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"featureless" poems
I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it---- A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a **** lampshade, My right foot A paperweight, My face a featureless, fine Jew linen. Peel off the napkin 0 my enemy. Do I terrify?---- The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath Will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh The grave cave ate will be At home on me And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die. This is Number Three. What a trash To annihilate each decade. What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd Shoves in to see Them unwrap me hand and foot The big strip tease. Gentlemen, ladies These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone, Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant To last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shut As a seashell. They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls. Dying Is an art, like everything else, I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call. It's easy enough to do it in a cell. It's easy enough to do it and stay put. It's the theatrical Comeback in broad day To the same place, the same face, the same brute Amused shout: 'A miracle!' That knocks me out. There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart---- It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes. So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy. I am your opus, I am your valuable, The pure gold baby That melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern. Ash, ash --- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there---- A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.
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26k
Sylvia Plath
Lady Lazarus
I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it---- A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a **** lampshade, My right foot A paperweight, My face a featureless, fine Jew linen. Peel off the napkin 0 my enemy. Do I terrify?---- The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath Will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh The grave cave ate will be At home on me And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die. This is Number Three. What a trash To annihilate each decade. What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd Shoves in to see Them unwrap me hand and foot The big strip tease. Gentlemen, ladies These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone, Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant To last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shut As a seashell. They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls. Dying Is an art, like everything else, I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call. It's easy enough to do it in a cell. It's easy enough to do it and stay put. It's the theatrical Comeback in broad day To the same place, the same face, the same brute Amused shout: 'A miracle!' That knocks me out. There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart---- It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes. So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy. I am your opus, I am your valuable, The pure gold baby That melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern. Ash, ash --- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there---- A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.
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84
Ripples of intention on green water, Little drops of dissonance in a modal symphony. How ugly they seem, ruining the serenity. Yet what would it be without them? An ocean without waves, Sterile and alien: Merely air turned bitter and dingy, Like a stagnant fog in silence. Could we call it the sea without that gentle murmur, A mother's reassuring whisper To her frightened babe? And the stay of the light on a featureless mirror, Nothing but a cruel reflection Of grotesque perfection? Not the sea, but a purgatory, Ugly in every impeccable detail. It is only with amorphous intention, Impressions of consciousness, That the golden sun can play In the dimpled sand, the swaying grass, And the eyes and souls of artists alike. It is only in the imperfections That beauty can truly be seen: Admired for its perseverance In the face of nature's adversity. Where else would raindrops fall?
0
Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 1:15 AM UTC
sean-pope
Ripples
Ripples of intention on green water, Little drops of dissonance in a modal symphony. How ugly they seem, ruining the serenity. Yet what would it be without them? An ocean without waves, Sterile and alien: Merely air turned bitter and dingy, Like a stagnant fog in silence. Could we call it the sea without that gentle murmur, A mother's reassuring whisper To her frightened babe? And the stay of the light on a featureless mirror, Nothing but a cruel reflection Of grotesque perfection? Not the sea, but a purgatory, Ugly in every impeccable detail. It is only with amorphous intention, Impressions of consciousness, That the golden sun can play In the dimpled sand, the swaying grass, And the eyes and souls of artists alike. It is only in the imperfections That beauty can truly be seen: Admired for its perseverance In the face of nature's adversity. Where else would raindrops fall?
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26
All my dreams Are black and white Colorless meaning While I'm dreaming Featureless faces Claw at my flesh A man? A woman? This dream is a mess All I see Are Cold black eyes Frostbite burns Between my thighs Lost in darkness another nightmare I look for a savior But you're not there No knight in shining armor To whisk me away No tattooed prince To save the day Just me Alone In a twisted state Fetal position The shape I take You'd think I'd know better At this point in life My dreams by no means resemble real life Metaphors always scramble my brain I try to decode Just to stay sane Awake from my slumber And all I can think… Why can't I dream In tangerine?
0
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
special-kvl
Tangerine Dream
All my dreams Are black and white Colorless meaning While I'm dreaming Featureless faces Claw at my flesh A man? A woman? This dream is a mess All I see Are Cold black eyes Frostbite burns Between my thighs Lost in darkness another nightmare I look for a savior But you're not there No knight in shining armor To whisk me away No tattooed prince To save the day Just me Alone In a twisted state Fetal position The shape I take You'd think I'd know better At this point in life My dreams by no means resemble real life Metaphors always scramble my brain I try to decode Just to stay sane Awake from my slumber And all I can think… Why can't I dream In tangerine?
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39
Walking through the woods at night with increasing fear, you'd better be scared because the silent watcher, Slenderman, is here. You stop in a clearing, mouth ajar in fear. Before you, is a man with no face nor any hair. His skin as pale as flour, donning a fancy suit. You take off into the woods in fear but it's too late, he's already in pursuit. Fleeing through the woods at night in overwhelming fear, you try and try to hide in the darkness of the night. But even still, you can see his featureless face as a dimly glowing light. You cry out for help in the darkness of the night. But, you're too deep in the woods for anyone to assist in your plight. It's too late now to ever escape, you sit and cry with your mouth agape. He silently approaches and waits, you stare back and decide to put up a fight. It's no use, no help at all. When you entered these woods at night, you were doomed to fall.
0
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 4:11 PM UTC
javin-goodness
Slenderman
Walking through the woods at night with increasing fear, you'd better be scared because the silent watcher, Slenderman, is here. You stop in a clearing, mouth ajar in fear. Before you, is a man with no face nor any hair. His skin as pale as flour, donning a fancy suit. You take off into the woods in fear but it's too late, he's already in pursuit. Fleeing through the woods at night in overwhelming fear, you try and try to hide in the darkness of the night. But even still, you can see his featureless face as a dimly glowing light. You cry out for help in the darkness of the night. But, you're too deep in the woods for anyone to assist in your plight. It's too late now to ever escape, you sit and cry with your mouth agape. He silently approaches and waits, you stare back and decide to put up a fight. It's no use, no help at all. When you entered these woods at night, you were doomed to fall.
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14
I see the boy I used to be not in a dream but on the street. He walks alone without a beat or rhythm in his feet. He kicks a stone. His mobile phone is glued to his cheek. He seems the very model of a troubled teenage tearaway. Nothings lead to nothings, lead to nothing honest he can say. He knows what others think he is and he’s terrified. He thinks enough to know that he was born lost. He doesn’t toil his wits, unwind a coil of ignorance or dabble in some dissonance. He speaks with recycled bits of other people’s words. He likes to quote celebrities who like to speak in major keys, who comfort him like family and apathy. He knows their faces better than his own. He remains featureless but will cast the first stone.
0
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
jamie-riley
The boy I used to be
I see the boy I used to be not in a dream but on the street. He walks alone without a beat or rhythm in his feet. He kicks a stone. His mobile phone is glued to his cheek. He seems the very model of a troubled teenage tearaway. Nothings lead to nothings, lead to nothing honest he can say. He knows what others think he is and he’s terrified. He thinks enough to know that he was born lost. He doesn’t toil his wits, unwind a coil of ignorance or dabble in some dissonance. He speaks with recycled bits of other people’s words. He likes to quote celebrities who like to speak in major keys, who comfort him like family and apathy. He knows their faces better than his own. He remains featureless but will cast the first stone.
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27
I can feel the loneliness deep inside the half-shaped moon, stripped, scorched, destroyed, shifting, scrambled diction, hazy nonfiction, drifting consonants and vowels lingering in meaningless frames, confined in a sleepless state, searching for its missing outer being to make it complete, quivering in solemnness, struggling for freedom and perfection, conflicting science crumbling without reason, evaporating equations swallowed into unfamiliar places, sunken history tumbling into the depths of the abyss, disconnected from the great milky clouds and glorious sun, its wandering metaphors hovering in some unknown distant kingdom, in the depths of a solitary dungeon, dying of its creative invention, broken sounds sluggishly surfacing for air, fading shadows seeping further out into the inner wave of Saturn, its decaying reflection changing between time and space, rising and falling in forgotten eternities, declining in rhyme and harmonizing patterns, as shattered lovers diminish apart from one another, locked away in frigid and featureless mazes, drowned galaxies floating in sinking outer spaces, vivid blackness surrounding its sunken design, lost languages falling apart into split and hidden dimensions, swimming in stuttering syllables across the crimson seas.
0
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 8:23 PM UTC
travis-green
Loneliness Inside The Moon
I can feel the loneliness deep inside the half-shaped moon, stripped, scorched, destroyed, shifting, scrambled diction, hazy nonfiction, drifting consonants and vowels lingering in meaningless frames, confined in a sleepless state, searching for its missing outer being to make it complete, quivering in solemnness, struggling for freedom and perfection, conflicting science crumbling without reason, evaporating equations swallowed into unfamiliar places, sunken history tumbling into the depths of the abyss, disconnected from the great milky clouds and glorious sun, its wandering metaphors hovering in some unknown distant kingdom, in the depths of a solitary dungeon, dying of its creative invention, broken sounds sluggishly surfacing for air, fading shadows seeping further out into the inner wave of Saturn, its decaying reflection changing between time and space, rising and falling in forgotten eternities, declining in rhyme and harmonizing patterns, as shattered lovers diminish apart from one another, locked away in frigid and featureless mazes, drowned galaxies floating in sinking outer spaces, vivid blackness surrounding its sunken design, lost languages falling apart into split and hidden dimensions, swimming in stuttering syllables across the crimson seas.
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23
A Tribute A king takes supper on a creaking deathbed. Featureless, winged creatures zoom by the dark condensed windows. Micro parasites build adobe headquarters in his soft tissue. Reaching for a plate, he groans the terabyting howl that’s prescribed with chemotherapy. Qwerty and light from the drugs, he stares at the apple on his tray. Lost in its curves, he finds himself trapped in a safari of memories. A dream devolves upon his downtrodden mind…. The canopy is populated with twittering, angry birds. Pools of social blood attract flies to the googolplex degree. He stumbles through the dell, suspicious forest while a tremulous, fiery fox stalks behind his echoing footfalls. Pixar apes swing from trees chased by grisly, disney men with guns and trucks. A large eye tunes the darkness and blinks red upon an aging mountain lion in shadow’s brush. The sony rays belight foliage in auspicious, plaid-orange hues. This amazon of experience plugs the wanderer into a hard drive of intelligence – a gateway to an encyclopedia of wikis and browsers, expanse enough for any backdrop rooftop audience to be faux-enthralled and eager. There are grumblings in the distance of another engine tromping the scope in search of something new and useless. A rumorous bat upsets the plagiarizing tide of the Atlantic Pea Sea. A snake slinks out of the blossoms clinging to the vines among a macintosh tree and bites the salty flier of the washboard night; cyber venom invades his veins. The average, homeless, bounding, warrior awakens to find a cold supper on his lap and another syringe in his arm. His remaining gums support his teeth as they bite into the apple. He swallows, sighs, and rests his balding, crescent, once-handsome head on the white pillow. The green fruit tumbles gently out of bed and mutely rolls to the floor. With that, Steve Jobs is dead.
0
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 12:03 AM UTC
billy-b
A Tribute
A Tribute A king takes supper on a creaking deathbed. Featureless, winged creatures zoom by the dark condensed windows. Micro parasites build adobe headquarters in his soft tissue. Reaching for a plate, he groans the terabyting howl that’s prescribed with chemotherapy. Qwerty and light from the drugs, he stares at the apple on his tray. Lost in its curves, he finds himself trapped in a safari of memories. A dream devolves upon his downtrodden mind…. The canopy is populated with twittering, angry birds. Pools of social blood attract flies to the googolplex degree. He stumbles through the dell, suspicious forest while a tremulous, fiery fox stalks behind his echoing footfalls. Pixar apes swing from trees chased by grisly, disney men with guns and trucks. A large eye tunes the darkness and blinks red upon an aging mountain lion in shadow’s brush. The sony rays belight foliage in auspicious, plaid-orange hues. This amazon of experience plugs the wanderer into a hard drive of intelligence – a gateway to an encyclopedia of wikis and browsers, expanse enough for any backdrop rooftop audience to be faux-enthralled and eager. There are grumblings in the distance of another engine tromping the scope in search of something new and useless. A rumorous bat upsets the plagiarizing tide of the Atlantic Pea Sea. A snake slinks out of the blossoms clinging to the vines among a macintosh tree and bites the salty flier of the washboard night; cyber venom invades his veins. The average, homeless, bounding, warrior awakens to find a cold supper on his lap and another syringe in his arm. His remaining gums support his teeth as they bite into the apple. He swallows, sighs, and rests his balding, crescent, once-handsome head on the white pillow. The green fruit tumbles gently out of bed and mutely rolls to the floor. With that, Steve Jobs is dead.
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6
i. morning sand chills my feet damp grains cling between my toes a predawn morning cold mid-August summer day ii. down the beach i watch hawks circling hunting the tree line, they work the shore grasses a narrow strip of tall plants between beach and wood circling closer and closer      coming to me iii. they soar a steady breeze off the lake hunting prey which i hear scurrying frantically among the tall grasses the hawks circle now directly above white bodies with dark wing feathers iv. in the beach house hang two paintings by a local artist children playing on this very beach chasing one another and crouching in the tide-pool shown in fine detail especially for water color   yet, i notice, the children have no faces, merely brown smudges      featureless v. that night, sitting around a beach bonfire sparks jump from burning logs about me forms glow red i see these faces too appear as smudges, featureless like an infant      at it's birth
0
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 8:07 AM UTC
john-mahoney
an incident on the michigan dunes, Summer 2012
i. morning sand chills my feet damp grains cling between my toes a predawn morning cold mid-August summer day ii. down the beach i watch hawks circling hunting the tree line, they work the shore grasses a narrow strip of tall plants between beach and wood circling closer and closer      coming to me iii. they soar a steady breeze off the lake hunting prey which i hear scurrying frantically among the tall grasses the hawks circle now directly above white bodies with dark wing feathers iv. in the beach house hang two paintings by a local artist children playing on this very beach chasing one another and crouching in the tide-pool shown in fine detail especially for water color   yet, i notice, the children have no faces, merely brown smudges      featureless v. that night, sitting around a beach bonfire sparks jump from burning logs about me forms glow red i see these faces too appear as smudges, featureless like an infant      at it's birth
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40
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow’st In one of thine, from that which thou departest, And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow’st, Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest. Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase; Without this folly, age, and cold decay, If all were minded so, the times should cease, And threescore year would make the world away. Let those whom Nature hath not made for store, Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish; Look whom she best endowed, she gave the more, Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish. She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby, Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.
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2.7k
William Shakespeare
Sonnet 011: As Fast As Thou Shalt Wane, So Fast Thou Grow’st
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow’st In one of thine, from that which thou departest, And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow’st, Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest. Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase; Without this folly, age, and cold decay, If all were minded so, the times should cease, And threescore year would make the world away. Let those whom Nature hath not made for store, Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish; Look whom she best endowed, she gave the more, Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish. She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby, Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.
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14
Don't sleep Don't sleep I begin to Like you A little bit more I shift and sigh Say your name Fatigue rolls Somewhere by But, alert I Imagine So many paintings To make for you You mumble Childishly Your laughter Is glittery I wish For so little I wish too Intensely Dont wipe me With a stiffened cloth Soaked In turpentine And a hundred hues Dont stir me I might be disturbed Out of skill Out of thought Onto a burlap scene Grotesque Picturesque And so, so true Don't move Or I might too I might too Become a facet Among the facets Of your horrors I might Become art Might become Beautiful In that strange Black way Of art Dont sleep Talk to me Speak to me Let us be Normalities Let us Hold Technicalities Forget Sentimentality In the silly blue painting Of an eyeless pretty Smooth and porcelain Perfectly closed No night To mourn into Dissolve into To stumble, To tremble into Don't sleep I become too much alone Shrivel, burnt sienna I cannot move alone I become the paintings That I fear to paint I become the sombre Debris of your laughter Cold, blue Featureless A moonlit night Nothing but red You don't know That I like you In my head Come back Come back
0
Apr 30, 2023
Apr 30, 2023 at 6:10 PM UTC
Ayesha
Don't sleep
Don't sleep Don't sleep I begin to Like you A little bit more I shift and sigh Say your name Fatigue rolls Somewhere by But, alert I Imagine So many paintings To make for you You mumble Childishly Your laughter Is glittery I wish For so little I wish too Intensely Dont wipe me With a stiffened cloth Soaked In turpentine And a hundred hues Dont stir me I might be disturbed Out of skill Out of thought Onto a burlap scene Grotesque Picturesque And so, so true Don't move Or I might too I might too Become a facet Among the facets Of your horrors I might Become art Might become Beautiful In that strange Black way Of art Dont sleep Talk to me Speak to me Let us be Normalities Let us Hold Technicalities Forget Sentimentality In the silly blue painting Of an eyeless pretty Smooth and porcelain Perfectly closed No night To mourn into Dissolve into To stumble, To tremble into Don't sleep I become too much alone Shrivel, burnt sienna I cannot move alone I become the paintings That I fear to paint I become the sombre Debris of your laughter Cold, blue Featureless A moonlit night Nothing but red You don't know That I like you In my head Come back Come back
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83
Life or Death I can see the blinding light surrounding me in my broken hours, the deep rugged circles under my shapeless eyes, featureless cheeks floating along the wailing streams, the silent screams stabbing my soul unremittingly all through the night, chills sinking in the depths of my flesh, darkness creeping in the shadows cutting me deep, tormenting me constantly in my sleep, crashing and burning, drifting and diminishing, disintegrating and dying, slow startling thoughts invading my landscape, every wall encompassing my view spinning and intensifying across my sunken dimension, slipping int a world of pain and anger, blazing flames casting immense loneliness in my heart, embracing the vicious freezing winds whirling in my direction, imagination fading into depression, dreams vanishing into broken bottles, as I gaze at the sharp steel blade facing me, counting the ways to draw blood upon my existence, the crimson flow suffocating my crying escape, peeling skin deteriorating into gray ashes, feeling its smooth jagged edge pierce my skin to a slow and brutal death.
0
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 12:09 PM UTC
travis-green
Life or Death
Life or Death I can see the blinding light surrounding me in my broken hours, the deep rugged circles under my shapeless eyes, featureless cheeks floating along the wailing streams, the silent screams stabbing my soul unremittingly all through the night, chills sinking in the depths of my flesh, darkness creeping in the shadows cutting me deep, tormenting me constantly in my sleep, crashing and burning, drifting and diminishing, disintegrating and dying, slow startling thoughts invading my landscape, every wall encompassing my view spinning and intensifying across my sunken dimension, slipping int a world of pain and anger, blazing flames casting immense loneliness in my heart, embracing the vicious freezing winds whirling in my direction, imagination fading into depression, dreams vanishing into broken bottles, as I gaze at the sharp steel blade facing me, counting the ways to draw blood upon my existence, the crimson flow suffocating my crying escape, peeling skin deteriorating into gray ashes, feeling its smooth jagged edge pierce my skin to a slow and brutal death.
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22
When I was dead, my spirit turned To seek the much-frequented house I passed the door, and saw my friends Feasting beneath green orange-boughs; From hand to hand they pushed the wine, They ****** the pulp of plum and peach; They sang, they jested, and they laughed, For each was loved of each. I listened to their honest chat: Said one: "To-morrow we shall be Plod plod along the featureless sands, And coasting miles and miles of sea." Said one: "Before the turn of tide We will achieve the eyrie-seat." Said one: "To-morrow shall be like To-day, but much more sweet." "To-morrow," said they, strong with hope, And dwelt upon the pleasant way: "To-morrow," cried they, one and all, While no one spoke of yesterday. Their life stood full at blessed noon; I, only I, had passed away: "To-morrow and to-day," they cried; I was of yesterday. I shivered comfortless, but cast No chill across the table-cloth; I, all-forgotten, shivered, sad To stay, and yet to part how loth: I passed from the familiar room, I who from love had passed away, Like the remembrance of a guest That tarrieth but a day.
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2.1k
Christina Rossetti
At Home
When I was dead, my spirit turned To seek the much-frequented house I passed the door, and saw my friends Feasting beneath green orange-boughs; From hand to hand they pushed the wine, They ****** the pulp of plum and peach; They sang, they jested, and they laughed, For each was loved of each. I listened to their honest chat: Said one: "To-morrow we shall be Plod plod along the featureless sands, And coasting miles and miles of sea." Said one: "Before the turn of tide We will achieve the eyrie-seat." Said one: "To-morrow shall be like To-day, but much more sweet." "To-morrow," said they, strong with hope, And dwelt upon the pleasant way: "To-morrow," cried they, one and all, While no one spoke of yesterday. Their life stood full at blessed noon; I, only I, had passed away: "To-morrow and to-day," they cried; I was of yesterday. I shivered comfortless, but cast No chill across the table-cloth; I, all-forgotten, shivered, sad To stay, and yet to part how loth: I passed from the familiar room, I who from love had passed away, Like the remembrance of a guest That tarrieth but a day.
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32
Dreamt of a devilish woman dressed in scarlet, and dancing to her heart’s content She twirled about, her dress all a-twist, coming to face me, as if terrified. No eyes, no lips, no nose-- her hair was dark chocolate, yet lacked the normal luster Dainty feet pranced toward me ****** dress gently gracing about her frame, Featureless face attempting to smile… For a moment I was frozen; To run, to hide, to make her mine. She chose, rudely, without asking me. Arms came ‘round my neck, —Ice on death Without a thought I ****** her away; disgusted. Her mask split open a thousand ugly, jagged teeth; graveyards and dirt came to my nose No more elegance in her steps, She sprung at me—
0
Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 2:58 PM UTC
natasha-yount
Rosemary
Dreamt of a devilish woman dressed in scarlet, and dancing to her heart’s content She twirled about, her dress all a-twist, coming to face me, as if terrified. No eyes, no lips, no nose-- her hair was dark chocolate, yet lacked the normal luster Dainty feet pranced toward me ****** dress gently gracing about her frame, Featureless face attempting to smile… For a moment I was frozen; To run, to hide, to make her mine. She chose, rudely, without asking me. Arms came ‘round my neck, —Ice on death Without a thought I ****** her away; disgusted. Her mask split open a thousand ugly, jagged teeth; graveyards and dirt came to my nose No more elegance in her steps, She sprung at me—
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23
Allure Beauty from the sultriest with even steady glow exquisite soft lines is perfected in the creature Dreams are resonant the eyes smolder all tender entry viewed from lips of lushness Crowned with hair beyond mortal texture it perfectly accentuates loving doll quality’s full mixture The promise held forth borders crossed unable to envision your dumb all filled with doubt as she pouts The soul engages as the eyes flame and burn with passion the heart beats with hard thumps Heavenly body formed from flesh in its force you reel emotional exhilaration extends to enthrallment Hands touch the visible world seems altered the blood seems to halt its flowing the mind ******* Reconsider the alignment of the stars surly you have passed them in the silver moons glowing stream The exotic has burst forth on a common stage all has juxtaposed the delirium takes free course The dance now begun the coupled whirl started here ends among the marveling distant clouds Enchantment has found its boundless geography it not on any maps it’s truly the heart at it’s source Governed never the reins to this wild and free spirit has never been made that would be injustice Has loveliness limits are the galaxies measurable how can they when their ever growing and bestowing Featureless flawless curvy arts greatest inspiration told through a form that’s made to love and hold If genius is ever is to be expounded bring the beloved of all men set her in the midst her essence flowing The world speaks of desirability its fount its ever coursing real ideal is found in timeless womanhood
0
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:47 PM UTC
hal-loyd-denton
Allure
Allure Beauty from the sultriest with even steady glow exquisite soft lines is perfected in the creature Dreams are resonant the eyes smolder all tender entry viewed from lips of lushness Crowned with hair beyond mortal texture it perfectly accentuates loving doll quality’s full mixture The promise held forth borders crossed unable to envision your dumb all filled with doubt as she pouts The soul engages as the eyes flame and burn with passion the heart beats with hard thumps Heavenly body formed from flesh in its force you reel emotional exhilaration extends to enthrallment Hands touch the visible world seems altered the blood seems to halt its flowing the mind ******* Reconsider the alignment of the stars surly you have passed them in the silver moons glowing stream The exotic has burst forth on a common stage all has juxtaposed the delirium takes free course The dance now begun the coupled whirl started here ends among the marveling distant clouds Enchantment has found its boundless geography it not on any maps it’s truly the heart at it’s source Governed never the reins to this wild and free spirit has never been made that would be injustice Has loveliness limits are the galaxies measurable how can they when their ever growing and bestowing Featureless flawless curvy arts greatest inspiration told through a form that’s made to love and hold If genius is ever is to be expounded bring the beloved of all men set her in the midst her essence flowing The world speaks of desirability its fount its ever coursing real ideal is found in timeless womanhood
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17
Before her, I was South-facing as a loose tooth plucked from sore gums. There is a affinity shared with her In this gloomy hair, like graphite Fingerprints anointed on my featureless cranium; and how Before me, she was Broken as the noon's fever. Her boyish hips fanning out, Abdicating space for my anemone palms To measure their wingspan. Jellylike expectancy Suspends us in a flood of adrenaline.
0
May 10, 2025
May 10, 2025 at 1:28 AM UTC
meowmeowmezcal
Relative
Before her, I was South-facing as a loose tooth plucked from sore gums. There is a affinity shared with her In this gloomy hair, like graphite Fingerprints anointed on my featureless cranium; and how Before me, she was Broken as the noon's fever. Her boyish hips fanning out, Abdicating space for my anemone palms To measure their wingspan. Jellylike expectancy Suspends us in a flood of adrenaline.
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11
The abysm of the unbodied Infinite; A fathomless zero occupied the world. A power of fallen boundless self awake Between the first and the last Nothingness, Recalling the tenebrous womb from which it came, Turned from the insoluble mystery of birth And the tardy process of mortality And longed to reach its end in vacant Nought. As in a dark beginning of all things, A mute featureless semblance of the Unknown Repeating for ever the unconscious act, Prolonging for ever the unseeing will, Cradled the cosmic drowse of ignorant Force Whose moved creative slumber kindles the suns And carries our lives in its somnambulist whirl. --By Sri Auro,Book I,Canto I
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Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
timeless
Dawn
The abysm of the unbodied Infinite; A fathomless zero occupied the world. A power of fallen boundless self awake Between the first and the last Nothingness, Recalling the tenebrous womb from which it came, Turned from the insoluble mystery of birth And the tardy process of mortality And longed to reach its end in vacant Nought. As in a dark beginning of all things, A mute featureless semblance of the Unknown Repeating for ever the unconscious act, Prolonging for ever the unseeing will, Cradled the cosmic drowse of ignorant Force Whose moved creative slumber kindles the suns And carries our lives in its somnambulist whirl. --By Sri Auro,Book I,Canto I
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16
hopeless, helpless, confusing, gloomy have faith dark muggy muggy evening of hopes, oh what an error, how could I, this again and again same old same old, hopeless, helpless, chimera, mirage, don't trust lost, defeated, distant, too far the journey, endless, keep walking featureless, destiny, fate, tired, unclear, ebbing evening light, faceless; let go, less hope, less help, less clear, less light, less known, only less not no hope, no help, not clear, no light, unknown, indecipherable; endless, hopeless, confusing, tired, can't walk, where to go, how, how light is within, destiny, fate, chimera, mirage, nevertheless, endless
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Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 5:50 AM UTC
prabhu-iyer
3 Lilies
hopeless, helpless, confusing, gloomy have faith dark muggy muggy evening of hopes, oh what an error, how could I, this again and again same old same old, hopeless, helpless, chimera, mirage, don't trust lost, defeated, distant, too far the journey, endless, keep walking featureless, destiny, fate, tired, unclear, ebbing evening light, faceless; let go, less hope, less help, less clear, less light, less known, only less not no hope, no help, not clear, no light, unknown, indecipherable; endless, hopeless, confusing, tired, can't walk, where to go, how, how light is within, destiny, fate, chimera, mirage, nevertheless, endless
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9
I struggle now and then, Forgetful as I've become, The colors of my life, Certainly now have dimed, All the faces less seen and recalled. I actually forgot, My Mother’s name the other day, Or was it several weeks ago? Way back I was told, I had a Photographic Memory, A useful tool to have. The go to guy for remembrances’, I could really put on a show. Those color images are now, Mostly Black and White, Or faded to a sterile blank, Featureless as an empty, Solid, all grey wall. Alzheimer’s the Doctors say, Creeping in to stay, Stealing my very soul away, Until there is nothing left, But a useless empty shell. Without my soul of memories Why would I even want to live? A thing I really must consider, While still I can recall.
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Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
stephen-e-yocum
Forget Me Not
I struggle now and then, Forgetful as I've become, The colors of my life, Certainly now have dimed, All the faces less seen and recalled. I actually forgot, My Mother’s name the other day, Or was it several weeks ago? Way back I was told, I had a Photographic Memory, A useful tool to have. The go to guy for remembrances’, I could really put on a show. Those color images are now, Mostly Black and White, Or faded to a sterile blank, Featureless as an empty, Solid, all grey wall. Alzheimer’s the Doctors say, Creeping in to stay, Stealing my very soul away, Until there is nothing left, But a useless empty shell. Without my soul of memories Why would I even want to live? A thing I really must consider, While still I can recall.
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27
Unheard, desperate cries, Falling on deaf ears, Indifference of the times— Prayers plead desperately To a dispassionate God. Innocence, youth, and promises Are insufficient causes To awaken the Almighty. Screams reach out, piercing The cold, uncaring night— Featureless faces turn away, Eyes look to distant horizons. Anguished sounds, lost, dispersed In frigid, fearful winds; Easier to hear a pin drop Midst the maelstrom Of creation’s cacophony. Eyes frozen in terror, Mouth gaped and motionless. A child lost in the wilderness, Wandering aimlessly, hopelessly. A young voice asks help, Turning to a society Who has itself, long ago, Lost its way as well.
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Mar 23, 2010
Mar 23, 2010 at 3:08 PM UTC
black-swan
Silent Screams
Unheard, desperate cries, Falling on deaf ears, Indifference of the times— Prayers plead desperately To a dispassionate God. Innocence, youth, and promises Are insufficient causes To awaken the Almighty. Screams reach out, piercing The cold, uncaring night— Featureless faces turn away, Eyes look to distant horizons. Anguished sounds, lost, dispersed In frigid, fearful winds; Easier to hear a pin drop Midst the maelstrom Of creation’s cacophony. Eyes frozen in terror, Mouth gaped and motionless. A child lost in the wilderness, Wandering aimlessly, hopelessly. A young voice asks help, Turning to a society Who has itself, long ago, Lost its way as well.
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25
Come marauder, sword unscabbarded, lay   siege by deceit, wound mortal my coil again: I live in aeons where millennia are puddles - you will be assimilated, your venom spat out. What of nations but the notions of separation, people go, languages die like colours and petals but here lies anchored, the soul of the world. Deep in that recess where no man has gone, by moonless nights, unfurled ancient the song of the stars flowing in  distant skies Who knows when time began? Who clocked the beginnings? Here I asked of nought and nigh, here the endless vast, and out of a featureless past speaks the wisdom that lights continents afar heroic the call to selfless action in the field of war. Here was love born, in all her colours, and the lore of the unhinged compassion of the liberated soul here I asked of the highest god, why none above? and came war beating its chest, lust laden again pillage and plunder of the savage kind but, I live, I live, I live, I live in the cave temples of the unknown world, I live in the music of the evening sun, I live in the dance of the spirit drunk of love, I live in the ruins whose soul is beyond plunder, I rise towering from the ashes, There - flies the wheel of law on the horizon high There is yet a mighty dawn waiting to rain down light on the veiled world, free free, I am a spark of that thirsting fire!
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Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 4:39 PM UTC
prabhu-iyer
Freedom - 2
Come marauder, sword unscabbarded, lay   siege by deceit, wound mortal my coil again: I live in aeons where millennia are puddles - you will be assimilated, your venom spat out. What of nations but the notions of separation, people go, languages die like colours and petals but here lies anchored, the soul of the world. Deep in that recess where no man has gone, by moonless nights, unfurled ancient the song of the stars flowing in  distant skies Who knows when time began? Who clocked the beginnings? Here I asked of nought and nigh, here the endless vast, and out of a featureless past speaks the wisdom that lights continents afar heroic the call to selfless action in the field of war. Here was love born, in all her colours, and the lore of the unhinged compassion of the liberated soul here I asked of the highest god, why none above? and came war beating its chest, lust laden again pillage and plunder of the savage kind but, I live, I live, I live, I live in the cave temples of the unknown world, I live in the music of the evening sun, I live in the dance of the spirit drunk of love, I live in the ruins whose soul is beyond plunder, I rise towering from the ashes, There - flies the wheel of law on the horizon high There is yet a mighty dawn waiting to rain down light on the veiled world, free free, I am a spark of that thirsting fire!
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30
Sit tight. Do nowt. Say nowt.Hear all. See all. Watch the deadly idiotboard of news unfurl. Watch the deserving rich desert the poor. A featureless snowstorm of foreign fear, eyes glazing over, lacking focus. Fearing zealots within and without. Without power of intervention. Beyond comprehension.
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Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 1:53 PM UTC
tony-luxton
Snowstorm
Sit tight. Do nowt. Say nowt.Hear all. See all. Watch the deadly idiotboard of news unfurl. Watch the deserving rich desert the poor. A featureless snowstorm of foreign fear, eyes glazing over, lacking focus. Fearing zealots within and without. Without power of intervention. Beyond comprehension.
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7
Smooth Canvas, So deceitful so eerily beautiful. I am what I seem, nothing more and nothing less. But what do I see when I stand in front of that faithful mirror? Do I see a featureless face, or do I notice a true being? The mannequin that I am, sees a soul in her reflection. Passerbys see only my offwhite motionless body. But inside I know what I am.
0
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
sydney-rianne-bouldin
Mannequin
Smooth Canvas, So deceitful so eerily beautiful. I am what I seem, nothing more and nothing less. But what do I see when I stand in front of that faithful mirror? Do I see a featureless face, or do I notice a true being? The mannequin that I am, sees a soul in her reflection. Passerbys see only my offwhite motionless body. But inside I know what I am.
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12
In the heart of the cavern, light that stands ancient behind time, beyond phenomena, the observer of melodies; This is where it all began, those aeons lost when the mollusc heeded the call to man. Inward, stalked by worry and loss, an inversion of the lines of time: beyond the zero point of recollection, where zoom microcosms of possibilities a realm not realm, but like that an existence beyond existence. Here, arose an affliction, in curled expanses that exist as some among an infinitude of potentials, worldlines, some dark and featureless, others growing and meaningless and some like here where sentient, observatory, a shadow grows around the probing ray of infant awareness. and so the ascent, from light to light through alleys of darkness. Vast, the beginnings and interludes between phantasmagoria; What accedes of in slumber, the knowledge of things and nothings. And up even until the day when the babe says 'mine'.
0
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
prabhu-iyer
Birthings | The Hermit
In the heart of the cavern, light that stands ancient behind time, beyond phenomena, the observer of melodies; This is where it all began, those aeons lost when the mollusc heeded the call to man. Inward, stalked by worry and loss, an inversion of the lines of time: beyond the zero point of recollection, where zoom microcosms of possibilities a realm not realm, but like that an existence beyond existence. Here, arose an affliction, in curled expanses that exist as some among an infinitude of potentials, worldlines, some dark and featureless, others growing and meaningless and some like here where sentient, observatory, a shadow grows around the probing ray of infant awareness. and so the ascent, from light to light through alleys of darkness. Vast, the beginnings and interludes between phantasmagoria; What accedes of in slumber, the knowledge of things and nothings. And up even until the day when the babe says 'mine'.
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28
From the cradle to the grave We're manhandled and manipulated Manoeuvred like chess pieces Arranged in columns, in  statistics, in order Our worth is determined by skilful orientation Influenced by others, employed by others, used by others Faceless, nameless, featureless, utilisers that Make sure we are kept within our boundaries Yet, all these words have one thing in common MAN Unscrupulous influence unfairly deployed Ensure that our managed manhandling is exploited by the MAN.
0
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
Camellia-japonica
Manipulate
From the cradle to the grave We're manhandled and manipulated Manoeuvred like chess pieces Arranged in columns, in  statistics, in order Our worth is determined by skilful orientation Influenced by others, employed by others, used by others Faceless, nameless, featureless, utilisers that Make sure we are kept within our boundaries Yet, all these words have one thing in common MAN Unscrupulous influence unfairly deployed Ensure that our managed manhandling is exploited by the MAN.
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11
slogging through squelching mud or trudging over frozen, terse, tundra or wandering aimless featureless freeway where are you now, what do you see? how's the view? *how should i know? how could i know? should i know? why don't i know? what am i doing here?* is it beautiful, this sky, or strikingly malevolent? do these colors mean roiling heavens brimming with destruction or is that just the sunset? do you tread lightly and enjoy the stroll, sprintunstoppabledown the ravine grapple with impossible terrain? do i climb at all, move at all, progress at all? No. Too Lazy. Too Weary. am i not? what if i'm not? what if i'm just s t a g n a n t ? Dead Weight. *am i dead weight? am i dead?* The Trees were once beautiful here- until I feared fungus rotting on the inside eating out the inside retching from the inside The Trees were once beautiful here. *"Am I at a Crossroads?" how could i know? i follow where my fear will let me go my fear will let me know if it's safe to go* only safe to stay, don't go. Fears, Worries trip down the path, strip away the path heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it's off to work we go *was the way always so barren? what happened to my shoes? what happened to my walking stick? what else have i to lose?* Though mountain I would climb glorious stream I would hear see swooning vine clutch lover tree; though valiant travels I would make --crossing marsh, scaling peak, battling desert, traversing valley, fording river, drinking lake-- bind my eyes, blind my eyes no pathway i may take. the way is broken when Fear and Apprehension rule the road.
0
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 12:16 PM UTC
beth-ivy
Anxiety walks.
slogging through squelching mud or trudging over frozen, terse, tundra or wandering aimless featureless freeway where are you now, what do you see? how's the view? *how should i know? how could i know? should i know? why don't i know? what am i doing here?* is it beautiful, this sky, or strikingly malevolent? do these colors mean roiling heavens brimming with destruction or is that just the sunset? do you tread lightly and enjoy the stroll, sprintunstoppabledown the ravine grapple with impossible terrain? do i climb at all, move at all, progress at all? No. Too Lazy. Too Weary. am i not? what if i'm not? what if i'm just s t a g n a n t ? Dead Weight. *am i dead weight? am i dead?* The Trees were once beautiful here- until I feared fungus rotting on the inside eating out the inside retching from the inside The Trees were once beautiful here. *"Am I at a Crossroads?" how could i know? i follow where my fear will let me go my fear will let me know if it's safe to go* only safe to stay, don't go. Fears, Worries trip down the path, strip away the path heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it's off to work we go *was the way always so barren? what happened to my shoes? what happened to my walking stick? what else have i to lose?* Though mountain I would climb glorious stream I would hear see swooning vine clutch lover tree; though valiant travels I would make --crossing marsh, scaling peak, battling desert, traversing valley, fording river, drinking lake-- bind my eyes, blind my eyes no pathway i may take. the way is broken when Fear and Apprehension rule the road.
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