The Dictator
Had his trusted adviser
Bring ten of the most beautiful women in the country
To be his potential wife.
They  all stripped  naked
And lined up next to one another
So he could
Pick out the sexiest
"Trophy Wife",
But none of them met his specifications.
"Can't you find a woman with some real curves?!"
The Dictator complained to his Adviser.
The Adviser explained to his Boss,
"Well, sir,"
"If you want a woman with real curves,"
"I'll have to look among the lower economic classes,"
"And find a woman of African Ancestry for you."
"What the hell is wrong with That?!" the horny Dictator bellowed.
"Well, Boss,"
"If you select a Negress to be your wife,"
"You'll have to make concessions to the Black Community,"
"And the Economic Elites won't approve of That!"
"To HELL with the Economic Elites!" the horny dictator shouted
As he took out his pistol and shot his adviser dead.
The naked ladies,
Who were there to try to seduce the dictator,
All fled out the door of the Presidential Palace
When they heard the gunshots going off
Without even putting on their clothes.
They thought that the Dictator was a Madmen,
In reality,
He just wanted
Some supple flesh.
Corvus Feb 2017
I've discovered Hell, and the truth is,
It isn't a place you go, it's a sickness.
It resides within your bones
And its scaffolding is made from trauma.
The only fire you'll find is from the white-hot flashbacks
That leave you drenched in sweat that smells like smoke.
No-one lives there except you and your enemies,
And your enemies are fragments of history, unable to be killed.
Your mind is the devil that subjects you to punishment
That you can't help but be convinced that you deserve,
And escape is a notion kept only for tears;
Everything else remains trapped.
Hell is being held within the cage of your own body
And killing yourself trying to break free.
Tomlinsonsgun Oct 2015
I'm empty inside
No one can See
Through the flesh mask
They wan't me to be
Cunning Linguist Jan 2014
One thousand phalluses
Won't fill
That void in your Soul
Lying apart now, each in a separate bed,
He with a book, keeping the light on late,
She like a girl dreaming of childhood,
All men elsewhere - it is as if they wait
Some new event: the book he holds unread,
Her eyes fixed on the shadows overhead.

Tossed up like flotsam from a former passion,
How cool they lie. They hardly ever touch,
Or if they do, it is like a confession
Of having little feeling - or too much.
Chastity faces them, a destination
For which their whole lives were a preparation.

Strangely apart, yet strangely close together,
Silence between them like a thread to hold
And not wind in. And time itself's a feather
Touching them gently. Do they know they're old,
These two who are my father and my mother
Whose fire from which I came, has now grown cold?
charley gwenn Jul 2016
dancing between words
between worlds
bodies cannot
move like this

spirit stretches outward
meat constraints
never, ever enough
reach higher

when will this body
ever be enough for me
dancing has never been
a thing i could let myself do

the shame is entrenched
deep in my heart, my soul
in every movement i make
i feel it strike

when will this body
it's just flesh
Eleanor Rigby May 2015
You are flesh and bone
But your heart is stone.

Poetic T Oct 2014
You don't see me but I am
There, I have numerous ways
To take you,
Hold you,
Control you,
You'll not even know
I was there,
I am a conqueror of flesh.

Sickly, siphoned, strained
Both body and my brain
Doctor said it's just a cold
Nothing but a passing pain
Is this hypochondria,
Or is there something in my veins?

Your insides are my playground
To cause you much anguish & pain
I'll infect you slowly at first,
Have a little fun within your
I aim to control, invisible
To the eye, but you know
I'm in here, your losing control.

Today I coughed up blood
Cold sweats come in floods
I'm drowning in my own bed
As I clutch my feverish head
There's an inferno in my skull
I'm taking Vicodin to null
Whatever it is eating at me
I know I'll be better in a week.

You apes think size is intelligence,
This was your undoing from the start,
I replicate myself, as its my time to move on,
I leave apart of myself here
As its time too
My gift to those around,
You sneezed
You coughed
Upon your sweat, I am
Now on everything you touch,
Time to end the play,
"Business calls"
Be Proud of your self
Patient Zero, dear human
You were my first,
But its time for me to move on...
philosober Jun 2014
Flesh, flesh, flesh, there’s too much everywhere!
No, I can't be seen like this
There’s too much flesh here
And here as well
I can’t weigh this much at fifteen!
Flesh on my thighs, flesh on my arms
I’ll never fit on the cover of a magazine!
flesh, flesh, FLESH!
I better use a razor, use a knife, use broken glass
Maybe the flesh will leak out, maybe I’ll be flatter
How am I gonna be liked by the boys in class????
No no momma, don’t lie to me, I just know it matters
Do you see it shake when I laugh too much?
No no no I can’t laugh too much
I can’t be happy now, do you see
I heard cigarettes make you skinny and poetic, momma
now don't you lie to me, momma, I'm going outside
I'll go have a smoke, with my FLESH on my sides
It’s like acid, it burns like heartache
I’m gonna make my scale break
No no momma, I’m not a pretty girl
No momma, this flesh belongs to the monsters under my bed
Who are turning into provoking voices in my head
You disgusting little thing
You hog all the food, you hog all the space
You think you’d ever look good in underwear or in lace?
Disgusting little thing,
I can see through you dress
You are no-good-to-love case
I can’t love all of you
My heart is not big enough to love you, girl
And all your FLESH FLESH FLESH.  
It's been a while....
my mind was screaming for some words on paper, and this is one of the rare times when my anger towards myself wins over collectiveness. it feels good though, let out some steam.
I'm sorry for the vulgar emotions, I'm just going through bad bad times
Courtney Taylor Jun 2014
We are bones. Us as the human race. we are bones covered in flesh. Different flesh, but we're still bones.
We look different, but we're still bones.
We sound different, but we're still bones.
We move different, but we're still bones.
We act different, but we're still bones.
Get it yet?
We are individuals, but underneath, we are bones.
We are the same. Equal.
Each of us are skeletons created by the same God, who personalized us according to His will.
All in all; we are replicated bones.
MC Hammered Apr 2014
There's more
in the glass than
in the

A truly conflicted

Skin deep?
I'll carve
when the wells run

Trace each
fingertips and
Bianca Reyes Jan 2016
My aching flesh
Handprints on me are reddish
Your blanket of fire
Cold silk expose desire
Pressed against you to learn
How slow and heavy we burn
Shared on Hello Poetry on January 27, 2016.
Copywrite under Bianca Reyes
All Rights Reserved
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