"conceal" poems
Lurid pressure in perfect hiding,
Heat rises amidst quiet timing.
Covers conceal fingers,
And skin conceals-
Well,
Only from the blinded.
Flitting breath from lungs to neck,
Begging tongue,
And baiting breast.
Tentative flesh,
Upon tentative flesh,
What comes next?
Anything I want,
If this is,
Yes.
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC
Step 1: Get out of bed
Step 2: Look in the mirror
Step 3: Practice your smile
Step 4: Eyedrops to hide the red eyes
Step 5: Conceal the dark circles
Step 6: Breathe
The curtains are almost up
Step 7: Lock down the pain
Step 8: Ignore the weight on your chest
Step 9: Silence the screams inside of your mind
Step 10: Choke down the sobs
Step 11: Ignore the stinging in your eyes
Step 12: Swallow past the tightness in your throat
You’ve put on this show a million times
Step 13: Don’t let them see
Times up. Curtains up. Camera rolling
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
I don't think tunnels can go this deep:
The way the oceans part--
Starfish foam, bubbling for air.
I saw the moon bleeding,
So many hidden cries.
She shouted:
"No fair, no fair...No fair..."
And now the polished skeleton
Bones glisten in the sun.
Taken from the dusty closet,
One by one by one.
Alongside a black journal,
No embellishments,
No lock to conceal shame.
Pages of her history,
Like collected pages of
The suffrage, and at the
Very last page, her dream's name.
Italicized like lies fresh oyster pearls shine.
Glistening in the frost of the night,
The soothing heat of her mind's height.
Tunnels can touch Earth's spine.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 8:58 AM UTC
Vulnerability is scary
I guess that's why I'm always wary
In the palm of another's hand
I solemnly stand
Vulnerability is scary
Someone I know barely
They could bury me
In debris
I'm flesh and bones
Their words could be stones
The way you shake when you're crying
Or when you blink when you're lying
Because inside you know you're dying
When I tell you how I feel
I may begin to heal
This is so unreal-
Yet I still fear that you will squeal
What I tried so hard to conceal
Vulnerability is scary
I would like to say contrary,
I feel like a freed canary
How very wrong
I've made another prison
With bars made of vulnerability
My secrets have become a liability
For I foolishly trust
You will not run
When we are done
Vulnerability is so scary
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
Tired eyes awaken and be at the ready...
For today has come with all of yesterday's debris.
Tired eyes you try but can't successfully conceal.
What the beating heart is dying to reveal.
Tired eyes glaze like you can't take anymore.
Filled to the brim; these sullen windows to my core.
Tired eyes give tears like you do effortlessly.
You seem so lifeless save for the drops you carry.
Tired eyes you say so much but yet the words are unspoken.
I know you quietly wish for a miracle to happen.
Tired eyes you reach but your arms are broken.
I know you scream out silently; all that's been forgotten.
Tired eyes why are you wide open but still you do not see...
See the sun rising, revealing all your wants splendidly.
Tired eyes I know you are but only waiting.
For the picturesque view of your heart's secret painting.
Tired eyes it's time and it's the end of a work day.
Don't anticipate tomorrow's load; just rest as I lay.
Tired eyes I am aware of sweet solace that you truly seek.
Tired eyes rest now so that tomorrow you might speak...
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
Somehow, down through the centuries,
Man discerned it was best to hide.
Conceal their grief and likewise love,
And hoard it all inside.
Emotions we should so easily share,
We choose to temper instead.
And so many things that we want to say,
We just let go...unsaid.
Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 10:55 AM UTC
Power is indeed a corruptive force,
Through all of mankind’s history
This has always been true.
Emperors, Kings, Potentates,
Popes, Presidents and Despots too.
Gathering near the Throne are the
Eager Courtier leeches reaching to
touch the anointed one’s robe.
Declaring their undying loyalty,
In the process selling their souls.
Their rewards, a speck of personal power,
Castles and new riches of gold.
Like their Master, the entitled ones
will lie and cheat, while ignoring
The principals of right and good.
Believing “Decency” is but a
poor man’s word, Never uttered
within the hearing of the Ruler.
Never a considered artifact of
absolute power.
The slaves, serfs, the common people
Matter not, but to serve the Ruler.
The power elite will start needless wars,
or offer up sacrificial lambs, all to distract
the unrest of the common man.
They will suppress human rights,
free speech and defame, banish
or imprison their detractors.
All merely smoke and mirrors to conceal,
Controlling agendas of personal greed.
From ancient times down to today
This cycle repeats. Now we are living
our own Textbooks history of tomorrow.
Kingdoms and Nations have perished
From this kind of poisonous corruption,
Needless to say, it will happen again.
Perhaps it already is.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
Men and women are equal
None are above the other
In rights and respect
Equal
Men have strength yes
Yet it's women who endure
Men and women
Both are intelligent
As their brains made of the same matter
Biologically here equality stands firm
Differences of course are there
Yet minuscule
Appearances cast aside
Only few can be observed
Women and men
Both are sensitive and feel
Yet where women show it; display
Men conceal; pretend not to feel
Society kills
In tactics and ideas
Is where our message ends
For too often it's said to
Disregard the thoughts of women
Too dumb and feeble minded to be
Of Value and interest
Yet where there's Winston Churchill
The mastermind of Britain
There's also Elizabeth the 1st
The queen who beat the Spanish Armada
Hence with logics like this
Any notion of ****** inferiority**
Can be easily dismissed
As utterly ridiculous.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 12:28 PM UTC
Love, why do you make my heart bleed?
It leaks thick red plasma that stains on my fingers
As I try to conceal the pain and hide it deep within
My own two hands reach up and take my breath away
The lies you speak catching in my lungs
Forget keeping appearances, I'm suffocating
The answers seem so clear
As I gasp for air
In shock I stare down at my hands in horror
As I find they are replaced with your own
This sudden display leaves me in disbelief
I don't want to see all the truth coming up to smother me
I wasn't smart enough to stay away
From those treacherous arms that promised safety
As they had planned from the beginning
To clench around my throat and liquidate all my strength and glory
Before we even said our first hello's
You planned the end before we began
Love, I will make your heart weep
What you give out comes back to you
I will get you on your knees
Begging for forgiveness
Till they become bruised and give out
I will break you down before you dare to believe you've won
If you are iniquity think of me as your karma,
You will never win
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 1:47 AM UTC
~weary weighted~
flummoxed are the sea watchers;
the long rhythms of sea change reveal only minor modesties,
difficult discerned are the tidal subtleties
though repetitive thrashing extracts it toll,
only the weary-weighted see the true meaning of the beating,
knowing full well,
it beats for them
recalling their early day’d fascination with its endless chaining,
now knowing all are similar
detained-chained,
and the ******* churning but a cover up masque,
they need not longer conceal,
an unrevealed confess:
water is heavy-weighted, you cannot forever float,
constancy is of a thing to be wary,
its sadder longevity,
a chipping away erosion of wearing,
*‘tis is the knelling noise of sad respite,
an unlight lighthouse*
~for Victoria, a year later~
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
the wonderful world
would cover up my affection
the sky's gradient in every dusk
would cover my colorless self
the earth's mighty wind
would blow my tears away
the night's luminous stars
would outshine my endless love
the land's languid flowers
would bloom before me -
while i withered of your love
in the latter time,
i will be forgotten
caused by the pain of the unrequited
the world's grace
and the universe' elegance
will conceal every agony i have
but in every fantastic disguise
it is not sure to obscure
my love, my lies and goodbyes
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 2:42 AM UTC
Conceal amnesiac eyes with a hood,
Maybe nights fall oddly placid.
Sleep could collapse its resistance,
Crumble sunlight into ashes.
Nightmares internally unravel,
Soldiers fought, already lost.
Invasive thoughts occurring,
Arising ice, I can't defrost.
This complexion leaves me perplexed,
Battling behind my forehead.
I can't evade this hopelessness,
I've pled, go back to bed.
Sunsets settled maniacal,
Malnourished; give me a mask.
Because all I ache for is sleep,
To possess what life I'd had-
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 1:46 PM UTC
I cannot recall you gentle
yet through your heavy love
I have become
an image of your once delicate flesh
split with deceitful longings.
When strangers come and compliment me
your aged spirit takes a bow
jingling with pride
but once you hid that secret
in the center of furies
hanging me
with deep ******* and wiry hair
with your own split flesh
and long suffering eyes
buried in myths of little worth.
But I have peeled away your anger
down to the core of love
and look mother
I Am
a dark temple where your true spirit rises
beautiful
and tough as chestnut
stanchion against your nightmare of weakness
and if eyes conceal
a squadron of conflicting rebellions
I learned from you
to define myself
through your denials
audre lorde
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 8:33 PM UTC
I can't hold on,
I can't let go...
I keep on breathing
But each breath is suffocating.
My heart keeps pounding
But in my own blood,
I'm sinking.
I wanna hold on,
I wanna let go...
Smiling if I'm sad.
Frowning when I'm glad.
The past feels like a dream,
The future, a nightmare.
I'm not holding on,
I'm not letting go...
Here's the feeling I can't express:
There's a fret I can't suppress.
Words, thoughts
I've been screaming to you
Come back as whispers
Like I'm talking to my echo.
Tired of holding on,
Afraid of letting go...
I don't wanna die
But I keep on killing myself.
I need a reason to live.
I need the sun to wake me
From my restless sleep.
I can't hold on,
I can't let go...
Hands stuck in the solid air,
Standing on waters, crystal clear.
Hanging on to the nothingness,
Begging for help from the emptiness.
If I did hold on,
If I do let go...
If I fall deep into the sea,
I only wanted to see:
If I disappear,
Would anyone care?
Shed a single tear?
Pull me up here?
As the gravity drags me deeper...
As the light vanishes from my sight...
As the waters conceal my tears falling...
As I keep on holding on,
As I finally let go...
As I talk to my echo...
And drowning...
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 4:59 AM UTC
There’s no other choice but to wear them,
The drawer offered nothing but these.
An odd pair of socks might be quirky,
Odd sizes don’t normally please.
The one at my ankle was spotted,
The other was striped to the knee
The latter two sizes the smaller,
The former quite large by degree.
This mismatch I thought to keep secret
And cover the dissonant pair.
I chose from the wardrobe some trousers
And shoes, with considerable care.
My ruse would conceal the divergence
From prescribed social standards of dress
And none would be any the wiser
My discomfort I’d have to suppress.
Now, it’s harder to mask discomposure
When physical pain has attacked.
The small sock had cramped my toes tightly
That blood didn’t flow, was a fact.
My colleagues regarded me strangely
For they could see nothing amiss
But I could feel cold perspiration,
Anxiety I couldn’t dismiss.
It was then that I felt a strange itching,
The striped sock began to descend
And round my right ankle it wrinkled
And bulged at the trouser leg end.
Dismayed at my great consternation
But clueless to what was awry
My friends made comforting gestures
Need of which I could only deny.
The moral of this story’s transparent
Socks are always best worn as a pair
Their nature is in the relationship
Which provides a well-balanced air.
And take the trouble to remember
Be congruent in all that you do
For disparity will often bring discord
And that path, you’ll certainly rue.
Oct 11, 2009
Oct 11, 2009 at 6:43 AM UTC
Earthquake moments
In my life
objects being thrown everywhere
Raindrop tears creating floods on my face
And aftershock shakes
Vibrating throughout my body and lungs
What deepens the flood is how I think
you have those moments too
They play in my head like
A 1920s silent film
I wonder how many
You've needed to experience
To gain those red scars
That you conceal so carefully
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
I'll be completely honest but not completely true
I'll be true to my heart but not always true to you
some of my words will reflect much of what I feel
while you'll find that other lines are more contrived to conceal
you see a poet can use their words to bear their deepest feeling
but look again and you may see something deeper redder bleeding
read again between the lines of the fresher tender cuts
and you'll brush a slower finger over old wounds long untouched
you may disturb my untold stories seeping through the pages
and find a heart much like yours where an older passion rages
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 5:43 PM UTC
We would all have come to a point,
where we are just so done putting on masks,
to conceal of whom we are,
what we feel.
And we go on living our lives,
as if nothing much had happen,
that the scars in hands doesn't sting,
that the room is darker than the immortal night.
Questions not asked,
and answers never to be revealed,
uncertainty is definitely thick in the air,
and so albeit the tension.
But how do feelings overcome insecurities of the heart?
How do we live on to everyday's life as no roller coaster ride has happened?
To feel on the verge of a thin rope,
feeling all at once that the rope may snap.
*Why do I still put on a mask,
and tell myself lies?*
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
"One lie weakens a thousand truths."
"Karma finishes what revenge neglects."
"Time heals, steals and reveals."
"The future is uncertain, but we play a part in its design."
"Help when you can. Pray when you can't."
"If your life is out of focus, it's time to change the lens."
"Instincts over impulse, always."
"The only thing better than a second chance is never needing one."
"Fear is a light sleeper."
"The devil is always looking for a dance partner."
"You can't change the past, but it can change you."
"Some are born with a silver spoon, others with a pitchfork."
"Even the smallest of pebbles has its place in the sand."
"Every tear has a name."
"Write your failures in pencil; your triumphs in ink."
"Hope is always listening."
"The best companion is your imagination."
"Two things you should always trust: your gut and your God."
"Scars speak every language."
"Only I think like me."
"We're remembered for three things: the times we did good, the times we did bad and the times we did nothing."
"Every underdog wants to be top cat."
"Love never travels alone."
"Hindsight teaches when the test is over."
"Dreams reveal what memories conceal."
"The problem with the world is the wolves outnumber the sheep."
"You can't spell tragedy without rage."
"Intuition is your strongest ally."
"Focus on the valley and the hills will disappear."
"Never trust an idle thought."
"A wounded animal always shows its teeth."
"When you ignore pain, it ignores you."
"The past and future are distant cousins."
"We're all buried treasures waiting to be found."
"Moonlight is for lovers and devils."
"Temptation always invites itself to the party."
"Everyone's story has a secret."
"Scents and songs are nostalgic reminders."
"Time is a tattletale."
"There's a special place in heaven for those who suffer on earth."
"Life is a dir†y fighter."
"Sometimes all that's left is a penny and a wish."
"The mirror mimics what the mind imagines."
"Tomorrow is a wild card."
"My favorite exercise is sleepwalking."
"What the blind man sees, the sighted man seeks."
"The ego is a phony friend."
"Luck will take you as far as fate allows."
"Two things that never forget: elephants and broken hearts."
"My train of thought has no conductor."
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 2:49 PM UTC
I tore the fabric of space
Interrupting my affectionate stalking
Spurts of longing, interspersed
with spasms of premature *****
In vain, hankering to attain that next level rush
*Oh you're a ***** girl aren't you*
That's when I was discovered...
Her shrieks royally flushing my cheeks with shock
-Superseded by pallid chagrin
I fumble to bail,
Pants entrenched around my ankles
Premeditative,
Of absent-mind, in haste
Prime directive a method of escape
Evasion failing
Detection:
Imminent
Reflecting a grim lack of circumspection,
accursed **********
Trying to conceal my turgid ********
Her father particularly beyond reason
And not fond of my indecency for his daughter
Proceeds pummeling me to death with my beloved binoculars
Devoid of clairvoyance;
I am coincidentally sent
outward toward oblivion
Bon voyage through the portal
Falling facefirst into an abysmal wormhole
Its then I voyaged backward through time
To the moment of Creation
And witnessed the universe
**** itself from naught to existence
Spewing forth such cataclysmic splendor
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
A Letter To My Aunt Discussing The Correct Approach To Modern Poetry
To you, my aunt, who would explore
The literary Chankley Bore,
The paths are hard, for you are not
A literary Hottentot
But just a kind and cultured dame
Who knows not Eliot (to her shame).
Fie on you, aunt, that you should see
No genius in David G.,
No elemental form and sound
In T.S.E. and Ezra Pound.
Fie on you, aunt! I'll show you how
To elevate your middle brow,
And how to scale and see the sights
From modernist Parnassian heights.
First buy a hat, no Paris model
But one the Swiss wear when they yodel,
A bowler thing with one or two
Feathers to conceal the view;
And then in sandals walk the street
(All modern painters use their feet
For painting, on their canvas strips,
Their wives or mothers, minus hips).
Perhaps it would be best if you
Created something very new,
A ***** novel done in Erse
Or written backwards in Welsh verse,
Or paintings on the backs of vests,
Or Sanskrit psalms on lepers' chests.
But if this proved imposs-i-ble
Perhaps it would be just as well,
For you could then write what you please,
And modern verse is done with ease.
Do not forget that 'limpet' rhymes
With 'strumpet' in these troubled times,
And commas are the worst of crimes;
Few understand the works of Cummings,
And few James Joyce's mental slummings,
And few young Auden's coded chatter;
But then it is the few that matter.
Never be lucid, never state,
If you would be regarded great,
The simplest thought or sentiment,
(For thought, we know, is decadent);
Never omit such vital words
As belly, genitals and -----,
For these are things that play a part
(And what a part) in all good art.
Remember this: each rose is wormy,
And every lovely woman's germy;
Remember this: that love depends
On how the Gallic letter bends;
Remember, too, that life is hell
And even heaven has a smell
Of putrefying angels who
Make deadly whoopee in the blue.
These things remembered, what can stop
A poet going to the top?
A final word: before you start
The convulsions of your art,
Remove your brains, take out your heart;
Minus these curses, you can be
A genius like David G.
Take courage, aunt, and send your stuff
To Geoffrey Grigson with my luff,
And may I yet live to admire
How well your poems light the fire.
6.5k
I want you in your purest form
celebrate your freedom, Goddess
because
what's the perfect gift, if its never been unwrapped?
maintaining my composure
only to align my truths with your contour
see, I prefer you **** and clothed at the same time
Bare it all to me
without removing a single article of clothing
reveal to me
those beautiful scars
that you got centuries ago
although
they never fully healed at all
Guide me to those beauty marks in the most unseen places
until now
I Imagine myself
carefully kissing careless bruises
left by shameless past lovers
Be real **** for me
no where to hide secrets when you're completely naked
There is a canvas between your thighs
it brings out the artist in me
and the art of your naked soul attracts me
to want to know more
Sentiments of what you've learn to conceal
from others
you show to me
transparency in your bareness
as you impose
fearlessly
carelessly
freely
fluently
in your 'NUDITY'
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 1:45 AM UTC
My humanity's in jeopardy every single day
Do I have the right clothes?
Do I have the right nose?
Did I say what I should say?
I'm constantly worried and in such a hurry
Did I make my own meal?
Did I work or did I steal?
Should I open up or conceal?
I'm always tired from pent up desire
I'm listening to the hum
From the people and their guns
Trying to ruin all my fun
I'm being told that love won't grow old
But it's stifled and stopped
These floating heads talk
About it around the clock
I'm just weary from always being cheery
I want to be alone
Not chained to a phone
Or hearing the public groan
If I'm 21 now then I'm too dumb anyhow
To fall in love or work
I'm just a coffee clerk
Spit on my college shirt
My self-worth isn't tied to this earth
It's tied to a wire
That leaves cities on fire
I can't get any higher
I feel like a little boy playing with little toys
Why do I have a voice,
If I don't have a choice?
Am I just radioactive noise?
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
The hair is almost normalized,
The hands we hardly notice,
Real news is, with my ensemble,
A red tie splashes well.
I bear your false witness,
The hookers and the lies,
I'd get the heebie-jeebies,
If I ****** with the FBI.
But the skin, the skin,
What color's that,
That hides the blackness found within.
That wraps a frame that wracks the sane,
And covers a skull with dubious brains.
It conceals the bloated air,
From lungs to lips,
From bowels to his finger tips.
It doesn't matter how his fits,
It can't conceal he's full of ****
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC