Rubber Handcuffs and the Life-Prison called Freedom
Among the Felons
A pen-pusher for his bitter literature
Punished in a plastic cell.
A kind sentry probably a Homosexual
Purposely left the brass key in door front.
And the writer opens the cage door
Sees the bluish river up after a long time,
Stretches his feeble tattered wings
And tries to fly in the Melodramatic sky
It's Impossible!
Then only he realizes the next door cell inmate
A Pawnbroker notorious criminal
Who's plucked his all golden feathers!
* A humble dedication to my poet friend robyn selters!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Busy With Dying
we spend all of our lives,
busy with dying...
making final preperations,
for a trip across the room!
the prisoner makes preperations,
anxious for days...
anticipating his release.
almost afraid of freedom,
afraid of the unknown...
yet when the cell door opens,
the weight is lifted!
so busy with dying,
that we forget about living...
and so miss eternity,
in each moment!
the cell door is open!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A hole in the roof
The old prison cell and there's no ceiling
And a hole in the roof.
The person in confinement
Who sees the night sky.
No changes at all
The old stars and the Moon as earlier.
The North star seems very old
And the bachelor thinks of the next-door widow Violet and her whereabouts.
And he's not seen his old friend Jack Daniel's smile since a long time.
Someone says the President's Birthday comes soon and there will be an amnesty for prisoners?
He's sentenced for ten years and the half of the term almost gone.
* To my poet friend George.Murdock in gratitude.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cell Phone Mania
Cell phones to the right,
Cell phones to the left,
Cell phones, cell phones,
everywhere I look.
Red alert, stop! Listen,
shut up and drive,
shut up and read,
Cell phones, why so many.
Everyone talking,
cell phones in cars,
cell phones in bars,
eating places, cell phones.
There you can't escape
from them, you say
to yourself, the restroom,
no one would dare
use cell phone in there,
oh no, I hear someone,
talking to me, I answer them,
oh, sorry sir, did not know you
were on cell phone.
Oh, so many,
shut up, and walk.
Do away with cell phones,
and it would be like,
the crash of '29'.
People need cell phones,
sometimes their nice,
to have, but so many,
cell phones, might
as well join them
if you can't lick 'em,
join them.
Cell phone, cell phone
now how do I use this
thing, oh cell phone, cell phone,
Hello, Hello, oh that's
you mert.
wrote 1-19-07
Show the door
Show the door
Ready to go
We the four.
Front back next
Door is best.
Show the door
Ready to go
We the four.
With in the door
From death's door
We are out of door
O door keeper
Show the door
Call is there
More and more.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A stem cell is essentially a blank cell capable of becoming another, more differentiated cell-type in the body, such as a skin cell, a muscle cell or a nerve cell.
quote by Virginia Foxx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Parrot sings in the middle of the night
Boss! Why did you open the cage door?
I never betray you and I promise to stay further
Until you get your wings.
I dedicate this scribbling to my poet friend Jerry.Hughes
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The House of Clay
THERE was a house, a house of clay,
Wherein the inmate sat all day,
Merry and poor;
For Hope sat with her, heart to heart,
Fond and kind, fond and kind,
Vowing he never would depart, --
Till all at once he changed his mind:
"Sweetheart, good by!" He slipped away
And shut the door.
But Love came past, and, looking in,
With smile that pierced like sunbeam thin
Through wall, roof, floor,
Stood in the midst of that poor room,
Grand and fair, grand and fair,
Making a glory out of gloom: --
Till at the window mocked cruel Care:
Love sighed; "All lose, and nothing win?" --
He shut the door.
Then o'er the close-barred house of clay
Kind clematis and woodbine gay
Crept more and more;
And bees hummed merrily outside,
Loud and strong, loud and strong,
The inner silentness to hide,
The patient silence all day long;
Till evening touched with finger gray
The bolted door.
Most like, the next step passing by
Will be the Angel's, whose calm eye
Marks rich, marks poor:
Who, fearing not, at any gate
Stands and calls, stands and calls;
At which the inmate opens straight, --
Whom, ere the crumbling clay-house falls,
He takes in kind arms silently,
And shuts the door.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Lie To Lie
you whisper a lie
to a friend
and instructs him
to keep it
as a secret and
the same
procedure is repeated
from ear to
ear
from mouth to mouth
from cell phone
to cell phone
and wait
till tomorrow morning
the lie knocks
at your door and
it introduces
its name to you
and its
background
how it came into
being
you are amazed
and you shake
its hand
and hug it
and you give it
a new name
the truth
they all believe
in
without doubt
now mind you
why do you complain
that you are maligned?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Golden Door
I am always bound to you but,
Will you not bide your years as i do bide mine?
I am always bound to you,
Like the dead flame of the fallen day;
Surely, i shall be wiser with you always.
Of the golden door under the palm tree,
We know each other than all our lives;
But a year is not so long ahead.
A life long hunger,
Like a drunkard's hand;
Come out and see the golden door.
Such a change,
Much to look for;
You have been my guide in this house.
I earnestly prayed for a sign and,
I grieve to see you poor and wanting my help;
But, can one love twice?
Like the dead flame of the fallen day.
The golden door,
You have closed the best among us;
But today, i am rich and well to do.
At the golden door,
She sold her wares for less;
But, growing she know not where.
Of the golden door,
Of where he fixed his heart to set his hand;
Come and see swimming eyes of love,
Can you ever be loved again? !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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What Have I To Fear?
if death be but a step,
a flower fallen with silent shouts...
a kiss blown by wind but never lost,
a friend who tends the grave.
a hymn, a prayer, kind words spoken,
a drink at a corner table.
a book placed back on the shelf,
a child's drawing done in crayon.
a door closed, left unlocked,
cattle left in the pasture all night.
an empty bowel, a candle burned down,
a sparrow sitting outside the window.
a shovel of dirt, a broken glass,
boots left in the corner.
the dog's leg cocked,
the fire burned down....
the still darkness waiting on dawn.
the river overflowed,
the cage door opened...
then what have i to fear?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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In my house
You enter a room to see a park
You close a door only to be led to another stairway
Leading you to another room with nothing but windows
You close a window the rest remains open
You close the windows and another door
In that park in the room where you just entered
Opens
Then you are confused about the roof that opens
To a river to the rocks where another door opens
To a wall with trees and birds and butterflies
This is weird you say, this is really weird
Then from the garage comes a wind that blows
Its horn like a car
I have just arrived offering you an explanation
For all these mess, these uncertainties, these self-made
confusions.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Never Again
NEVER AGAIN (WILL I KNOCK ON YOUR DOOR)
WRITER HANK WILLIAMS
(D) (Oh you) know that I've come back and we've tried it (A7) o'er, (But) each time my dear it was worse than be- (D) fore, Now my heart is (G) broke it's sad and it's (D) sore, (So) (A7) never again will I knock on your (D) door. (Oh you) know that I love you no other will do, Please tell me darlin' why can't you be true, But now you are gone it's over and so, Never again will I knock on your door. Someday you'll be so lonely and blue, Then you will know just how much I love you, But now you are gone it's over and so, Never again will I knock on your door. Many a night I've cried over you, Hoping and prayin' some day you'd be true, But now you are gone it's over I know, (So) never again will I knock on your door. Repeat verse two:
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The House With Many Doors
the house i love is a house
with many doors
the usual house you have
a front door and the back door
when one enters and there is nothing
to hide, one simply takes the back door
and be gone to the woods,
i can be imaginative at times
one door must open to the earth
another door must open to
the sky
and now, i must find a way
how to grow wings
or if destiny is too cruel
i must grow sharper claws
for digging the rocks of this
earth
now you must know that i have
many choices
up or
down.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Friends?
i am extending my hand
like a door knob of my door
you are here just in front of me
where i am seated
with a rose in my mouth
please open the door
and please take my red rose
with your lips
do not speak any word
let me feast upon your face
your body, your soul
it has been a long time
and my world stopped turning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back-door Angels
In and out of the front door, ran twelve back-door angels.
Their hair was a golden-brown ---
They didnt see me wink my eye.
'tis said they put we men to sleep with just a whisper,
And touch the heads of dying dogs --- and make them linger.
They carry their candles high --- and they light the dark hours.
And sweep all the country clean with pressed and scented wild-flowers.
They grow all their roses red, and paint our skies blue ---
Drop one penny in every second bowl ---
Make half the beggars lose,
Why do the faithful have such a will to believe in something?
And call it the name they choose,
Having chosen nothing.
Think Ill sit down and invent some fool ---
Some grand court jester.
And next time the die is cast, hell throw a six or two.
In and out of the back-door, ran one front-door angel,
Her hair was a golden-brown ---
She smiled and I think she winked her eye.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We must renew our efforts to keep our communities safe, from the dangers of terrorists from foreign lands and from common criminals here at home. Let no criminal believe that tough fiscal times will yield an open cell door and a ticket to freedom.
quote by Bill Owens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Death
My death waits like an old roue
So confident, Ill go his way
Whistle to him
And the passing time...
My death waits like a Bible truth
At the funeral of my youth
We drank for that -
The passing time..
My death waits like
A witch at night
As surely as our love is right
Lets not think of that or the passing time
But whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do...
Angel or devil, I dont care
For in front of that door...
There is you.
My death waits like a beggar blind
Who sees the world through an unlit mind
Throw him a dime
For the passing time...
My death waits to allow my friends
A few good times
Before it ends
Lets not think about
And the passing time..
My death waits there, between your thighs,
Your cool fingers will close my eyes,
Lets not think about the passing time.
For whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do...
Angel or devil, I dont care
For in front of that door...
There is you.
My death waits there among the leaves
In magicians mysterious sleeves,
Rabbits and dogs, and the passing time...
My death waits there, among the flowers
Where the blackest shadows cowers
So lets pick lilacs
The passing time..
My death waits there, in a double bed
Sails of oblivion and my head
Lets not think about
The passing time.
But whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do...
Angel or devil, I dont care
For, in front of that door...
There is you.
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Photograph
Look at this photograph
Everytime I do it makes me laugh
How did our eyes get so red
And what the hell is on Joey's head
And this is where I grew up
I think the present owner fixed it up
I never knew we'd ever went without
The second floor is hard for sneaking out
And this is where I went to school
Most of the time had better things to do
Criminal record says I broke in twice
I must have done it half a dozen times
I wonder if it's too late
Should i go back and try to graduate
Life's better now than it was back then
If I was them I wouldn't let me in
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, god, I
Every memory of looking out the back door
I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye.
Every memory of walking out the front door
I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye.
Remember the old arcade
Blew every dollar that we ever made
The cops hated us hangin' out
They say somebody went and burned it down
We used to listen to the radio
And sing along with every song we know
We said someday we'd find out how it feels
To sing to more than just the steering wheel
Kim's the first girl I kissed
I was so nervous that I nearly missed
She's had a couple of kids since then
I haven't seen her since god knows when
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, god, I
Every memory of looking out the back door
I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye.
Every memory of walking out the front door
I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye.
I miss that town
I miss the faces
You can't erase
You can't replace it
I miss it now
I can't believe it
So hard to stay
Too hard to leave it
If I could I relive those days
I know the one thing that would never change
Every memory of looking out the back door
I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye.
Every memory of walking out the front door
I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye.
Look at this photograph
Everytime I do it makes me laugh
Everytime I do it makes me...
poem by Sirius White
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The Bird In The Golden Cage
as i watch the bluebird
inside its golden cage i am somehow
carried by mysterious
pity
you hear it sing a very sad song
you hear it making a plea that you open the lock of its door
so it can fly away
touched i opened it so it may use its wings
but then this is the sadder part
it has come back
asking for grains inside my hands
now it is making another plea
to open the door of the cage so she can sleep back
soundly than it used to
before
ahh, look what habits are formed
by the prisons of our lives
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Sloth
They call me the sloth
Way down in the ghetto
Italian Spaghetti
Singing falsetto
Sleeping all day
Rip Van Winklin'
Spend my nights in bars
Glasses tinklin'
I'm so bad
He's so nasty
Ain't got no friends
Real outcasty
Stay out of my way
Or you'll end up a cripple
I'll take this piece of paper
And slice you in the nipple
[repeat first verse]
Colonel Forbin stared at the fourteen bars that stood at the end of the cell. He ran his hand across the cold, damp dungeon wall and thought again about the door. He had traveled through the door out of necessity. Once he knew it existed, he simply couldn't leave it alone. Just like Wilson. Just like Tela. Just like Errand Wolfe. And he sat in the dungeon, and he realized that he was back again; through the door. And through the tiny window in the corner of his cell, he heard the distant strains...
Errand... Errand... Errand... Errand...
And from atop the mountain Icculus looked down on all that went on below him. And he smiled...
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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