"fleshless" poems
will suddenly trees leap from winter and will
the stabbing music of your white youth
wounded by my arms’ bothness
(say a twilight lifting the fragile skill
of new leaves’ voices,and sharp lips of spring
simply joining with the wonderless
city’s sublime cheap distinct mouth)
do the exact human comely thing?
(or will the fleshless moments go and go
across this dirtied pane where softly preys
the grey and perpendicular Always—
or possibly there drift a pulseless blur
of paleness;
the unswift mouths of snow
insignificantly whisper….
10.6k
Time skips in between screen time emptiness
Mind's fuzzy with the traffic sounds
Eyes blinded by the flashing lights
Hands struggle to reach something pleasurable, at least,
As the heart beats excited for the minute-lasting serotonin blast
The hair grows an inch each week,
The numbness comes in days and leaves for a couple hours by bits,
The blood's rage meets the grinning face of guilt,
And the will to change is temporary.
What will it be when I'm 70?
What will change in me?
What will it be like when I'm not me?
And if I'm not me, who else should I be?
Why should I care for the fate of the world?
Why can't I be cozy for 20 years and die alone, slowly?
Why do I have to get up in the first place?
Why do I have to belong to the human race?
Racing indefinitely
Pretending to wear the shield of bravery for someone else's dream-fuck-like-fantasy,
What are all these brands and all these bands of crows?
Eating fleshless people with money for bones
Why is the circus always in town?
Why does the TV lie?
Why does the Internet lie?
Why do the people who run our money lie?
Why do the people who run us lie?
Why is it all so fake and sly?
What is all this bellyful hunger?
What is it that I can't grasp?
Is our nature really all that nefast?
If this is peak humanity, why should it last?
Feb 8, 2023
Feb 8, 2023 at 11:15 AM UTC
625
’Twas a long Parting—but the time
For Interview—had Come—
Before the Judgment Seat of God—
The last—and second time
These Fleshless Lovers met—
A Heaven in a Gaze—
A Heaven of Heavens—the Privilege
Of one another’s Eyes—
No Lifetime—on Them—
Appareled as the new
Unborn—except They had beheld—
Born infiniter—now—
Was Bridal—e’er like This?
A Paradise—the Host—
And Cherubim—and Seraphim—
The unobtrusive Guest—
2.4k
321
Of all the Sounds despatched abroad,
There’s not a Charge to me
Like that old measure in the Boughs—
That phraseless Melody—
The Wind does—working like a Hand,
Whose fingers Comb the Sky—
Then quiver down—with tufts of Tune—
Permitted Gods, and me—
Inheritance, it is, to us—
Beyond the Art to Earn—
Beyond the trait to take away
By Robber, since the Gain
Is gotten not of fingers—
And inner than the Bone—
Hid golden, for the whole of Days,
And even in the Urn,
I cannot vouch the merry Dust
Do not arise and play
In some odd fashion of its own,
Some quainter Holiday,
When Winds go round and round in Bands—
And thrum upon the door,
And Birds take places, overhead,
To bear them Orchestra.
I crave Him grace of Summer Boughs,
If such an Outcast be—
Who never heard that fleshless Chant—
Rise—solemn—on the Tree,
As if some Caravan of Sound
Off Deserts, in the Sky,
Had parted Rank,
Then knit, and swept—
In Seamless Company—
1.8k
Morbid hallways swathed in death,
smeared with blood soaked discontent,
wrought with cacophonic lament;
this is my asylum.
Eyeless gazes pierce the veil
that separates my mind from Hell.
Though, thin's the shroud that shan't prevail;
this is my asylum.
Lipless, toothless, ear to ear;
these wretched grins sinewed with fear.
Putrefaction rots their sneers;
this is my asylum.
This is where the dead don't die;
this hellion mire's where they abide
with fleshless hands stretched toward the sky;
this is my asylum.
Asphyxiation, let me breathe,
lest I join these mortuous fiends.
Purge my soul; I shall bequeath
myself to my asylum.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
She doesn't recite poems in the darkish sunset
like golden corns dying to be reaped
she needs a hand to cut her through
reach to where a fleshless lust is still not ember.
Seasons come and fly away.
Her own poems withering
she pines for one simple nest
to rest.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
In Ocean’s wide domains,
Half buried in the sands,
Lie skeletons in chains,
With shackled feet and hands.
Beyond the fall of dews,
Deeper than plummet lies,
Float ships, with all their crews,
No more to sink nor rise.
There the black Slave-ship swims,
Freighted with human forms,
Whose fettered, fleshless limbs
Are not the sport of storms.
These are the bones of Slaves;
They gleam from the abyss;
They cry, from yawning waves,
“We are the Witnesses!”
Within Earth’s wide domains
Are markets for men’s lives;
Their necks are galled with chains,
Their wrists are cramped with gyves.
Dead bodies, that the kite
In deserts makes its prey;
Murders, that with affright
Scare school-boys from their play!
All evil thoughts and deeds;
Anger, and lust, and pride;
The foulest, rankest weeds,
That choke Life’s groaning tide!
These are the woes of Slaves;
They glare from the abyss;
They cry, from unknown graves,
“We are the Witnesses!”
1.5k
To the ferryman I pay another favor.
Shake his hand and walk from his mooring.
Walking the familiar path through the mire,
Keep your head high and ignore the sinking.
Every step back from the water,
An eternity of wretched squelching.
How many times have I walked this path.
Memories of youth and owning softer bones.
The aging shows now not just inside,
But clawing at the skin and hollowing of the eyes.
A distant heartbeat now darker punctuates each squelch from my feet.
Vultures and monsters lock eyes with my shadow.
Not quite dead but far from living,
I ponder the payment I keep on making.
How is it I can turn from the boat.
The answers are fleeting almost a whisper.
My eyes are drawn down by softest suggestion,
And through the darkness I see the bones and flesh breaking.
My chest burns and bleeds bleeding crimson upon the reeds .
In horror I wail soundlessly into the mud.
Hands dive to every break Clawing over every wound,
Feeling the scar of every knife,
Faces born to every memory.
The hurt the only feeling that remains.
I turn to look back at the creature I left,
A tear rolling down a fleshless face.
Caressing his own heart,
He raises his head and at last our eyes meet.
“You show me love with every heartbreak,
You come to me lost and with torture aplenty,
So broken by your own mind,
I make that which tortures you mine.”
The Ferryman opens his palm and shows me his treasure,
My own heart beating and bleeding with poison.
“Walk free from misery and grow anew,
I will wait again to trade away the pain the world will gift you.
But know this my love I cannot save you,
For in your chest beats my own broken heart,
Torn by every time I free you.”
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 8:08 AM UTC
his eye dislodged from his head
as he desperately plead
for me to stop
fleshless knuckles beautiful
beat my tears away
as it all spins around me
the memories of yesterday
the sadness of closure
even victory
a happiness defined by melancholy
and with my remembrance of yesterday
i will save tomorrow from today
and make a display of all they could have been
all that should have been
portrayed
as Dust in Wind
Particles In Sunlight
or blunt force trauma
Let em go
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 12:12 AM UTC
The moon shone on the trees and found
The trees were paler than the moon.
The wind was a peroxide stain
That stabbed, wormlike, toward the veiled fastness of my brain
The wind that skinned me ‘til I stood, naked and raw;
The corner of my mouth cradled a pestilential sore.
My throat was lined and thin and wan
As though it held the cranium of an antique and parasitic swan.
I turned my mouth toward the origin of my demise
And said,
“ I vowed to die amongst the trees
While human hands removed my clothes, and closed my crusted eyes
And human voices stilled my vague unease
But this will do for now.”
A crow wheeled above as I keeled over in the dust and saw
The sacred steepled chapel of somebody’s fleshless body
Writhe beside me, and in hollow whispers fall;
I closed my eyes and ushered in the shadows as the night began to crawl.
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 5:09 PM UTC
Finnegan, begin again
is it time to wake?
The belfry bats are singing
from the yew trees, "heigh **
heigh ** heigh hooooo . . . "
as lips lip fleshless lips of air
Bloom clinks a glass with
M'Intosh, "Three quarks
for Muster Mark!" and
Stephen drinks tea from
lotus flowers poured by
Nausicaa while sirens call
between the clashing rocks
"Come home Telemachus, come
home Penelope, come home
Mary, come
home . . . "
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
1.
At the first timid tinge of blush in the sky
he emerged, shirtless
from his shelter.
And seeing how the shadows
slipped down into the canyon
he searched, thirst-less,
for a cactus.
He sat at its feet
all morning, legs crossed
like a native. He prayed to the green
scarecrow, begged him to help.
He was worn, like an old stone,
weary from his war
with the sandpaper wind,
and ready to be born again
as pieces.
When the heat reached him,
broke the distant ridge,
he stared at the sun--
until he cried.
Blueberry eyes
bled and burnt black.
He turned away,
just before he went blind.
2.
In the white afternoon
when shadows dissolved,
he gazed downward
into the carcass of the creek.
He passed the red hours
by counting piles of bleached bones,
clumps of carbon
that sizzled in the sand.
He counted Seventy seven
fleshless creatures
sleeping beside the dream
of water.
3.
It was dusk when he descended
into the canyon.
He carried a pen light,
a shovel, and a map.
At the bottom he waded
through dust, ran his hands
through cold sand, touched
ripples born of the breeze.
4.
The moon bloomed.
Blue light flooded the canyon.
He smiled. Laid down.
Let the water wash over.
Feb 4, 2010
Feb 4, 2010 at 12:22 PM UTC
Explain to me,
mother,
why it is that
I can breathe
easier with his hole in my chest?
It is about
time
that I realize
I've done this
to
myself.
It is about
time
that I realize
I
should give up.
The waves crash against my thighs.
The waves crash against my pelvis.
The waves crash against my stomach.
The waves crash against my chest.
H
hA
haR
harD
hardE
hardeR
softeR
softE
sofT
soF
sO
so what? so what if I drown?
Let the reaper eat my stomach contents.
Let Him drink my spinal fluid;
let it trickle down his fleshless chin.
Recycle my eyes so that I may
see.
Recycle my heart so that I may
smile.
Recycle my brain so that I may
forget.
Nothing's funny when you're bleeding.
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 9:05 PM UTC
Dip me in vinegar, see if I solidify
Show me something sinister, maybe I'll be liquefied
Then you can take your acid bath
In me, the soluble sociopath
And once you're rid of the imperfection called skin
You'll be your own flawlessly fleshless twin!
When, not if, your comrades are departed, broken, spent
You'll find blame in the beauty that is
Your lack of integument;
I know life lent's lonely, led by the epidermal amputee
But I can guarantee, if you'd clean your drain
You'd still find remnants of me!
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
Even now/ at this ungodly hour/
doth morning seem so far away and yet/ so near /// somewhere twixt nights caress and soothing
balm of twilights touch /
by heavens intervention am I spared the ache /
nay the pain / of your light absent from my
darkest hour // then away and rend the very veil of monstrous stars that wouldst with all intent / make mockery of my tears / mirrored here now / upon these ashen cheeks / tear down the moon whom by her very presence doth afflict my mournful heart / for in her beauty art thou found / art thou not found// be gone / fleshless phantoms of thoughts of one for whom I would willingly die one thousand times and one thousand more / for is not the agony of each tortureous night / alone // not likened to sweet death / and I have died so oft I can ner' count the times / be merciful sweet dawn / arise // arise and with your rising raise my spirits/ for I am lost amongst the shadows of this night / and in it's shadows hide myself from all but thee / and she / she that but with a word / a glance / a touch / may free me from this Hell / and let me one more but for a moment set my sight on paradise. ///
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
such-a-deep-and-comely-thing
so-fleshless-moments-are-going
sharing-something-the-silence
and-the-quick-quiverings-of-flutings
when-nothing-becomes-the-heart
like-a-jungle-stripping-the-panache
of-the-viridian-softer-it-is-the-truth
of-the-navel’s-blue-pursuit
in-the-caterwaul-of-bodies-to-a-spry
plaything-summon-a-laughter-blacker
than-ravens-in-the-thrall-of-the-beset-moon
and-the-homes-fat-always-with-such-tender-beatings
it-is-the-time-of-the-heron
it-is-the-end-of-the-susurration
when-the-unswift-hands-of-alloys
sojourn-and-still-something-a-dagger-in-the-mire
of-the-cloud-that-egregiously-whispers
a-long-possiblity-of-dreams-and-their-palpable-weight
(say-it-will-perhaps-contention-of-pulseless-awakenings
when-it-was-such-truthfulness-that-when-the-heart-sings
the-mind-stirs-and-the-hands-dance-to-roundtables-of-mirth
twitching-such-belittled-locomotions-when-it-was-fashionable
to-have-adorned-you-the-love-and-not-firm-obstreperous-meanderings)
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 7:27 AM UTC
o t d w to FRIDAY harbor w s
h e i a o
i a I n t s r
s y t t
of
gorgeous
a peeling ember of light
pomped and glutted
serenely basking
a fleshless
glove of light
all over the bay
and twiddling
my skin
between the little shops
i was
and i was
Apr 9, 2011
Apr 9, 2011 at 12:30 PM UTC
splayed
with a deathmask as gaunt
as in life
metacarpals and phalanges,
liberated (in vain) of rubbery
connective tissues
ribs and spine,
so surprisingly human,
sunbleached
bones that may as well have been mine
but weren’t for whatever reason
(or no reason at all)
what karmic debt
could this poor specimen have possibly incurred
to be pinned, naked and fleshless, in a glass-paned box for all to see for all foreseeable eternity?
mayhap beauty is, itself
criminal
when it goes without a price tag.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 11:59 AM UTC
these fingers,
your decayed bones.
these nightmares,
your dying face.
these despaired remembrances of daylight ballads,
your hand, the pen out of ink.
these scars,
these blades,
this ruined flesh.
A promise once made,
to kiss you at midnight,
beneath a solar eclipse.
Instead, I lay here,
gripping your fleshless body,
imagining you are the sky,
The multitude of dancing stars,
the moon stealing the sun
in a heated, begging
act of sworn devotion.
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 12:40 AM UTC
As cold as another age, wracked with solitude,
A slow start to another beginning,
Unreliable cloud coats the sky
And the sea repetitiously roars in,
Cuffing cliffs,
Pounding rocks
With calamitous roars
Playing endless riffs across the sand.
We walked together down the beach
Troubled by the surf
Chewing on cigarette stubs, sullied by the wind
New ghosts in the half-light
Bearing years like backpacks.
Grown old in the gathering twilight
We chattered together, our footsteps picking
Wounds. Barbed words
Like greetings, cheerfulness like an accusation.
*********** a shared and interesting memory,
We cuddled together in the scouring wind
Enjoying each other’s casual warmth.
It was a time for reflection,
When love is a scab on evolving friendship,
Heartlessness the price of redemption.
The contrived book of your beauty,
The gilded ceramic of expertly rendered features
The undulating film of your gestures, coded and decoded
Through time.
Beauty is finite, crumbling to fleshless reminiscence
Fixed to canvas and celluloid
With tireless labour. In the end, signifying another thing-
Of little interest.
An artist’s casual thought, a director’s cut.
They barely remember your name,
Your laughter and wildness gone, missed by the
Senile artist’s transitory brush,
Clotted with hundred-year-old varnish.
A small house by the sea
Surrounded by flowerbeds sparkling with summer colour
Self-absorbed children, with whom we exchanged affection
And parted from, holidaying in Bangkok
With lovers of all sorts.
As the sea rolled towards us
And evening gave way to night.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
*Dark skies black out the spectrum,
Infinite and broad in all directions,
My aura glows in its reflection,
Under the light of the moon,
My soul fleshless,
Free from the skin that clenched it,
Illuminated projection,
Amongst the brightness, died and consumed,
Burning vibrant like a fire for two,
My presence,
Rattles my soul's opposition,
Birthing death inside of the womb-
HED TRAMA™*
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 4:04 AM UTC
If I lay in death, entombed in hells breath
Would you wager with mortal blood,
Dine on demon veins ?
Would you bathe in fires, and poison the light?
Lick the knives of pretty lives ?
Would you pay the dark dogs before hells gate?
Would you devour the bones, fleshless, stinking?
Would you fracture Hades obsidian eye?
Would you enchant the black opal mother,
Have her weep on her coils,
Pour venom needles to bowl?
Would you shed your seeds in the darkness?,
Strip your mortal flesh and mix your spell ?
Would you stand in immortal darkness,
Drumming with hell?
Would you paint in your velvet bloods
and name me
─ Your picture perfumed winged Raven of hell?
© Arnay Rumens / Sol Poet 2014
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
the hours 4 and 20 past
when lays my skull in cotton glass
and lipless maws gasp and laugh
fleshless poesy of ice and gas
in erring billows frothing mass
scowl(
Dec 4, 2010
Dec 4, 2010 at 10:48 AM UTC
Skeleton!
Tell us what you lack ...
the ability to love,
your flesh so slack?
Will we frighten you,
grown as pale & unsound ...
when we also haunt
the unhallowed ground?
Keywords/Tags: Halloween, skeleton, pale, haunt, grave, graveyard, unhallowed, ground, thin, kin, frighten, frightening, scary, horror, terror, slack, flesh, fleshless, bone, bony, unsound, haunting
Feb 29, 2020
Feb 29, 2020 at 5:19 AM UTC