"clothless" poems
lets be two naked
self conscience individuals
and sit in a half full
half empty bathtub
we'll fill it with freezing water
that evaporates when our skin makes contact
we are magnetic
and static
and our clothless skin transfers
heat through osmosis
our necks are sweating
and beading
and drips down the stunted hour glass
love handles filled with sand
and that sweat is freezing
but evaporates down my body
ripples in the water
we have not moved in hours
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 7:16 AM UTC
Proclaimed the paper-cutout placard on the table:
Clothless gray plastic-surfaced round.
In this immense faux-stone (concrete?)
Faux-English country house
We escape to the top of the stairs:
The no admittance sign is no deterrent.
The iridescence of your skirt is captivating
But all I can remember is living in a castle like this one
When I was a little blonde nothing
And feeling the way I do now,
As if there's been no transformation, no progress.
Maybe there has,
And this band must be pretty great
To keep this many old white people dancing so enthusiastically
For such a long time:
An ancient one with a Christmas-themed vest
Foxtrots with a once-lady in a polyester pants suit
Thin hair dyed roofing-tar black, suede kitten heels clacking.
The world's a **** strange place.
Even if we feel like we aren't quite awake,
We'll adjust our stockings and fill our plates
With that mystery-shrouded gelatinous citrus dessert
And our plastic cups with apple cider, light beer, 7-Up.
Endure a few more minutes on this rented dancefloor with me
Because they're playing love shack
And who doesn't smile at the mere notion of the B-52s?
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 3:10 PM UTC
It is me who changed,
I now know who to blame.
For she is just like her self,
She didn't change at all.
No, I do not blame her,
For she is exactly the same.
She is just like she was,
Still video chatting clothless.
The difference is that I'm here,
The new one is overseas.
He has told me everything.
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 8:02 AM UTC
sea waves blue, smooth as a silk sheet are
gently lapped by chilly December air
my skin prickles as the air leaves
goosebumps on my bare arms. i try to
ignore them as the frosty gale bites into my clothless skin.
boats are tethered to shore, no longer
roaming far at sea, they have a home at least
though only temporary, but a safe sanctuary. i wonder
where the people are, perhaps safe and warm and cozy
in the comfort of their fireplaces and families.
i lay down on the barren grass, now mere stubs that too
***** my skin, they were once lively and green under the shade of a once blooming tree,
now limbless and leafless,
a mere trunk of wood that stands stubbornly on a patch of forgotten ****
as nighttime falls the boat lights come on, setting patches
of deep blue ablaze, like a fire it spreads and spreads until
you can no longer see the depths of aquamarine,
and maybe just maybe pretend to yourself that they
never even existed.
maybe grass needs to be barren before spring brings shrubs and
trees decapitated before they can bloom again,
maybe matches need to be lit
and places burnt to ashes
before the past can fall away like a brittle husk.
I look up to the cloud-filled sky, blue dotted with specks of white and
perhaps there is no heaven beyond those clouds,
no god near welcoming doors, and
if all prayers are just a shout into the empty void
then perhaps all we can do is
shout.
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 5:19 AM UTC
That Poltava Lady Elena
would rather stay in her dress
for the very first day at least !
I've neither got AIDS nor eczema,
and tend not to make such a mess
as before, though still such a beast!
O, mightn't we join our forces
happily through the campaign
of life, in our fearless way?
And riding Arabian horses
would suit us----see El Alamein?
and so many a beautiful day.
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 1:06 PM UTC