch easing it's way towards me,
the want to turn over for protection,
for concealment,but to no avail.
The tears,in silence is supressed,
not being heard and my soul aches,
many times before I've felt it,
when will it end?
the cold covers me as the warmth of the blanket falls away,
my heart stops,"I don't want to be touched",
my soul cries for help,oh God,help me,
the shadow touches like a nightmare,
I feel sweat building as I strain to keep my eyes shut,
it seems to last all night.
As sudden as it came,it floats away,
leaving in it's wake as I lay in fear,
the thought of committing suicide,
I wake in the morning wondering,
was it all a dream,a nightmare,or was it real,
the only thing I know,
is the memories,hate,and resentment that I feel.
Categories:
supressed, childhood,
Form:
Poetry is the key
To open doors inside my mind;
The cluttered cupboard swings open
Releasing hoarded memories in a crashing cascade
Of almost unwanted and not quite forgotten objects,
Complete confusion once supressed behind shut wood
Has erupted and lies in a heap for all to see.
The next door leads outside
To a cold and barren landscape,
A skeletal tree with no leaves
Shakes as wind whistles and weaves
Between branches reaching forlornly
Towards a glimmer which might be the sun.
Down a dark corridor to the last door
Swathed in shadows, eerily quiet
The key clicks in the lock,
I nudge the door open and see the light
Trickle in, feel warm sun on my skin
As I step onto a green lawn with a low stone wall
I sit down and survey my surroundings;
It is peaceful, alone but not lonely,
Because I remember the words you said under the trees that day
And the new certainty that I could find my way.
Categories:
supressed, hope, imagination, life, peace,
Form:
Free verse
November 6th, 2005
Pulled up to my house
Couldn't believe my eyes
Everyone sobbing
Couldn't control their tears
What's going on??
Time to face my fears
With no idea
I just ran and asked
To hear the news
My big brother had passed
Empty & broken
I ran to my room
Not talking to anyone
I was so damn confused
Retracing my weekend
Thinking to myself
What's the last thing I said to him,
The night that I left?
Beating myself up
Trying to dig in deep
Did I tell him I loved him?
Such a painful memory
Find myself writing
With nowhere to go
My heart takes me to him
For what reason I don't know
Guess there is a lot supressed
Pent way up inside
Forcing its way out
Through the pain that I hide
It eats me up
Not knowing that night,
I was walking out the door
Saying my last Goodbye
Tear after tear
Ache after ache
That November night
That ultimate heartbreak
Finally releasing my heart
From the prison that its in
Letting go of the unknown
Now the hurt can end
November 6th, 2005
The day he left
And a piece of my heart died
Categories:
supressed, brother, confusion, death, lossheart,
Form:
Rhyme
Our bodys close
I feel the heat radiating, pulsating
The sweet smell of your cologne tickles my nose
Your making me quiver from head to toe
Breathing deep and lost
Skin so soft
All to be heard is our heartbeats,
As you hold onto your breathe
Your short gasps of air, my fingers gliding threw your hair
Bliss at its finest
Laughing supressed
Our actions take us onto the cold hard floor
Oh, how I love our tickle wars
Comment? :)
Categories:
supressed, fantasy, funny, girlfriend-boyfriend, happiness,
Form:
I am at war
At war in my mind
I Wonder what I will find
Inside....
A mind full of pride
supressed by humility
Trying to be confident in the face of insecurity
My mind....
Trying to release thoughts of progression
held as prisoners by repression
My mind...
needs to be freed
Im uprooting every weed
and sowing in pure seeds
I try
No lie... I do try
The epicenter of my being
stops me from seeing
truth.
but connect it to my spirit
and the lord will vist.
Categories:
supressed, allegory, faith, hope, introspection,
Form:
Light Verse
An empire built on trade but via horrible ways,
don’t be naive to behaviour towards the native by the far traveled sailors
on a quest for riches to bring home and pitch from the waters farthest reaches,
after invasion forces force a fear showing the strength of the superior now here taking the land for the empire
making outstanding impressions
to scare and inspire
they start with infrastructure
implement systems
teach language
for communications
establishing the colony with buildings of Europe
these unknown unseen structures creating awe as they go up
they bring too knowledge and skills,
far advanced leaving intrigued locals thrills,
bringing industrialisation
from its mother nation forming repair stations for ships
seeing locals trained advancing toward the rich
but the majority not a priority
little profit for them
finding anger which moves them to rebellion
in this otherwise stable creation
but with less the rebellion easily supressed
a signal of who rules unstoppable
cus metal beats sticks
and knowledge known beats stones
white controls your home in your city now grown
with organisational tricks better than your own,
the economy improves in this place now connected with the globe
and though for the native man the British have an offering
there’s not enough to offer him
but white offices appear beyond a dream
painting Britain to be a heavenly scene
both clever and rich
but step out of line and evil hits,
and though they bring more and have an advancing on show
locals want this unwelcomed power to go
Categories:
supressed, africa,
Form:
Rhyme