"chapping" poems
little saporous pretty prisms
dragged through ashen bones
to place your cloying melt
on my shivering paper skin:
your sticky face,
tongue stripping strangling,
char-chipping my caramelized blisters
from the burning maraschino hum.
Bubbling up whiteness
like our eyes unfocused,
hands moving unaware
spread the chapping numbness
over our senses, succumbed.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 6:29 PM UTC
Succumbing to the feel of pampered skin gentle caresses
I recite a prayer soft as baby’s breath to
Please,
Please o please
Cast me from angelic light
Force my knees onto an altar of broken glass.
Devil Darkness Reaper
He is in me he is in me.
The backdrop of my eyelids is deep **** swimming
Lips of lovers chapping Cigarette burns scarring Strawberries slowly rotting
He is he is he he he he he is in me.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
when the house creaks from falling icicles
and the snow has been scraped from the driveway far too many times
that is when we sludge upstairs in our layers of greying sweaters
that is when we take out the box of summer vacation photos.
in them the grass is thick and deliciously green
and red squirrels belly up to new branches swaying above our heads
and we touch these beautiful things to our red and chapping noses.
and then I swear
just a bit of cool summer air
floats out
and lends a bit of sun to the midwinter.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
At the same time of year
cold winds bite down and continue to blow
my knuckles encounter these tearing gusts with ripped chapping
Alone together
As the moon veils through the curtain
and the only noise outside
are echoes of crickets chirping
Embrace is proffered
Under a dim glare from the lunar glow
a lucky duo who are in need of an other to bestow
Heedlessly collect the offer
she coats her fingers and palms in oil & aloe
one at a time our hands begin binding
regarding this oil from plants insides refined
creating a mirrored rhyme
Her hands of wisdom take on a placidity
when combing over my wounded misery
I can see the searing adopt a soothing
Into every finger
she sends the technique of love speak
what it is to see in motion and defining
...the endearing
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 10:22 PM UTC
There’s something about the lonely hours,
Just you and me, our space overlapping.
The sky a meadow, constellations, flowers.
No passion-filled debate, no vying powers,
Lazy destiny dreams, eschewing plans or mapping.
There’s something about the lonely hours.
Past today, the future glowers,
But reserve this sacred instant for reflection, recapping.
The sky a meadow, constellations, flowers.
The earth is straining, injustice towers,
Insidious corruption, pain and deceit chafing, chapping.
There’s something about the lonely hours.
The darkness consumes, seconds become hours,
Sorrow lurks at hand, irksome insecurities tapping.
The sky a meadow, constellations, flowers.
Yet, peace resounds, the evil cowers.
Hope, the thing with feathers, quietly, resiliently flapping.
There’s something about the lonely hours,
The sky a meadow, constellations, flowers.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
My bones melt
Clay sticks in a toddlers mouth
In the wrong place
Being muitlated and twisted
I'm supposted to be stored
In a dry
Room tempture place
With out the stripping rays
Of the sun
Skin peeling off in rusty strips
The gummy snap back like
A broken hair band
The heat crackling
Chapping and blistering
I'm supposted to be laid to rest
Not over stretched or
Over done
But instead I'm exactly
Where I'm not supposted to be
People say
Loneliness is a killer
But
When you're on your own
There is no one to let you down
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 9:11 PM UTC
Today the last of the tents
Were dismantled, erased from the desert
And all but the children have forgotten
If they knew at all.
Only the sound remains,
The vibrato of the dust bowl’s choir,
The closeness of the vibrations
And how they clawed their way in
Beneath the arteries.
I, laughing,
Was floating far above your figure,
Though grounded in the eyes of strangers
Who could reflect only elation.
You anchored my hand with a finger.
Here see the Man fashioned with twigs
And the Davids of our Michaelangelos,
While love love
Love grew in an orchard all around me
Until it met the sky
And I couldn’t sensibly distinguish the two.
This was were the sound began,
Our throats chapping, we saw only a torch
Traveling in the absence of an architect:
Our eyes had broken. An explosion of
Anticipation shook you from your language;
The flames ventured toward our Man.
I remember the color of music,
And how forever
The very dismantling of reticence
Burned for us.
Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 2:31 AM UTC
Marching forwards in love and in life
As snowdrop and crocus cover Spring earth
Raw though the wind, as Winter still lingers
Chapping the faces exposed to its wrath.
Hope springs eternal as I sit by the hearth
Indoors the warmth of a nice open fire
Nicely chopped logs all stacked by a scuttle
Glorious flames up the rise higher.
Flames soporific and soon I am sleeping
Out like a light from the heat of the fire
Running in dreams and thinking of roses
Wrapped in a beautiful paper display.
All for the lady who loves me forever
Roses the flowers from my heart every day
Dreams full of happy, and our lovely children
Slight sadness now as they make their own way.
It’s many years now and our love we have found
No more needs the blankets we laid on the ground.
Living a life with one who inspires you
Overly blessed like the Spring that now hails
Verdant the grass round the bench in the garden
Each night during Summers we tell lover’s tales.
And as we enter our twilight of living
Not for a second our passion shall wane
Drawn to each other, a one made from twain.
Isn’t it wondrous when love makes hearts bind
Never a doubt in your passion-filled mind.
Letters we’ve written of love for each other
Ink that was written, but not by a sage
Finally we slip into hot-chocolate evenings
Enjoying the warmth as we turn the next page.
©Joe Wilson – Marching forwards in love and in life…2015 (Acrostic)
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 1:49 PM UTC
Dreams Of Falling,
From Jagged Cliffs,
Into Unforgiving Desert Sand,
Oryx Stare At My Broken Body,
And I Struggle To Breathe,
Vultures Come To Feast,
Off My Boney Flesh,
115 Pounds Sorrow,
Now Experiencing Every Known Kind Of Pain,
The Arid Land Chapping My Now Pale Pink Lips,
And The Torrid Sun Burns My Exposed Skin,
What A Fate,
Dying Alone,
Broken Bones,
Even In Dreams I Suffer,
In Dreams Of Falling,
Falling....
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 12:59 PM UTC
The wistful wind tugs at me,
Willing me to come out and play.
I can see it tickling the barren November branches,
See its aftermath in the chaos of crunchy leaves.
Cotton-tail clouds yield before it,
And it wriggles into the core of flustered students,
Who flee from it and clasp their jackets more tightly about them.
I embrace the breeze, its chill enveloping and ensnaring me.
It brings moisture to my eyes and chafes my chapping lips,
Yet it is within this maelstrom that I am reminded of my own vitality.
I am hyper-aware of my own temperature,
98.6 in stark contrast to its harsh ice.
I can feel my blood pumping sluggishly,
Steadily, beneath my fragile skin.
I am reminded of my own mortality.
The pulse could cease,
And the universe would not stop its song.
The fish would stay in rhythm and harmony,
And there would still be new life and beauty.
A sobering thought, but freeing as well.
I am not the center, not even close.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 7:10 PM UTC
it took a few moments,
but we eventually found it.
the most amazingly beautiful
place to rest our fragile bodies
and our unique minds.
we sat up for a few moments,
giggling at our high thoughts
and eating our sour gummy
worms. eventually, we just
stared into each other's eyes.
"let's lay down," they suggested.
a soft chuckle left my chapping
lips as we laid back onto the
scratchy and dry grass. putting
on a romantic playlist full of indie
rock, we stop speaking.
we attempted to look up at the sky,
but it seemed to get increasingly
blinding as each moment slipped by.
we closed our eyes, seeing an assortment
of bright yellows and oranges overhead.
our breathing synced, our minds became
one. somehow, despite neither of us uttering
even a single syllable. we were communicating.
bonding, even. for hours, we remained in this
comfortable marijuana-induced silence.
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 4:44 PM UTC
Lugosi Béla is dead.
Ligeti György is dead.
The bat flies past the closet door.
The closet is filled with corpses, screaming to let them out.
The grey house cries out in a voice of silence.
The wood cracks under my feet as I break through the door.
Relative ease getting in, but I fear getting out might take all my power.
I look towards the door, but it is so far.
I decide to go in, towards a familiar stench.
I hear screams from the attic and moans from the basement.
Ligeti's breath. That was the stench.
Wonderful. I take a huge whiff and feel high.
I meet him. He is dead, yet he's smiling at me.
I kiss him on the lips, for he is deserving of love, like the others.
I leave the room and let him sleep in silence.
I hope my love got to him.
As soon as I get through the door, a set of red eyes.
Wings, chapping my shoulders. I am pinned against a wall.
Teeth sink into my neck.
It is Lugosi. I kiss him on the lips, as he demands, and begin to leave.
He disappears, for he's dead. Undead.
But that seems like years ago and I'm still not at the door.
In fact, it's been a decade.
It's the morning now, and I cannot leave.
I feel like... I'm dying? But I feel more alive, as well.
As I reach the door, I fall.
I wake up in an unfamiliar room.
They are both there. They don't present me with a choice.
They are leaving all of their belongings to me.
White on white translucent black capes.
Black on black glasses of *****
The bats have left the bell tower.
The victims have been bled.
Red velvet lines the black box.
Virginal brides file past their tombs.
Strewn with time's dead flowers,
Bereft in deathly bloom,
I'm alone in a darkened room.
I am Ligeti.
I am Lugosi.
I am neither and I am both.
I am dead and I am not.
As I live and breathe.
I am...
The count.
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 8:02 PM UTC
You've been out here in the wind awhile.
Now, I don't mind the snow.
But I'll lick my chapping lips and ask,
you if you're feeling cold.
It's all been tacks and eggshells
since the Summer hung its hat;
October laughed, we shrugged our shoulders,
covered miles,
but still we left the biggest thoughts unasked.
Clutch your coat
and walk
another snow-clad block
with me--
We're almost back.
Fight
these doldrums
off
with me,
invite
the snowflakes in
my open doorway
closing off night.
**** the cold,
'cuz we're all in.
Leaking away
'til night gives way to the day.
Until the Springtime thaw rolls in.
I've been frozen in my tracks so long,
the ice hangs from my chin.
I still dangle on each laughed-out word
that you toss in the wind.
You say you're sick of shivering--
sick and tired of last year's coat.
"It's all old hat, but it's familiar..."
sketch a smile
across my face, melt snowballs in my throat.
Grab my arm
and leap
that final icy step
with me--
We're nearly home.
Maybe we were never
gonna be a thing but cold.
But I still like the way you hold
your shoulders when you laugh.
Maybe we can never grow up,
just keep getting old...
Stick with me tonight, I swear
we'll warm this place by half.
Fight
these doldrums
off
with me,
invite
the snowflakes in
to our bleary eyes
swelled full of night.
Out of reasons,
we're all in.
Leaking away
'til night gives way to the day.
Until the Springtime thaw rolls in.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
Psalmist of refuge and timelapse,
Can thou stop the ticking tumultuous hand?
Insidious to dietie's
You've come short of hypothetical stand!!
Provisions make space for new coming shouters,
For lovers and doubters of Napoleon like complex!!!
Wherein grievers grieve,
Where gravestones are scene,
Thy gowned mate gets half their respect!!!!
A selah for every area skipped young founding Father!!!
Can thou brand thine own?
No more broken homes to match beautiful daughters to their monsters!!!
Polaroid imagery seiging the bathing rooms of suited men's palaces,
All chalices tipped,
Finalized,
None more chapping to cocoa tasting lips!!!
Engine made supreme star beings,
Control the blood and flesh,
So what good's left ?
Thou faithful of sighted pics!!!
Art thou choked to thy hold?
Simmered to thy own ***** stated bliss!!!
Hath thou blossomed continually?
Perennially you topple towers of watchers view!!!
Release thy stamen among the grass,
For love is renewed!!!!
Times not through,
Thy hedging was meant to last!!!
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
The leaves fall
as do the moods
of those lost in love
No map to guide
just pain to feel
loneliness within
The sun rises
shrouded by clouds
and snowing emotion
Blizzards roll in
freezing on cheeks
chapping the lips and nose
Cracked skin and hearts
long for a balm
and for Springs new love
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 6:55 PM UTC
what matters more than
hot springs bubbling over
boulders fallen before men wanted
to sit among-st the steam?
details.
Empty rooms angry with patience
broken planks of olden wood flooring
wet with cat **** and rain.
This house held hope
until the town voted it
down. Ruined, useful only to
corrupt our stainless American children.
Where can I find our majesty in
the streets and towns of this country?!
The young hate the old. They laugh at us while we die.
By the time we finally muster our gumption to live
they chase us from our homes by stealing our jobs and
not caring who they hurt.
young. take your time to wonder what you are doing.
winter winds blow fast
through desperate alleyways
chapping lips bright red.
nature mattered once.
Oak leaves rotting in autumn rain.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
i'd love to take your face apart
inch by inch
pore by pore
counting every eyelash
small lines
barely noticeable
the color of your lips
your cheeks chapping in the cold air
eyes watering with a brisk breeze
chipped tooth
crooked smile
messy hair
the imperfections
that make you perfect
to me.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
Chapping on the roof
Little feets running around
Rat or a gecko
Partying with their mates
Too noisy, to sleep at night
©sim
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 11:16 PM UTC
icy winter on the afternoon breeze
gives pause so the sun can lie
and encourage children out of doors
only to kick up vengefully
chapping lips and watering eyes
while simultaneously giving cheeks
a rosy glow –
frosted lawn greets the day
altered dew rests glisteningly
subdued bird song breaks the silence
and my own breathe distorts the image
exhaling clouds
liquid vapors instantly freeze
and fall to the cold ground below –
slapping mitted hands together
and piling up six pieces of fir and elm
I return to the safely of my enclave
arrange the sticks in a 1956 potbelly
and light the match
which will combat
the change in seasons –
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 4:51 PM UTC
There is darkness
and major melancholia;
She is trembling,
a tiny lady
dry skin
chapping,
flesh cracking
and losing blood.
In those
open spaces
merely moments pass,
but those cracks
grow and expose
more of her soul.
Dark dandelions
and crimson roses
explode from the holes.
Tiny ruptures
fill with the rapture
of delightful smells,
as she takes
all of her hells
and makes art,
as she sculpts
each heartbreak
into a grand sculpture.
There is no noting
some grand healing
or great transformative power
in her transubstantiation
of pain into beauty,
merely art.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 8:34 AM UTC
I wrote your name on a page,
I hoped it would stay.
For in my heart it had failed to stay,
Like the morning fog on a sunny day.
You were so sweet and kind.
Your voice brought harmony,
Like chapping birds of the summer.
From the horizon you stood still.
Silhouetted by the evening sun.
I saw furry burn,
I felt hate.
Pride drowned you bitterly.
And from that moment you where gone.
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 11:40 AM UTC