"guises" poems
except that you have
attached your parfumed,
par~col~odored exhalations
into our shared airs,
with uniqued fumes,
thy airy
essences
to thine own chosen words,
in combines never before
seen or heard,
but worn by you,
draped from chains abound your neck,
dripping from thy tongue,
dropping from thine eyes,
leaking from your pores,
from fingers in rose gold
adorning rings bright shining
so more, so unique,
impossible to misidentify
as anything anybody any anything,
but
yours, yours…yours,
but not belabor this
fact basic,
disguise your name,
hide your fame,
make your locale,
somewhere in the unreachable,
unreal,
multiverse,
none the less,
and allthemore,
cannot escape,
the ultimate reality,
when first you press that
keyed
SEND,
you have parted, done with,
an immeasurable
small but grandeured piece of
your unique self,
if that makes you anxious,
here my eyes crinkle sympathetically,
am please to blurt
this major alert:
u have nothing to fear,
too late, too late,
you are now made,
part and particle,
past participle
futured history in
the particulared,
longest continuum
on this tiny, tiny
planet
oh well,
just thought you'd
like to know,
despite your guises,
your are now
100 per cent,
immutable ^
10/5/25 staying alive
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 8:23 PM UTC
So it came to pass at last and sad to know a Timber has fallen
It stood in strength tall and strong for over seven decades
Resplendently toned it spread an uncompromising foliage
Masterly in domain magical in reach attaining untold grades
Humble in origins yet grew with endeavour and knowledge
Distinguishably it cut sway in tundra and in lush green glades
Son of sons of the Land held roots countenancing no crawling
It reached for the stars and danced reasons with every shades
Ran with the sun and sat with owls and vipers for tutelage
Sweeping the very highs and the lows in communal trades
In the jungle of sharks and vipers it be known who's in Charge
A Timber has fallen while the rains falls and blue clouds fades
There's now a mighty hole in the earth and rivers are swollen
Leaves scatter and branches beckon hundreds of onward bridges
Leaving best Princess, flowers and saplings for love and largesse
A notable trunk laid supine free to roam without worldly cages
Odes will enter dancing in guises and tears flow without finesse
A Timber has fallen and dirges will ring out for a man of all ages
Yemessia bows and says Adieu My Senior, we will meet again.....
[email protected].
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 10:29 PM UTC
i.
mist in solemnity
mutes the sounding
leather bells in silence
ii.
salt surges waste wantonly
gulls guttural in guises
of waifs
iii.
driftwood delivered dull of
deluged dilution
ochre offering to dune's
divestment
iii.
sea glass shivers into
shallow sandy pockets
scintillating color schemes
iiii.
conches lie abandoned
in stands of sea grasses
cacophonous quiet
v.
i am wide awake yet dreaming
sleepwalking
into the
waves
SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/1/2016
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
did it work?
I give a useless tug on my skin, done to reassure me
instead it reaffirms to me:
I am, again, inconsolable.
is the mask I wear today sealed on tight? too tight?
does it hurt to pretend so much?
does it seem clear to anyone else that there are loose ends I've yet to tend to? backdoors I've overlooked?
transparencies? can they see through me?
I bare my teeth. canines, canines from the days of carnivores.
am I that carnivore? in my genes I am.
and in practice?
inconsolable, uncontrollable
barely a threat in her form.
this question comes to me under many guises:
an old man asking me: are you that of practice or are you that of genes?
a professor lecturing: are you that of cultivated identity or that of inherited form?
my concerned friends crying:
who are you?
is your mask anything like you?
and then i wake.
it's a terror turned nightly chorus.
recurring nightmares, doctors offer.
i admit i know the content of my dreams to be unfounded:
in life there are no physical masks that do the jobs my terrors depict.
no veil to hide the contours of each flawed personality, no mask to others, just me, weeping-in-the-bathroom, never-myself me
and those attempted favours to be like one another
i'll be like you so you'll like me
i'll like you because i'm like you
so the body charges on in this society like a mirror
cross your left leg when she crosses her right, fold your arms when she's folded hers, raise your hand to say hello, raise your hand to say goodbye
a kiss on the right cheek, a kiss on the left, one more on the left
this is how you show love and a greeting all at once
fold your arms over each other, this is sympathy, this is greeting, do you take comfort in this too?
so you learn to speak with your arms, and you learn to speak with your legs, and you learn to speak with your face, and you learn to speak with your head.
soon your eyes are apprentices of acquaintances, learning to borrow looks like library books, take on others' stories like they've read them end to end.
so in the middle of this process you learn to effectively say:
i see you, i hear you, i perceive you.
and in these attempted favours, at the end of your night terrors, is the parrot that they want to see. the parrot that you argue, can't really be me.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
The Doctor has a Sense of Humor!
<|>
give a surgeon a scalpel
and an excuse,
and the artist emerges,
for creativity is a good surgeon’s
natural habitat
Sure, sure, there’s a plan,
with best and acceptable outcomes,
but when messing with a real heart,
a sly ***** with numerous deceptive guises
at its disposal, you never for sure never know,
despite all the advanced imaging techniques,
exactly
what you will find once you go
spelunking
in caves of life and death
so, he takes a bit from here,
and a bob or two from there,
there a cut, here an incision deep,
Old McDonald provided a body,
or a canvas, and the Doc
is happy.
So I uncover holes where he
probed, redeploying the healthy,
like a good designer, Doc rearranges
and repairs, a travelogue of splicing and dicing,
his handiwork
Now standing over you for many hours,
can get tiring, though each ***** be
different, unique even, but leaving
a little marker, a stylized signature,
is well, is the rightful discretion of the artiste!
So you can imagine my surprise
when the tubes removed (ouch!)
the bandages ripped off in a
signature move of a delighted nurse whose
loves seeing grown men cry from lesser trivialities,
you cannot imagine my surprise
when I discovered my new tattoo,
upon my chest front and center!
*Herein please find your heart repaired,
and revitalized:
Please Note!
We guarantee our work for minimum 15 years
(Aug. 3, 2038),
but our disclaimer
we assume NO responsibility after that
if you should
happen to live for 30 YEARS or more*
Dr. P.
Sep 21, 2023
Sep 21, 2023 at 7:58 AM UTC
(1)
I posted a poem
at hello poetry -
and what happened?
Somebody started following me
I received a "notification"
(I can’t say “much to my gratification”)
that someone started following me
I think it went something like:
“Naked Blueberry started following you”
(2)
Oh what did I do?
What did I dodo?
All I did was to post a poem
and not a word from you -
O cruel menacing follower -
not a comment
not an expression of your displeasure
but you started following me
What did I do?
What did I dodo?
(3)
Sure
I may tell bad jokes
and write verse
that daily gets worse
Yeah, I may look ugly like I stole
a look from my fav Mad magazine
and once in a while I say something
about organisations -
but does that warrant you
following me
and transforming me into
a near-nervous wreck?
O Naked Blueberry
what did I do?
What did I dodo -
why do you follow me, you naked stalker?
I lie in bed now afraid
and my wife worries that
I cry out often in sleep:
“Hence, You Naked Succubus -
Follow me not!”
And I dare not approach my car
but after looking under bonnet
and boot and below the carriage
I dare not write a word now
but fear that you and your agents
will follow and stalk me
with ne’er a word, ne’er a warning
At least tell me, please O follower
O Naked Blueberry, O Protean Terminator
O **** Redberry
and all the others in various guises
(I know you guys are all one person,
namely Lily Raw and Ready)
- tell me why you follow,
show me cause of your anger
O what did I do?
What did I dodo?
What should I do?
What should I dodo?
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 8:05 AM UTC
No more guises,
Just look into my eyes
Every word said from now
Will not be a lie
But every word about to jump
From your lips shall die
Because your carnal cravings
Will eat them alive.
I’m slowly dissipating
But I know you can revive me
A fallen tree, I sleep here
Slipping into lifelessness
But I feel so ravenous
And I know you can feel
The thumping of my heart
It’s eager; deeply.
You crawl up to me
With a different face
Different intentions
Breathing different air
I inhale your energy
My longing embraced
I want every trace of innocence
Completely defaced.
Overpowered
By this yearning
We want, we crave
And we’re still learning
I cannot feel a thing
But a burning hunger
You cling to me
I invite you in
Of course, I do, I crave your skin
It’s a liquid I wish to immerse myself in
Your scent rinses me
Keeps me within your carnal hold,
Let the numbing begin.
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 4:11 AM UTC
Night appears in an avatar
of a sweet chaperon,
coming with a lovely dark gown
to dress the shy, blushing evening
cajoling her for a slow make over,
she implies, it's better letting
the will of darkness prevail.
Now she is a perfect charmer
night, lets her long dark tresses
loose, that flows in waves
down through her back and
caresses her rotund proud buttocks,
adding to her silent grandeur,
till the next spectacular day breaks.
Night is an ace temptress
with full moon at her side
as an irresistible magical charm
to sway even nature, catch
the sea in her net,
of attraction and makes it dance,
bewitching night makes
the stars in her coiffure gleam.
Night is an agile courtesan,
having royal patronage,
eyeing you wistfully,
hellbent upon her this day's conquest,
her amatory skills one can tell
will be kinky,she is classy nevertheless.
In her boudoir, women are salacious,
hungry men too dance to her tunes,
what you gain after a spirited
amorous duel, is the gift of dark eyed night.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 6:51 AM UTC
Alphabet soup
I could never tell their order, for they all came out so fast
All the letters in the alphabet, all came with a blast
Words I did not recognise, words I did not choose
All of the letters they kept scrambling
All of them amused.
I see them all before me,
A vast ocean full of glee.
Words becoming sentences
Grammatically painting pictures
For one and all to see.
I see pictures from the present
I see pictures from the past
I see pictures in natures many guises
Some of them cast to last
I read of the mystical meandering, that comes from within Pandora’s Box
I read of the mythical dimensions, of Devinci his ruse that seekers seek to unlock
I read of the magical new beginnings, in nature as seasons produce its flocks
I read of the wonders of the universe, bequeathed by scientists since time started the ticking of its clock
All the wonderful letters bequeathed to those that note,
All the wonders of the mind, its senses from which the stories float.
All these special visions’ artists choose to collate,
All these special pictures writers choose to paint.
(c) 12.14
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 12:34 PM UTC
her face a bold echo of all she left behind
a slow symphony of nasty things that linger in her mind
she lives them over and over
in the off color technical vision
of an artist trying on her own guises for a adventure
the night crawls over her thigh
lodges in the warm wet of her fingers
and spreads into the windows
grey fades into black
the slow devolution
into the jaundiced eye
into the nicotine stained tapping fingers as she impatiently
waits for words that can never be spoken aloud
the slow desire for tears
so deep and immediate that its a bible to the lonely soul
and her senses deny you
even as you touch the door
even as you evaporate down the hall
melt yourself into the humid night
so fair is her face that you live each of thouse seconds in dire regret
so fair is her touch that you must lean on your last breath
to let go
the night crawls
in her bed clothes
laying its fetid eggs
like a stain of pollution tender and sickly sweet
its insect face bitter staring from her soul
now i see you
you escape over and over
door
hall
humid night
door
hall
humid night
but you never leave
narrow her eye jaundiced and rancid
lay open for the world to see and be seen by
and she molds him to the stain of her hurt
deep impressions over the years leaves him little room to
wiggle wiggle worm, wiggle wiggle worm
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 10:02 PM UTC
one of the first songs i learnt to play on a guitar
was about a guy in space
while planet earth was blue
and there was nothing he could do
so he came back
and wrote a bunch more songs i can can play on a guitar
about heathens and spaceboys
and a guy called picasso
who was never an *******
but never came back
and in between he morphed a few times
assumed many guises
genies, heroes and dancers
rebels, dreamers and monsters
and never looked back
and i chuckle to think that up there on mars
whoever he's selling the world to
be it all the young dudes
or you in your red shoes
needn't give it back
i feel grateful for being part of it
all you've left behind
at least one thing is sure
there isn't any more pressure
and i've got your back
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 8:17 AM UTC
Run your slender fingers through my desert storm, whilst tumbleweed blows past mechanical vineyards.
Although it feels like heaven, it would be fitting to acknowledge the indulgent nature of our deprivations.
How diabolical are our interpersonal dynamics amidst customised motorcycles with forked tongues
where the societal corpus callosum facilitates communication between hemispheres of cultural polarity.
Let us expose the violence that is submerged within suave guises of sophistication.
I am already seated in the dunes of contemplation where the sky at night reveals mysteries of silent amazement.
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
For 2 years, we've met, until now, I stop.
Arranging impassion's unpleasentationships
in this 10th year, doubtlessness's equipped
to unveil all of his un-friendship.
I'll leave here.
I leave behind.
I'll leave today-
& wont return.
When you go so far and facetiously thank-
what you know to seek forgiveness for
Your once full words, empty and blank
while guises of gratitude implore.
All the cop outs and shifting blame
To grow up and then blow away again
Us tortured youths, from diamond minds
Extrapolate all that we may find
Worthy, of exchanging for our flesh's time-
Insidiousness perpetuates the implicit crime.
All that's perceived within a pill
Freckled iris, minds eye's staring still
Each kiss, Every smile, im abhorrently ill.
no doctor but witch might placate my will.
May 17, 2025
May 17, 2025 at 8:03 AM UTC
Friends are the jewels of the earth
For the real treasure
We all seek
Is to be understood
And cared for by another
With endless conversations
And cups of tea
There’s a longing
A sense of peace
That comes from good company
As the day rolls on
We talk and feel life through
Laughing at the situations
That seek to destroy us
There’s a beauty
In mutual bonding
And learning
And laughing
At life’s trouble;
It’s just me and you
Lost in our little bubble
When feeling blue
Unearthed, deadbeat
They give you a new perspective
to set you on your feet
Friendship is priceless
Connections
Communications
More tea, cake and understanding
By text, by mail
By spoken word
They reach over continents
Villages, cities and towns
To make themselves heard
To lend a hand
When feeling low
Or losing hope
They give their free support
The kind of which
Can never be bought
Days, weeks, months and years
Pass by in the blink of an eye
No need for an explanation, reason or why
They are there for you
No matter how life changes
A true friend
Always caring
Always the same inside
Getting to know you a little better
Than they did the last time
They read your letter
Never tiring of your company
A spirit so pure
You may not find all the answers
But will laugh, and talk and share
So together, we’ll find the cure
Digging deep into the human soul
Excavating feelings
Working through emotional episodes
To find peace in the present moment
And in each other
At the end of the day
That is friendship’s truest goal
Be they brother, mother, sister or lover
Friends come in many shapes and guises
For what it’s worth
A true friend means more to me
Than all the jewels of the earth.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 7:38 AM UTC
The twilight’s inner flame grows blue and deep,
And in my ****** over leagues of sea,
The temples glimmer moonwise in the trees.
Twilight has veiled the little flower face
Here on my heart, but still the night is kind
And leaves her warm sweet weight against my breast.
Am I that Sappho who would run at dusk
Along the surges creeping up the shore
When tides came in to ease the hungry beach,
And running, running, till the night was black,
Would fall forespent upon the chilly sand
And quiver with the winds from off the sea?
Ah, quietly the shingle waits the tides
Whose waves are stinging kisses, but to me
Love brought no peace, nor darkness any rest.
I crept and touched the foam with fevered hands
And cried to Love, from whom the sea is sweet,
From whom the sea is bitterer than death.
Ah, Aphrodite, if I sing no more
To thee, God’s daughter, powerful as God,
It is that thou hast made my life too sweet
To hold the added sweetness of a song.
There is a quiet at the heart of love,
And I have pierced the pain and come to peace.
I hold my peace, my Cleïs, on my heart;
And softer than a little wild bird’s wing
Are kisses that she pours upon my mouth.
Ah, never any more when spring like fire
Will flicker in the newly opened leaves,
Shall I steal forth to seek for solitude
Beyond the lure of light Alcæus’ lyre,
Beyond the sob that stilled Erinna’s voice.
Ah, never with a throat that aches with song,
Beneath the white uncaring sky of spring,
Shall I go forth to hide awhile from Love
The quiver and the crying of my heart.
Still I remember how I strove to flee
The love-note of the birds, and bowed my head
To hurry faster, but upon the ground
I saw two wingèd shadows side by side,
And all the world’s spring passion stifled me.
Ah, Love, there is no fleeing from thy might,
No lonely place where thou hast never trod,
No desert thou hast left uncarpeted
With flowers that spring beneath thy perfect feet.
In many guises didst thou come to me;
I saw thee by the maidens while they danced,
Phaon allured me with a look of thine,
In Anactoria I knew thy grace,
I looked at Cercolas and saw thine eyes;
But never wholly, soul and body mine,
Didst thou bid any love me as I loved.
Now I have found the peace that fled from me;
Close, close, against my heart I hold my world.
Ah, Love that made my life a lyric cry,
Ah, Love that tuned my lips to lyres of thine,
I taught the world thy music, now alone
I sing for one who falls asleep to hear.
1.6k
Illusions come in many forms, many guises.
They often take shape, many forms many sizes.
A blank canvas or blank slate
our minds create
--children of our imagination.
Identities bulldozed by need
we rush to plant the seed
to quickly take its form,
tender and loving
or lustful and cunning
we miss the deception
see only reflection
and crassly miss the person
beneath its shackles.
The canvas a prison
is passive, not active
releases its captive
to our great surprise.
"I thought that you loved me"
"and how could you hurt me?"
with sorrowful tone
we cry "I'm alone."
The romance is ended
the love you defended
was never to be
you just could not see--
and somewhere we see them
departing in freedom
but often we miss the whole point.
True love's not possessing,
will not be repressing,
will not be demanding
nor will it be binding.
True love will empower
does not make one cower
it gives us the strength
to be happy and free.
And should you still ponder
the nature of wonder
be troubled no more
just open the door
let jealousy burn
And if they return
your joy will be great
for it is your fate
that they'll leave you no more.
J. Sandy
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
some people see through the guises of death and birth and see the emotional void created
( in )
motherless mother absence.
i feel when i walk-
in death i walk safe -
in life, i like talking walks
curious of realms beyond time and space
each universe person a beat of drum , a snare, a snake an elephant
a human
sometimes --
i feel the revolutions swing in motion and leave all past notions in the bin just
to search through them to feel again,
sometimes the pain is a mess and i kinda like it
( but i don't ) i grow from it and it feeds me
lyrically
emotional backlog untampered.
kept from childhood stance
to womanhood chartered flights.
to smoke signal nights of cinnamon daytime incense and reveling in universal flows with a jaded partner in 'crime'
my friends feel the intangible lines
i am glad i walk this path with friends
sometimes
i just feel that we are not working together
as a whole
as a fluid aspect of nature
through the perspex glass of freedom
the free doom
promised -
there lies beyond
fields of wild flowers and untainted mountain spring of green water flows
carving streams of minds flow onto blank screen filled
in the darkest crevice of my mind
i find
hope.
in people.
i find faith in humanity again. and again,
in myself
if i can,
you can,
if you can,
anyone can,
what can we do? now that is a question i'd like to ask.
what can we afford to do? what can we afford to not do?
(a smile is free)
riddle me this, humor me if you will ...
what can we do?
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
Hidden behind a myriad of
guises and castings of a
thousand projected distortions,
he brought himself
suspended like a pendant
detached
&
objective.
I bequeathed a
tumult of love,
tumbled down
the scope of
archaic collective conflict
that shook with a spiral quake like
the wakening of my
hallowed g a s p -
the corridor echoing of the first gallop.
Lifted the skirted veils of
celestial taffeta,
surrendered to the
feats and enchantments of
The Rider
who arrived on a
rogue wave,
crest and trough and
splendorous swells of
blue and white,
reverberating from
essence centre
like Doppler
outward my firmament fingertips,
cascading around the sphere
in astral star fall,
an overflowing cup of Milky Way
and melting atoms
into grains of sand
between the blended confines of
here and there,
escaped to the ever expansive space,
Empyrean emptiness.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
"How you loved me once",
he whispered, to those who
gathered around his bed...
"You gave me strength
through your convictions
upon my mystery you fed
and I in turn, would comfort those,
who -while in suffering- chose to
turn to me....
Conceived through need
of explanation, my kind
in many guises mastered
******* Lords of all creation
"Eternal Minds"-or so you thought
From grotto walls to burning growth
the ineffable, osmosing oaths
the cultured banners of excuse
the mansioned rulers
void of proof......
...........for "Us" you fought
As ages altered my kin expired
want mutated, as you flowered
knowledge spread as awe retreated
unseated were the ways of Old..
Now stricken by the minds
that made me,my immortality
has left me...
...and with few to fan the embers of
my reason- I grow cold.
So I ask of you to turn and leave
It was never I that penned your creeds
It is you who brought idolitary
to justify your every deed
Now all is empty on those
pages- nothing breathes
upon the air, as the lines
upon my fading face are
features of your disrepair
But as I pass, I leave you this:
That is, you know not more but less.
for all the gifts that you were given
so treasured under hope of Heaven-
mean nothing...
Drenched in oil, rising seas,
pollution, avarice, war, disease
Your present...
Not a vision.
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 8:01 PM UTC
The aconites are nowhere to be seen
but at least the crocuses are in bloom.
Regretfully the snowdrops weren't in clutching swatches
but were scenic like your smile.
A promise goes a long way,
shared interests and a taxi ride
to Chippenham.
Coupledom is everything.
We learn about one another
in seasonal guises.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 5:00 PM UTC
so naive
dreamt in narrow corridors of better things
so naive
the war is not outdoors
it’s your mind
where heaven starts and hell begins
unravel guises you swear you knew
foe not friend
and at the bottom
of a hell that i had made
comprised of external situations
and the promises of better days
the bridges built soon fell away
the ashes swim in puddles deep of expectations
so naive
and what was left there
well that was me
so naive
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
I am my light, I am my savior
My ego feeds on *** and drugs
Fueling my archaic fluorescence,
Ephemeral guises of love and permanence.
My aberrant, absconding soul is always hungry.
This restlessness is eating away my passion.
I am floundering out, spinning to the ground
But even at rock bottom,
I am Technicolor.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
I want to learn to love again
But my soul seems to only transcend
You've been planted in my roots
And I can only grow with your soft flutes
That sing me to the rising sun
Where I can gleam as the new horizon
But patience must set in
I cannot torment myself with the ***** of a pin
I know my veins are filled with you
My breath was only there when we flew
So stoically I pose their art
But know I only want you to be my real part
To whisper into the breeze
And together reach the gate with our keys
A place we call our own
I'm here my love, on the other side of the phone
Answer me when the moon rises
Hold me in you arms without the guises
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC