"dims" poems
Naked you are simple as one of your hands;
Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round.
You've moon-lines, apple pathways
Naked you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.
Naked you are blue as a night in Cuba;
You've vines and stars in your hair.
Naked you are spacious and yellow
As summer in a golden church.
Naked you are tiny as one of your nails;
Curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born
And you withdraw to the underground world.
As if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores;
Your clear light dims, gets dressed, drops its leaves,
And becomes a naked hand again.
56.2k
White folks: pack your bags and go.
Our nut-brown world is quite offended.
Make your shame-faced exit NOW,
And leave your mansions unattended.
Wait—before you pass the doors,
It's time to settle ethnic scores.
No more ragtime Minstrel Show.
Our Moorish Science took it down.
Black lives matter. White, less so—
Now move your pale face out of town . . .
But first, shell out for racial shame
Caucasian losers of the game.
Cultural pride is ours alone:
Kings and Egyptian queens we were.
The glories of our race, well-known
Bedazzle in a darkened blur
(Clear to Africa's descendants—
Puzzling to you white dependents).
Blackness lent your world its light,
Taught the Dutch to tend those flowers.
Scandinavia grew bright
Under our beneficent powers.
Negroes gave your blondes their beauty;
Helped those Norsemen shake their *****
The Seven Wonders of the world:
We built them all. No vain conjecture
Dims our banner, black, unfurled,
Above eternal architecture.
Arts and knowledge gained from us
Are what we threaten to discuss.
We invented math and science
Which you robbed from Timbuktu.
Swarthy wisdom's brave defiance
Caused Old Europe to renew.
All our treasure that you plundered
Testifies: your days are numbered.
Classics of our Greeks you stole:
Philosophy was never yours.
Shame upon your racist soul;
For Bach and Mozart both were Moors.
Misappropriated treasures
call for ruthless hard-line measures.
Latino fate falls next—but, where ?
Jews, Turks, and Arabs: are you. . . white ?
Orientals everywhere:
Choose your side and join the fight.
Blackness rising! Late the hour;
Heed your call to fight the power.
Crackers need to check your race—
Stop rooting for that ****** clown.
Rednecks all up in our face;
Racist throwbacks got us down.
But as your statues bite the dust
Your light goes dark (you know it must).
So move on out, oppressor, thief.
Long have you held our nation back.
In some white galaxy seek relief—
But here the light itself is black.
Stars are racist. So is the sun.
Now let God's great black will be done.
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
*The chill in the frigid night air
casts tremors of lingering shadows
upon an ancient windowsill
where a liquescent candle’s glow dims.
Peering into shattered mirrors’
silver hued jagged edges
that no longer reflect counterfeit images
a nascent paradigm unfurls in the wind.
Terrifying diminutive steps are taken
in directions au courant
enabled by years of refinement
in torrid near incessant fires.
An excrescence of wisdom
has broken the weathered mold
allowing a senescent wisdom
to shimmer a phosphorescent glow.
The venerable map leading
to this transcendent destination
is not read but perceived
through intuition’s faint whisperings.
©2015 janetaylor
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 5:50 PM UTC
Naked, you are simple as one of your hands,
smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round:
you have moon-lines, apple-pathways:
naked, you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.
Naked, you are blue as a night in Cuba;
you have vines and stars in your hair;
naked you are spacious and yellow
as summer in a golden church.
Naked, you are tiny as one of your nails -
curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born
and you withdraw to the underground world,
as if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores:
your clear light dims, gets dressed - drops its leaves -
and becomes a naked hand again.
12k
my brother learned life
in a rough way,
monday bloomed
red on his cheek
while friday left
bluish bruises for him.
i don't know about his pride,
but i see light in his eyes
dims and fades.
said, he never cries,
but he always lies.
my brother learned life
in a hard way.
he now suffers
addiction,
in a room with his console
to consume, then waste his times
wins nothing —— loses everything.
my brother is on the brink of despair,
he loves to stand off the cliff
as i watch him slowly walks away
said, he would not tries
to jump off
but i'm afraid,
he always lies.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 10:34 AM UTC
PLEDGE TO NIGERIA
By: Adigun Temitope Idealism
From between heaven and earth stand a perilous place
Where poverty kicked us on face
Tears stand as our drinks
Where hunger eat up our meals
Our pain is a poisonous laughter
Where sadness becomes our daily activities
Where hardship becomes our ambition
And sorrow our career
Still, we need to pledge to Nigeria
Blood, bone and oil,
Are the pedestal of earth
Where killing is a lifestyle
And ****** a hobby
Where humiliation becomes our take home
And misfortune our store-house
Where graduate works by the road-side
Where poverty is titillating and titivating before the mirror of our land
Yet we need to pledge to Nigeria
Pledge to Nigeria
Even when the birds refuses to sing,
When moon dims its light,
When our days turn into nights
When sun fails to shine
And flowers refuse to bloom
When life fails to give reasons
When dreams refuse to forgive
When the weep inside birth the smile outside
When tears wash hope from our sight
Nigeria must still be pledge to
I pledge to Nigeria
Not to be one if the ambassadors that sing the National Anthem with a teleprompter smiling at them in a shameful tears
I pledge not to be a naked masquerade dancing at the village square
I pledge to steal government money for the poor when I become the President
I pledge to be loyal and not betrayal
I pledge to fight off vices and calamities with my pen
If democracy must to end
I pledge to go crazy to stop it to the end
If civilization was to make us stupid
I pledge to swim in stupidity not to be civilised
I pledge, I pledge
©2015 Adigun Temitope Idealism (Deacon)
#Muse #PurposefulPoetry #BPM #IIB #Asaplanet #ThoughtAndSociety #Poetfreak
blackpridemagazin.simplesite.com
@blackpridemag1
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 3:11 AM UTC
Rising like smoke from the eternal spring
Approaching with rose petals at her feet
Angel of hope sheds light on everything
Whenever life is bitter more than sweet
Within our secret gardens of desire
Fountains of sparkling passion locked away
Therein lies hope, forever to inspire
lest optimism ever goes astray
Age sometimes dims the dancing flame of hope
And drudgery weakens vitality
Darkness and sorrow sometimes interlope
Between us and our dearest fantasy
Yet human spirit finds a way to cope
As long as we find inroads back to hope.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 10:42 PM UTC
I so hate that monster
That monster that takes your breath
I so hate that monster
That monster that eats away at your spirit
I so hate that monster
That monster that steals your time away
I so hate that monster
That monster that tries to take you from me
I so hate that monster
That monster that dims your bright light
I so hate that monster
That monster that has hi-jacked your health
I so hate that monster
That monster that is always lurking in the shadows
I so hate that monster
That monster that will not win this battle!!!
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 4:13 PM UTC
The fading state lines spells memories,
as the rain comes down,
a clutch of fallen gratitude
may possibly release the pain.
Spent embraces dissolve
those hard shouldered highways.
Let your tumblers of Tennessee cry resolution,
as the doe eyed Gypsy Inn
dims low,
receding as this one night stand.
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 8:29 AM UTC
If any duck in any brook,
Fluttering the water
For your crumb,
Seemed the helpless daughter
Of a mother
Regretful that she bore her;
Or of another,
Barren, and longing for her;
What of the dove,
Or thrush, or any singing mysteries?
What of the trees
And intonations of the trees?
What of the night
That lights and dims the stars?
Do you know, Hans Christian,
Now that you see the night?
4.3k
You look at me.
I look at you.
The heat rises.
Arousal is overpowering.
The nausea begins.
You ask, ‘Shall we?’
And, I blush, wondering if eternity will come together at least this time;
Going against my celibacy of a year,
Bowing to the blushing nausea of the routine arousal of a forgotten yesterday,
Awkwardly I crawl on the bed, sliding closer to you.
I sit on your lap.
I feel your hard on in between my thighs.
I rhythmically move with closed eyes.
Blushing, I open my eyes to look at your long black curls.
I cup your long brown beard in my moist palms
My eyes meet yours and they stutter, scatter and flutter.
Blushing, with halp open eyes and wide open *****
I ****** my jumpsuit harder on your hard-on.
Your hands wary over my ***** and I clench my fist slowly over your manhood.
Suddenly, I become faster than you.
I kiss you madly, rub your beard over my tender cheeks and almost bruised lips.
You pause.
I don’t see you no more.
I heat up.
I remember kissing your manhood, loving it, eating it and nibbling it for what seemed to be forever,
Until I choked.
Paused.
The clothes are gone.
And you pulled me by my hair.
Bent my waist before I could grasp a glance of your rugged beard,
Of your sour kiss,
And, then it was just thrusts. And thrusts. And Thrusts.
And a million more thrusts.
After an eternity of an endless void,
It pulsated inside.
I felt a mild tingle.
Nothing much.
Nothing heavy.
Nothing shivering, to me.
To you as well.
It seemed strange.
And then you were out.
And then you were gone.
I dripped.
I dried.
I spilled.
And, I oathed that I will be celibate for the rest of my life,
Again.
Because you grow upper, and upper,
You forgot to make love.
You forgot to kiss me.
You forgot to look into my eyes.
You forgot to caress my hips.
You forgot to clench your nails into my neck
Because the ground does not move anymore.
To let me see the passion in your eyes when you're inside me,
Because there is no more passion left of this copulation.
This coitus is a blank frustration and none more.
It is just a routine now.
It will just be a routine again.
I swallow the pink-butterfly pill.
And I know, that this nausea
This arousal
Will enslave me the next time as well.
And next time too,
It will never be the same as I moan in my solitary void,
Feeling the tingle in my crotch,
Awaiting a warmth,
Tingles, and all the other fantasies.
I will just stand, stare, hope and die without the holy tingle,
And you will too.
We are just jaded, and Jade till it all dims to an oblivion of a momentary jade.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
Give all to love;
Obey thy heart;
Friends, kindred, days,
Estate, good fame,
Plans, credit, and the muse;
Nothing refuse.
'Tis a brave master,
Let it have scope,
Follow it utterly,
Hope beyond hope;
High and more high,
It dives into noon,
With wing unspent,
Untold intent;
But 'tis a god,
Knows its own path,
And the outlets of the sky.
'Tis not for the mean,
It requireth courage stout,
Souls above doubt,
Valor unbending;
Such 'twill reward,
They shall return
More than they were,
And ever ascending.
Leave all for love;—
Yet, hear me, yet,
One word more thy heart behoved,
One pulse more of firm endeavor,
Keep thee to-day,
To-morrow, for ever,
Free as an Arab
Of thy beloved.
Cling with life to the maid;
But when the surprise,
Vague shadow of surmise,
Flits across her ***** young
Of a joy apart from thee,
Free be she, fancy-free,
Do not thou detain a hem,
Nor the palest rose she flung
From her summer diadem.
Though thou loved her as thyself,
As a self of purer clay,
Tho' her parting dims the day,
Stealing grace from all alive,
Heartily know,
When half-gods go,
The gods arrive.
4.2k
I’ve forgotten
to be anything but
space—so enraptured
with the black that
the forest was
less than a goose pimple
on earth’s flesh.
I have ignored the
eighth notes
hanging from the pines.
I have forgotten
the snowbirds and whipped
winds.
I have numbed the needles
pocking skin through
my jeans.
I have forgotten green.
I have forgotten green.
I have forgotten green.
now
the light of frozen
flies dims
in your mouth.
now
love washes out
in seasons.
now I eat
sugar-frosted buckthorn.
And I see you
ready to touch
through one
hundred leaves
and foliage.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 12:53 PM UTC
Our houses, spitting-distance close
Feet propped on railing
cold beer with fresh lime
watching robins flung in flocks
to the failing of August
Too close-- Really?
John, on his cell
is fu_king the world again
from his garage
Why not-- squeeze in pool or a dog
Lawn mowers and **** whips tune in to whine
late Friday afternoon 'bout dinner time
Clinking silver, scrapes of plates
Running water for suds
through open windows to the thunk of pots
Doors bang behind on pathway to garbage
or joint in the woods
wafting over all
wordless squeals of delight from autistic child
Meanwhile, the odor of nail polish removes
all doubts of--
--Gawd!
lodging low and toxic
as the sun dissolves orange
in its acetone setting
Kids playing Man Hunt as darkness falls
Leaping hedges, slamming gates
No yards can contain these kinetics
restless legs, furtive minds
Muttering wind chimes
from four different porches
above the drone of highway
a half mile yawns
Pieces of talk
flipping the crickets
over--
Why or who or at what time?
Other-worldly glow from The Mall
dims stars
outlines mountains
brightens the horizon behind
Mosquitoes coming in for a landing
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 5:20 PM UTC
Somehow, unbefuddled, it all ties together,
The happy endings get tied, knots well made,
Sleep comes easy, the light dims slowly, finely,
Clarity, everywhere, not for taking, just for asking,
Wanting is off limits, even inconceivable, and the poem.
Why, even the poem finishes itself, and to all a very, Good Night
a grownup lullaby
Jul 21, 2025
Jul 21, 2025 at 8:54 PM UTC
Darling, the night is dark yet I can see you so clearly.
I swear it's the starlight in the eyes of the girl I hold so dearly.
It's just so unfair that I can't look away, your gaze has me under your spell.
How do you do it? I'd love to know how you do it so well.
The night has just begun and I've only started to woo, but it seems you've turned the tables round since I can't take my eyes off of you.
It must be some sort of witchcraft since I've never been so quick to fall.
Your voice is that of angels and I can't help but heed the call.
With every whisper my heart flutters and I'm the slave of your whims.
The room has an aroma of roses and the once bright light dims.
The night has halfway through and I'm at a loss of what to do, I'm enthralled by your visages as you can tell since I can't take my eyes off of you.
The time for dance is over, but the morning has yet to arrive.
And I'd like to take you home while we both feel so alive.
Your energy and your charms have taken their effect, I just can't resist.
Even if it take's till morning I promise one way or another you have to be kissed.
The night is almost over and surprised you came out of the blue, you've cursed me with love and now I can't take my eyes off of you.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS
(DEEPAVALI)*
May countless lights
Show delightful sights.
May there be no threat of violence,
No clouds of smoke,
No smell of sulphur,
No sound of gunfire,
No scenes of ruined homes,
No sorrow that dims the light
In anyone's eyes,
May the light of knowledge and wisdom
Illumine the path to happiness.
May the light of joy and love
Sparkle in everyone's eyes
In every humble home.
May our fervent prayer
Lead mankind from darkness to Light.
May all nations together strive
To pave the way to harmony and peace.
*********M.G.Narasimha Murthy
Hyderabad, India. mgnmurthy4@gmail. com.
* Festival of Lights, 'DEEPAVALI' is celebrated all over India
on 11 November 2015
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC
The wind whipped around my face,
Blowing your hair into your eyes.
The corner of your mouth curved
Into a slight smile as I grasp your hand.
Lush pine trees bow down torwards us,
As if intensely interested
In how this single moment will happen.
I tenderly take hold of your hand,
Looking into your eyes.
The world dims around me
As my fingers are intertwined with yours.
I can feel the blood flowing in you
As the world slows down.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 8:22 PM UTC
Fade to scene--pallet: blue and green--wide shot; mood: serene.
Establish view; a stock or few; pan right to view a distant two.
A hazy rim; we cut to HIM--so clean and prim--just as we hear the hymn...
A tear rolls down his chin. The brightness dims; music shifts to grim.
Cue the screams; cut the scene.
We're back in the now and the mood is mean.
HE'S back in a view--pallet: black and blue--the shot askew.
The mood's muted; sounds of shooting. Cue dialog:
"Look what you did..."
Camera jerks; extreme closeup: a smirk; let the ANTAGONIST work.
The wire crew's here. HERO sheds a tear. Signal stuntman on the tier.
Orchestra on my mark...
Deliver line then cut to dark.
Light's back to reality. The view won't change, you see.
There's no crew or doubles. Just a wide sea of troubles.
No second shots; no calling "CUT"; it's all open-shut.
It's not like a filmmaker's lens; it's not just pretend.
Let me script this out what you're all about:
An overconfident lout, but backlit with doubt.
All part of a cast, direct you like I did the last.
I see that you're furious, but you're hardly fast.
Now I'll produce the fear as the shoot draws near--
I've got the schedule set; we're not finished here!--
You're calling "cut," but I'm just cutting you more,
And then I'll edit you out on the cutting room floor.
I appreciate that you feel you've come so far,
But never forget this is MY movie, and I'm the STAR!
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
Their winter shadows, shrouded
Frozen freak statues
Part milk; a ****** virtual vision void
Snow Queen--bone fiend
My mother is beautiful
Her skin like blue wax
And grey ash
She sings a deep sleep
Singing though an aching forest
It's a riddle, you know
O, with my mind blanking out
So cold...sunlight dims
My bare limbs...I white out
....air so still...
Am
I
dead?
A museum relic laid open, pinned down
Eternity is a real thing
And Mother is a snow fiend.
The powdered white dream of me--
Somewhere, there is a tree crying
It's overgrown with crystal
(and frozen things shatter)
True time surges in:
A storm mauling everything
True time purges it--
All chaos, all icy knives
And wind-driven mist
Demon kissed paradise
My body is salted with pain
My body bathed in acid rain
Naked
Trembling
Cold stone
All alone
I am the woman of the iron lake
I awake, raw under a bitter sky
The moon is a still life tonight
Caught in an iron tree
Like a pearl of jealousy
Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 5:04 PM UTC
The light dims, the night darkens
Hardly anyone's on the streets now
We are sitting back, our bellies full
Barely a thing left to talk about
A comfortable silence forbids our
Tongues from wagging with their
Usual tenacity. Your eyelids droop
With sleep. The stars and moon can
Be seen 'cause only the street lights
Are on. The music is the only
Decipherable sound in our vicinity.
We'd get up to say our goodbyes
But we're too comfortable to even
Think about moving. The glowing embers
remain. The fire died a long time ago.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 2:34 PM UTC
For years I’ve wondered as I wept,
What’s the use of things I’ve kept?
Dusty, broken, put away,
Is there a reason for the things I’ve saved?
Moments pass when I dance alone,
Thinking about the things I know,
Leaping bounds beyond my feet,
Is there a reason my heart still beats?
Sailing by the current's way,
Listless memories begin to fray,
But I turn my head in a righteous rage,
And watch the ashes turn to flame.
Harvest fruits of this tree,
Can no one tell what's left of me?
Living life in this endless cave,
Clawing away from the inevitable grave.
Watching a sunrise turn to dark,
I lament, have I left my mark?
Bits of life run through my hands,
Every moment a grain of sand.
Running alone for many miles,
Against this desert rain I smile,
For fresh beginnings keep me alive,
I know what's waiting when I arrive.
Oceans wash my restless limbs,
Fading out as the twilight dims,
I listen closely for one command,
In the silence, I reach for hands.
Glistening in my closing life,
A shining spark has yet to fight,
But I close my eyes and breath in peace,
Letting go for a sweet release.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 4:16 PM UTC
maybe you may or may not see me
if you think you see me anywhere,
i may soon no longer be around,
but i may be gone into the softly air;
and in the subtle shadows,
of the flutter of the coloured leaves,
you may or may not see me,
floating in the billowed branches breeze.
maybe you may or may not see me,
this insight i shall never know,
for my life, i feel now dims to darkness,
trembling like a tiny, weakened flaming glow;
and within these dwindling hours here,
you may see me, or this may not be so,
for i am not sure if i was really there,
but, i know that shortly i must go...
________
soon me:
http://beautyineverything.com/4974900160
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 10:45 AM UTC
She shuffles and scuttles quickly along
beating her way,
through the Christmas throng
The north wind cutting her mottled face
But shes not part of the Christmas race
For things not needed, luxurious, unwise
Her mind fixed on the price and size
Of a winter coat in that Oxfam place,
she prays its still there, she quickens her pace.
The bell dings-a-ling as she opens the door
Not feeling her legs so tird and sore
Like a long lost friend it waits on the rail
she thanks her god its still for sale.
Her hurry finished, her purchase complete
She focuses now on something to eat
To the corner shop she makes to go
happier now , her step is slow
bread and milk ,this and that
two tins of food for her little cat
Home at last her mission complete
She models her coat and warms her feet
She cuddles her cat and locks her door
She makes their tea and she cuddles him more
She dims the light her prayers are said
She thanks her god for her winter coat
that doubles as a duvet for her bed.
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 4:08 PM UTC
The bodied lilly fires in ashing haze
and from her amber embers I devolve,
into a weeping candle - churning maize;
an orb at night, alight to my absolve.
Remorse suffused with jasmine glazes woe
as moonlight trailings battle hue my grief
for left no infant child to mirror so -
my lover's petals, ceasing lines of leaf.
Nor have, I flare to scribe a marbled ode
that could so hymn or bear my love that shared
nor stone as cold as grey, be just; that owed
the flaming satin, fate had not so spared.
Then let this writ incense - her newly form
until my vigil dims; to death's reform.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 2:54 AM UTC