Archives for posts with tag: poem

Woman smoking pipe

tender black buttons

dark nights- rising

life and pleasure given and

taken from these

pain and suffrage

guided you

across turbulent seas

molded by a fingertip,

not to be marred by too eager teeth

nor pierced to aesthetically please

but these

raisins in the sun

dimpled supernovae

exploding across the vast sea of my breast

Erected

by the undulations of your tongue,

These feed nations

seduce men

but they say I

am just a woman

objectified, less

*Photo Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Opiate Susmission

The sun-rays my silhouette humbled,

Casting reverent shadows on Turkish artistry.

Here because you denied – the sun,

The moon, the stars primitive artistry.  This

Life is lonely, and then you sacrifice your blessings

That is Grace.

 

I watched

Her footprints soft-spoken, unaware

Of her power from which I was conceived.

Bear no witness to my deeds. I

Listened to their stories,

They washed their hands of me

That was love.

 

My knees kiss this consecrated ground

Redemption beading on my forehead,

Wreaking havoc, it is the storm before the calm.

High on opiate submission

And waiting for the pouring forth,

Now I know why they lean.

The weight of confession cannot stand alone.

 

Faith tastes like complacency

Come again?

I never learned how to swim

But I tread deep waters

Because I knew how to pray.

Ya Sheikh!

That is servility.

scribblings of a madman

written through pains of failure.  Committed.  It is a never-ending flow thoughts materialized into the unexpected.  It is rough, undiscovered, still in the beginning stages.  It is the result of never saying no.  It does not care who is watching as it gets undressed, it is not modest.  It is unfamiliar and it cannot be found in the retinas of any man’s eye.  It is sometimes unworthy, often times plain, dull, lack lustre, UGLY.  It is the wrong shade of lipstick on the right girl, it’s the hole in her stockings.  It is a mis-fit.  Archetype.  Unusual.  Rare and common.  Irritating and lovely.  It is paradoxical.  It knows no bounds it is free.  And it is not, I repeat it is not, A DAMN ROSE.

 

Feel free to continue with your definition of beauty below in the comment box.

This poem is in response to a picture prompt posted November 24th, 2012 via Twitter.

Elephant BeachRushing to corrode my memories

tried my damnest to run away

 

The moon works against me

waxing and waning at the membrane

 

The mothers return

release hard hopes of life

 

I’ve buried the remnants

in shallow graves spread-

Along the shore

Photo Credit: Flickr

Shed

Liquid petals captured

and discarded, yours are relinquished

Symbolized

How can one grow

If bound by the confines

of definition, I’d rather

Bleed

And I wonder if you’ll cry for me

like you did all the Others

energy is released, reconfigured

tenure the red walls of this black baby doll

———————

too worn out to try

and cry so it just drips

heavenly intent amidst

a fiery background well

into the night

———————-

wail into the night

persist until something sticks

and something rips

oops! there goes

the newfound virginity

—————————

a single tear falls

and is held hostage

in the valley of Lip

I’m up thinking about you

being counted.

You’re awakened by the count,

counting

days and minutes

my back against the wall,

and I’m counting…

1) you’re here

2) so am I

3) we are agile thieves, stealing time.

A contagion spreading

Seeking vulnerability its host

Storm clouds, thunder and lightning

No rain it is devoid

A crystal glass filled

With the acrid remnants of

Nothing

Like a crystal ball that sells you

Visualizations of what you already knew

About yourself, sparkly

Egotistical, blissfully dancing on sunbeams

With holes in the heels of your shoes

Arrogance

Rendered helpless I understood, he did desire pink

Flesh, below the cradle that was my womb

Inside pumping life to that hollow groove

It took what it was given, and made it renewed

That pureness could be created from the depths of desire

Come out kicking breathing air reminiscent of our smoke

And so when you asked could we do it

I thought, which is more easily done?

To turn lust into love into life

Or

To simply lay and indulge in the selfishness that is us

Image

I’ll probably never have white teeth

I smoke too much coffee drink too many cigarettes one

To cure the hangover from my insomnia the latter to battle

Regrets

 

These things are not lady-like

Who said I was a lady

Like type of woman who said

I sit with my legs closed, heart open, toes painted stomped on scarlet lips the same

 

Mind consumed with creating a home a space to maintain thoughts

Have no face to represent them, I cannot say how I

Feel, nevertheless keep it real because women like me are

Underrated, overworked, under-sexed, over-controlled,

Underestimated, insides rare thick skin overdone I’m over this

 

And you overjoyed?

My name is Housewife Hilary

Capitol House I keep a Capital Home

I’ll probably never have white teeth but I’ll bet

My husband has clean drawers

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