"nakedness" poems
Take a soft tipped brush
Dip, and trace my nakedness;
Viscous dripping rainbow streams
Clothe me here within our dreams.
Swirl my curves
With satin pink,
Let your brush flutter and sink
lower, purples, red and blue,
I'm a canvas here for you.
Paint me scarlet, paint me gold,
Paint some words
italic, bold
Stop when you begin to weep
A masterpiece, for us to keep.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
I met a woman
brutal in her mercy.
Her embrace was a clinch
to prevent hard blows.
She pulled me close to push me away.
Seeing my nakedness
she leant me a dream
of chainmail and shield.
Taking love from me she gave a reprieve
to a mind resigned to the slow death of feeling.
Ignoring my words she heard
my faint silent heartbeat and
understood that it was music
too quiet for the world to hear
and turned it up louder
than I could stand.
I wept in my deafness
as she danced.
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 10:28 AM UTC
I.
the emperor
sleeps in a palace of porphyry
which was a million years building
he takes the air in a howdah
of jasper beneath saffron
umbrellas
upon an elephant
twelve foot high
behind whose ear
sits always a crowned
king twir-
ling an
ankus of
ebony
the fountains of the emperor’s
palace run sunlight and
moonlight and the emperor’s
elephant is a thousand years old
the harem of
the emperor
is carpeted with
gold cloth
from the
ceiling(one
diamond timid
with nesting incense)
fifty
marble
pillars
slipped from immeasurable
height,fall,fifty,silent
in the incense is tangled a cool moon
there are thrice-three-hundred
doors carven of chalcedony and
before every door a naked
****** watches
on their heads turbans of a hundred
colours
in their hands scimitars like windy torches
each
is
blacker than oblivion
the ladies
of the emperor’s
harem are queens
of all the earth and the rings
upon their hands are from mines
a mile deep
but the body of
the queen of queens is
more transparent
than water,she is softer than birds
2.
when the emperor is very
amorous he reclines upon
the couch of couches and
beckons with
the little
finger of his left
hand
then the
thrice-three-hundredth
door is opened by the tallest
****** and the queen
of queens comes
forth
ankles
musical with large pearls
kingdoms in her ears
at the feet of
the emperor a cithern-
player squats with
quiveringgold
body
behind
the emperor ten
elected warriors with
bodies of lazy jade
and twitching
eyelids
finger
their
unquiet
spears
the queen of queens is dancing
her subtle
body weaving
insinuating upon the gold cloth
incessantly creates patterns of sudden
lust
her
stealing body ex-
pending gathering pouring upon itself stiffenS
to a
white thorn
of desire
the taut neck of the citharede wags
in the dust the ghastly warriors
amber with lust breathe
together the emperor,exerting
himself among his pillows throws
jewels at the queen of queens and
white money upon her nakedness
he
nods
and all
depart through the bruised air aflutter with pearls
3.
they are
alone
he beckons,she rises she
stands
a moment
in the passion of the fifty
pillars
listening
while the queens of all the
earth writhe upon deep rugs
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As he snarled at my nakedness, I could only help but wonder if his intentions were of lust or love.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
Oh Generational gap, a cancer of to all mankind. The father of lack of communication between the young and the old. A difference brought about the tastes and values.
The pain faced between young and aged but can’t be touched. It started by 1960’s the decades of revolutionary change. It cut across the world in values of *** religion and civil rights. The disease the emerged earned its self a name by social scientists. It then became “Generational Gap”
I would love to quote a man of great thoughts, Alexis De Tocqueville, who commented that;
“Among democratic nations, each generation is a new people” I have come to appreciate these words.
When I walk down the streets noticing the rising incompatibility existing in our society
Though I admire the old days when the old and young associated freely, working on the same farms
Grandparents telling stories to their little ones; what a lovely society they had.
With the invention of television and computers some families were bonded in communication
While others live in agony especially the illiterate.
The old desire different designs from the youth, whose trends change per living day of nakedness
Young people prefer working in executive places like offices compared to the donkey farm work considered to be for the old
Another cause of generational gap is decay in morals; the young people feel like they know everything and don’t like to be corrected thus taking information from old people as outdated, young people finding lots of hardships to great their elders
In the field of music elders prefer oldies and more preferably educative songs, and as for the youths they delight in Hip-hop and dancehall, am sure those present here can testify to this a term with no disco dances makes us dull students.
When it comes to religious issues, youth find it a burden to go to church and if they offer to go they prefer it to be in a club way. Praise and worship accompanied by jazz unlike the old days where drums are the centre of music.
Cultures in this way have greatly faded away; the trend of western culture has flamed up the world.
Drugs and *** are a hobby and celebrated amongst the youth, yet *** to the old was for companionship and co-creation.
But when we came to medical technology we all applause in general, young or old there is easy treatment, use of scanners, and medical facilities cuts across.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
Her figure in my bed
relaxes, half obscured by silk sheets;
there’s a sweetness to her uncovered form,
not in a way that is ****** or arousing,
but for how it speaks of comfort in my presence
like we are so adapted to each other
that nothing is strange or foreign to us—
even the vulnerability of nakedness.
And like a goddess, she pulls me in to her chest,
a whisper of soft and beautiful flesh;
there, I imagine us as once born from the ocean,
with pearl strewn hearts and wanton eyes,
as goddess meets goddess among seafoam and silk.
Jul 24, 2022
Jul 24, 2022 at 3:06 PM UTC
perhaps it is to feel strike
the silver fish of her nakedness
with fins sharply pleasant,my
youth has travelled toward her these years
or to snare the timid like
of her mind to my mind that i
am come by little countries to the yes
of her youth.
And if somebody hears
what i say—let him be pitiful:
because I’ve travelled all alone
through the forest of wonderful,
and that my feet have surely known
the furious ways and the peaceful,
and because she is beautiful
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To touch her nakedness with my own
was to take our most human moment
and suspend it higher than the stars
where human beings had no right to be.
To kiss her while we met in bareness
was to transcend our humanity
and in our most ****** pleasure
feel totally unconfined freedom.
To make love with nothing between us
was to make humans’ humanity
and have the two come alive as one
where life itself is understatement.
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 10:49 PM UTC
Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.
Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.
I'm no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.
All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.
One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square
Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.
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You were my gift,
Soft, sweetness, little one,
Eyes of moon and ocean
Hills of creation, of shadow
And bread. In your nakedness
I fled the earth and bathed
In starlight and dust at the end
Of the forever of the sky.
In that silence,
Of exploding cosmos and vapour,
I fell, feeling in your smiles the suns
Decay, I felt light beyond
Its barrier, and was decimated
In the gravity of the neutron
Blue of floating eyes in separation.
Your faraway orbs were lost
To me in the frozen dark energy
Of shunted light and the cold
vacuum of space.
It was my birthday
And you were set on leaving.
It was my birthday
When I nearly died.
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 11:45 PM UTC
The nakedness of winter lies heavy upon
the tolling Sunday quietude
Shed leaves perish into yesterday
and the dream of another
dawning someday wanes
The sun ― lay low
the drudging ashen skyline
Barerd emerald moss scaffolds
draw much more distantness
to the pallid shadowed horizon
The evergreens step forth,
roots grasping sacred heart,
soil and rock
In the swelling aloneness
you can feel the grain
of the heartwood
rooted in your soul
There are no hard feelings
but there's an enduring ache,
like a tree with a rotting limb
languishing within
its blackened bark sacrifice
It's not just the grinding time
that slips away begrudgingly;
more of the same takes a toll
as if another unrung belfry hour
in an empty bell tower
without a song rang out in vain,
peeling reflections
of reluctant hours c r a w l by
in the insensible apathy
A so called holiday passes ―
its footprint bears down
hard and deep
as if a paling winter rose
grieves its own passing
A dry wishbone unbroken
lay bare the poignant
truth it holds;
it takes two to make
this wish come true
.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
You were barely dressed.
Why?
Your clothes between us
gave me symptoms of
withdrawal from the
softness of your skin.
You applied lip gloss.
Why?
To leave an imprint
where you pressed your lips,
smudging all over
my love’s arousal.
You slipped on your heels.
Why?
To make it harder,
to frustrate desire
to caress your feet
with legs around me.
You were beautiful.
Why?
I needed nothing
that you were wearing
to know I wanted
complete nakedness.
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 10:26 PM UTC
The rich will always be rich,
Computers, clean body, nice clothes,
Proper homes, not shacks.
Elite schools, branded
Motorcycles, jewelry
The poor will always be poor,
A pen, a marvel
Firewood, abandoned train tracks
YMCA funded classes,
Hand-me downs, nakedness
Grandfather, father,
Son. Same lineage, same burden
To pass down
Generation
To
Generation
To
Generation.
A Never-ending cycle
Cruel game of Russian roulette,
Spin the revolver, watch it
Turn, pick it up, iron to temple
--BANG BANG-- you're dead.
The more the rounds, the
More
Lethal
It
Gets
It is a gap that cannot
Be plugged,
A boulder that cannot be put down,
Like Atlas holding the sky,
If released, the sky and earth
Collide, and we die--
All of us.
Everyone.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
Law,
All ye termites hacking ants are you without sin?
Twisting the law to your greed thus dethroning justice
Thou that dis-virgins the law to suit your selfish taste,
Did not equity say that none is above the law?
Money-thirsty vultures seeking positions to occupy.
Law hackers depriving justice and equity of her rights
Equity and justice now lives in shame of her virginity,
Almighty termite, do not your deeds speak evil of your sins?
I weep blood for justice and equity whose daughters you *****
Is there none whose conscience still breathe or lives?
Power-driven termites making uncountable promises
Yet accomplishing none but your calculated interests.
Equity,
All ye leaders that preach peace, are you not corrupt minded?
En-slaving accounts meant for public welfare
Yet you claim to have the peoples interest in mind,
Did not the law command you to let equity and justice smile?
Parasitic predators hi-jacking the country's economy
Filthy termites proclaiming injustice upon powerless ants,
Justice hackers, do not your conscience judge your judgments?
I wish that you allow justice and equity have her way.
Law benders at whose feet equity and justice bow
Rippers of the law, at your hands justice is twisted,
Is your nature as humans so inhumane?
Little wonder the earth lives in fear of your tyranny.
Justice,
All ye slanders of the law, why not sheath your swords of corruption?
Your unchecked power has broken the wings of justice
Thereby making equity a widow without a husband,
Remember your oaths to serve with justice and equity;
Did you deceive the ants that voted you in to serve them?
Chameleons occupying seats of filtered ambitions
Woe betide your conscience for refusing to judge you,
Are you not guilty of molesting the law?
I mourn for the shameful death of equity and justice.
You that crafts the law to fit your suit of corruption
Remember a day comes when justice will laugh again,
And you being powerful cannot escape the law of Karma.
Karma,
Murderers of the law, will you also bribe karma?
I doubt if you can buy the law of karma with money.
Thou whose gluttony corrupts justice and equity,
Don't you feel guilty that you disvirgined the law?
Equity and justice now roams about in nakedness,
You that preach the law, are you true to yourself?
Heartless spiders cob-webbing the law to entangle poor ants
Did not equity bid you come to justice with clean hands?
Yet with filthy garments you condemn innocent ants;
Mind you that someday the law will rise again.
All ye scavengers of justice and hackers of the law,
Do you think you can **** the law of Karma?
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
Like an onion, I had layers.
And you peeled me away, one at a time.
One layer off.
You saw my favorites.
The food and drinks I crave for.
The wall paint I wanted for my room.
The perky dresses, nail polish, knee-high boots.
And the spot I always prefer to be- on the front seat.
One layer off.
You saw my hobbies.
The words I stitched together.
The stars that formed our zodiac sign.
The wallclimbing, badminton, volleyball.
And the guitar strings that strum our lullaby.
One layer off.
You saw my dreams.
The plane ticket to Paris.
The thrill of a bungee jump.
The candlelit dinner, fireworks, dancing fountain.
And the license as a medical physician.
One layer off.
You saw my strengths.
The smile behind the false judgements.
The tears I fought back with pride.
The temperance, confidence, adjustments.
And the self-love I have strongly magnified.
One layer off.
You saw my insecurities.
The missing dimple on my left cheek.
The pimples on my forehead.
The bitchface, fierce stare, strict walk.
And this prominently thin-but-tall body figure.
One layer off.
You saw my regrets.
The kisses I could have refused.
The friends I thought were true.
The false assumptions, unmet expectations.
And the trust I gave to the wrong person.
One layer off.
You saw my secrets.
The punches I had to take.
The bruises I covered with my sleeves.
The lies, frustrations, disappointments.
And the brokenness suppressed in my memory.
The last layer, off.
You saw through me.
The anxiousness escalating slowly.
The exposure feeling uneasy.
I felt stripped, explored, unguarded.
And in my nakedness - you had to choose:
To love or to leave me,
For who I really am.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
Turn out the lights.
I want to dance in the darkness of my sin.
I want to let down my hair
feel its length run wild down my spine.
I want to feel my arms reaching out into the nothingness,
want to feel the touch of the shadows
as it burns my flesh.
Turn out the lights.
I want to dance in the darkness of my sin.
I want to hear the silence of my solitude, hear it screaming
at me from the pinpoint horizon
I can't actually see because I
turned out the lights so I could dance in the darkness of my sin.
I want to feel the void
at the very center of my being
shaped like the soul I sold to a devil disguised as angel
disguised as man disguised as devil.
I can't tell anymore. Even in this
darkness, it hurts to keep my eyes
open. Even in this darkness I can
see the outline of my nakedness shining
like a beacon out to sea.
But this is not the beacon calling
to lost ships like mothers call to children.
This is the beacon that blinds my eyes
and reminds me of my imperfections.
So again,
turn out the lights.
I want to dance in the darkness of my sin.
Please, just turn out the light
that burns within me. Cut out its source
and let me fade back into the darkness.
Turn out the lights.
I want to dance in the darkness of my sin.
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 6:53 PM UTC
It would be nice to pick up eggs for you while I’m out
Save you some time
Knowing you won’t be hungry tonight
It would be nice to wash our cars together
Sharing the bucket
Shining our chrome bumpers to reflect our smiles
It would be nice to go to a wedding together
Wearing our new shoes
Dancing with the crowd and seeing only you
It would be nice to take a walk around the block
Holding hands
Feeling your warm fingers intertwined with mine
It would be nice to pick up shells on the beach
Footprints in the sand
Bending over to pick up that one perfect shell
It would be nice to look at the full moon
Moonlight shines bright
Illuminating our bodies we enjoy our nakedness
It would be nice to tell you good-night
Fluff up my pillow
Falling asleep cuddling you, I am content
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 8:31 AM UTC
A satellite is watching its ants,
Broadcasting the pixelated sins of your fathers,
Just
like
snow
Go on sew,
Sew your seams little one,
All this humanism is bound to bust when you all find yourselves-
Eating cotton
Turn on the television,
I am naked,
I need to hide,
Turn off the lights,
I need darkness,
To abide,
And Babylon is seeping through the screens,
Demean us all,
Demean us all,
As long as I can be seen,
Demean me please,
Ease the curse of this vulnerability,
How do I survive on this tilted planet?
What's the use of living,
If I'm not alive?
Was man meant for this?
All these cages,
My job my house my car my body,
Is anybody conscience of this missing bliss of life?
Who can see,
All
the
nakedness
like
me
The world washes over our bodies
The world washes over our bodies
The world washes over our bodies
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC
There was a moment, so unexpected,
When I woke, seeking just ordinary,
Resigned to loneliness, unconnected,
Our encounter—felt imaginary.
Seeking isolation, no need for lust,
Appreciation gone, beauty no more,
Passion burned, with eyes I no longer trust,
You—a seduction I’d not known before.
Pulling back from feeling, and nakedness,
All the beauty, futile, unrequited,
Choosing instead dullness, and wretchedness,
Our spark—an extinguished soul ignited.
Recoiling, fear, cursed sexuality,
Libidinous impulses, uncontrolled,
Bare, on altars of sensuality,
You—inviting love I cannot withhold.
Kiss me, hold me, bring my love in deeper,
Forgive me, embrace me, don’t let me be still,
Touch me, and own me, and be my keeper,
Your look—I resisted, but have lost my will.
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 9:45 PM UTC
...my head back into the pillow.
She quickly straddled me.
She began a gentle rocking motion
with her hips,
with subtle glee.
Her thick, precious long hair,
hung down like curtains of night,
around my lust-flushed face,
until I was in perfect darkness right.
She then began caressing
my nakedness with her feathery-locks,
along my silky, trembling body,
from up my heavenly hips,
my tight, tender, heaving tummy,
my aching, stiff-nippled *******
my entire being erupting in goosebumps,
chilly and blazing,
spicey and tasty,
aching and burning,
burning,
burning ******
begging for quenching,
which she does
quickly
and
I'm done.
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 9:51 AM UTC
I was pushed into a cold pool
with all of my warmest clothes on.
I chose cold and heavy over nakedness.
How long will I shiver and stumble?
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
* "Our cattle graze, the wind breathes." -Garcilaso *
It was my ancient voice
ignorant of thick bitter juices.
I sense it lapping my feet
beneath the fragile wet ferns.
Ay, ancient voice of my love,
ay, voice of my truth,
ay, voice of my open flank,
when all the roses flowed from my tongue
and grass knew nothing of horses' impassive teeth!
Here are you drinking my blood,
drinking my tedious childhood mood,
while in the wind my eyes are bludgeoned
by aluminum and drunken voices.
Let me pass the gates
where Eve eats ants
and Adam seeds dazzled fish.
Let me return, manikins with horns,
to the grove where I stretch
and leap with joy.
I know a rite so secret
it requires an old rusty pin
and I know the horror of open eyes
on a plate's concrete surface.
But I want neither world nor dream, nor divine voice,
I want my freedom, my human love
in the darkest corner of breeze that no oen wants.
My human love!
Those hounds of the sea chase each other
and the wind spies on careless tree trunks.
Oh ancient voice, burn with your tongue
this voice of tin and talc!
I long to weep because I want to,
as the children cry in the last row,
because I'm not man, nor poet, nor leaf,
but only a wounded pulse circling the things of the other side
I want to cry out speaking my name,
rose, child and fir-tree beside this lake,
to speak my truth as a man of blood
slay in myself teh tricks and turns of the word.
No, no. I'm not asking, I, desire,
voice, my freedom that laps my hands.
In the labyrinth of screens it's my nakedness receives
the moon of punishment and the ash-drowned clock.
Thus I was speaking.
Thus I was speaking with Saturn stopped the trains,
when the fod and Dream and Death were seeking me.
Seeking me
where the cows, with tiny pages' feet, bellow
and where my body floats between opposing fulcrums.
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Candlestick lit,
predatory form divorced
Daybreak take your feet
Assault me with rough dissonant hands
Take from me your bright request
Down in the valley curtains part
The thin plane light overflows
Without light-seeking caresses in the clear sky
Bold accommodations of the sunbursts
To Save
Appalachia
The displeased living hear of me
With Vivomantic symbols
After blackened nights begin
Fornicating on your birthday
Off his downswing that has passed...
"How the call it is unfulfilled
your mind, thoroughly healed
Terrestrial white feathers
And tame plains lament
Yet less tame after
His darkness heals you".
That summer day when the rain shaded shallow
And as dull walls divorce the Bejeweled earth.
You don the nakedness of supernatural awakendness
Painted by these symbols Aiseralam spoke...
Appalachia
The displeased living hear of me
With Vivomantic symbols
After blackened nights begin
Fornicating on your birthday
Off his downswing that has passed...
Candlestick lit,
predatory form divorced
Daybreak take your feet
Assault me with rough dissonant hands
Take from me your bright request
Down in the valley curtains part
The thin plane light overflows
Without light-seeking caresses in the clear sky
Bold accommodations of the sunbursts
To Save
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 9:02 AM UTC