"blemished" poems
Fifty years later their love has not blemished
it's only grown stronger it will not deplenish.
They still like to kiss at those midnight hours,
he still buys her chocolates and beautiful flowers.
Their love story continues to write out more pages,
as their love persists throughout the ages.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 2:09 PM UTC
Introduction
There they stood; keeping silent company.
Yet of His face, wept searing electricity.
To the lovers of life
Here they stand, keeping silent company.
No utterance dealt; yet clear in both their minds
A single, brilliant truth:
He longs for her with a savage delight.
And it cries from every fibre, exalting!
It is in the bearing of his eye;
Rifling through her tender flesh
In search of what he knows, from voices ages old, is there:
That her heart will beat for no other as it beats for him right now;
That in this moment, their Souls are bared
To each other’s glares- naked, and blemished, and cowering-
Yet his eyes remain fixed and sure:
And for this, she loves him.
For they have seen each other for the First of Times,
Truly! And as with many the Ancient Laws unfurled,
They stand aware, in lack of ever being taught,
Aware with every atom, every straining tendon tight
That their time's so very short.
And so they drink… wordless
To each other, to their youth, and to their bodies
Shining like never before in the noonday air
Garbed in cloth that snaps and furls around their waists.
They imbibe with electric eyes,
Eyes that are new born to this world of light
And come out screaming, living, and sensitive
For lack of ever being touched.
They revel in their new-found joy;
Pouring from Her figure,
Of Her sleek, supple waist and the arch of her back,
Bristling with delight,
Of His strong hands and easy smile,
That spoke of laughter scattered
Across countless campfires of summers past.
Their light does burn intense as any fire,
And when their brimming anticipation
Overspills its crimson chalice
The silence shall SHATTER.
To find peace again in each other's arms.
Fumbling in sweet darkness-
Of heavy lids, of earthy flesh,
With lips embraced...
In ravenous finality.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 5:14 PM UTC
If I could,
I would pick up my ink pen
and drown an ocean into you
instead of drowning you in it.
Extract these rotting feelings
for the sake of your ignorance.
Carve scriptures into each delicacy of your brain
so you wouldn’t have to dwell in such misery every day.
Wire faith
to your blemished heart.
Imbue purity
to your sullied soul.
If I could,
I would write you through all depths of insanity
without any harm
so that your
mind no longer persists the thought of death.
There was a time I thought you were dead.
Only you were painted red
in a black and white world.
Like you have been walking barefoot on a broken road
your whole life.
Your demons imitate life
And life imitates the demons.
You are the one being tied down by invisible, nonexistent chains.
So unaccepting of help that has come for you
Watch
the sun touch the horizon
reach the meeting of sun and ground
and
Find further still,
The limits you would like to reach only run from you.
You have such a murderous tongue
for society
people.
But one day I hope to see you write yourself into existence
Rather than to let yourself drown in it.
Why has you dying become something so habitual?
Darling, death is not a friend of yours
Nor are you a friend of his.
But I know of your frequent dates with death
Tell me
Does his neck feel like happiness
And do his lips relieve you of your suffocation
Now
are you lost?
or are you found?
Do you recognize the irony
Of the most terrifying things happening in the most angelic places
Charm yourself upon that bridge
Whose lights light up the city in golden arrays
With a glazed look
you’d think.
In sadness seen go by
You are charmed by either war or hope.
These occurred robberies have taken much
But they left opportunity
Important people
And a moon in your window
A future that only you know the ending of
And a slice of the midnight sky.
So it goes.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis!
I, the goddess of love & beauty, will
Make sure to the fullest that no one can ****
The charming Adonis who makes me feel
Great beyond any ****** that’s real
Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis!
I, as the discoverer of this beautiful creature so rare
Is the first beholder of his countenance so fair
It is I who granted him the first unmatched care
The kind of caress he will acquire only in my lair
Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis!
His refuge in me never has the stench of death
It’s just like everyday he experiences rebirth
‘Coz there I can render him the greatest of health
Beauty & youth of flesh beyond any mirth
Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis!
Be vigilant towards the welfare of Adonis, my delight
His bulging muscles are proofs of his radiant might
So alluring to any mortal & immortal sight
No one can also equal his handsome face so bright
Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis!
That beauty of his can only be cherished
In my realm where beauty never goes blemished
The place that all mortals have ever wished
There the bright sun will keep his body nourished
Oh Adorable Zeus, hear Aphrodite’s petition to regain Adonis!
Adonis’ beauty is not fit for the home of the dead
He is so vibrant from foot to head
Remove him from Hades! To my haven, instead!
There he will be nourished by life-giving bread!
-02/10/2015
(Dumarao)
*Hopelessly Immortal Collection
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 9:52 PM UTC
What's usually blemished considered a sin
Your accent marks on porcelain skin
Each crafted by caring clean hands
Crafted like a Persian Carpet
Each imperfection intended
So imperfectly perfect
Rich, pale, silk tapestry
Lily pads that dot a foreign river
Falls last leaves on Winters first snow
Paint splattered on white canvas
Each inch speckled
Every crevice freckled
I'll find each one you wear
The Astrology of your body
Making constellations with my finger
Your back is Gemini
Orion on your shoulder
Leo for your inner thigh
Serpens, Sextans, Ursa Minor
Late night skies for lonely eyes
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 4:09 AM UTC
1.I love my scars, they tell stories of survival, give life to my soul, remind me I am here for a reason, they tell me everything other people let me forget
2.I love my curves, each mountain and valley residing on my sides take pains to protrude and remind me I am soft, delicate, I deserve to be handled with care, I am a woman.
3.I love my taste buds. So what if a steak has 3 million more calories than skinny girl’s bite of lettuce. I am going to eat it anyways and I will be proud, and yes, I will moan, because why, my self worth is not contingent on my jean size
4.I love my laugh. There’s something liberating about your belly shaking until it hurts, your body exploding with joy, giving another human being pleasure with just the touch of your voice.
5.I love that I’m beautiful, something you can’t touch, my glamour goes beyond my blemished skin. I am more than the curves surrounding my center, I am **** I am brave; I am smart. I am fearless wrapped up into 5 feet of glee. You. Cannot. Touch. Me,
6.I love that I’m honest. There’s something refreshing in saying, **** off, you weren’t good for me anyways
7.I love that I’m faithful. Faithful to myself, my dreams, my ambitions. I am more than a man’s lover, I will live my life worthy to the calling I have received, regardless of what price you have placed on me
8.I love that I believe, trust in first loves, don’t doubt passion; it was sincere in the moment, but as that moment collapsed, outstayed its welcome, I believed I was more, and I will be ok, and one day, 10 years down the line, that same moment will come tapping on my door, requesting to visit an old friend
9.I guess in all I love myself, each and every blemish and bruise, every scar I’ve been given. I was not created for your pleasure, but for His glory, I only require myself to wear that badge proudly
10.I love that I am who I am. loud, flamboyant, I am not afraid to speak my mind, which is why, I’m standing here, calling you to action. Take a chance: love yourself.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
Tick tock
Tick tock
Throughout the years
I've always thought
Of faith to be
A clicking clock
With hands
So persistent
So determined
To never miss a single beat
Nor stop
Tick...
Tock...
Throughout the years
This faithful clock
Built up a longing in me
My solid rock
Through which,
In times of trouble
I would pull
From my everlasting
Love-filled stock
Tick...
Tock...
Brace yourselves,
My friends
And do not
Let this coming news
Be some sort
Of terrible shock
For the time is coming
When this faithful clock's
Hands must,
Inevitably stop
Tick...
Tick...
For you see -
The battery in me,
So to speak,
Is nearly diminished
The continuation of
its intermittent
Clicking is
Almost nearly finished
The gears within
This 'ol faithful clock,
Are most definitely
Fatally blemished
Tick...
Tick...
I am so
So very sorry
For this very moment
Marks the end
Of my journey's story
I hate to say it,
But not every person
Goes out in a blaze of glory
Tick...
Tock...
Goodbye,
Tick...
Tock...
The clock has stopped
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 4:12 PM UTC
*As long as you're in my life I'll always be fine
You're the drug I need for my sores to heal
So I can as well get as many sores because I have you
You caution me against getting addicted to you but
I can't help it...you're really such a sweet person...
I have no choice... I enjoy you...you speak to my heart...
your words cover up my wounds and your soft voice steals my pain...
I really don't care about the end because the now is
and will always be a thing I live to remember...
whatever the end sweet or bitter, grotesque or beautiful I'll abide by it
otherwise thank you for this moment, for enduring my desperation and cries...
Thank you for finding and not giving up on me...
I think I should be more grateful for I'm like the trenches,
I might be channelling the waters to the drain
but you are my rain that washes me clean...
I love you more each day that goes by and I'm even afraid,
love might cease to define what I feel for you...towards us...
You've given my dark clouds a silver lining...
you've given my blemished soul a cleansing...
you've given me and my broken heart a chance to start again...
you've given me what I'd given up praying for...
the miracle of a sweet friend I can count on...
sweetness that never fades, sweetness I will always relish
you complete me and even if someday you break my heart
I will always love you... I will love you even after you forget about me
your name will go with me to the grave
for you taught me the meaning of being brave*
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 2:13 PM UTC
She never spoke but words where embellished upon
her features. Her distressed ink smudged on her white
features marking on ever word painted upon her.
Her purity was now blemished not as it was, but with
ever word discarded on her she became not once before.
voices became stains on every part of her anatomy.
Features were darkened but her visage was scared never
to be as what was before. Words can hurt even become
part of us, but others can stain our purity with just words.
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 9:14 AM UTC
by
rgpage
In this quiet time of night, I lie alone and prey to the bitter pain of
joy's absence. Lost in my mind's shallow thoughts the sharp fragments of
happy memories since shattered ***** at the sensitive fringes of my sleep.
Sleep: Nature's sanctuary
A quiet haven, an island set apart
from the daily consciousness of life
where my thoughts may at last run free.
An island with white sandy shores as
far as the eye can see. Blemished only
by my solitary figure walking the blue
water's edge.
And the forests of my paradise, their
deep green density gives substance to
my world. Often I stop to ponder their
far reaching greenness.
The warm subtle breeze carrying the
fragrance of this foliage across my
face, fills my nostrils with the pleasures
of nature.
And occasionally a gull overhead,
drifting unchallenged on the soft
warm currents of the azure, as free
in his world as I in mine; lends companionship.
All of the sudden in the beat of a heart,
from no where a large black cloud appears
to smother the sun's warm light, turning
the blue sky and green foliage black
and the white sand that I once walked
upon a cold gray.
And just ahead of me lying there in
death's humiliation, my winged companion;
soaked and scorned at the dark water's
edge.
I awaken:
This cold room and bed the greatest part of my conscious moment, and the sound of a distant train bell mocking the destruction of my comfort; its havoc upon my sleep done it now moves on. Saddened I once again wade through the shallow bogs of my loneliness, and the pains of memories of the love and life i'd wasted return. This painful sleepless night a most cruel retribution for my past. So firmly entrenched it seems I may never return to my paradise; yet remain in this cold room to suffer the long night's tortures.
Returning:
The warm sunlight, and gentle caress
of the water's pulse upon the white
sand.
And overhead my pure white friend
again drifts on the warm currents of
air, heralding not my return
but praising my presence....
...for my presence alone, gives
life to this warm yet oh so precariously
balanced paradise.
The white beach with its warm sand
leads me on my journey to the morning,
as I walk the blue water’s edge.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
Streams run in rivulets
into the moist crevices
of her blemished skin
trickleling through the
curvasious channels
down her naked sides
while tiny droplets
of clarity continue to flow
through the valleys as she
sit quietly under the heavy
rain from silver springs
cleansing her past anxieties
drenching her in bliss
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
Trust is a golden key to one’s heart
It is so strong yet easily shattered,
It is so pure yet easily blemished,
It is as strong as the howling of the wind,
It is truly, the craving that everyone seeks.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 6:36 AM UTC
there's a hard silence here
and there is a fresh echo of the dim kitchen light
in the ***** linoleum tiles that zigzag the floor
even the air feels broken as it limps slowly
through the room
i stop near the door upon entering
and gather myself
like a ragman gathering the tattered remains
stitching the fragments of self with the thread of awareness
weave the image of self into the reality of the moment
with the hesitations of someone who has lived this moment too many times'
it will come to naught
she is alive but her heart is dead
the dust on my worn coat is from the graves of my
fallow field where we once laid a crop of hopes
but i cannot abandon her to this barren place
i know i perceive only the narrow sunstricken pages
faded and stained with the words legible only to the hardy eye
but its the deeper tale which
even the gardener of times bloodstained trophy's
would fear to tread
his leather shod hands worry the intricate gears
of the mechanical face she wears
he manipulates it to wear a lopsided grin
pantomime of happiness for my birthday
but i watch the vacant places behind the face and see that
with a blemished mechanical eye she looks out over the oncoming
evening through the livingroom window
its cracked and ***** surface turns
the setting sun into a parody of dawn
she greets me but just stares out the window
as if she is waiting a lovers return
i stand infront of her blankly
we wait for the hours to pass
i fix her tea even though it isn't broken
and make small talk
as she makes mechanical sounds
till she sleeps
i leave with the dawn
and make my way to my own bed at last
to fend off dreams that something somewhere could be different
and wake to the sorrowful song of a passing bard
his thin feet dancing on a moonlight hilltop
meant for lovers only
and he is dancing alone
alone
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
Solitary, lonely and sad
Oh, how you resemble the moon
Flawed and imperfect
With all the craters and the holes
But like the moon
Many would go to great heights
To see your beauty
A sightliness worth every step
Like the dear moon we see
You are blemished
And like the moon, my sweet lover
You shine in times of darkness
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
To strive, for recognition
An assembly point for thought
Triumphed within an open page
Paper evidence of unspoken verse
Retrieved from the place behind this heart
Do you mind?
Don’t look over my shoulder at my vulnerability
Private stance is mine
Do not mock as I turn the page
A personal preview of this unlocked memory
Back of my neck, prickling
Anticipating on the spot reaction
Young, ill at ease
Crying from the yard
Hiding the scars
Don’t rush away the memories, a deluge
When time was so limited
Become brave
Force open the private recess
Cobwebbed and masked by dust
Speak clearly, not from mumbling
Mouth, I need to………….. know
I am blemished
So glad to be alongside you
Reunited, forgotten, forgiven.....now ribbon tied
Can we bury?
It would seem not......but wait and remember
Deceived by the dark
Under dressed for the occasion
Battered suitcase dragged and kicked open
Essays of remembrance
Headlines screaming for discussion
Released for a while
Obeyed and tidied
Press down and close the rusty catches
My new day transcribed here
I don’t mind, lean on my shoulder
See my vulnerability
It makes me strong
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 6:29 AM UTC
Percepts of enlightenment & civilization to encounter
The grim aftermath of tales unspoken from the galaxies afar
Betokening Indian tales of deeper truths than ever,
For the Great Spirit still swirls in gestures previously milder,
At a snail's pace and surely winning the pursuit among souls or
Is example better than pre-conceived precept?
or
“Is that a dog in the manger?”
Now cherishing the viper?
The human dilemma between liberty & authority?
“Has mythology now become psychology?”
A dingy white color in disguise of tranquility
To suit the blemished features of the 21st century
With fair women & brave men turning fables into verse,
Yet Socrates’ doctrine about death bespeaks a wafture so callous!
The new-age “iron claw” screams nastiness in time and space.
The pretences of mankind like the puritan;
Mars trapped in the net of Vulcan,
Jupiter is serene and above the conflict to win,
While Venus tries to fight upon the plains of troy
That the Greek gods of serenity may win at Tuscany.
“When do these sultry groans of mortal remorse cease?”
To calm the sordid uproar that Love may peruse
Through the scattered white aromatic rose petals
In search of the scintillating path back to the highland stables
Were snowflakes are an irresistible lure for the Arctic snowbirds!
Nature herself is proud of her designs
Yet!
There is nothing grating in mortal cosmoses but direct villainy.
Sinister fate climbs the lonesome banister faster
Before the “fanged dawn” descends nearer,
As stronger minds virtually become weaker;
These “shameless actors” are melted into “thin air”
“Must they cheat themselves with that same foolish vice of honesty?”
Mischievousnesses feed!
Like beasts till they be fat, and then they bleed
As they are led to bend the curve of “No return”
Since it is only rational that after the darkest of nights
There is a brighter day to reveal the true knights
Of the once gloomy age of Democritus.
Tis plain, from hence, that our vows
Request hurtful intense things,
or useless at the best.
Sep 17, 2009
Sep 17, 2009 at 5:16 AM UTC
Tan,
Not too big,
Not perfectly slim,
My suitcase has a rainbow- colored ribbon.
My suitcase is pretty,
It's delicate, crafted carefully,
Blemished and recalling antiquity.
My suitcase has faded stickers on it,
Dirt and stains and scars,
My suitcase is clearly well- traveled,
Adding to its charm.
The moment I saw my suitcase
I knew it'd be my friend,
And its handle felt like a mold
Of my small, custom- made hand.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
All those distant dying stars,
all his aging battle scars;
their blemished pasts still with him,
slowly, bitterly, fading,
and each discharging one persistent question:
'Any regrets?'
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 3:54 PM UTC
I am no poet, only poetic
who could never kiss the moon
in the evening twilight;
nor a man with a heart of roses,
to exude the fragrance of his love.
I am no poet, who can pen
profound mysteries about the past,
nor a man of beautiful promises
to be kept safe until the world is dust.
I am no poet, only poetic
who could never touch the souls
of every woman’s dreams;
nor a man with arms of a gladiator,
to protect her forever
from the shadows of her grief.
And as the sun sets in the horizon
from another blemished morning end,
resembles tears of thine eyes;
for my love for you, my majesty,
will never be enthroned
into your kingdom,
like when I am with you,
like I am to you,
my tongue speaks,
I am no poet, only poetic.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 8:29 AM UTC
White pages
stained and blemished
Once ******
now yellowed with age
Passionate words
blurred and faded
by tears
long since dried
Thin lines
holding memories
of kisses, soft touches
and pleading eyes
Paper treasures
Printed gems
Buried
by a sea of years
No one knows
why they are kept
locked away
in a cherished nook
Until they are held
by trembling hands
on lonely nights
when old hearts ache
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
Laying in bed today, listening to tunes
As I so often do
A feeling encroached, one I could not shake
Or attempt to lose
The sound of sadness, through the microphone
Blew the dust from my aging bones
Sunlight diffused, into the tomb
Of my desolate room
Shadows scattered, from their thrones
To reveal four walls of stone
Flowers dressed, this cold gray place
Where I woke from rest
Bare and unburdened, my blemished fleshed took its first steps
Bent but not broken, rebirthed, awoken
Jun 24, 2021
Jun 24, 2021 at 6:48 PM UTC
I can't fathom anymore
under and above the weather
all it's gone wild
spun out of control,
whatsoever a mess
can always get a chance from me.
Heavy heart pleased to soar
blemished and untethered
my lone wolf mind,
light and dark like charcoal,
falls for recklessness
And for a quantum of solace to be free.
If that's the case I need a lobotomy
for your eyes of carefulness
makes me brittle and evolve,
like strangers combined,
the same way, for better
or worse we meet in a bite of our core.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 12:53 PM UTC
Dizzy as a blemished work of art a hollow shell my soul screams
With wings as black as a raven, Cupid was perched on a burning tree
With laughter, he hissed music, my friend?
then pulled out a harp with chains at the end
The air became thick as fog slithered in
then Cupid began to sing
*Once together now torn apart I am not your enemy
she was the one who broke your heart and cost you everything
So hear me strum my lonely harp and speak of your misery
Make your soul mine to keep and her life shall end immediately*
With a wave of his hand, I crumpled to my knees
Next thing I knew he leaped to the sky and vanished behind the trees
With wings as black as a raven, I sing the song of Cupid
Cupid and the burning tree
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
it is temporary
the mirrored faces reflecting back into one-
it is as temporary as the sun.
it is temporary,
this burning body of youth.
it is temporary insanity
and temporary truth.
it is movable pieces
in the bottle of corked vermouth.
it is ungrateful youth
and all her fantasy
her ****** opportunity-
the days of endless sunshine
fogged with cascading rain,
full of superficial pain,
that only sets into the skin to rise up
much later.
blemished traitors
of your failing past.
it is temporary,
the primping of memories undone-
it is as temporary as the blazing gun.
it is temporary,
it is fleeting
and no matter how these products
keep us believing
they are nothing more
then distractions, they are deceiving.
as the sand is thrown in our glossy eyes
and stars that once opened in the night sky
just for us-
open no more.
we retire from the bridled gore
of youth and her tireless war
and forever more,
must sing the songs of fading youth.
must curse the uncouth,
the way the years
have wandered by
without any proper goodbye
and we, as strangers
in this looming unknown
we must come to know
as past our prime,
past our time,
and be spectators
into the theatre of vanity
we are now excluded from.
oh, how we wish we’d undone
the regrets and missteps-
but we are denied
to ever confide
the wisdom we’ve gained
since beauty and youth
have fled-
we are condemned
to be voiceless passengers
on our train ride to the end.
yet, this is temporary.
as temporary as you and i,
the ailing sky,
the aching stars,
the rolling hilltops,
tracing to the mouth of the river
and when we are at once delivered
to a final resting stop-
we pray, we hope
as tooth and nail dragged
we try to cope,
to be temporary no more-
temporary no more-
temporary no more-
temporary no more-
Feb 2, 2010
Feb 2, 2010 at 7:11 PM UTC
I am the mask, satin-smooth,
As fine as gossamer silk.
I glide like a veil of falling snow
Over cracks, over fissures
Filling every nook and cranny
That mars this blemished world.
Beneath the gaze of man,
I am an enigma, a subtle glamour.
I am the rosy hue of the ripest apples,
A painted glance that cuts to the heart.
I am both light and darkness,
The faint memory of a kiss.
I am a thing of perfection
But only look – never touch!
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC