"boney" poems
I'd rather have scars on my cheeks
And a crooked nose and
Bad skin and boney hips
Or boring eyes and boring hair and a boring mouth
And someone tell me
“You’re beautiful,”
Because I’d know they meant
I am beautiful in the way that I talk,
In the way that I listen, in the way that I love,
In the way that I am
Than have
Pretty lips and pretty teeth and
Pretty hair and a pretty nose
And ignorantly believe
That being beautiful in the way that I look
Is enough.”
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 7:23 PM UTC
His scaly skin slides across my tender flesh.
I never wanted this, but I asked for it.
His boney hands pull my hair
as his skeleton fingers slide across my delicate lips
and force their way inside my mouth.
"Hold your tongue, girl. Protestation will do you no good."
I close my eyes in desperation, waiting for the end.
Above me, below me, in me, I feel him.
Bruises blossom, dark beneath my ivory skin,
He feels no need to be gentle with a girl like me,
A girl who would sell her soul and body to survive.
The demon takes his pleasure and leaves his mark, ensuring his swift return, for his prey can no longer hide.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:31 PM UTC
Albert had an ARTHRITIC knee
which gave him curry
The core of a BOIL is oft hard
to extract
Yesterday June experienced
a server stomach CRAMP
Too much dry weather
can cause the outer DERMAL layer to peel
Never read in a poorly lit room
for you'll have EYE strain
After eating spicy pickles
dad had bad FLATULENCE
Some twenty eight years ago
my friend Helen had her GALLBLADDER removed
They say that a glass of water
will stop HICCUPS
From end to end
our INTESTINAL tract is thirty foot long
On Sunday afternoon John
broke his JAW playing football
Some people have
very boney KNUCKLES
One of my work colleagues
is prone to getting LARYNGITIS
Colin suffers terribly
with MIGRAINE headaches
Sometimes people tend
to endlessly NAVAL gaze
A woman's OVARIES need to be checked
on a regular basis for any abnormalities
The PANCREAS secrets a hormone
known as insulin
QUININE once was extensively used
in the treatment of Malaria
Since my sister has put on weight
she cannot find her RIBS
The STIRRUP bone lies
within one's ear
Dan Aykroyd the famous comic star
has webbed TOES
Should you bump your ULNA bone
it may give you reason to groan
The VARICOSE VEINS is great aunt Ruby's legs
were very pronounced
Does anyone know of a good remedy
for unsightly WARTS
At our local hospital
we have an antiquated X-RAY machine
As tiredness and weariness sets in
one YAWNS quite a lot
****** ZOSTER can make
a person constantly itch
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
I gave in
They yell at me
They call me boney
They call me a anorexic
They tore my heart
But this toilet healed it
They knocked me down
They told me to die
They said I'm no good
But my mama tell me to eat more because honey you're getting smaller!
How can you stand tall when the world shuns you down?
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Counting... Always... Counting.
A cup of herbal tea, maybe with some sugar.
If I feel up to it.
Maybe some soup, grilled cheese.
If I can stomach it.
Dinner. Whatever mom makes.
My only supervised meal.
Tired, all day... Every day.
Drowning in college papers.
The curves I worked so hard to get back...
Well. They're nearly gone.
Protruding hip bones,
Protruding collar bones,
Boney fingers,
Pale skin,
Fantastic figure and pretty ribs,
Cold toes and bad circulation.
Heart murmurs... Shaky breathing... Migraines... Exhaustion... Confusion... Lethargy... Weight loss
Shaking, Shaking, Shaking...
Shivering?
Gotta go make a cuppa, warm up a bit.
But... what's left for me to be healthy for, anyway?
I'll take a bath to warm up instead
Probably.
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 1:27 PM UTC
I lay a blanket over my head
Darkness around my bed
My soul empty
Thinking
Lurking my mind
Threw space & time
Thinking
Who am I
These words
That's just going to be kick down
The curb...
Thinking
Sleeping in my ***** jeans
With my boney knees
Thinking
Love will take turns
For a lesson to be learn
Thinking
Money is unity
But really its nothing to be greedy
Thinking
One race one love one us.
Mix race maybe a new blood to bate in
Thinking
Not coming home until these
Dreams (devils) get bored
But I got to say.
Thinking...
Thinking...
Thinking...
Too many moons but I am one man
On my way...
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 9:14 AM UTC
A little bag of bones and ***** skin crawls lackadaisically,
Looking every inch like a moving mass of biltong,
With one arm weakly clasped on the protruding belly,
Looks for somewhere to lie,
Some water tank explodes from inside of her,
Writhes in unimaginable agony,
Screams the screams of death,
Spreads her bony legs sickly,
Out comes an object,
Yes, a baby is born,
In extreme poverty,
It cries and cries,
The shallow cries of a newcomer,
It cries the cries of not being well,
It opens its tiny eyes to a new world,
A world extensively pregnant of poverty,
It dies in the weak sickly mother’s arms,
Veins-wrapped boney powerless arms,
The death of a missed call desperately wanted,
Ended before it even started,
In extreme poverty, it dies,
Just like it was born,
It is eaten by starving dogs,
Dogs in extreme poverty,
Perfunctorily torn apart like a rag doll,
As the mother helplessly watches,
Too weak to do anything,
Born and died in poverty.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 7:34 AM UTC
Alone she sits upon her dusty throne.
Her eyes sunken and her long moth bitten gown hung lifeless to her ashen skin.
The unforgiving chime's of time pass her by. Dripping with jewels her boney hand still clung to the broken string of pearls as they roll between the cold stone cracks beneath her feet.
Secrets layed to rest long ago with no voice to tell.
She who has been long forgotten dwells in the silence of her chambers for all eternity.
Lost to the darkness.
May 30, 2022
May 30, 2022 at 3:00 PM UTC
Legend goes there is a lake
Made of the darkness of the night
Spangled with stars a comets' wake
Lit by pale silver moonshine.
This lake is said to be surrounded by trees
Rising their black boney fingers to the sky
Groaning, shivering in the breeze
Barely alive and waiting to die
When the full moon casts a ray
Upon the ---
Jan 13, 2023
Jan 13, 2023 at 6:44 AM UTC
Purple
Yellow
Orange
I was thinking of so many things
While the sun was painting a backdrop
I wished to hold onto that order
Purple
Yellow
Orange
As if nothing else mattered
Purple
Yellow
Orange
I was in the mountains again
But now the birds sang
And my ankles were boney
Wobbling against the war-zone of stones
Purple
Yellow
Orange
The snow wasn't stuck to the grass anymore
But melting away
lone piles of it slumped against, wasted rocks
That the mountain had decided to toss away
Purple
Yellow
Orange
I wished to stay here
up on the hill,
watching the sun shimmy down through its peaks.
Purple
Yellow
Orange
Like the way I lined up my socks
Sometimes the purple ones mate would go missing
It's pair left to sit lonely in the sock drawer
Purple
Yellow
Orange
I walked the hill alone
My stomach empty, my head in control
The sun seemed to dangle in the sky,
as if held up by one string
Waiting for the world to blink asleep
But the birds kept chirping
Purple
Yellow
Orange
I know how the sun feels
I feel strung up as well
My subconscious pulling the strings
While I'm only left to follow
Purple
Yellow
Orange
The mountains make me miss the sea
I miss the beach
Take me back, back
to when we walked the waterfront,
salty ocean air cutting through the heat.
Purple
Yellow
Orange
Maybe I should've jumped
when you told me we could escape
"We could go far, into the sea," you told me.
I think that's when i realized,
Purple,
Yellow
and Orange
are nothing like the waves
of
Blue
and Green.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
death bursted into my room tonight
awakening a deep slumber
outstretching a cold boney hand
as if offering for me to go with him
I felt no fear or sadness
I have been waiting for death to greet me
I have admired him from afar
a lover who took no chance in courting me
Until he was ready to give me an embrace
That could be defined as loving and warm
but it was sinful and alluring
flickers of sparks in his eyes
ignited a fire in my soul
a passion that I had longed for
as my hand grabbed onto his
he pulled me close in the middle of the room
he began to dance to the tune
of our heartbeats synchronizing
a beautiful symphony rang love in our ears
craning his neck
he leaned in close
inhaling the shakiness of my breath
moonlight illuminated the poison dripping
from his puckering lips
as an offering to taste
what afterlife was
it held soft undertones of an earthy aftertaste
but an overpowering intoxicating sweetness left me hungry
for just one more dip
in his suicidal serenity
moving in one fluid motion
sweeping behind me
a boney hand placed on an unclothed forearm
slowly slid up my shoulder
as another arm was placed around both hips
he pressed himself tightly against me
icy breath grazed across my neck
making hairs stand up on my arms
as a moan escaped between closed lips
he whispered a seductive I love you
as he tucked hair behind my ear
the words I longed to hear
were met with a sharp knife
placed in open hands
and a crooked smile
spread across his face
it was at that moment
I came to the realization
to become his fully
my beautiful souls light
must burn out
to match his souls decayed state
no persuasion was needed
I longed for this moment
now the time was finally right
steady right hand raised
the elongated blade
"together forever..."
death breathlessly whispered
as a swift motion
punctured my abdomen
breath was taken out of my lungs
knees buckled
as death dropped me to the floor
tears of bliss flowed from my eyes
staining mascara streaks on flushed cheeks
I peer around the room to greet my lover
in another embrace with my final breaths
but im alone
left with a bloodied knife in hand
but this forbidden passion of a deaths dance
was only used to take ones soul
not give it the life it craved
laughing through the flood of tears
not even in death was I loved
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 8:21 PM UTC
I saw the smooth hands of children grow calloused,
sanded by the empty hopes
that the cold has whittled down and sharpened into crucifixion nails.
Dragging their feet through broken glass and street waste, one shoe one sock,
I thought they were just urban children, or the ones
in malaria countries. But I see them stagger now, older, defeated
baring their bodies and chewing on their brains, teaching the little ones
how to polish shoes and hide in alleys that smell like **** and assault.
That one looks like me, his guardian about my size, so I pull my coat closer.
I recognize him from school in the smell of unwashed hair and the gurgle of
A self-digesting gut, nothing to soak up the acid that burns his throat.
I watched the world ******* them into hunched shoulders and boney legs
that have forgotten how to hug and run, trapping them in a constant state of shuffling
to the music of moans and cries for help. They come together in an urchin clan underneath bridges and on the exit ramps of highways.
Prophets of the future clutching at signs about war and veterans, the bad economy and the children they can’t feed.
Ten dollars to the one with the mut. Offer him a smoke.
Politicians act like clean-up crews, counting them like statistics;
This one is gone, the one on Brown street died,
We got rid of the one looking for cans in the student neighborhood.
Charity elevates them into a an opportunity—
A little money to the unfortunate is like bleach for your soul. Just enough
to get the smell of affair out of your hair, or to clean up the poison in your veins.
God helps the outcasts; five dollars ought to do it.
I shudder at our similarities. Brown hair, brown eyes, smart.
His sign ignores no rules of grammar and deserve credit for its precise calligraphy,
The dog at his side is ***** and worn like the stuffed toy
I covet from the nights in my crib—the same. He is a victim of people, I am a victim of people
Both someone’s child, both like dogs.
I watch as he turns into a younger man, and then an old man, and then a woman,
A child with no shoes and crucified hands, the boy in my class with eyes that devour.
I walk home, wondering what kind of charity will save me from myself.
And that is the problem.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
A head
A giant boney mass
Many mouths and eyes
thoroughly babbling,
whatever,
etc.
Snapping and blinking
Mouths Melded together on this ultra cranium
Yapping on and on
On and on and on
Yellowed teeth and bedazzled grills
Botnet mods and crop tools
The most dastardly of all -
An infinite production of fuzzy,
Buzzing noise blobs.
And Attempts to add me
To its mass connection-collection head
Leave me offended.
"What's on your mind?"
Go away.
You ******* freakazoid.
Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 3:26 PM UTC
Still alive
But barely breathing
I searched but didnt find a meaning
My persistent heart wont stop its beating
I get high instead of sleeping
Finding veins to shoot some speed in
Countless hours ive spent tweaking
Im Just a ****** and a fiend
Playing victim
To a cycle so vicious
Hard to admit im the one who chose and picked this
Im on my own hit list
My lifes the perfect nightmare thats ever been scripted
my Memories play out in tragedies
Remembering saddens me
Ive been more stressed than any kid should ever be
And yet i never let them see
The Years spent living in denial
I want to cry but fake a smile
Something i learned as a child
They wont hurt me if i never let them in
I never learned how to get vulnerable
I just held it all in
Bottled up feelings
Never once expressing
How it feels inside my head
All alone no one knows me
Ive aways been a phony
Force feeding myself so im not too noticeably boney
I Cant cope unless im high
Needle full of dope until i die
My wills too weak to be freed
What was a want has now become a need
Im getting Paranoid as my track marks are getting harder to hide
My Blood thickens as it dries
Mar 16, 2021
Mar 16, 2021 at 4:45 AM UTC
the
human mind
is like a shell
the outer form
remembered well
hard and white
with boney tips
pink and smooth
around its lip
whorled within
subconscious hides
we cannot see
the deep inside
but place the conch
to your heart's ear
be very still
and you will hear
set it there
and let it be
you will perceive
your mind's own
sea
SoulSurvivor
(C) 4/8/2016
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
I am counting twelve pairs of ribs lining the perimeters
of my torso
Boney Me
Asthenia fingers
Wasted knees and knuckles
Pricking the hard chords on my chest-guitar
Misery eyes -- Dashing around in dustbin sockets
My head like a raisin with skull-shaped framing
****** inward
Looking at the dead animals guilting me
Looking at the withering plants begging for water
Evil food.
Attracted to the mirror
I know only this
Only what I see -- And I see a sow.
Lost in this possibly regrettable movement
Towards
Skeletons
Boney Me
Looking at the evil food
I tell it that I hate it and that it will never be me
I tell it I want to be like the flossy ones on magazines
Thin to skinny to boney
Boney me smoking an e-cig
I defeat the evil foods tonight
Surviving on primal back-up spirits
Surviving for the hope of closeness
Maybe
I can waste away all this skin
And finally see my own heart.
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 11:32 PM UTC
/ conversation over a bbq dinner
being given the information
over a new M.I. movie..
i really think tom cruise
should have won an oscar for -
born on the 4th of july...
without bias,
but given the oscar award for
the grunting and heaving,
and minimal dialogue / monologue
of leonardo's the revenant?
the world is a cul de sac...
and what remains of it...
is a shitshow worth, of a congested street
with nothing but, paupers /
window-shoppers to be lined up;
mannequins coming alive
and taking to disco dancing
the hell out of having donned
a boney m afro;
drunk, squinty eyed...
looking around, surmising my
thought with... huh?!
it's a good thing i'm this good at
drinking, never having dropped acid.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:38 PM UTC
1
If unicorns were real
I can’t imagine much would change
I might own one
Get high on the finely chopped fibers of fur
Collected from his grooming
And when girls ask me how I came to be so sweet
I’d tell them how I was ***** once by my unicorn
How some sorts of sticky sweetness haunt your soul forever
2
In the second grade
I swore I had dinosaurs living in my backyard
This is after I swore that I actually had a backyard
Never mind the hand-me-down t-shirts
So big I often exposed a boney shoulder
I had the strangest tan lines then
3
Under my bed was a cave
Where the boogeyman taught me
I should be more afraid of my father’s feet at the entrance
And less afraid of things I could not see
In the shifting dark I could have been anywhere
Anywhere was somewhere
My father’s claws could still not get me
4
For the longest time I thought my grandmother’s ghost
Haunted me
I’d often wake to the smell of her musty home
Mixed with her perfume
and the sweet scent of the soft earth she often tended
Until one day I didn’t notice her anymore
Ghosts are the parts of the people we miss
When our stupid brains are still learning how to deal with loss
I’d like to say that once I finally stopped missing her
She was free to leave earth for heaven
I don’t believe in heaven
5
If god were real
And I could live forever by his side
I would still break everything
From bones to hearts
Because I can’t live for tomorrow
I need to live for today
6
As a man
I still tell stories in order to get people to like me
So
When my unicorn finally dies
Or majestically sacrifices himself
For my sake
I will grind him down to glitter
And unicorn glue
(Which is very strong)
I’ll make a sign so big you can see it sparkle from space
*I was here ************
And this is how I will live forever
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 5:39 AM UTC
I feel
as if I am
a broken doll
in need of
repair and parts
Waiting for someone
to wind me up
Look at the many stitches
of my body
that keeps me together
Am I not Beautiful ?
My parched lips
Acheing
Each time I try to
smile
just look at my rib cage
and boney arms
That reach for you
And my starving heart
this empty hole
in my chest
I keep covered
That craves
freedom
Will you fix me ?
Or at least
Try To
Help me
Do I mean anything
to you ?
At all Or am I
Simply just
entertainment
That's right
now that my music
has stop playing
you toss me
back in to the box
Along
with the other
forgotten toys
That have been
long gone
Where my loneliness
plagues me
And I sit in tears
Numb
With these
shadows
hanging over me
watching
Pointing
&
Laughing
Until you decide
to take me out
again
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 12:37 AM UTC
If you were a corpse accepting cremation
I would be the flame
that lavishly licked your flesh,
the heat, heaped for your hair on a pyre
the last peril your boney body submits to,
making the air all around stink of you.
Forget the fact that you corrupt my mind,
it’ll only work out if your thoughts stink of me.
If for one second during
your self worshipping, wistful stares
into a mirror that drips a musty condensation
that lingered from your skinny, ****
torso after your morning shower, you
stand there smile *******
yourself with puckered lips and
un-dilated pupils, flirting with
camera phone pixels you think to yourself;
* Should I post me on myspace?
Should I send a text message pic to myself?
Should I forward it to that guy that I met
to make him think that I’m burning for him?*
If for that second I could be but that spark,
an after thought flare that gets you to want
more than what it is that you got,
where would you go?
With whom would you make yourself over?
I’m waiting for the morning your ashes
wake next to me; smoldered and spread out over my
mattress and under my breath, and
your eye lashes charred with clunky mascara
crumble as you replay in your silly head
the late mass I celebrated last night
when I exhumed and inhaled
that same condensation;
Little taste droplets of you then exhaled
from me to your golden tin flesh
that burned you to ******
Because of my tempered tongue you
cravingly bathed with,
because of your hair I feverishly wrapped
round my fists as
my head altered and smoothed out from whiskey
bounced waves of frivolous
thrusts pulls releases,
pushes twitches friction
in perfect timed fashion
between your radio
antenna thin legs
and your rib meat torso
you forced my lips unto.
That will be the night
you will come.
Yeah, that’s right
SEE YOU MMM-hmmm,
I will see you melt on that night.
And it will be your cremation.
Sep 22, 2010
Sep 22, 2010 at 1:09 PM UTC
Knowing you, I am like a girl
who willfully touches hemlock to her tongue.
For among the boney noose of pearls
strung up my spine,
you, with hands that can hold
both knives and violin bows
leak a piece of air into the streams of my back
And I let you—I
let it fever its way around stringy tethers,
up to the oven of blood in my head
while you lick your lips (the moon pours out)
and I do not watch this
because now I cannot even trample
across floors of lemongrass
or brace the line of my jaw for a tender fist.
The earth simply throws a plump tomato at my chest
smirks simmering in its oceans
but all I can do is fall there
lay near
lose years
expire here—
(the sodden match)
(the hot scoop of iced cream)
while the froth of my heart grows cold and colder.
So I can’t even smash your head (a skull I love)
into the wooden wall until it is as
soft as a boiled pomegranate.
For my own flesh is a puddle of sputters on the kitchen table
ready for you to eat (dine, my darling, dine!)
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 1:29 AM UTC
a loop of spume immune to fumes of eastern tombs
a burnin'; a mad flash of candied wrath
and junebug randy newman;
what rumbles jest in vestments yet
to loom a knit or pearl two... a ****** crest
of ***** wrecks and rubber necks
to view you...
a nop of lopsy,
fever pitched in thicket rich begonia;
and roman roads
too golden
kicks
from hydro
in
your hedge
row.
a droop of noon in cool remove
from gypsum dim sum laude.
a drowning witch on boney creeks
of needles and salami.
untongued. a pool of fringe
rhymes with orange,
yes a door-hinge,
off it's moorings...
off it's Meds
death beds
for trampolines
in petrified forests...
a nop of lopsy, frogging Gatsby,
greatly famished to the Nines;
an olden toll of wish fits
then nothing
comes.
and that's
Life.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 2:11 PM UTC
Beautiful piranha
Bare your teeth in a scheming grin
Pull back your harsh red lips
Flash your blue-green-gold coat of scales
Blood thirst blinding your eyes
White boney razor teeth gnashing,
Biting on empty space
Dart around your territory
With your cliques of similarly minded
Similarly equipped predators
Your body specifically designed
To be irresistible
To let you spot your victim,
****** them,
And go for the jugular
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 8:26 AM UTC
My elbows feel damp today like they’ve been sitting in
Small pails of oil and someone forgot to tell me.
They feel drenched
Where if someone tried their very hardest to pinch the skin
I would feel no pain.
My only moment of invincibility.
My elbows are boney-
From my mothers side of the family
Like my toes are shaped like my fathers
And no amount of brightly colored nail polish will distract from that fact.
My hair is all my own and my eyes, a cinnamon mix
Caught between browns, yellows, and
Gluey waves of molasses.
But my elbows feel damp today
Even though its fall and skin likes to crack and break and shutter in the wind’s blue outrages.
But skin is only skin
And I didn’t die from scraping my knee on that branch hidden in the big vulnerable pile of leaves…
It’s fall. And leaves are caught struggling with
Conformity and peer pressure.
Their newly painted toenails scream out insecurity;
Caught between greens, yellows, and
Cinnamon mixes.
Like gluey waves of molasses.
I bet some of those leaves have damp elbows too…
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
Being male, I wander
Mom dares not wonder
What kind of monsters she birthed
She brought her own equipment
I was aggressive but shy
Her womb is the most magnificent
Temple I’ve ever visited
There is nowhere else I want to be
Sister insisted
I stiffened then gave in
Children tease, squeal, scamper
Adults know unspeakable reality
Dizziness of first love
Mayhem, ******
Solemn whisper of infinity
After an uncertain age,
No one wants you anymore
Old women bond
Confer their anger
Old men tread alone
She knew from moment he laid eyes on her, she had him. She wore no make-up, anemic complexion, chin and jawline slightly broken out with red spots, cobalt blue irises, aquiline nose, hair dyed dark, fuzz-balled scarf, light blue fluffy sweater, big buttons, canvas shoulder bag, skinny jeans, leather boots, little boney black dog with ashen appointments. Instantly he fell in love. He confessed, “Your Chinese Crested pup stole my heart.”
In *********** position, neither lover sees other’s face. The top sees backside. The bottom sees what? He didn’t know.
She unlocks the door. He enters room. She tells him what to do, making demands. He follows her orders. She questions, “Why do we dance to these tunes?” He answers, “I want to smell your smells, **** drink your darkest juices.” She articulates, “Stay,” then kisses him goodbye. She wakes wearing his ring, around her neck. They are each other’s slaves. Ceiling leaks, floor creaks, light beams through window as they waltz arm in arm.
She demands, “I want roast rack of lamb, or thinly sliced Serrano ham on buttered toast for dinner. And then I want to go home alone. I need some down time, away from you. I don’t belong to you, ********* Deep in financial debt, he hands the waiter his debit card.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 9:45 PM UTC