Best Tightening Poems
Finally
Doctor, it's been 7 months
The MEDs aren't kicking in
My dreams are getting stronger,
The blood remains to run code red
It's getting harder and harder to get out of bed
Dark images keep taking place inside my head
The voices - The voices, are not all right!
I no longer lay laughing
The screaming never stops
In irons, my mind rattles
Theses thoughts are all I got
In slow motion, my mind plans the perfect plot
Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
Counting every single second on the clock
At first, I could not breathe
I felt, I was left alone,
Broken down --- Incomplete
In your eyes, the schizophrenia spoke loud
In my eyes, everything is dark and gray
Doctor, now listen closely, open your eyes
While the walls slowly close in on you
I have my hands around your neck
Finally, I feel my arms, the needles are gone
Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
The tightening of the chest is clearing
Today I possess a little more than yesterday
Knowing exactly what needs to be done.
DOC YOU AREN'T LISTENING!
Was it all for nothing, the bloody wrist?
The faucet constantly dripping every night
The voices I call my friends
Deep, deep down,
I'm still a child, painting bedroom walls
Setting fires after my mother's death
A crazy peril in its most threatening state
Doc, here you are again,
No longer will I allow you to waste my time
With your fetish lies, trying to make me better
The problem is not me, it was always you!
Painting pink butterflies and white skies
Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
Don't you understand she's dead!
Pills aren't going to bring her back
Padded rooms aren't going to help me,
Help myself --- grieve the proper way!
Straitjackets aren't going to restrain me,
--- from wanting to hurt badly!
Psychologically, I'm perfectly sane
Expressing my emotions a different way.
Doctor, you're not saying nothing
You're not moving,
You're just sitting there pretending to care.
Doc, I hope you aren't mad?
The voices explained it had to end this way
How else could I make you listen?
Finally, the impulse is gone
Finally, I'm going to be alright
by: Pd
I emerged / born with a silver pen in hand
…and a tempest raging within.
Words writhe, a serpent's coil
…tightening their grip
A soul adrift in a sea of
…self-made iniquity.
I buried my daddy
…in the black shoe
…by the Yew tree
Yes, I, the beekeeper’s daughter
…bearing the weight of hexagonal cells
A hive of memories
…buzzing with secrets.
The bell jar shattered
….a fractured hive.
Its glass walls no longer a prison
…but a shattered cocoon
……a metamorphous!
Pain and disdain drip like honey
…a bittersweet nectar of survival.
He, a poet
…crowned in the harsh light of fame
Bound in chains of duty and shame
His words
…a romance of lure and alarm.
Echoing the sirens' song
…enticing and harmful.
Yet, his tongue
…a viper’s forked lie.
Whispers truths and half-truths
…conjuring illusions to die.
Wandering the maze of being
A little fugue of
…fractured fairytales.
Each note a fleeting glimpse of clarity
Lost in the discordant
…cacophony of life's emptiness.
Like my "Little Fugue" a dance of shadows
A journey through the corridors of the mind
Seeking answers in the interplay of light and dark
Striving for harmony amidst the chaos
Parchment of blood and ink I leave
A riddle of life and death's plea
Maniacal madness with visions slight
A macabre dance upon the night.
Ariel, brings lightning and fire!
With heavy heart
…I sealed my children's room.
Softly kissed them farewell
……Extinguishing the final flame within.
Enveloped in oblivion's velvet veil
………Yielding to the oven’s cold caress.
…………No, more morning songs...
Inscribed a cryptic goodbye
Breathed in the silent slayer.
For, I Lady Lazarus
…Dying is an art
……Faded into the ether…
Her blacks crackle and drag, a fire of new birth
Flames licking at the borders of life
Consumed by oblivion's greedy blaze
Lost in the vast cosmic ray.
The embers die
…a fleeting spark gone
No masterpiece
…….just dust reclaimed
A silent echo in the void unstained.
A mystery lost
………never quite explained.
Yet, God's Lioness
...Fierce and Untamed
Roaring her defiance
…Covered in darkness…
----
Underneath the star-strewn skies
A fleeting passing note.
Lost in the vast expanse
Living on the edge
For, I am but a speck of dust.
While snowflakes continue to fall,
upon a night pale as ghostly winter
I falter from my own distraught pause--
the hazy moon watches my young girl
a serene angel laying in starshine, on a bed
frigid cold with her tiny body
wrapped in fine linen and pink bonnet:
I could still recall her pupils tightening,
while through glimpses silent, my own mouth
utters, ' fight, my dear one, fight!'
Yet, her last gasp escapes a frozen outline,
those eyes blinking restlessly up high
as my fallen gazes droop at her gaunt form --
How this heart cleaves till screams rack
my own body with convulsive, inconsolable
anguish: this route to a thievish doom
makes me seethe, slam, screech at life
for my child's unborn dreams ...never to fly, ever.
It rains and a mantle of tears drown
upon her skin, my face in endless whys--
as I howl with night birds for the villainy of time.
Verses of Metaphors 3- RHYME OR FREE VERSE ONLY
Sponsor: Lu Loo
04.26.2019
Through the water they glide,
an immense mosaic of millions of silvery fish
on their migratory run,
obeying a call immemorial,
a mystery of aquatic unison
choreographed by instinct primordial.
They billow,
a grainy smoke cloud
in which light drowns.
A ruffling,
like an enormous bedspread
being shaken out in slow motion
by an invisible giant.
They turn into a mesh,
glistening, spinning around, tightening,
a net woven with fish for catching water.
They stretch,
a submerged galaxy
unspooling into a braided rope
in a blue universe.
They bank,
and silver ripples across the shoal,
a wheat field touched by a soaking breeze.
Then they move on,
flashing by,
like underwater rain falling sideways.
Before the predators get to them,
my eyes are feasting.
I could pound her head against a brick wall
or find some modicum of logic to install
but those would probably do no good at all
for she is filled with bitter anger and gall
Do these words portray someone you know
If I could change her attitude, I'd make it so
the world would have a much brighter glow
hold me back cuz I can't take much mo!
I've seen a few others who tried enlightening
but her mind is closed, her heart tightening
her audacity flashes like forked lightning
she's so churlish and stubborn, it's frightening
A nobody
Scared by the sound of his own voice
Following the girl home from school
In his mind this is normal
Stalking girls
He grabs her jacket
Pulling her backwards unto the ground
Placing a cloth around her nose and mouth
Gagging her until she sleeps for a while
He drags her through the woods
Branches hitting her every which way he turns
Dragging her along until he reaches the cabin
Picking her up over his shoulders opening the door to the cellar
Locking the door behind him he walks down the stairs slowly
He places her on a chair and ties her wrist to the handles
Tying her feet to the legs of the chair
Tightening the rope around her neck to the back of the chair
He undresses her waiting for her to wake up
Several hours pass
She wakes up
Sweating and screaming
Crying and yelling at him
He places duct tape around her mouth
Placing a knife against her stomach
She groans and yelps
He takes the knife away and looks at her
Grabbing her face and telling her shes beautiful
He turns around and stands with his back towards her
As he starts to say
But its the beautiful people that need fixing
He takes the tape off her face and holds her chin tightly
He carves a smile on her face
Cutting her mouth from ear to ear
Telling her
Smile dear it makes you adorable
He grins and sits the knife down
Laughing as she bleeds
She tries to move her mouth
It just drops open
He looks at her smiling
Now that makes you truly beautiful
He leaves her there for a while
Later returning
Placing a needle with a string attached to it
Sticking it into the skin around her mouth that is hanging open
He stitches her back together
Cant make up his mind
He slaps her and leaves her there for another few days
She sits with her eyes peeled wide open
A tear falling as she tries wiggling her hand free from the rope
As she frees her hand she runs her fingers over her stitches
Only to find out her whole mouth has been stitched together
She cant speak
She can only mumble
She frees the rest of her limbs
Trying to stand up and walk but she's to weak and falls
He runs down the stairs
Yelling at her to get up
She doesn't move
He kicks her in the stomach
She doesn't budge
He picks her up and uses her as a puppet
For his own needs
He then buries her beside his other victims
Only to find out shes still alive
Her hand slips through the dirty old mud
5-28-2013
At twelve years old
She sits in the cold
Engulfed by the dark
Sitting on an old tree trunk
By the edge of the silent river
From far she can hear the ceremonial celebrations
Drums beat with such elevation
The women sing in jovial spirits
The kids play and they all dance
Twenty fires burn brightly lighting the village in might
She sits in the cold
Her bare breasts scared
Her beaded necklace tightening
Her innocent fingers trembling
Her eyes dimming with every drum beat
She knows she can't run far
They will find her
And he will marry her
The dowry is already paid
The bed is already made
I have a light within
that I've somehow curtained,
put something in its way.
I cast a shadow across
everything. It is no defect
of the eye but of the spirit,
a flaw I have in me,
a dimming I pass on to settle
the scene and rob color
of its intensity.
I've gotten used
to the dull glaze I bring
that now it appears
the natural state of things.
Even water speared
by the sun bleeds a muted sheen,
no bright splinters of light
ricochet off to be caught
by eyes having to hide
behind a squint, I can take
my reflections straight.
There are moments
when I can feel a tightening
and something within me
stretch and tear the stitching
on a seam. Light pours out
and affixes a patch of life
in a blinding beam, too bright
to hold or keep except
for the afterglow it leaves
on a page or lingering
for awhile on the horizons
of a dream.
A grim, gray day,
endless rain coming in off the ocean.
Endless calls from other people,
"What part do we need for this?"
"Can you order it for us?"
"A happened and then B happened, what does it mean?"
"Do we hold this part toward the motor side,
or toward the brake side of the centrifuge,
when we're tightening it up on the horizontal shaft?"
There he was.
At the grocery store, picking up some stuff -
we were going to be working late that night.
God, people are slow,
wandering around like they don't know what they want,
like they have no other place to go.
Get out of my way,
get out of my way.
Tunnel vision in the fog,
man on a mission,
big mass moving at speed
to the end of the task.
There he was,
in his mom's shopping cart,
staring at me.
Little guy, probably 2 years old,
'Popeye' looking with a knit cap on his head,
half winking at me with one eye.
Smiling.
He was beyond 'stranger anxiety' or never had it.
He looked at me, and he knew me -
I was one of his.
He was a shaman, an imp,
a grinning cherub with a touch of guile.
So young, but he was aware,
aware that he *was,*
and that on the other end,
there was somebody who also was,
and he felt the humor and joy
which surely must be mystical.
I've thought of him a thousand times,
his little face.
A bright sun in a dark universe.
SHOW TIME - Mr. MUELLER, YOU'RE FIRED
Come life and death of it you blessed rhapsody
you've played for long enough and now it's time to go
there's not a better time than now to let it be
insanity's its own and best reward you know
deep in the night while there's no certain thing
but passion for the grief that lingers on and on
as damp and cold as fog as hot as summers sting
come life and death of it before this act is gone
there must be question to the ends uncertainty
that's led us guessing, why was this thing said
and is the act onstage or what the actors see
beyond the blinding light among the walking dead
who come to be amused right through our greatest fear
of no applause; or laughter where there should be none
and we must speak each word for everyone to hear
exactly as they plan so that the show goes on.
and yes they knew the end before the curtain call
but made production's costs a thing to bear
and every star that's in the sky could surely fall
from how it shines tonnight unless the fire is there
they cannot see the moving of the props around
sometimes in pandemonium, at best in haste
nor setting of the stage--this is our holy ground
the tinting of each face the tightening of waist
there no one dares to tread except for those who see
the detail of it all must blend into the play
as carefully as we make this, our tragedy,
the making up must be complete in every way
we must not let the ending go beyond the end
or all is lost and all we'll hear is mumbelings
and lack of press where there has never been a friend
so life and death of it come down though pain it brings
let not the curtain to ascend the play is done
and weary are the actors they've performed quite well
as real as life so now the show must not go on
past curtain fall there's nothing more we have to tell.
NO Collusion.
© Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet aka Ron Wilson
Hello my exotic, glorious maiden,
By now they all know you are taken.
I possessively, poetically, clearly, and eloquently
Told them you are promised to me, a sensual, delicately,
Known beauty, could not marry a canal walk about, a
Wannabe, curling his moustache and swinging his cane,
With no title or aristocratical fame,
And who is just playing a game.
He drinks he smokes, he womanizes, and he is fat
His face ruddy red, he belongs in the sewers with rats.
Every time I see you mon amour, be it every minute
Of every day, my heart goes aflutter,
Concerned my romantic words will go asunder.
As I helplessly stutter.
You push up your corset, and alluringly overflow,
My lovely, anymore tightening, you will explode.
Your thigh high slits in your dresses tantalize men,
And with your matching parasol you look so irresistible,
No one in this town matches your looks, not even contestable.
Love of my life I love you as you be, my mistress soon to be wife,
For the rest of my life.
Time drags by so slow,
I want a ring on your finger,
Then I will whisk you away, to my Chateau,
You blow so many kisses, I know they are for me,
Your blue-eyed wink, a secret code that we will meet in the
Gondola and enjoy our passion,
You are breathtakingly beautiful, considered to be quite the catch,
We have known from our teens, that we were the perfect match.
Reflecting in my minds defining silence;
It's amazing how loud it can be without violence;
There are so many clever agents; sentient's within
Conducting their works; influencing original sin
Isolating thoughts with precise belligerence
Stifling consciousness; destroying all innocence
Un; and conscious thoughts confound
Is this a nightmare; so profound?
When this internalized backscattering redemption for my soul begins;
I'm more than just a little bit curious; about how to make a true amends;
These angelic thoughts; I feel the halo slipping down to this tightening noose;
The alarm clock tones; a dream lost; I come around, still deeply a recluse
Her baby fine hair sheenes as gold as the wedding band she dumped down the old abandoned well.
Her porcelain skin bares scars from the shards of broken promises.
Abuse still shadows the hollows of her pale blue eyes.
She caresses the tiny bump in her belly.
The innocence nestled there was the courage she needed.
Vindication looms in the bluish purple boot print stamped just above it.
Her ability lay spent in brass on the bedroom floor.
The sun beaming through the windows seems brighter, the air lighter today.
A long forgotten calm washes over her, awakening a peace that has lain dormant in her soul.
Out in the field, centered between the tracts of the old tractor, evil has left it's final mark on this world.
The trail, just a man's shoulder width has already begun to fade.
She removes her wedding band, a haunting symbol of the past three years of hell.
His is tightening on his bloating finger, at the bottom of the old abandoned well.
Hick Phonics - is a language to be taught in all Southern schools.
Here are some excerpts from the Hick Phonics/English Dictionary.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Heidi - Noun - A Greeting
Hire Yew - Complete Sentence - Remainder of greeting.
Usage: "Heidi! Hire yew?"
Bard - Verb - Past tense of the infinitive "To Borrow"
Usage: "My brother bard my pick up truck."
Munts - Noun - A calendar division.
Usage: "My brother from Jawjah bard my pick up truck and I ain't seen him in munts."
Jawjah - Noun - A state just north of Florida. Capital is Hatlanta.
Usage: "My brother from Jawjah bard my pick up truck.
Ignernt - Adjective - Not smart. See Arkansas Native.
Usage: "Them two boys sure are ignernt."
Ranch - Noun - A tool used for tightening bolts.
Usage: "I think I left my ranch in the back of that pick up truck my brother from Jawjah bard a few munts ago."
All - Noun - A petroleum based lubricant.
Usage: "I sure hope my brother from Jawjah puts all in my pick up."
Far - Noun - A conflagration.
Usage: "If my brother from Jawjah don't change the all in my pick up that thang's gonna ketch far."
Bahs - Noun - A supervisor
Usage: "If you don't stop readin' these Southern words your bahs is gonna far you."
Tar - Noun - A rubber wheel.
Usage: "Gee I hope that brother of mine from Jawjah don't git a flat tar in my pick up."
Tire - Noun - A tall monument.
Usage: "Lord willin' and the creek don't rise I hope to see that Eiffel Tire in Paris someday."
Retard - Verb - To stop working.
Usage: "My Grampaw retard at 65."
Tarred - Adverb - Exhausted.
Usage: "I jest flew in from Hatlanta and boy my arms are tarred."
A breathless voice hissed from just behind the child’s
left ear,
he glanced back
to see no one there,
his mind was filled with the thought of death,
his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath,
and as if he had been running,
his face in the mirror darkened suddenly,
his emotions would hide,
his eyes wide,
his mind flips,
then a silent vow seemed to emanate
from his tightening lips,
he feels his heart rate,
racing,
his emotions now pacing,
his sanity dissolving before his very eyes,
he then feels some inner cries,
the child stared,
unblinking at his reflection,
he feared,
then a ghost appeared,
with a flicker of poorly concealed distress
in her eyes,
“ Run!”
Then in a second, before it was done,
it had to be fate,
because it was simply too late,
reality displayed a fact,
and the home invasion had a rapid impact.