"eyelash" poems
Not all depressed cut,
Not all sad shed tears,
Not all strong fight,
Not all monsters roar,
Not all young are innocent.
Some just work harder to maintain a mask.
We are here,
And you have reason to fear,
We are the best liars,
We can manipulate the greatest con artist without batting an eyelash.
Watch out we are coming.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 1:15 AM UTC
"Limousine Eyelash
Oh, baby with your pretty face
Drop a tear in my wineglass
Look at those big eyes
See what you mean to me
Sweet cakes and milkshakes
I am a delusion angel
I am a fantasy parade
I want you to know what I think
Don’t want you to guess anymore
You have no idea where I came from
We have no idea where we’re going
Lodged in life
Like two branches in a river
Flowing downstream
Caught in the current
I’ll carry you, you’ll carry me
That’s how it could be
Don’t you know me?
Don’t you know me by now?"
- From 'Before Sunrise'
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:33 AM UTC
During one of my recent internet travels,
I came across a picture of a “minor”,
posing with tinted lips
and exposed *******
What got my eyes
pinned were the thousand number of likes
by virtually hooting “boys”
and comments by other group of “gentlemen”
telling her how to dress.
HUMILITY: I have been asked to repeat the word
too many times to recall what it means:
the man on the subway cat-called
and accused me of showing too much skin
but instead of fighting back, I smiled
because girls ought to be nice.
I have been taught to survive
by using my body as a swiss army knife,
and I convince myself that
there is protection in being polite.
H-U-M-I-I am forgetting the rest.
The smoke curled up from between his fingers
and he blew out toxic, blurring my vision.
I gasped and wheezed
but I held my sneeze,
I cannot slap him across his face. HUMILITY.
So, I just pretended to cough, hoping he’ll feel ashamed.
I have been trained to flutter my eyelash,
clench my jaw at a whiplash
and business school boys,
who manifest success by refusing to take “NO” for an answer.
And for every time his prying eyes
scan down by body,
as if rating my inexperienced assets on a scale of one to five,
and every time his touch trails a chill down my spine,
I wonder:
Male kindness is so alien to us; we confuse it with seduction every time.
HUMILITY: the quality of having a low view of one’s importance
but, I fail to understand
when did it become synonymous to diffidence;
there is a subtle difference between
papercuts and shattered integrity,
holding hands and chaining souls,
building houses and creating homes,
humiliation rotting down to bones and humility.
HUMILITY, have you spelled it too many times to know what it looks like?
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
maybe you didn’t feel it
when i licked myself
off of your lips.
maybe you didn’t feel it
when i traced the back of
your knees with my fingertips.
maybe you didn’t feel it
when you rolled over in the
morning and saw how well we fit.
i knew it when you
picked the eyelash off my
cheek because it felt like a kiss.
i knew it when you
took the long way home so there’d
be a few less seconds to miss.
i knew it when you
would wake up and leave me because
my heart would contort into a fist-
all so i’d never have to let you go.
but you would never know.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:56 AM UTC
my lips purse to meet you
you are like champagne
unopened
are you sweet or are you bitter
are you spoiled
are you a winner
take a beat from my heart,
it accelerates and strengthens
if you pluck an eyelash from me
I’ll remember how to cry again
— and just in case you’re wondering,
I’m still inclined to hold my own hand
guess what
I bought this cactus
‘cos I don’t have to care much for it
we both know
I can’t admit I can’t commit
to letting something bloom
but I’m hoping you won’t notice
see my green thumb,
I am caring!
but see the cactus…
I am lying…
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 7:42 AM UTC
Would you kindly
hug me tight
with your hands
around my neck?
Would you kindly spend the night
and comfort this nervous wreck?
Could you show me a smile
while you tell me that I'm trash
Could you insult my lifestyle
without even batting an eyelash
Should you care about garbage like me
your tastes must be perverted
Should I be allowed to feel this happy
honestly, I'm uncertain.
I need you to use your claws
to draw out the blood from my skin
I need you to break through the walls
I built to hide my true self within
I need you to split me open and dig inside
to grasp at my heart if you can
I need you to know the thoughts that I hide
and love the person I really am
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 4:14 AM UTC
Today an eyelash fell on my wrist,
and with my breath it sailed
on a wish.
That my heart will one day be
a little candle flame,
a faint hopeful spark,
to someone just as lost in the dark
as I am.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 7:53 PM UTC
I don't know what to say
right now.
The simplicity of this page haunts me
It's too easy
I'm used to more options
Endless confusion
Charts spotted with lines and dots and angles
and rights and wrongs and yes's and no's
Mazes with corners and rigid edges
like life is allowed to be put into boxes
like breaths and thoughts and the surface of tears
dripping like melting glass from an eyelash
are meant to be stuffed into sharpness
without the blessing of shadows
not gradual
like
the snap of electricity through an outlet
frying all the atoms in its path.
I'm cold, it's dark,
I whisper.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 3:57 PM UTC
A year has passed since I crashed my motorcycle.
The road rash had since been cast away.
The fast paced life was smashed together.
A singular bash that cached my memory.
Lights flash and whiplash has new meaning.
This thrash blinked my eyelash three days later.
Dreary forecast laid flabbergasted.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
Jade --
Stone of the side,
The antagonized
Side of green Adam, I
Smile, cross-legged,
Enigmatical,
Shifting my clarities.
So valuable!
How the sun polishes this shoulder!
And should
The moon, my
Indefatigable cousin
Rise, with her cancerous pallors,
Dragging trees --
Little bushy polyps,
Little nets,
My visibilities hide.
I gleam like a mirror.
At this facet the bridegroom arrives
Lord of the mirrors!
It is himself he guides
In among these silk
Screens, these rustling appurtenances.
I breathe, and the mouth
Veil stirs its curtain
My eye
Veil is
A concatenation of rainbows.
I am his.
Even in his
Absence, I
Revolve in my
Sheath of impossibles,
Priceless and quiet
Among these parrakeets, macaws!
O chatterers
Attendants of the eyelash!
I shall unloose
One feather, like the peacock.
Attendants of the lip!
I shall unloose
One note
Shattering
The chandelier
Of air that all day flies
Its crystals
A million ignorants.
Attendants!
Attendants!
And at his next step
I shall unloose
I shall unloose --
From the small jeweled
Doll he guards like a heart --
The lioness,
The shriek in the bath,
The cloak of holes.
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*She put on her lipstick,
combed her long blonde hair
and looked in the mirror,
from a look evolved a stare,
searching for something amiss
an eyelash, a hair.
Anything out of place
that ugliness could declare,
and what looked back,
was all her tear stained blue eyes could see
Extinct perfection,
a precious face drenched in misery.*
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
.
Ͼ Dragonite, Dragonite,Ͽ
>< >< ><
Chinking at your heartstrings,
can you hear
it
շfreezing?շ
>< >< ><
A blush to
your snowy skin
and so you
stop
⇷breathing⇸
>< >< ><
A eyelash brushes away
a century,
a blink knocks out
two more.
>< >< ><
Fetching back a inked paw,
hear me rapping (oh so knocking)
on
your
selladore? (cellar door.)
>< >< ><
Ͼ Dragonite, Dragonite Ͽ
brush the stars from your hair.
Ͼ Dragonite, Dragonite Ͽ
Words and blotches are unfair.
But then again,
scatter your inkheart, dragon boy.
.
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
I wished on a shooting star
I wished on the first star I saw in the night
I wished on an eyelash to find a true love
I wished on the candles on my birthday cake
I wished on the penny I threw in the well
I wished on a wishbone breaking it in two
I wished on a dandelion blowing seeds into the air
I wished on a ladybug to grant me good luck
I wished our love would come true
I wished you knew of my love for you
I wished that I knew… you were wishing for me too
I wished
I wished
I wished
I wished until there were no wishes left
**** Where’s that Genie when you need him?)
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 1:19 AM UTC
Something rattles in the soul.
It must be paid attention -
it is the soul, the only sure thing -
and rattled in return.
Slow begins the dance of tongues and hard news.
I learn a thing I never wished to learn.
Afterwards,
a dance of tongues in the ensuite
begins a sudden rapture of claiming.
Nails mine, skin mine
to make a pink impression on.
Bile in the back of the throat, mine.
Fear of death, mine. Oaths and oaths,
mine, too. An exchange of humility,
knee for a knee. The rigid wall at your back.
The wall at your back.
The night which enriches
bluer out of the blue air,
not the action of
the world moving at all.
The particles of water in a birdbath divide,
decide among themselves
to marry each to each, to reproduce.
They become an ocean.
They drown the birds.
My mouth fills with feathers,
teeth itch with the tiny mites
running between the shafts.
I am a bell, and you are a country.
I am a bell and sound from far away.
Hands touch the broken vase in her parts, the toes,
the eyelash, the sunken wreck, the crowd of dead,
the treasure.
They say
all this
as if the map was drawn
and burned
and came again
in char from the tablecloth
to all our wonder.
A single miracle can last for weeks in the mouth. Sometimes centuries.
I will spend eighteen days in the void of grace.
What begins as a pain in my shoulders
will grow into a tree and bury me.
I will want promises, promises, promises.
(water, water, water)
I will never be satisfied.
Looking always for permanent loss it becomes easy to simply
misplace.
Your caution leads to strange decisions.
You put your keys in the fridge.
I would like to say I knew the words:
I cut the lock of hair, I drew the blood.
The hex was removed by faith and chaste reflection
but everywhere I look, there is a confusion
of hungry birds and beggars
and I forget the spell,
or what chaste reflection even is.
Anyways, something breaks. Not my doing.
Suddenly, I am just noticing sky again.
I am transcribed back into English.
My first decision is to wash my car,
and next,
to learn what faith meant to anyone.
Charmed, is it?
Something rattles in the soul.
It must be paid attention -
it is the soul, the only sure thing -
and rattled in return.
It has nothing, really, to say.
It only rattles.
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 10:24 PM UTC
without context
it will
forever
be impossible
to tell if
your eyes
are red
as a result
of
being upset
laughing
until you cry
an eyelash
in your eye
suffering
from hay fever
or that you
clumsily
poked yourself
in the eye
again
while putting on
your glasses
Jul 8, 2022
Jul 8, 2022 at 10:19 AM UTC
i saw the greater part of creation succumb to the piracy of numbness-
the nimbus rage of torpedo cigars blowing blue-grey smoke into the dark lashes of love-struck little *****
thirsty angels with tangled curls of hair bashing their heads against bathroom walls
screaming under their breath, not enough.
i saw the green plastic- and her orange eyes
and the soap-bubbles on the sidewalk
and the soap frothing all over the sidewalk
and the glass that took off like pristine bullets in every direction
and-
blood running over the cum-covered lip of the curb, flowing into the street-
down to the drain, dripping into the hungry orifices of the big metal grate
into sewer pipe salvation-
destination unhindered by your humanity.
god, this must be insanity
and not even the good kind.
but
let's go watch the fire-works up on the roof-
crawl out the attic window
i let you go first to watch the electric calico
trickle down your legs like a promise.
i like the birds that fly in and out of your hair-
the handkerchief at your hip,
i like the crazy and the cool-
the too cute for comfort
and the fake angsty danger of your darkside.
like morphine-
the band or the drug?
you're ironically detached
with your semi-satanic languidity-
and overdue serenity
[i got a few overdue books at the library.]
[they closed the library a long time ago.]
i like to play catch with your presence-
our eyes with the back-and-forth,
the half-sent glances when we think the other isn't looking.
but we were always looking-
or at least i was always looking at you.
i could see half inside of you.
you were always half-naked-
in the scanty rags of the latest fashion.
when you breathed it was like nectarine noises-
and muffled yelps of love.
i watched your shirt move up and down on your chest
and told you about "never knows best"
it seems
i've seen the greater part of creation succumb to the supreme softness
and the best laid plans of motorcycles and mini-vans fall to pieces in my palms.
and you were the greatest creation i saw on the roof that day.
don't bat another pretty little eyelash at those tiny flashing pieces that go past like ricochets
it's just one more night of strangeness
and then you can be free again.
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
My lips hold back the lava in my chest.
The burning, consuming, encroaching destruction is hardening my resolve more than you could have guessed.
I feel so at home in the flames that water is so underwhelming.
It’s the coals I sleep on through everything.
To look so long at the light only to blind myself each time;
You’d think I’d learn my lesson after each rhyme.
I’ve never felt comfort for long enough to recall.
The videos of me laughing are something that now make me bawl.
I don’t know how that feels anymore.
I don’t remember what you sound like or the color of your front door.
Your voice no longer echoes in my head.
Your face no longer plagues me in bed.
I don’t know you outside of memories;
Moments of my time that bite like fleas.
You make me itch still,
A symptom that which the spot can never refill.
I’ve been battling between anger and grief for so long now.
It’s a why; it’s a how.
It’s a feeling I can’t live without.
No matter how hard I try to erase the pressure or smother the intensity, the kindling always relights in this drought.
With a deep breath in, releasing all the smoke back out.
It’s my meditation now.
It’s my medication now.
To smell it on someone else and be engrossed in the poison that this can allow;
My dear, that’s intoxicating for me lately.
A mass we are swallowing with the passing moment cornering us innately.
I don’t partake with my own vessel but I will consume a host so absorbed.
They don’t see me molding my character every time I get bored.
One day I will have the entire puzzle lined up together.
Each piece fitted so perfectly, completely combined in a tether.
They will compose a tale so broken and numb.
That’s the feeling that fills my ****** drum.
Every tear is a bad dream.
Every eyelash is a wish for this story to have a different theme.
Jul 7, 2022
Jul 7, 2022 at 2:02 AM UTC
There is a snowflake
on your eyelash
that I long to be
Take me with you
when you leave
Show the world to me
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 3:13 AM UTC
The expendable existence.
That uncomfortable rat on your skin.
The cut in your gums that bleeds when you chew.
The last feasible member to fit on an ascending elevator.
Warm.
Hot.
Itching.
The spinach in your teeth.
The tear in your jeans located too close to “there”
The treacherous unzipped jean fiasco.
That crumb on your face.
Where is it?
‘To the left’
Is it gone?
‘A little more’
How ‘bout now?
‘Got it.’
The untied shoe.
The untucked shirt.
The eyelash stranded on your face.
The rainy wedding day.
The gold earring under the fridge.
The luggage thats flying to London instead of Zimbabwe.
These are the unwanted little honeybees of everyday being.
cracked mirrors, guitar-snapped strings,
welts of fire and third wheel things.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC
And after, there is only a gaping emptiness
the familiar ache
The desire to drown myself in soft things
Fill my pockets with pebbles and all the poems my muses will never read
And wade into the Lethe
To the place of the first breath after momentary pain
The liminal gasp between sighs
The first touch after a long absence
Body awakening to memory.
*Welcome weary traveller, you are safe here. Dwell. Abide.
The scrounging scratching crawl you call a life withdraws.
Here,
Float in the fingers of sunlight through glass
The murmur of breath against hair
The glimpse of ripples from a water-strider’s gait.
Here,
You are small and safe
You suffer no harm nor cause it
Your existence has curled in on itself
And blooms with the sunrise.
Here,
Your presence is a fleck on a robin’s egg
The bruise of teeth on a petal
An eyelash in sand
Lost, lingering, and longing.*
The Lethe plucks the pebbles and poems into the current
Your likeness billows with ink in the wake
Adrift, I clutch at your fading hand
But rising, find I do not know this face
Left only with a flicker
Of a stranger’s arms
around my waist.
Aug 12, 2021
Aug 12, 2021 at 9:05 PM UTC
Tenderness,
Care, just a little goes a long way.
Just being there
on a sunny day.
In the snow, boots filled with cold
a finger stroking an eyelash away
Having just nice things to say
Respect when you grow old.
Changes,
Care, just a little goes a long way.
Just being there
on a cloudy day.
In the wet, a twinkle in your eye
Lips, sweet and tender
Letters with a kiss from a sender
Bound till the day you die.
Together,
Care, just a little goes a long way
Just being there
On a dismal day.
When the clouds draw curtains shut
No light, no love can get through
No more holding by the hand
Darkness prevails, but
There is still love.
Nobody can take that away.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
Two fishing poles, a feather,
a leather jacket with holes
on both elbows, forty-four
dollars and change in
an envelope, some dope,
a pair of worn out cowboy boots,
a clay flute shaped like a bird
that can't whistle a tune worth a lick,
an unused bus ticket, a picture
of two kids laughing pretending
to fly; an eyelash in my eye.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 8:30 AM UTC
a hand puppet
unable to put up a fight
the hand goes crazy –
excuse me if i’m clumsy
remember the other months
a december that closed its mouth
cleverness (that’s what moves me)
we new ones are out in the cold
lint resembles snow to me
clinging to your eyelash why haven’t i
been able to see which of us is right
let’s repeat it before i forget
that people die in every season
watch the roses fade
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