"mascaras" poems
Fatima Latima
I had wished I had no gift of sight
That the worst I could endure is hear you speak
And not snapshot the footfall of your gradation
You may not be a thief
Nor **** daughter of the dayspring
But definitely my heart you stole
I speak of the daughter of Arabia
Aesthetically, she rocks
The queen of the pilgrim sands
And aeonian desert stones
Beyond the hijab
Artistically knead with consummate craft
Like the relics of Mecca
Blest by the prophet’s bones
The blessed
I see torches
Beaming with intelligence
Within those mascaras
Exquisitely trimmed and vibrant
A lulu class botany
She fixes a searching gaze
As she saunters close
And the stride and tread
Beats a drum entrancing
Soothed in her solacing spell
I give in, to her lullaby
She halts her perambulation
Stands magniloquent and stupefy
Like some pop diva magazine pose
Or Victorian secret shot
A tactical derangement of her gluteals
As she rests her palm in its cleft
I feel contractions, my dartos muscles
The blew of summertime
Gently beats her exceptional form
Her belt submerge her thigh crevice
Cleft by the sundered rift of fleshy fat
Built by the dainties and delicacies
Seasoned by the finest Arabian chef
As her silken dress slithers and gowns
Under the breeze bulging and blooming
Like a rose blossom or sunflower fore
As she bends down
To assuage the burlesque
The sun specula lilts her sensational
Her smile apologetic bids me stillness
I am caught staring
Guzzling down her scent and
Feasting on empty imaginations
Of What If that accentuate the mind and
Speed a hormone
And I pray I sin no more
Next time we meet and I see her again
For I am but a writer
Learning to use my pen and paper
And hope you but forgive
My linguistic impotence
When I make my confession
Employing too plain a language
When I say thus;
Her smile is classical
Her walk magical
Her beauty celestial
Her stride sensational
Her religion ethical
Her character spotless
And that leaves me breathless
And forgive if I step on broken toe
And try speak of the unspoken
Her ****** is sacred
Her being a type that dresses up
In the milliards of brutes dressing down
And shamelessly style it fashion
I must see a priest
One confession I ought to utter
And even vociferate abroad
For once I had fallen in love
With an Arabian Beautie
A ****** of Mecca.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 9:12 AM UTC
You two .....you both it cost you but for one of you .....it cost you the make-up mascaras and the lip-glosses for you to be glamouras ....it cost you bore-tie and suit to match your body with the shining shoes then we call you a gentle and we call you the lady but we see the price ......
How much does your personality cost ,how long and far would you make it priceless ......how much does it cost ...your body have price and it cost like the bible says but how much does your personality ......you two ......you both ...make your personality to have a price ...
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
My throat is closing
My eyes are blurring
My mind is racing
My hands are shaking
My chest is burning
My stomachs dropping
My mascaras smearing
My heart is breaking
My soul is dying
Though I keep screaming
And I keep crying
they never notice
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
Ever since I can remember, Barbara has been coming to our home
With her poofy hair and her powdered cheeks, all in a cloud of pink perfume.
She would speak in the fragile, broken voice of a woman well beyond her years,
And Mother would beckon her cheerfully to sit at the table in our dining room.
With whatever coffee was in the *** and whatever Danish found,
Mother would prepare the table and invite my older sister and I to gather round.
From noon to three they’d gab and chat and flip through the catalogues
That Barbara the Avon Lady had brought.
My sister and I would thumb through glossy, vibrant pages
Of blushes and eye shadows, eyeliners and mascaras.
But I, I would thumb quickly and tire even faster
At the conversation of the table that awaited me, inevitably, after.
With feigned interest, I would sit there a bit
And watch as my older sister would, more patiently, fake it.
I’d grab a cookie and then leave
Mother with her checkbook and her bitter black coffee,
Barbara with her perfume cloud and cheeks all porcelain powdery,
And my sister, with her blonde hair, which was just like mine,
But which tried, much harder to grow much faster.
Yes I would flounce away with my neck-length locks,
And go play with my younger brother.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 9:11 PM UTC
With shaken hands,
she reaches up with a wand in defeat.
Performing magic on herself,
Artifically covering what she wants to hide.
The blemishes, the mistakes
The hurt, she has felt.
The tear stains, quite possibly.
The facade does not mirror the interior.
The mascaras flakes off her lashes,
When she places more than she should.
But her hands shake too much, to stop.
All of it, she wanted to cover.
She hears the voices,
Telling her to stop, telling her to go on.
She does not hear them,
The pounding pain in her heart silences them all.
She continues, then it gets quiet.
But she still carries on.
Shattered breath, love that had left.
The tears drag the culprit down her cheeks.
She drops the wand,
All is gone.
But pain shall always prosper,
It shall always live on.
Through the quiet, yet labored breaths
A voice has returned,
The same voice has returned.
Asking her why she hides what she is.
She says,
You are the reason to start.
And you are the reason to stop.
What shall I do then?
You tell me yes,
then it changes to no.
Acceptance, than denial.
Back and forth again,
Swaying like a swing.
Whether up or down,
I am always left.
With this pain,
So how must I cope?
Split response ring through her ears,
Telling what to do.
Telling her things she does not want to hear.
So she hides, with hatred pouring down her face.
I live in a world,
That hates me. But loves me.
I am who I am by this world.
You are my world.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 6:14 PM UTC
El placer de la mirada,
La voz melodiosa q emana
de ellos
La mirada sensual
Y sonora, latente
Y viva
El candor de sus ojos
Y la verdad que emana
de ellos
Y el alma sanada
Sonrie. Sanadora,
PASIONAL Y QUE
ALIVIA.
y aun asi, en contra
De todo, una mirada
Que dio LIBERTAD.
Pasión y ternura, almas
Conectadas a través
De sus miradas
Y la libertad de saber
Eso, completo y perdido,
Desnudo y sin barricadas
Mas alla de certezas,
Zonas seguras y escudos,
Conectado, sereno
La desnudez de la libertad,
Sin mascaras, y el distante
Placer de una mirada frente
A otra
en sintonia con el todo,
A traves de los ojos
que lo embellesen todo.
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 7:35 PM UTC
Feels like things
Are gonna get hot and heavy
Hope you don't mind getting sweaty
Think your make up
Is going to get messy
Smear your lipstick
In the kiss
Girl you know I know
You want to be loved like this
Let me help you out
Out of that dress
Let your hair out
Girl don't think we're gonna
Make it to the bed
Your lips are locked on mine
Tongue in cheek
Lipstick stains on my neck
Legs wrapped around my waist
As I carry you to the bed oh yes
Let's get naked
Take it off
Take it off
Skin to skin
I want to feel every inch
Mmm
Take it off
Take it off
Let me run my hands
Over your body
I can tell that you want me
Take it off
Take it off
You on me, me on you
What does it matter
All I want is all of you
Oh, girl, you got your hand
down my jeans
You know I like it like that
I need some more
of that sweet honey baby
Let me taste your body baby
Let me help you get off oh baby
This is what I need
I need kiss every little bit
But I really like the taste of your lips
I like the way you bite
Just a little bit
Oh yeah, alright
She grabs the bed head tight
Let me help you out
Out of that dress
Let your hair out
Girl don't think we're gonna
Make it to the bed
Your lips are locked on mine
Tongue in cheek
Lipstick stains on my neck
Legs wrapped around my waist
As I carry you to the bed oh yes
Let's get naked
Take it off
Take it off
Skin to skin
I want to feel every inch
Mmm
Take it off
Take it off
Let me run my hands
Over your body
I can tell that you want me
Take it off
Take it off
You on me, me on you
What does it matter
All I want is all of you
Scratch marks down my back
We both look like a mess
Mascaras running under your eyes
Hearts are beating faster inside
You sure know how to make out
You sure know how to make love
Yeah you feel so good, babe
Inside was so nice
My God this felt so right
I think we need to do this again sometime
How about again tonight alright
Let me help you out
Out of that dress
Let your hair out
Girl don't think we're gonna
Make it to the bed
Your lips are locked on mine
Tongue in cheek
Lipstick stains on my neck
Legs wrapped around my waist
As I carry you to the bed oh yes
Let's get naked
Take it off
Take it off
Skin to skin
I want to feel every inch
Mmm
Take it off
Take it off
Let me run my hands
Over your body
I can tell that you want me
Take it off
Take it off
You on me, me on you
What does it matter
All I want is all of you
©2017 Written By Benji James
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 3:02 AM UTC
Don't talk to me like you know me
Talk to me like you love me
She just wants him to adore her
Even if she yells at him and says words she doesn’t mean
Or if she sings out of tune, or that her hair is frizzy
Or she doesnt wear make up, or if she swears too much
Or if she wants to believe in love, but at the same time she doesn't.
She wants to be that girl. The one he cant stop thinking about
The one who looks pretty in a neon pink rain coat in the rain
With her hair dripping water in thin streams of uncontrolling.
She doesnt want it to be love, though that would be nice.
But she wants him to tell her that she is special
And that she is his one. And that he cares about her
In the morning and the afternoon and in the night
And especially when its raining
With her mascaras running and her hair laying flat
On her rain soaked face.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
She's sitting alone in the dark tonight
You haven't seen all the tears she cried
You haven't seen all the wounds she hides
She keeps her deepest feelings inside
And she'd stand for him in the pouring rain
Just so, she could be in his arms again
If he left she'd never feel the same
He's the blood that flows through her veins
In her heart is the place he'll always remain
The girls trying to keep her, head held high
She's trying to hide her tears behind a smile
And every time he looks her way
She hangs on every breath he takes
She takes in every word he says
She tries so hard not to break away
She tries so hard to shelter her heart
The girls loved him from the start
She's afraid to let him see her flaws
She's not brave enough
To let him through her walls
The broken hearted girl stands tall
While she anticipates her next fall
This girl could cave in anytime
This girl feels invisible all the time
She's trying so hard to show him the sign
That she wants him by her side
And it's only a matter of time
Before she decides
Whether she'll stay his prisoner tonight
She'd give everything to break out of the chains
But she's still burning in the flames
And she still feels the shame
She feels part of the blame.
The girls trying to keep her, head held high
She's trying to hide her tears behind a smile
And every time he looks her way
She hangs on every breath he takes
She takes in every word he says
She tries so hard not to break away
She tries so hard to shelter her heart
The girls loved him from the start
She's afraid to let him see her flaws
She's not brave enough
To let him through her walls
The broken hearted girl stands tall
While she anticipates her next fall
Regrets we've all had a few
But the girl doesn't realise
The boy is hiding things from her to
She wants to make a change
He secretly calls out her name
The mascaras running beneath her eyes
She's wiped those tears a million times
But it's alright to cry
Over the boy too shy to give her his time
Over the boy who misses all the signs
Over the boy who can't see her dying inside
The girls trying to keep her, head held high
She's trying to hide her tears behind a smile
And every time he looks her way
She hangs on every breath he takes
She takes in every word he says
She tries so hard not to break away
She tries so hard to shelter her heart
The girls loved him from the start
She's afraid to let him see her flaws
She's not brave enough
To let him through her walls
The broken hearted girl stands tall
While she anticipates her next fall
©2017 Written By Benji James
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 7:02 AM UTC
Mirror mirror on the wall,
cuts and scars and suicidal falls.
Mirror mirror on the wall,
pressures upon pressures,
mascaras and concealers
on the dressers.
The who am I’s
the broken smiles
upon short journeys,
feeling like a million miles .
Sticks and stones break the bones,
with sharp edged swords, depression is shown.
The melodramatic emphasis of artificial fixtures,
the wrong lessons from photo shopped pictures.
The melodramatic emphasis of the "It crowd"
People, rambunctious and obnoxious
malevolent and pretentious .
Mirror mirror on the wall...
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
She's sitting alone in the dark tonight
You haven't seen all the tears she cried
You haven't seen all the wounds she hides
She keeps her deepest feelings inside
And she'd stand for him in the pouring rain
Just so, she could be in his arms again
If he left she'd never feel the same
He's the blood that flows through her veins
In her heart is the place he'll always remain
The girls trying to keep her, head held high
She's trying to hide her tears behind a smile
And every time he looks her way
She hangs on every breath he takes
She takes in every word he says
She tries so hard not to break away
She tries so hard to shelter her heart
The girls loved him from the start
She's afraid to let him see her flaws
She's not brave enough
To let him through her walls
The broken hearted girl stands tall
While she anticipates her next fall
This girl could cave in anytime
This girl feels invisible all the time
She's trying so hard to show him the sign
That she wants him by her side
And it's only a matter of time
Before she decides
Whether she'll stay his prisoner tonight
She'd give everything to break out of the chains
But she's still burning in the flames
And she still feels the shame
She feels part of the blame.
The girls trying to keep her, head held high
She's trying to hide her tears behind a smile
And every time he looks her way
She hangs on every breath he takes
She takes in every word he says
She tries so hard not to break away
She tries so hard to shelter her heart
The girls loved him from the start
She's afraid to let him see her flaws
She's not brave enough
To let him through her walls
The broken hearted girl stands tall
While she anticipates her next fall
Regrets we've all had a few
But the girl doesn't realise
The boy is hiding things from her to
She wants to make a change
He secretly calls out her name
The mascaras running beneath her eyes
She's wiped those tears a million times
But it's alright to cry
Over the boy too shy to give her his time
Over the boy who misses all the signs
Over the boy who can't see her dying inside
The girls trying to keep her, head held high
She's trying to hide her tears behind a smile
And every time he looks her way
She hangs on every breath he takes
She takes in every word he says
She tries so hard not to break away
She tries so hard to shelter her heart
The girls loved him from the start
She's afraid to let him see her flaws
She's not brave enough
To let him through her walls
The broken hearted girl stands tall
While she anticipates her next fall
©2017 Written By Benji James
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 7:24 AM UTC
ive gone through a lot of mascaras... more than id like to admit
the first one i tried on was bold; made my lashes look long and strong
it held on to me; even when I was crying.
I was crying because that mascara burned me, so I let it go.
the next few were all the same.. kinda mushed together in my brain.
then there was the one i never wanted to try on because I had no interest, until I did.
I loved that mascara, until I left it somewhere, miles and miles away from home.
mascara changes all the time. I wish it didn't.
(P.S this isnt about mascara)
Jan 22, 2023
Jan 22, 2023 at 8:55 PM UTC
haunt empty mirrors
Pastel fingertips trace lipless smiles
eyeliners and mascaras circumscribe vacancies
These women do not suckle babies
They do not write books or poetry
They never read the editorial pages
Their husbands never get hard-ons
except when they **********
The women are glad
Their hair won't be rumpled
and the sheets won't be stained
They rise early in the morning
apply honeysuckle or springbreeze vaginal sprays
and polish their mirrors
When the windows of their houses melt
they turn up the air conditioning
When their men leave them
they shore up sagging *******
reclaim their virginity by its loss
practice pouts and pirouettes to perfection
The moon is their enemy
Another presidential election means
more wrinkles, more grey hairs
means nothing on TV
and they have to fold up
into themselves, a lonely
place where the mirror is the mind
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC
Now I’m brunching
on weekends
Painting black bird wings
On my face
My hair spirals
Spirals
Spirals
Like my fear of the space
Between the face in the mirror
And the women in the catalogs
And yes
Yes
I’m getting closer now
To that ideal
I scribbled in ink
On notebook paper
When there were
Fewer lines on my face
I wait in lines
For the train
Wearing stilettos
Growing up tastes like
Black coffee and
Owning four mascaras
That all look the same
On my face
I take your hand
We look like
Your American dream
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 4:49 PM UTC
and i walk with a desert
in my brain,
i walk, encapsulating
scorpion,
and the sidewinder snare...
and i walk with a desert
in my brain...
drunk, labouring,
above the governing concrete...
i've brewed some wine,
and i'll drink it...
there i am:
figurative humanity
where subjectivity equals ∞,
and objectivity is an oscillation
between - & ~,
the numbers don't really matter,
they don't Downton Abbey inspire me
either: to butter some lord's crumpet...
oddly enough...
it's seeing these gnats
worth of people drop dead in a battlefield
that gets me...
runny mascaras of no-man's land
at Ypres...
they just drop dead, dead...
it might make abortion clinics readied for
fundamental rights in celebrating Sunday...
i don't get it,
and each day i am woken into this nightmare....
this celebration of all things possible...
of a humanity...
oh but char...
semblance to a cynicism...
it never made any sense to watch, and cultivate
it...
forever the jammy doughnut,
and the life i wish i could have received,
smitten with cool... cradling the wooly jumper...
why are these people so *******
alien? so much
the cure's killing an arab with camus' the outsider?
iron maiden did a better egyptian jive...
to that smitten cowadrice of the the bangles
pepper-shaker dance of a numbed egyptian.
pyramid ******* cruise-ship of female escapism.
yeah baby, it's war!
scuttling with the jive of powerslave:
abandon ship! abandon ship!
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 8:11 PM UTC