"featherless" poems
In the beginning was Scream
Who begat Blood
Who begat Eye
Who begat Fear
Who begat Wing
Who begat Bone
Who begat Granite
Who begat Violet
Who begat Guitar
Who begat Sweat
Who begat Adam
Who begat Mary
Who begat God
Who begat Nothing
Who begat Never
Never Never Never
Who begat Crow
Screaming for Blood
Grubs, crusts
Anything
Trembling featherless elbows in the nest's filth
4.3k
I’ve stripped in front of mirrors
Poles on the side
Legs loose
Insanity.
I’ve closed eyes to kiss
Opened my mouth to twirl with tongues.
Nose against his
I’ve smelt his scent, took it to have.
Before bottom lips were felt,
I’ve laid against chests
Heartbeats whispered in ears .
Desperate for changes to cease the moment.
These lips have bled,
They have laid lives;
One in caskets
The other living to tell the tale .
My canvas rescued in fairytales.
He dug in these cherry lips
Threw uncaptured souls on my covers.
I’ve spread wide in these sheets
Dripped with Pit-bull drools
These hands have raised
Have nurtured
Have done hand jobs.
Black roses I’ve blown for.
In my high
I’ve read minds
I’ve been Queen
Dressed in feathers
Crowned with featherless pigeons.
1,2,3.
I slipped out of my fantasy
To be laid yet again on this bed.
Another one night stand to hold on to.
Only these walls will live to tell the tale
Of my devoured bottom lips.
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
You would pull out our feathers
and have us thank you for it.
Who are we but women
injected with black venom
to strip the song from our chest
It starts as a whisper, a twisting hand,
so begins the mutilation of our wings.
We find our once sharp tongues forked
singing only false promises, alluring lies.
You tell us:
Lose consciousness and gain it
Become your body and rid the mind
Elicit desire
You want this
Does it matter?
You have made us blameful anyway
All will overlook
the crimes against the Mockingbird.
We are criminals
Featherless, naked, lying mute
Use us
for we are nothing
but the impression
of a symbol lost.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 1:52 AM UTC
I am not paradise.
I am a broken angel.
A featherless pair of wings
and a burnt out halo
this is what you'll get
with me.
Sandoval
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 4:54 PM UTC
Crows of brooklyn
payphone goddess
Shakespeare:
old skinny
repeating thin silver words
beneath a sea shell
stolen by a 7 year old girl
in a red rag dress
from the burning contemporary
bookstore
tossing sweat thru
irrelevant back spine tunnel streets
featherless skulls
spitting sour chinese gin
from chimney blow hole
of their decaying dead thieving Fox
revolting death
to mother blessing decay
red blue green white
Fox yellow brown fur
swirling entwined like
melting crayons
on a stone militia crafted bench
researched developed by young Hispanic America Freedom wanderers
too hot
too cold to undress and ****
swirling together like cigar french ashes with
tongue hued wine
feverish coffee
thick as the bulging pregnant belly mother
giving
taking birth to a child
tossed carelessly into the Great Lakes
sipping on bad spoiled milk
digesting salt
hard boiled swan eggs
eating purity
chewing skunk
coughing industrial chemical gasoline
*********** AIDS NYC bright non-existent lights
non-existent Allah
howling North Korea Communist war hymns
sing great religious protest
gunky toe nail'd feet
waltzing in the stomach of medieval
ballrooms chandelier not casted by
infinite diamonds
but by Jewish slaves
Islamic skins
Christian leather
Catholic molested brains children bones
deceased Langston Hughes
hung by Hughes spine and pupil
the size of texas
mass of the ****** female lips and knees
wearing color blind dress
shoes unfound
skin feet walking on rain drizzling beach
washed up skeleton sting ray
the skin unwrapped
like a christmas gift
Santa is starvation
licking the shoe polished long toes
of Death
riding the Downtown artificial lights
artificial scientist crafted classical
elevator time consuming Death songs
Jesus,
waking up,
to his body dry,
like that of Winter's rose and lips.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
Pluck thy feathers, angel,
To bless the world again.
But alas! Take care of thee
Or all thy effort is in vain!
Pluck them all, angel,
And be angel no more;
For in thy craving to retrieve them
Thou, angel, shalt fall.
Thou shalt turn into Daemon
To ravage these green lands.
Until wood and field consumed
Shalt turn into black sand.
In fight with a feathered one
A featherless shalt always succeed
And rob the angel of his precious feathers
Turning him, too, into adversary of greed.
One day, though, an angel shalt be reborn
To seek redemption for them all.
But as the reborn awakens
The greatest angel shalt fall.
Fear not, sweet angel,
The saviour shalt come.
Be brave and be kind
And the darkness shalt be undone.
Jan 13, 2023
Jan 13, 2023 at 6:33 AM UTC
We used to be so uplifting to each other.
I have never felt so featherless.
They say the early bird gets the worm
but is that really why you left?
was I holding you back? when I only wished you the best.
it seems the good times have faded, like your love for me.
I stay by the phone hoping one day you'll be calling.
I see you in my darkest dreams.
I can't wait to go to sleep.
You are so hauntingly beautiful
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 10:32 PM UTC
I want to hang art in the vaulted ceilings of your chest
Appreciate the space like
footstep
echo
silence
Hang paintings of ugly beauty from the knives still stuck in your back
That was what all this pain has been meant for
To hang art from
Newspaper clippings of suicides still walking into heaven
Their faces finally happy
Maybe one is waiting for you
Jackson ******* rugburn that taught you forgiveness
Hyper realistic pencil drawings of people you wish you could forget
Featherless doves in cages with the latches open,
offering their freedom to you a feather at a time
Sickly psalms coating the walls like wet silk
Like paper papermachet prayer
Like a piniata
Take a baseball bat to it
Lose your breath like a hallelujah
There is so much beauty inside of you
Every ugly moment
molded
I want to hang art in the vaulted ceiling of your chest
Get lost in the museum behind your *******
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
your eyes once were the shade of blue
the way the sky looks
before the sun gives way to the moon
but they are black as midnight now
the starless sky, pitch-dark
oh, what did i do?
did i cause this to you?
your wings, broad and strong
flew me to paradise and back
and to everywhere my feet can’t take me
but you’re featherless now
flightless and short of harbor
oh, fly, please, fly again
feel the wind and fly back to me once more
*
but i’m still broken, darling,
i don’t deserve your loving*
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 5:01 AM UTC
I am unaffected now, I just want to go on
it doesn't matter to me if to you it seems I've forgone
All I want to say is, I am game, I am alive
just bring it on.
After falling insufferably
and getting up invincibly
I don't call myself strong
cause that would be wrong
**I am just fearless
so I dream of flying featherless.**
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 11:19 AM UTC
I WANT YOU TO LISTEN BEFORE YOU FEEL.
I
Congratulate
You.
...
I understand now
That I am not
and she is neither
and nor are you.
In Life
is Man,
Woman
and
Money.
And I am disgusted
with my own state of affairs.
I am a HYPOCRITE,
(YOU COULD BE WORSE )
that a rat that is not a part of a the race
has a better chance of virtue.
I am not unique but
part of the equation of nature
for a upon a time in history
I was a "FEATHERLESS BIPED"
just as a chicken awaiting
the process of
the roast.
YET
upon death and decay,
if I am not in history
as a statue to symbolise
immortality.
I
will no longer
be MAN
but a CREATURE
with bones undistinguishable from
my kind.
These words are of a man
man that has nothing
to him and his time
but a chance to reflect on life's
greatest EQUATION
of meaning.
These are the words of the man
that lives like dog
he dares to speak his mind
a man we question his existence and purpose
we call mad, insane and a savage.
His words will never shake you
if you question
WHY HE DARES TO SPEAK IF HE IS NOTHING?
Were you truly listening?
Question.
Would you lend an ear
to a
A man that lives like a dog
or
A Man that lives in concrete
bubble?
I want you to Think beyond the concrete bubble
you call safe.
MAN + WOMAN x MONEY(NATURE)=...............
whats your equation like?
©Hansmind, 2018
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC
I dare not scratch the surface Plato itched,
For fear I'd break my fingers on the stone.
My faculties in circles whirl around,
Which metaphor Aristotle would bemoan.
My femininity is undenied
And thus my musings, when they first began,
Would be utterly rejected, undeniably rebuked,
By one featherless bipedal man.
The History that gulped Atlantis down
Into its sunken depths, has made a grave
For all free thinkers, locked by secret PINs.
Philosophy, no more, these souls can save.
I carry naught but spades in both my hands,
Seeking to unearth artful thought's tomb.
Labor-sweat pours down, yet I am left to merely mourn
The heartbeat ne'er since heard from Athen's womb.
Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 3:18 AM UTC
My cheeks against the breast of the willing to embrace my cold fingers, are clammy with perspiration the hot air thirsts for. Every racing pulse amplified out of sound into vibration is a symphony of racing music into braille for our living hearts. Our pleasure met with caution, pacing each stroke, is personifying true dependence seizing our moment. My weight featherless, embracing welcoming arms intertwining, delights our insecure minds with assured acts of permission. Every motion increasing steamy exhales, scented ecstasy defuses from my love origin. My walls collapse with silent ripples, and constant oral doings, is an awesome relief. My eyes again meet disbelievingly upon the mounting passenger arisen from my open heaven. Every ****** of passion intensifies building stronger yearnings for grasping this entire ****** I am exploding inside and rippling out, every wave a breath on my lips. My shoulder is met with shoulder lying in silent breath's fouled with the presence of two lovers.
Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 11:43 AM UTC
That class is sponsoring a thorough bred fair—creating war winning story that doesn't fit neatly onto a bumper sticker. Only a standard reply from featherless wing—bloviating an appeal to the conscientious authority. Go back: polish the Augean non-staples, rear up stallions to break geldings, eat beefsteak, drink whiskey at whistle, stop. That class only teaches a Greek hero clean-up. Meanwhile, they claim victory.
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 10:29 AM UTC
There once was an angel
To look after a girl
There once was an angel
To resurrect her world
She loved this angel
And dreamed of them together
But every time she hurt him
Down came a feather
She thought they were gifts from him
When they fell from the sky
So she held them close
And never asked why
She kept each one
Not knowing the damage she’s done
And at the end of the day
She puts them next to her bed
In very special place
Then rests her head
With a smile on her face
Not knowing soon he’ll be dead
Not knowing he’s hurting
From all the things she said
He looks at his wounds
As he tries to say “I love her”
He tries to protect her
And tries to stay above her
He looks down
And she no where around
So he lets himself
Crash to the ground
That night she had nightmares
And together-less dreams
And in the morning found her angel
With featherless wings
So rushed to where she kept them
And she collected all of them
She put them back on his body
Only to watch them fall again
His heart filled with the resin
Of love’s bitter sweet nectar
But if he goes back to heaven
Who will protect her?
So he turns in his halo
And his torn apart wings
He gives up his powers
For material things
Now stuck on Earth
Never again to fly or glide
He gave up everything to be human
So he could stay at her side
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 1:53 AM UTC
I am like a bird.
I have a wide open space,
range,
expanse,
for the adventure that creeps into my soul.
My veins are vacant with the love of exploring,
searching,
investigating,
the different ways to live.
I have always preferred to live alone, with just myself for company.
I seldom feel lonely,
isolated,
apart,
from others.
I am often surveying,
searching,
yearning for beautiful land to build my nest.
However featherless,
wingless,
songless,
I may be, I will never be
flightless.
(s.w.)
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
An early twentieth century kind of thing
But sometimes my hope feels like
a battery hen, factory farmed
Nearly featherless, since molting makes
her produce more eggs
Crowded so she cannot move
De-beaked so she cannot defend herself
A slow death for about three
years until she is gassed
in a small container
A product, not an animal
a unit, not a senseate being
Hope is a thing with feathers
But when all the feathers are gone
only the hope of rescue remains
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 10:07 AM UTC
i'm holding you
cupped in fragile hands,
a frail little bird
in frail little fingers.
i can never hold too tightly,
because my grip might not
be strong enough
and even if i could
little bird bones
are tender little things.
and it doesn't make sense
because i hate birds so much
but i love you more
than words could ever say.
and then i think of that time
when i was a little girl
and that baby bird sat on my deck
and it didn't chirp
because it was dead
so i didn't know it was there,
and i stepped on it's tender
featherless wings
and it crunched under my foot.
and viscera spilled out
in reds
and blues
and yellow
and i cried
and cried
and cried.
and even though it was dead
inside already,
i was so afraid i would
be the one to hurt it again.
and it's kinda like that.
so excuse me if
i hold you too tight some days.
and excuse me if
sometimes my fingers are too loose.
i have my reasons,
they're there.
please, just please
sing loud enough to let me know
that you're still alive,
even if it's only a little bit.
and i'm so, so sorry
if i ever crush you.
i never meant to.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 8:28 PM UTC
I wanted to write a poem
to celebrate the fragility of mortality
The small bones in which hold up arms, wings
are easily snapped by the pressure wave of life
and yet we strive.
a wave in the grass and alarms draw me near
small gasping that only
the mother robin can hear
sniffing licking prancing, the neighbors dog jumps
at my hoarse cry
running with a helicopter tail
as I recover her fun.
The tiny wings tremble
featherless he shivers
rice sized heart thrumming with the life force
of blood coursing through his developing veins.
scarlet pinpricks adorn his pink fleshy body
He is so small.
So helpless
eyes only a fraction smaller then his head
crack open
fear and panic filling their silken depths
and I try
gentle as the soft caress of summer breezes
to lift him into the warm cocoon of my scarf.
breast fluttering
a body the size of half my palm
I cradle him.
Slowly he snuggles closer, young purple beak
burrowing into the soft paisley fabric.
and a love for this baby bird fills my heart and
eyes
with a sadness at the cruelty of this world
Because even as he snuggles
in a few hours he is taken from this world to the next
The elements and the shock too much
for his exposed soul to handle
His small body left cold and curled in the nest i attempted
to cradle him in...
laying the baby robin into the cool dark earth
I felt my airway seize
at the quick surety of death
so young.
And as my tears water his grave
I am reminded how precious this gift is
This gift of life, of love
of wings we grow to soar these skies
vibrant only because of it's short span of discovery
It will be over before we know it
So let us live
let us soar for those baby birds who's wings were broken
before they ever learned to fly
let us be free
and alive.
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 1:37 AM UTC
your heart was a sky
for my yellow bird
there was room for all the feathers I've collected over the years
each one soft and significant
but one bright morning
you told me you had no longer room for them
an old shoe box under my bed
now is where my bird sleeps
I no longer let him out and those fallen feathers
are now filling this tiny room
I am covered in yellow feathers and songs
PECKING at my heart
could feel it flapping it's wings against my box--
but when the silence came
and I opened that box
my bird was featherless, motionless, and getting wet.
Jun 2, 2012
Jun 2, 2012 at 4:07 AM UTC
Hello there have you ever met her
They call her the broken angel
They call her the featherless angel
They call her the singed wings angel
But she wasn’t always that
Way back she was a beautiful angel
With beautiful white wings
Wings so bright they would blind mere mortals
With a beautiful unearthly face
A face that matched her heart
A heart so kind you could get lost into
And be happy to be lost within
Her wings were so powerful
They would fly her all over the world
And she wouldn’t get tired
But she was a lonely angel
Because many considered her to be perfect
Yes she was kind hearted
But her kind heart wasn’t enough apparently
So one day as she was flying around
She met another “angel”
One who looked sad and defeated
Her kind heart couldn’t just leave him
His wings were aflame and she worried for him
And so she gathered wind in her wings
And directed water to **** the fire on his wings
But it was too late his feathers were all gone
And he couldn’t fly anymore
And he started to sob and say
He was no longer an angel
And her kind heart compelled her
To try and clean the soot from his singed wings
And make him feel better
Oh broken angel how you regret that now
But even when she cleansed his wings
It wasn’t enough
With him it was never enough
He wanted more
He asked for more
He called her his angel
The one who saved him
And oh how he loved her so
But she could see he was unhappy
And she would ask him why so
Until finally one day as she finished cleaning his wounds
He said my wings are healing
But my feathers aren’t growing
And oh how I miss flying
The feeling of the wind so close
The feeling of being one with the skies
The feeling of seeing it all
Oh my angel how I miss it all
And his words broke her heart
And deep down she knew
She would risk it all to give him all
So she plucked a feather from her wing
And fixed it on his
And though it pained her so
The smile he gave after was worth it all
And so each day
Feather by feather
She fixed his wings
And it was never enough
Pain after pain
Plucking and fixing
Until she had few feathers left
Until her once white as snow feather
Were turned dark from the blood
And she couldn’t fly away
But he smiled that was enough for her
And so came the day for him
To try and fly
And fly he did and he never came back
And day by day night by night
She stayed awake waiting for him to come back
But he never did
And the kind hearted angel
Became broken with no wings to fly
And a heart that has bled and become dark
See she loved him so that she was blind
That with him it was never enough
Now she thought she had love
But at what cost???
She gave her wings to him
And he used those same wings to fly away from her
And not a day that passes by
Doesn’t she wish she didn’t love
That she didn’t feel
That she didn’t give
Now she’s not only the broken angel
But also the broken hearted one
Waiting for death to take her
So she wont feel so broken anymore
POEM BY JOYCE TSHIBASU
Jojo.poetry
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 5:34 AM UTC
Each vulture has its ugly profile
As if abruptly God did not feather
Its face.
Yet its pure flight with enflamed
Eyes that see the dead as they leave
The body, it perches among the oak
Under the hilly peaks.
His featherless face like a hanging
Veil from the face of the sky.
There among the fields of death,
Wings like a sudden dark cuirass
He cruises like an ancient idol
Wrapped in air,
His talons like daggers into
The sacrificed.
He goes deep into the sky enveloped
In splendid light watching souls
Leave the enormous earth.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
Worn-through pillowcases holding tales of adventure
Dreams that came and went
Tears from your old lovers’ eyes
A trail of insomnia-ridden restlessness
A trickle of medicine left a sickeningly sweet smell of sleeping sickness remedy
On that night there wasn’t enough for both you and me.
And as purple faded into brown, our fingers anticipated another turn of the page
Dawn burnt your fibers, the sunlight faded your colors grey
Withdrawn and featherless, there’s only time to dream of flight
Outlying eyelash left forgotten
Briskly bent bristle, broken by beauty
You were strong, you held on for long
But oh, you were fragile.
Now the hollows of this room are your only friends
Darkness comes in waves but you will bathe again
It always ends with the sneaking creep of the ticking clock that trickles in around half-past the past.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 10:48 AM UTC
hair dashing vision deploy sud featherless\
motion in active taste bud slipped on eternal\
tip of my tongue whistle lunge internally\
**** drizzle dripped seating scampi intestine\
grip swung intensity hitting uvula grump\
the bedroom slippers pajama snap running\
throat hiccups stuck doll sitting smudge crap\
pat tack in scratch mouth I due alley loop mucus\
packing trunk wood you irritate stove chappy baker\
hunk the lock spinning the sling cling on schnapps\
surviving by the beer Craving Peace of ear confession minding\
the sake of better judgement intrigue maleficent impression\
spite traditional contraceptive contradict hypocritical Kitab rewrite\
Ktab inducting paschen arrange friction pronounce tissue adjudicated\
hit or miss mission issue clevis tension ******** metabolism buoyant crevice\
sullied virginity abolishing hip ripping meat window damp moist cherry\
fur confined steed Structurally Mounting **** transcoding soil instrumenting\
matrimony ring band regent gown slapping *** crack Larry the Cable Guy wed\
Din Din Baby Fat Naming like/
be Naming Baby Shat Chat/
bei spin nozzle creek up/
drift bottleneck swifty/
dream line bleachers/
above the body top/
under tummy tuck/
wackbush stroke/
c ******** broad/
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 3:37 PM UTC
and we just
floor the peddle
my love-
(
sun falling.
into lap
all the featherless,
birds.
repeating
unable
to
burn.
so simply
away;
)
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC