What is lockable is the rapacious,
the blood scratched door,
an already gaping mail box.
What can be opened is the plunder,
the clasp that cracks.
We need keys
for the iron hasp of blood,
a skeleton to pick open
the red mouths of jugular jaws,
to break apart the deadbolts,
the chain-linked sorrows
of dead-end days.
Categories:
deadbolts, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Spirits can't tell time.
No watches or cell phones do they carry.
They seek hearts,
both day and night,
hoping to plant seeds,
so two can marry.
If the doors to one's heart is open,
receptive and true,
spirits walk in and start playing the blues.
If the doors are kept shut,
spirits knock three times,
hoping deadbolts and locks,
will be unshackled,
after hearing the chimes.
Spirits carry the love of souls past and present,
they have no age.
only seeking to write their message,
on an erased and now blank page.
If you hear them knock on your door,
you should let them in.
Then all around can hear the party begin.
Spirits are playful, trying humor first and most.
But it all depends on the pad of the host.
Some spirits are locksmiths,
no door to open to hard,
Other spirits use music,
or words of the bard.
The men who live to control in the daytime light,
If wise would decide to give up their fight.
To keep doors to their hearts,
locked so tight.
How can they ever feel the rush,
of the spirits might?
Categories:
deadbolts, angel,
Form: Free verse
Cowering in the shadow of fear,
you count every sorrow, tear by tear.
And surrender to life's ugly side,
unwittingly letting evil slide.
Bullets rip through this fabric of lies,
and somewhere, somehow, somebody dies.
For drugs and guns, paint the hood in blood,
stains of youth, lying dead in the mud.
With curtains drawn completely tight,
streets are left to the horrors of night.
And doors get locked with deadbolts in place,
while pride vanishes without a trace.
Needles and condoms litter the park,
where crack whores and pimps stakeout the dark.
And children live under house arrest,
afraid of monsters out to molest.
Taking a life's a juvenile thrill,
unafraid of the law, youngsters kill.
And death runs rampant in Sin City,
where life's cheap and devoid of pity.
Categories:
deadbolts, angst, anxiety, city, culture,
Form: Rhyme
The old house was left
a wordless descendant
Ravines of cold air slide in through the cracks
Deadbolts are latched and keys have been hidden
Years of desertion have swallowed the years
Cupboards are bare, and the hinges are bent,
Doors are askew with a vague musty scent
Laughter was swept with the dust of neglect
Summers and winters have long been forgotten
Windows watched seasons gobble the stars
A derelict house that no one would claim
A house shuttered tight, where no one remains
No one has bothered to take just a look
No one is writing a page from this book
No one is left to tell of the story
No one is left to walk down the stairs
_______________________________________________________
Categories:
deadbolts, dark, house, lonely, loss,
Form: Verse
Hurdling, bending, twisting about
Contemplating, stressing, feeling without
High as a kite then down in the dumps
Cat has my tongue, my throat filled with lumps
Floods of people. Why do they watch
Must act "normal" and perform top notch
Tinted windows for my car, deadbolts for my door
Alone once again just like before
A sigh of relief, beneath my covers
The ghost of inadequence, relentlessly hovers
A heavy black cloud, fixed over my head
Exposing guilt, multiplying my dread
I hide beneath a blanket of words, painting a picture on my veil
Transforming my insecurities, adorning my hell
My peers, in the dark, I have become my disguise
A gentle heart can read, it speaks clearly through my eyes
This breed is rare, no doubt, the minority
With a loving tongue, they call me out. I give them the authority
Sadly these souls are also tormented. How ironic
We connect on a new level, sweetly demonic
Fighting demons together, keeping faith in the good Lord
Armed with our similarities, communion, our sword
Categories:
deadbolts, anxiety, dark, deep, depression,
Form: Free verse
Barricaded inside your
apartment, you cringe in fear.
And feigning sanctuary;
count your blessings tear by tear.
When hate paints the hood in blood,
bullets rip through shields of lies.
And the neighbors feel helpless;
for somebody always dies.
You hide from the truth behind
locked doors, deadbolts in place.
And pride quickly disappears;
vanishing without a trace.
Outside those curtains drawn tight,
used needles litter the park.
And you're locked in house arrest;
for pimps and whores own the dark.
A symptom of poverty;
ghettos need more than pity.
And attitudes have to change;
or fear will own your city.
Categories:
deadbolts, emotions, fear, feelings, psychological,
Form: Quatrain