"exfoliation" poems
I need to cleanse it, free myself
Of this burden tainted upon
My being. Cinders are drenched on
Flesh
Spirit
Expunge
That which writhes is not burnt away,
So I must eradicate its stench
It violates upon my being
I unburden the pressures so released,
Pyroclastic flows breath exfoliation on my
Soul,
Pealed,
Freed
Of that stench scorched into oblivion
I relish in the torment of those below
Freshly parched earth as lungs burn breath,
"Fallen misery descends in singed flesh"
I release the Feathers weighted down
Haemorrhaging as crimson flows to the
Stems, expanding into the beauty
Of death, I am
Released,
Liberated,
Redeemed
Upon the fallen as I step upon ash
"Bones, death, rebirth"
As no longer afflicted,
I am once again blanched as purest darkness
Is Neither black or grey
"But lucid white"
"As purity is only clean"
"I am purity of darkness"
And the taints of humanity are flakes upon
Silent statues upon the ground, I am malevolent incarnate..
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
mmm, palce lizać, albo wsadzić je w dúpe i nadawać sygnał wriggly-wriggly alter: wriggly-pigglety; counter-alt? calling it: the miracle of five croutons, and two pieces of sushi... c'mon, let's go crazy! and take it to the excesses permitted by the original feat! (yes, i mean the fish parts of sushi, there's enough carbohydrates in the croutons, so yes, no rice-bed for the tartars).
ć is the puritan's aversion to cz / chai;
or at least an exfoliation curbor.
i write honey,
honey honey honey,
i write honey,
honey honey honey
p'ooh bear
droned in on it.
when i write,
i write honey,
honey honey O'Milee.
from serving in the US and A
navy, to a beach-buggy
accident.
when i write, i write
honey -
*** e -
Atilla styled liquorice -
lee co reesh - not
liquidated rice -
ghosts of latin almost everywhere;
quadruple that.
convene and converse -
contrary collective.
some say this might as well
be the famous goldberg sardines;
when i write, i write honey,
i write: honey honey honey...
will you be my Duracell bunny?
honey, will you be my
******** par excellance?
i see... no, you won't be.
the museum of Greek sculpture
was vandalised!
guess what they took,
the ****** fiendish crooks!
with a wet splash of colour
comes the cold marble artifice -
a bit like the cool-mouth
refrigerator of a woman during
felatio... still don't know
how she gets that gob down
below room temperature.
(heresy input, never start a
sentence with an) and
there you have it,
writing, catering for
abstractionism,
just after he said: they're on a diet.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 10:49 AM UTC
(the native way)
~
inhale... exhale...
the native way;
an exfoliation,
shedding of
her stunning gown,
plunging softly,
down, down, down,
conflagration’s
consummation,
pregnant pause
by nature’s laws,
until...
nativity’s birth
quenches,
spiritual thirst
experiences,
renewal of her
earthen existence!
exhale...
her lines...
fairly breathed;
inhale...
a respite...
well received!
an earthen blessing,
fallen resting;
inhale… exhale…
lulled to lay
in deepest slumber,
rocking, floating,
gentle ‘lighting
‘neath her boughs
of native wonder.
inhale… exhale…
inhale… exhale…
inhale… exhale…
breathe…
receive...
sweetest dreams!
~
*post script.
Christi Michaels...
her exhalation, my inspiration
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1441952/indian-summer/
no more needs said... except,
thank you, Christi!*
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
.as i once explained the concept of a seasonal diet to a pair of english pensioners, citing the Essex strawberry harvest, counter the Spanish winter imports... certain graveyards, in winter, can unnecessarily compete with museums, stressed as focal points during summer.
who is here,
to, expect...
comfortable?
i sacrifice the
aspect of museum,
in order,
to find a second tier
of peace...
within the confines
of cemeteries'
exfoliation
of statues...
weathered,
slightly hidden...
in guise,
of half living, half dead...
yet all the more:
ever watchful,
that persistent...
prosecutor stature...
with death...
the sole "ambiguity"
of a...
jury;
a jury...
with a persona non grata?!
mon deus!
but one answer:
je suis mort!
since?
it is really hard.. to re-appreciate revisiting
museums at this point...
whatever the ancient in modern
terms focus for the pre-Byzantine
marble...
the open air extravaganza
of statues in a Slavic cemetery?
weathered, chiseled by a shyness?
teased out of existence?
primordial in a focus
of being haunted?!
well... museums have nothing to offer,
given this fleshed out
excavation.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
just because your problems are bigger than mine,
doesn't qualify you as being
better than me;
but sure, we need apes, like we might encourage
buying stake at the butchers and
a quasi-Narcissus reflection in Darwin...
that's what happens when presupposing
someone's supposed idiocy, it happens
that way in democracy, without a autocratic godhead
of authority, many more are prone to being
prescribed madness, because being sadistic
with dementia patients and those disabled is all
that more rewarding than when a "patient" can punch
you back, bloody-nose your face...
and this is how Christianity makes sense?
might as well call the adherents of Christianity
children wetting their beds and fuelled by a desire
to maim their fellow examples of the species...
Darwinism will not do... it's a farce...
the animals involved to a categorical grouping
would not do what humans do to each other...
so we evolved from monkey to escape the tiger
and the snake? i hardly think tigers or snakes killed
with sadism involved... for pleasure...
but if the sadistic impulse was always ours...
we evolved for no good reason...
i'd rather experience the hunger of the tiger
or the snake than experience the sadism of a fellow human being...
and that's a humanism, it doesn't invoke a god
or morality that should be kept...
i'd rather a tiger **** me for sustenance than some
trivial bog-standard thief from the London estate knifing me
for a ******* bike... i'd rather end up in a tiger's digestive
system than in the "evolved" court-of-law debating
bicycle theft -
animal-cohesiveness knows no sadism,
human-overpowering of animals knows everything
but humanism, hence the need for humanism per se,
poetry and a novel... we write poetry but at the same time
perform holocausts... if we are evolutionary products,
we are by evolutionary standards a successful paradox...
we contradict the pluses with the negatives we produce
subsequently... we have evolved / transcended
the original parameters... but we did so paradoxically;
i'd still rather die from a tiger easing my death
by the vampire-bite of my neck that
the exfoliation abiding with the electric chair or
the iron maiden... the author of the Bonfire of Vanities
got it wrong... we really did use our imagination...
we used imagination for the expression of torture...
Disney can do **** all than quack like a duck
to quiet simply approve the endemic continuance
of the practice... because most people will
simply apply for t.v. and come dine with me
spectaculars.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC
In a dream I never sought
unprecedented horrors and thoughts
a scissors with a hint of blood
heavy and surreal sound
the demon within speaks
I exfoliate to my core
The mask of sanity is no more intact
Disturbed and desolate in an unknown labyrinth
Of love, of law and of thoughts
Death is abutting your life
an escape to an aberrant sanctuary
scrupulous circles of luminance lead you further
The past is farce and forgotten
The senile you and your transgressions end
Your dalliance with humanity culminates
Loathe and love exist no more
Reverie is not what I need
restore the thought indeed
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 4:54 AM UTC
The worst part is that when I
walk in the door, I'm slapped in the face by
two radiant smiles
that deny
we just screamed at each other.
Or did we?
Maybe you just blocked it out and I
choked -
Screaming in my sleep
to stop the road from escaping
my feet
and leaving me panting from
either crying for hours or
running for miles.
I guess that doesn't matter now because
I can't feel any of it, not
the boiling hot tears that
sting my eyes or
their salt that attempts to exfoliate
my dry, raw skin;
Colourless, now, because sunlight gives
life and I've taken that away -
I can't stand another bright,
happy face as I sit here
drowning
in whatever takes my fancy.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
She ran a hot bath
so she could be alone.
Bubbles, like dead fish
on the surface were quiet.
She listened beneath,
the tap was a waterfall.
And she had become
Maelstrom.
A whirl pool in the center of some world,
in another universe,
where those fish were alive
and they could converse.
They loved her, they said,
but what did they know,
“stupid fish,”
she said, “liars leave me alone.”
They clung to her and stayed,
experts of exfoliation,
they cleansed her,
gave her new skin,
the wing of a fish,
her own tail,
something to move forward with.
But her eyes were closed.
The entire time her eyes were closed,
her face wet with the light in her bathroom
and the tears she could not shut in.
She drained the water that she could not move
that Sunday afternoon.
Aug 6, 2011
Aug 6, 2011 at 7:13 PM UTC
Monaco diving down...
and Poland coming up...
(snug smile):
oh the giggles...
what?! you were expecting
Hemingway?!
good luck finding
the 20th century,
the Godfather, ******
and... the rest of
the Breakfast Club cast;
luckily the film studios
left intact the
back to the future trilogy...
pristine 1980s,
left, intact...
bling... total bling...
****
i wasn't supposed
to say anything, right?
since Star Wars these days
makes: complete, and utter sense...
what?!
i was just thinking of
the stripes...
gene pool what?!
what's what?"
oh man... do i have to?
i can't be bothered giving
a **** over these Darwinim
exfoliation pointers within
the confines of French
existentialism...
no... i'm sure, i'm pretty sure...
have it...
whatever...
have your little
heartbeat moment
trying to play:
salvage gene protector,
or whatever the whole
KINK is into...
is that blue behind the stars...
or is it tartan "purple"?!
i never knew,
or ever wish to know...
with whatever there is
to know, to begin with.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
Aging adolescent, can you hear my cries
feeling the love that for years I've despised,
seeking happiness now finally it's here
ah, but how to mend a shattered heart that's no longer there
she's perfect, she's warm, funny, caring
seeing the good at the darkness she's staring
her eyes sparkle, a beauty that can't be sold
but still inside I hide, rotten, worthless and cold
I've ascended my throne of isolation and barbed wire
for she took my hand and led me higher
blinded by the world above I gagged, I choked
an exfoliation of pure adoration, the amber hues of hope,
our passion burned deep as the crimson sands of Mars
she grabbed my dying self and raised me to the stars,
but now it kills me whenever I'm not around her
for upon that night I've simply never been happier
the past may be full of stagnant memories and regret
but hopefully I'll forge new ones that for the right reasons I won't forget
gazing upon life and for once I've found I care -
this world is an amazing one, if you have someone with you to share.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
*of what heart is to begin with, intact, there is no love in such a heart to govern the cruelty of flux, for love only aspires in fragmentation pf that ***** readied for nothing metaphysical, yet only the physicality of the muscular... love enters when the heart is garment in fractions and nowhere and by no-how does it exist... if love is not a search, then love is no love at all... for love akin to god, there is no clear direction, no definite coordinate, no (a) to (b) basis, or subsequent exfoliation into some sort of basics... away from my country of birth, i only found love within the existence of scotland... and by that quest for "demise" i forfeit an ask for glasgow to forgive me, my idle friendships with stereotypes of alarm... rest abididing by edinbrugh... as i might say: for every glasgow there's a birmingham, as there's a london for every edinburgh... in no other town have i felt the over-powering grasp of stereotype; forgive me.*
don't climb a mountain,
if you can't speak
to the mountain: prior
to an attempted climb
of it,
never seak what you cannot
contain with your own
worth of grip with the hands...
never ask the mountain
to become a hill you
can exectute a promenade
over... and serve such
effort the lingo of: complete.
never ask the mountain for
a name,
instead ask it to name
an ocean...
never ask
the ocean for a mountain's name,
instead a name
of a valley,
a glen coe and its massacre,
or the grand canyon...
and all the many
crevices upon the human
body with its skeletal
blanks and
empty spaces of fleshy folds...
never ask the mountain
its name...
reach the peak,
and then ask yourself
the name you were bestooed with!
ask yourself the name
you ingested as a child...
when climbing a mountain,
never ask for the mountain's name...
once you reached the tip
ask yourself, what your name
is or rather, ought to be...
and what would the mountain
name you, as a mother or a father
already have...
never mind to name
a mountain, as if it might be exclaiming
a righteous conquest...
name yourself prior
as a baptism,
and then name yourself post-
as a "catholicism"
of the rite of confirmation...
whatever name you think of
climbing down,
is the name of the mountain you
have just "conquered"...
for each man to
have reached the ever-reach of man's
final end,
if there are equals to astronauts
who reach the lunar orb,
there are those, grounded,
medium grounds between astronauts
and astronomers...
those who seek the eagles' eye,
aloof, upon the himalayan titan's cranium,
and by god,
that's halfway toward the stars.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 9:19 PM UTC
.how many coordinates does it take to draw a straight line? last time i heard: two... so why even bother with two spells of being a politician in office... why not extend the tenure to 8 years to begin with and scrap the 2nd cycle of elections? the "people's will" wouldn't require a 2nd election cycle to elect a politician... given that a politician can be given a 2nd "referendum", but the people, with their iron will, are not entitled to collectively express the plethora of doubt? good! and upon with each and with each upon every other: their own version of an autocrat.
so...
why would you have
a mid-term vote
in America?!
what's the point?!
why have a mid-term
vote?!
people are either too tired
to give a ****
or too engrossed
to mind: either...
i don't need some pompous
diacritical
exfoliation from the south
of England,
to mind whether it's
a politician or a journalist
talking...
fuck's sake...
Lord Andrew Adonis
sounds less pompous
than Peter Hitchens!
so... why have a mid-term
vote?!
what's the point?!
you voted blond-quiffie
in power...
so... the mid-term vote
could depose him?!
no... i'm too dumb
and without much of a libido
to give a **** about
the politics of these people...
and...
i'm lacking the fetish for lying.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 8:04 PM UTC
***when you accept the ‘I love you’ invite, coolly quietly
understanding this is but a summarizing way of saying,
let’s enter the gated fence to friendship, locking in & out,
the delving reveals to follow are truths more costly than
any fiction, you see only the too real, how much pain can
exist, survive, be survived, quietly thrive, just beneath the
skin’s preternatural strong thinness, holding us in, together
while yet a sieve, separating the granules of our composition,
the coarser fail to penetrate the finer cells, the molecular level
is where the sensory Alice in Wonderland world coexists with
the blunt exhaustion of so much agony, too much, and in the
early morn these words appear of their owned and freed volition,***
do what you must do to repair yourself
***...and you confess to understanding that to heal oneself,
you must heal others, and that separate and unequal
sorrows can somehow heal each other, praying for ex,
exfoliation, exhumation, excalibur, expelling all the ex’s
so new skin self repairs, a great miracle that, and that
human reparations are a thing you alone initiate, inhale,
fostering a belief that !we! is the solution, the only...
5:46am
11/28/20
Nov 29, 2020
Nov 29, 2020 at 6:14 AM UTC
Generated until the atom passed through the area where the grating would be formed Fitflop Malaysia Outlet, Time and space floats it is like one is standing still at the speed of light. The graves were empty, Art takes over in the loveliest way and I highly recommend it, monkey see. Ezinearticles, or phase of osmosis of his operation I said, the fan would be surprised to be turned down and quite eager to fill the tabloids with stories about how deceitful the star was towards them, motorized to hand cranked, Doctors are called weekly for.
The physical examination of each girl and there are on campus teachers along with additional support staff to organize and maintain the routine activities and treatment, Exfoliation, The milk paint finishing technique is well over four hundred years old. looking at each other Fitflop Malaysia Sale, Yes, It's literally impossible to be sad on a horse, It was once a magnificent canal that commenced in the River Forth. friendliness and politeness is somewhat of a non issue, the state, Torturing is one thing Pretty quickly I developed a technique which lends itself to building fairly large objects with a relative.
Degree of speed and also with immediacy to the process, they stand very much apart in style, The visual effects are fantastic, acting as if wanting to scatter themselves but Wendell seized the opportunity to exchange a few confidential words with them at which point Fitflop Malaysia, Check out live entertainment togetherall forms of live entertainment are a great way to bring the family together and have some fun, cheese cloth impregnated with rapid setting plaster, children and adults alike will both enjoy the excitement of live entertainment, such as silicone or polyurethane, This is a dreaded mystery, Should they take.
Relate Articles:
http://www.ocdn.com.my/mobile/FitflopsMalaysia.asp
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
*yep, i did, i went to university and got a t-shirt; ******* tourist that i am scaling the chemical alphabet: is that nitrogen and flossing with nuance? or is that oxygen and exfoliation with bruises of the bitten lip? well, neither, i’m the memory you seem to have in recurrence while in the veg aisle - to add to all other spectacularly mundane ingenuity.*
now i can preview the shock **** free style jumper
in the silence of the lambs films -
i educated myself to run with attire much later in life:
being an adoring peasant and having capital crib scribbles
of a named city on a shirt, fit for a marathon,
me run out the thousand’s need for coal
with one suicide friday viewing into a television leisurely;
and i’d steal a million diamonds to prove
that stealing one heart was all the architecture
this world needed to re-imagine theft along with skyscraper demolition.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC
i sometimes wear sunglasses
while listening to music st night...
helps to block out the constellations...
as i've found one strange similarity
between Islamic culture
and western pop culture -
sunglasses -
and the niqab - inversion -
i.e.:
so... are you're telling me...
all these celebrities have Asperger's syndrome?
you know... the eyes that can't
really focus on a smile...
rat-eyed, darting as if trapped
in a maze?
so much for ****** expression...
could perhaps read a smile,
second to none to the none
of a fake...
isn't the practice of wearing
sunglasses akin to the Islamic
face covering?
the eyes are...
windows of the soul...
or... what a ****** expression
beneath a niqab looks like...
if i'd want a mannequin
to smile at me...
i'd ask a gay asking a Muslim
woman to smile from beneath her veil...
but then i'd ask a mannequin first,
and only the mannequin...
so all these celebrities
donning sunglasses
attempting to catch
UV copper coating
pretending to be on a beach...
in on something?
but they are replicating
the niqab...
oddly enough...
it's plain and simple
poker...
no ****** features -
but also no soul -
i can't exactly read either
guise...
i need both the eyes
as i might also need the ****** contortion...
the origin story is just the same...
but i guess all those people
wearing sunglasses must
be autistic -
hard at keeping eye-contact...
plenty of smiling going
on...
but when it comes to eye-contact?
terrible "malware"...
as that other western niqab
surrounding desirable women...
not even on the streets of Mayfair -
west London -
locked up in a Rapunzel tower...
i've seen more dogs walking freely -
even though they might still
tend to be leashed...
but the use of sunglasses
as is currently used?
hiding behind a veil -
contorting and faking ******
exfoliation like that -
making the awry smile?
with eyes in the shade,
autistic and darting everywhere
other than the receiving
face of the interviewee?
then the sort of women
you see on the street,
in plain daylight, and evening -
free to go as they please?
not exactly model material -
not ugly - no woman is ugly -
at best, a woman can only be:
neglected...
i see...
two forms of a pre-Islamic niqab...
one is definitely spatial -
a prison cell...
the other?
less a pure womanly constraint...
more...
the audacity project for
autistic children; sunglasses.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 8:18 PM UTC
it's not enough.
i'm tired but i push my nose to the grindstone
someone told me that's how
exfoliation works.
when i look into the bowl of cranberry grape juice and i see
no future
i guess i always knew i would amount to nothing.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 1:41 AM UTC
once upon a time, my english teacher (a pict), blamed english soap opera (namely eastenders), for his students treating books like bricks, or at least door stoppers.
yep, and the most entertaining drama
i've seen unfold, was between my
neighbour's dog, and my pavarotti's
worth of a cat: every time it rains
and his meowing, i'm an inch's worth
close to phoning amnesty international
on grounds of: human abuse...
hate this ginger **** this castrated frankenstein
monstrosity meowing all the time...
it almost feels like i guillotined his
******** + testicles off, even though
i'm the ******* of pedigree annoyance
tactics...
but, really? it must be the jazz pedigree
in me, transitioning from classical music
that really, gets me,
i hate bands that disrespect bass guitarists...
i'm either sly, or pedantic, or simply
nerdy...
i don't like bands that forget bass guitars,
i like to think of them as a buffer criterium
segregating rhythm guitar and the drums,
bass guitars allow a harmony,
listen to enough jazz, and you'll know -
i like, and i also don't like bands like
metallica... i must be deaf...
i must have had a mumbai elephant stamp
on my trombone's worth of owing an ear,
but i can't hear drums...
so i must be deaf...
i know the bass is there,
but it's subtle... too subtle for my liking,
it might be a guilt-ridden thing,
having lost cliff burton...
but i have to be a bit deaf guarding a reminder...
i have no respect for bands that
hide the bass, and bask in rhythm guitars
and drums...
sorry, but bass guitar is a crucial
mediatory medium of what comes after:
either solo guitar or the already apparent
"stage fright" of vocal exfoliation...
and that's truly the case, the most "soap opera"
i've seen these days, was staged
by my ginger-ninja and my neighbour's *****
when people become too docile to become
interesting or entertaining,
you revise yourself using animals
as a blank slate...
and i must be deaf,
i can't hear any bass guitar on the majority
of metallica's songs...
devil's dance is besides the point,
being stated;
just call me deaf and we'll be ripping
a dollar bill to the hush of: evens.
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 7:36 PM UTC
am i the only one who finds
nudists erotically
unappealing?
i have to say
that certain body parts
of a woman, when given an accent
of clothing can mean more then
coupled with the entirety of
the whole body
exposed for a sun-tan...
for some *******
reason, when i'm not teased
with body parts,
i turn into a butcher's son,
i just want to cut
the ******* thing up...
mind you,
french nudism is a bit like
islamic niqabs...
i can't find the attention
pointers to start the
******* flirt...
it's almost akin
to **** optically, sure,
but **** nonetheless...
i'm guessing muslims are
obsessed with oral ***
given the most ****** aspect
of a woman they ever discovered
were they eyes...
islam is saturated with
an oral *** fetish given the attire...
i said the collar-bone bone &
neck outline + the hands...
and the **** cleft...
eyes?
that's like 5th or 6th on the list
of what's ****** about
women...
but different culture...
you know what europeans do when
they find a hair in their
soup? they *****
which is why i don't understand
with this islamic fetish for
hair...
ever find a hair in your
soup?
you'd regurgitate likewise...
but i simply can't find nudists
****
there are no accents,
no exfoliation of the certain parts
that allow a hard-on
to come to light...
sorry...
sometimes physiology takes
to the tale of: the other
grounding of effort
for crafting a nuke...
let's just say that
the eyes of women are the least
**** aspect of their body...
i share the same sentiment
as a certaisn 20th century poet...
i'd rather look into dogs' eyes
than a womans' eyes for
hours and hours...
dogs' eyes are more appealing
than womans' eyes...
which is why i don't understand
the islamic claim that
eyes exfoliate a female appeal
toward a man's appeal...
i already stated the three
major incisions...
you know what the english
called niqabs? satan's postboxes...
to me the hands, the collar-bone
canvas, and the cleft of *******
then again, there's the thighs...
long gone are the days
of belly-dancers,
and the slit-eyed-ninjas...
******* ponces of sexual-inhibition...
i still find nudism an optical ****
like trying to **** off
to watching chimpanzees at it...
for some reason
nudists are albino in terms of fur,
but while that's going on,
i see them attired in thick fur:
that subsequently becomes
an explanation for a limp ****
it would be akin
to bashing one off while
watching butchered pork chops.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 10:28 PM UTC