"psoriasis" poems - Hello Poetry

The first comment I received a **** you" with a smiley face I laughed off wouldn't you? Kind of crazy kind of creepy put it away as some one we all know. The second comment came with the usual language refrain I was a "hack" my words were "dreck". The disparaging words about my dead mother gave me pause to reflect. The third comment and more began to recall information of past faux pas secret affairs one or two personal pecadillos never mentioned beyond the dialogues in my mind. Embarrassing I know. I, of course, went to the home page to see if it was someone known to me. No identifying data but a picture I remembered vaguely from a past I didn't know. The trolling continued relentless I would say pulled the plug put up a block but wouldn't you know The comments continued to come into my dreams brutal criticism of every move I made the day finally arrived when I realized Alter personalities were shedding off of me like psychological psoriasis They were hitting the ground running I was finding poems I didn't remember writing clothes I never bought People kept hugging me I had never met before they knew me far to well called me many names none of which were mine. The silence of my nights were broken when I found myself in my car on Highway 101 returning from where I did not know with a smile on my face illegal drugs in my pocket. How did I get here? How did we get there? Where are we now? Another account opened on Hello Poetry with an anagram of my name. I find my days getting shorter and shorter it became clear I had become the dream The others had become me.

0

Aug 2, 2014

Aug 2, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC

sjr1000

Dissociative Identity Disorder (Multiple Personality) On Hello Poetry

The first comment I received a **** you" with a smiley face I laughed off wouldn't you? Kind of crazy kind of creepy put it away as some one we all know. The second comment came with the usual language refrain I was a "hack" my words were "dreck". The disparaging words about my dead mother gave me pause to reflect. The third comment and more began to recall information of past faux pas secret affairs one or two personal pecadillos never mentioned beyond the dialogues in my mind. Embarrassing I know. I, of course, went to the home page to see if it was someone known to me. No identifying data but a picture I remembered vaguely from a past I didn't know. The trolling continued relentless I would say pulled the plug put up a block but wouldn't you know The comments continued to come into my dreams brutal criticism of every move I made the day finally arrived when I realized Alter personalities were shedding off of me like psychological psoriasis They were hitting the ground running I was finding poems I didn't remember writing clothes I never bought People kept hugging me I had never met before they knew me far to well called me many names none of which were mine. The silence of my nights were broken when I found myself in my car on Highway 101 returning from where I did not know with a smile on my face illegal drugs in my pocket. How did I get here? How did we get there? Where are we now? Another account opened on Hello Poetry with an anagram of my name. I find my days getting shorter and shorter it became clear I had become the dream The others had become me.

82

You asked me to write a poem that killed all the parts of you that make you love yourself less. But darling, I don't know if anyone's told you: The things that make you afraid to show yourself make me love you all the more. And you may talk about how much you hate the bumps and ridges splashed across your skin, but you also talk about how much you love the mountains in Colorado. Do you think that the earth has ever cared that it has drier parts or areas with a little more texture? Do you think that Nature ever wanted to cover up the parts of her that weren't perfectly smooth? If the water stayed still, and never rose or fell the oceans wouldnt be quite so breathtaking because waves would never crash. And you might think you're covered in tsunamis, disaster zones left in the debris of your disease, but don't ever tell me that a home in that aftermath isn't still a home. Because with or without the water damage, the part that makes it important is the things on the inside— and no, I'm not referring to things in a home anymore. Now I mean your heart, now I mean your passions and your past and ever single word written in the story of you. So darling, you might tell me that you hate the bumps on your skin, but there is something amazing spelled out in Braille written on just the outside cover of one of the greatest stories I will ever know. The thing about Braille like yours is that it can open the eyes of a blind man without even needing any magic. And the thing about book covers is that you'll never really know how much you love a book based on the words on the outsides of it. But darling. I need you know know I've read you cover to cover and I absolutely think your story is one of the most beautiful ones I know. With or without the tsunamis or Braille.

0

Feb 15, 2014

Feb 15, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC

oceannaire

Psoriasis

You asked me to write a poem that killed all the parts of you that make you love yourself less. But darling, I don't know if anyone's told you: The things that make you afraid to show yourself make me love you all the more. And you may talk about how much you hate the bumps and ridges splashed across your skin, but you also talk about how much you love the mountains in Colorado. Do you think that the earth has ever cared that it has drier parts or areas with a little more texture? Do you think that Nature ever wanted to cover up the parts of her that weren't perfectly smooth? If the water stayed still, and never rose or fell the oceans wouldnt be quite so breathtaking because waves would never crash. And you might think you're covered in tsunamis, disaster zones left in the debris of your disease, but don't ever tell me that a home in that aftermath isn't still a home. Because with or without the water damage, the part that makes it important is the things on the inside— and no, I'm not referring to things in a home anymore. Now I mean your heart, now I mean your passions and your past and ever single word written in the story of you. So darling, you might tell me that you hate the bumps on your skin, but there is something amazing spelled out in Braille written on just the outside cover of one of the greatest stories I will ever know. The thing about Braille like yours is that it can open the eyes of a blind man without even needing any magic. And the thing about book covers is that you'll never really know how much you love a book based on the words on the outsides of it. But darling. I need you know know I've read you cover to cover and I absolutely think your story is one of the most beautiful ones I know. With or without the tsunamis or Braille.

61

my whole mouth tastes like metal, copper pennies from before The Great Zinc Switch filling my warm wet mouth. cigarette smoke hazing my sinuses like a frat rush and I'm desperately in need of an Advil. let me place my coppery lips on your bronzed skin, Amman to Atlanta, nails like knives and The Book of Biology teasing hormonal touches and hydration. iron oxide keeps flaking off my skin, eczema and psoriasis in rust, and the guitars in my ears are ******* furious. and still: sweat and *** in the sheets, your love lingering on my palate like a too sour wine; you fermented and curdled in my mouth, and to taste you now is agony. time is dilating around me in ripples; I cough until the gas in my stomach releases itself; crystal abrasive. it's all drugs and tinder matches these days, ****** kids... total sunbeam, in my opinion there's still enough for a couple more hits, it's still rolling, words cloud around my head like so much weedsmoke, Storm clouds on the horizon of my parietal lobe and I feel fine. I am fine.

0

Jan 29, 2015

Jan 29, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC

perlucidum

metal mouth

my whole mouth tastes like metal, copper pennies from before The Great Zinc Switch filling my warm wet mouth. cigarette smoke hazing my sinuses like a frat rush and I'm desperately in need of an Advil. let me place my coppery lips on your bronzed skin, Amman to Atlanta, nails like knives and The Book of Biology teasing hormonal touches and hydration. iron oxide keeps flaking off my skin, eczema and psoriasis in rust, and the guitars in my ears are ******* furious. and still: sweat and *** in the sheets, your love lingering on my palate like a too sour wine; you fermented and curdled in my mouth, and to taste you now is agony. time is dilating around me in ripples; I cough until the gas in my stomach releases itself; crystal abrasive. it's all drugs and tinder matches these days, ****** kids... total sunbeam, in my opinion there's still enough for a couple more hits, it's still rolling, words cloud around my head like so much weedsmoke, Storm clouds on the horizon of my parietal lobe and I feel fine. I am fine.

37

Bellicose beer-belled bad-asses Bawdily belting down brewskies Usually, boozily, bruisily beating On weaker, sleeker funseekers In the bar where they are, far From anything like maturity Hip hip hooray for unhip USA. Ballyhooing big screen viewing Myopic eyes watch others exercise Freedom-hating grouch on a couch Itching, ******** psoriasis and sloth Unread armchair Brother of the Cloth. One of the minions of opinions, Hardened against morality, reality. Saying it every day: USA, USA, USA! Hating, bating, aggravating, skating Right past solutions, conclusions Preferring propaganda, ***** Miranda, Stop mollycoddling, bottling up anger Christ in the manger should be law But they guffaw at reading The Book; They took their religion from TV. Freedom for me, not thee, in my USA. Got mine, ***** yours, rights immune; That tune don’t play here. No queers No browns, yellows, Hindus or Jews. I’ve got news you can use, I abuse And oppress guys in a dress, yes! Even if he’s white, it still ain’t right. The Constitution is old, it just teases. Mine is Republican Jesus for the USA. A pigeon for old time religion and God Everyone else is odd. I saw the movie. It was groovy and pretty. Went to the city Saw it in Imax, no blacks in the theater Thanks to The Creator that gave us all The intelligence to call things right. Hip hip hooray for being lily white. Hip hip hooray for the KKK USA.

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Apr 7, 2016

Apr 7, 2016 at 3:47 PM UTC

brent-kincaid

AMERICAN PATRIOT

Bellicose beer-belled bad-asses Bawdily belting down brewskies Usually, boozily, bruisily beating On weaker, sleeker funseekers In the bar where they are, far From anything like maturity Hip hip hooray for unhip USA. Ballyhooing big screen viewing Myopic eyes watch others exercise Freedom-hating grouch on a couch Itching, ******** psoriasis and sloth Unread armchair Brother of the Cloth. One of the minions of opinions, Hardened against morality, reality. Saying it every day: USA, USA, USA! Hating, bating, aggravating, skating Right past solutions, conclusions Preferring propaganda, ***** Miranda, Stop mollycoddling, bottling up anger Christ in the manger should be law But they guffaw at reading The Book; They took their religion from TV. Freedom for me, not thee, in my USA. Got mine, ***** yours, rights immune; That tune don’t play here. No queers No browns, yellows, Hindus or Jews. I’ve got news you can use, I abuse And oppress guys in a dress, yes! Even if he’s white, it still ain’t right. The Constitution is old, it just teases. Mine is Republican Jesus for the USA. A pigeon for old time religion and God Everyone else is odd. I saw the movie. It was groovy and pretty. Went to the city Saw it in Imax, no blacks in the theater Thanks to The Creator that gave us all The intelligence to call things right. Hip hip hooray for being lily white. Hip hip hooray for the KKK USA.

39

as if the bruises of my self conscious's grip weren't enough of a reminder of my harsh imperfections, their icy stares and startling bluntness ring a brutality in my eyes that can only be absorbed by those foolish enough to cross over into the unmapped, untouched. it is there where I finally feel my lungs expand and my lips moisten from knowing that I am NOT defined by a flaw or a handful of them, placed intricately along the paper thin lining that means nothing in the end. but in an instant you wrangle me back into a place where the spots matter and I don't.

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Jun 25, 2013

Jun 25, 2013 at 6:07 PM UTC

whitegoldsoul

It's called psoriasis, ******

as if the bruises of my self conscious's grip weren't enough of a reminder of my harsh imperfections, their icy stares and startling bluntness ring a brutality in my eyes that can only be absorbed by those foolish enough to cross over into the unmapped, untouched. it is there where I finally feel my lungs expand and my lips moisten from knowing that I am NOT defined by a flaw or a handful of them, placed intricately along the paper thin lining that means nothing in the end. but in an instant you wrangle me back into a place where the spots matter and I don't.

9

Dad’s got a mind like the machines he works on His psoriasis-beaten hands, still tough as they’ve always had to be I come home to, “How’s your car?” and, “Do you need money?” His jackets smell of oil and metal shavings and sometimes they hide splinters His laugh is contagious and it mostly ignites from one of his own slightly comical remarks, and it makes his belly move up and down like a boat on a lake during a storm It reminds me of when I used to curl up for a nap on that pillowy tummy and I’d bob up and down as he breathed Mom doesn’t stop taking care of people even once she’s left the hospital She can tell something’s wrong before I know it, myself Her blue scrubs are her superhero costume, and her other clothes are just a disguise Her hugs make me miss her, somehow, even though we’re as close as we can get Something about her arms feels like being curled up in an afghan and looking outside on a bleak and frore January night - Safe They smell like every comforted cry and sympathetic word of my entire life; Like home

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Oct 21, 2014

Oct 21, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC

abbigail

Two Wonders of the World

Dad’s got a mind like the machines he works on His psoriasis-beaten hands, still tough as they’ve always had to be I come home to, “How’s your car?” and, “Do you need money?” His jackets smell of oil and metal shavings and sometimes they hide splinters His laugh is contagious and it mostly ignites from one of his own slightly comical remarks, and it makes his belly move up and down like a boat on a lake during a storm It reminds me of when I used to curl up for a nap on that pillowy tummy and I’d bob up and down as he breathed Mom doesn’t stop taking care of people even once she’s left the hospital She can tell something’s wrong before I know it, myself Her blue scrubs are her superhero costume, and her other clothes are just a disguise Her hugs make me miss her, somehow, even though we’re as close as we can get Something about her arms feels like being curled up in an afghan and looking outside on a bleak and frore January night - Safe They smell like every comforted cry and sympathetic word of my entire life; Like home

18

She argues the broad definition of love "Give it a spit shine I say" "Examine it with my magnifying glass and mag-light" she adds We look and see our friend who suffers from psoriasis Cracked hands and lips Bleeding His words began to sprawl and spiral "Stop being so evasive Get on with your wishful thinking And your search for silt" "Check the crevices of brick pavers" "See the baseline and note the incongruence of unmarked graves" "They took the Hippocratic oath and sang the hypocritical ode until the day they died" "You got that *** of ABC gum and your security blanket so doze off" "They hired absent minded chaperons to watch the die hard death defyer " "There is a time and a place for everything Between time and space there is anything No rhyme or reason For the x-ed out calendars and changing seasons" We had no idea how to respond to any of this, notwithstanding we gave it a great deal of thought -Tommy Johnson

0

Sep 21, 2014

Sep 21, 2014 at 3:24 AM UTC

tommy-johnson

White Noise

She argues the broad definition of love "Give it a spit shine I say" "Examine it with my magnifying glass and mag-light" she adds We look and see our friend who suffers from psoriasis Cracked hands and lips Bleeding His words began to sprawl and spiral "Stop being so evasive Get on with your wishful thinking And your search for silt" "Check the crevices of brick pavers" "See the baseline and note the incongruence of unmarked graves" "They took the Hippocratic oath and sang the hypocritical ode until the day they died" "You got that *** of ABC gum and your security blanket so doze off" "They hired absent minded chaperons to watch the die hard death defyer " "There is a time and a place for everything Between time and space there is anything No rhyme or reason For the x-ed out calendars and changing seasons" We had no idea how to respond to any of this, notwithstanding we gave it a great deal of thought -Tommy Johnson

21

You were the best example Of how I want to look into his eyes without any hesitation Throw my head back and cry full volume with his mouth between my thighs and not be sane for a second You made me realise I want painfully real being in love **** untill the psoriasis fills up my **** and he doesn't give a **** because I am so beautiful as I pour out his tea. He will hold my hand on a festival just as proud as he licks my cheeks in the smoking area of a cracked out club and he will always wait for me while I work, but untill now he's just never quite you.

0

Jul 7, 2014

Jul 7, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC

sinai

Example

You were the best example Of how I want to look into his eyes without any hesitation Throw my head back and cry full volume with his mouth between my thighs and not be sane for a second You made me realise I want painfully real being in love **** untill the psoriasis fills up my **** and he doesn't give a **** because I am so beautiful as I pour out his tea. He will hold my hand on a festival just as proud as he licks my cheeks in the smoking area of a cracked out club and he will always wait for me while I work, but untill now he's just never quite you.

7

the mirror is my biggest enemy standing tall and never backing down laughing at how pathetic i am it reveals all my fears and points out every flaw as if it grew stronger from seeing the tears tumble down my soft cheeks covered in psoriasis marks and annoying pimples the skin around my eyes was pitch black, like the color of my pupils had begun to age with every heaving sob that escaped my torn and tattered lips little specks of blood outlining them as a reminder of all the times i got worried throughout the day and got attached to the sharp pain of ripping skin off layer by layer until my fingers were soaking in a red ink but the mirror never sways it shows me what i’ve been most afraid of seeing the mess that i am in one that i have single-handedly led myself into as the pain in my eyes burns into my mind an image that drives me insane and brings me closer to the blade that i slash across my baby skin, but the knife barely slices leaving only red dashes with beads of blood popping out their heads only to tell me that they are my creation the mirror makes me feel dead because i have to acknowledge that i am wasting the time of others being useless and filling up the empty space in their heads that could be used for a greater good the mirror breaks me apart

0

Apr 9, 2015

Apr 9, 2015 at 10:36 PM UTC

momijiwrites

the mirror

the mirror is my biggest enemy standing tall and never backing down laughing at how pathetic i am it reveals all my fears and points out every flaw as if it grew stronger from seeing the tears tumble down my soft cheeks covered in psoriasis marks and annoying pimples the skin around my eyes was pitch black, like the color of my pupils had begun to age with every heaving sob that escaped my torn and tattered lips little specks of blood outlining them as a reminder of all the times i got worried throughout the day and got attached to the sharp pain of ripping skin off layer by layer until my fingers were soaking in a red ink but the mirror never sways it shows me what i’ve been most afraid of seeing the mess that i am in one that i have single-handedly led myself into as the pain in my eyes burns into my mind an image that drives me insane and brings me closer to the blade that i slash across my baby skin, but the knife barely slices leaving only red dashes with beads of blood popping out their heads only to tell me that they are my creation the mirror makes me feel dead because i have to acknowledge that i am wasting the time of others being useless and filling up the empty space in their heads that could be used for a greater good the mirror breaks me apart

45

Prevarication permits pretend perception, presenting piquantly piqued, pimply pimping ******* plucky pulchritudinous previously pusillanimous, prevalently puckish, psychic packman, pokemon playing proletarian puppeteer pygmy, peevishly ***** plummy, plumy, pompously pushy, pampered, prefabricated pinchbeck, pokily plying plowshear, plodding peregrination, pied piper pitifully peppy pornographic potato pealing, parsimonious paradoxical protagonist, proposing preposterous panicky pacification plots, prioritization pertinent penultimate peroration, perhaps perceiving perjuring, perplexing, perverting puzzling pronouncements projecting pulsating pixelated pulpy pinball pinging packets prompting pacific, poetic, phlegmatic purplish psoriasis plagued, plumbum pallor pallid, Paleolithic protuberance pronounced, psychosomatic prohibitionist, polarizing perfunctory peculiarly progressive, patriotic postmodern pathologically proud paternal panache, peripatetic panaceas portraying prescient perfidious puerile president, predominantly proposing parochial principles, plenty public parking, purposefully promoting pharisee phalanxes, pilates practicing paragons, perennially peaceably proficient protesters, profitable polygamy, pugnacious pitbull powerball players, pandering polyandry, propagating professional palindrome pensive peeping people, peddling, proselytizing predicating prostitution, proliferating phenomenally, populist persona promulgated peyote phased physicians pioneering prescription promoting paradisiacal pricey photographic pictures, placating phrenetic physical perturbation partaking place purchased (paid paltry pennies) por palatial piazza.

0

Jun 7, 2018

Jun 7, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Pesky Poppycock Payback! Please Prepare!

Prevarication permits pretend perception, presenting piquantly piqued, pimply pimping ******* plucky pulchritudinous previously pusillanimous, prevalently puckish, psychic packman, pokemon playing proletarian puppeteer pygmy, peevishly ***** plummy, plumy, pompously pushy, pampered, prefabricated pinchbeck, pokily plying plowshear, plodding peregrination, pied piper pitifully peppy pornographic potato pealing, parsimonious paradoxical protagonist, proposing preposterous panicky pacification plots, prioritization pertinent penultimate peroration, perhaps perceiving perjuring, perplexing, perverting puzzling pronouncements projecting pulsating pixelated pulpy pinball pinging packets prompting pacific, poetic, phlegmatic purplish psoriasis plagued, plumbum pallor pallid, Paleolithic protuberance pronounced, psychosomatic prohibitionist, polarizing perfunctory peculiarly progressive, patriotic postmodern pathologically proud paternal panache, peripatetic panaceas portraying prescient perfidious puerile president, predominantly proposing parochial principles, plenty public parking, purposefully promoting pharisee phalanxes, pilates practicing paragons, perennially peaceably proficient protesters, profitable polygamy, pugnacious pitbull powerball players, pandering polyandry, propagating professional palindrome pensive peeping people, peddling, proselytizing predicating prostitution, proliferating phenomenally, populist persona promulgated peyote phased physicians pioneering prescription promoting paradisiacal pricey photographic pictures, placating phrenetic physical perturbation partaking place purchased (paid paltry pennies) por palatial piazza.

32

A melody so Beau-ti-ful-ly broken It's- ghostly To ears- And the Bone frore; psoriasis skin Screaming vociferous With claret shot Token festered eyes Could speak Glacial strokes to An empty Mere, Growing epicormic buds For fresh-er-than-threshing Squabbles. Shadows speak And evanesce, When the blood I made shivering Seeps warmth; to tears. I call for Help-- Guidance- Aid It echoes and I forget-- Why I came here. While the big-ness of things and feelings Are gone again.

0

Aug 11, 2017

Aug 11, 2017 at 7:19 PM UTC

Strataic

Downcast Screeching

A melody so Beau-ti-ful-ly broken It's- ghostly To ears- And the Bone frore; psoriasis skin Screaming vociferous With claret shot Token festered eyes Could speak Glacial strokes to An empty Mere, Growing epicormic buds For fresh-er-than-threshing Squabbles. Shadows speak And evanesce, When the blood I made shivering Seeps warmth; to tears. I call for Help-- Guidance- Aid It echoes and I forget-- Why I came here. While the big-ness of things and feelings Are gone again.

29