"sleeve" poems
Black surges, forges piling emotion,
Foraging, attaining such predicted erosion.
Color the rubies to a diluted amber,
Brittle, dripped gems are toxic, I clamber
To the lamp as to see my implicit devotion.
Vitals ascend, and I can't perceive
This motionless forfeit I often receive.
Aid is essential, it holds potential,
To cure this conflicted, addicted vessel.
My heart on my sleeve, I'm undeceived.
I implore to explore, as breath, I leave,
So close to dying, I'm on the eve
Of darker clothing, and flowers to family,
Hallucinate my abnormalities.
Yet somehow, I am still on my feet-
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 9:33 PM UTC
I never knew you could know me so much better
I ignored all the great weather
the darkest cloud hung over me and I let my head fall on the air
my hair was still wet but not the day that we met
Was it someone like you who did it to be so kind
Leaves on the grass with words drawn out
You admired me and wanted to hold my hand
I let the curtains fly in
Didn’t want the wind to pass me by
Wearing the t-shirts with the cheesiest slogans
Dropping love on my sleeve
Too many wishes that I hope they’re not an omen
I never knew a heart could beat for me
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 7:43 AM UTC
I'M MAKING nachos in your toaster oven. The chips fall in the pan without a problem. Beans, evenly distributed (if I do say so myself.) Salsa- good to go. Then the cheese. Generic brand shredded cheese blend. I dangle my (washed) fingers into the zip-lock bag, grab a generous pinch and rain mild cheddar down on my gourmet meal. And I feel the tears building. "No," my conscious scolds, "you will not cry over shredded cheese." I add another pinch for flavor, then another to assert dominance. I slide the pan into the tiny oven- triumphant! But the next task breaks me. I freeze when I try to adjust the heat setting. I hear your voice so clearly, like you're still calling from the next room: "you have to press the TOAST button, it cooks much faster." The tears start to roll. I think about how excited you were when cheese bubbled perfectly- "just a little brown, ever so slightly crispy." We would joke about your persnickety preferences, likely a product of your superior taste. Of course, you would have appreciated anything I made for you, but it was always better when the dish matched the idea in your head...when I made it like you would have made it (if you were only well enough to cook for yourself again.) In the present, I poke the TOAST button and flee the kitchen as to not cry in front of the smothered chips. I sit on the sofa and break down, gasping in childish sobs. "I miss her," I wail to an empty house. Warm tears coat my cheeks in the air-conditioned room. I feel so small. I feel so foolish for crying over stupid, little things. I feel so... so... A bell dings in the kitchen. I wipe my sleeve across my face and traipse back to the toaster. Hand into oven mitt, mitt onto pan, pan onto table. I grab the plastic tubs of sour cream and guacamole from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer that sticks a little when you try to open it. I pick the non-wilted bits off the head of lettuce and rinse them under the faucet. I finish the recipe. I pull out a chair. I sit down to nachos for one.
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 9:57 PM UTC
My heart is whole
but it has sharp edges.
It got wet on my sleeve;
now, it hangs from my necklace
-round like a pendant; hurt hangs
round my neck with a vengeance:
like a lighthouse on a dark night,
blinding sailors. It’s offensive.
It draws them near like a siren's call,
but the sky bleeds red at the first sign of morning.
The captain is certain he'll lock land at dawn,
but does any siren ever sing a song without a warning?
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC
He feels the same pain that she does
Which makes her feel sad because...
The mask she wears,
he takes off and puts on,
But she sees the cuts behind the sleeve
Along with the smile that everyone believes.
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 4:25 AM UTC
I'm transparent like a window
but I'm prone to keeping curtains closed
to cover up my youthful,
aching, naked soul.
I used to be promiscuous;
my essence on my sleeve.
a charming laugh; a crystal glass
from which many a fool drew drink.
A chalice of life;
warm like cinnamon wine,
soft like angel's delight.
Beheld by every eye.
But it never felt right;
I was smoke off a fire,
yet still smouldering coal.
Just a young, beautiful
byproduct of desire.
There's no smoke without fire.
Although, I tried to fan it cool;
the flames ran only wilder.
But as the old wind blows, it seems
a withered tree still grows new leaves.
A dandelion spreads its seeds
but they lie far away from me.
Now, I move transcluently-
ultraviolet invisible ink-
I speak in soothing whispers;
they travel further than you'd think.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 12:26 PM UTC
Kudos to Kaepernick.
I just cannot drown all my beliefs and ideas, even if it contradicts my flesh and soul. When I heard that not standing up to the tune; that has always succeeded on sweeping all of the messes underneath the sad reality, to be deemed as subversive, I know that Rosa would definitely clench onto the seat tighter than ever.
Kneel, my friend, kneel.
To drag our body out there, all over the precious hills and fields, while acting as if the scale has always been set fairly beneath you all this time, will hurt you more than myself. How can a mere matter of things decide our future, our destiny? We shall shape our fate, you shall shape your own fate, and to be judged on the perception biasedly built in the name of order for thousands of years, is a situation that should not be endured by anyone or anything in a tiny dot within this vast universe.
Kneel, my friend, kneel.
And for that, I cannot stand proudly and profess my love to you as of now, even though I will always wear my heart on my sleeve for you to see. To be cheated, to be manipulated, to be deemed as surplus, by those at the tip of the plateau, that cunningly asked us to forget all the tangles and wrangles for the love of this sacred land, while unashamedly distribute everything off the land, off the ocean amongst them, is the last thing that we should allow to happen. I am one of those people that are not able to put on the mask on top of our meant-to-be honest faces, to say hail to the thief is worse than the eternal grief. I have never dreamed of burying the hatchet with them, not even for a second and if I ever do it, I shall be condemned and dismissed for forgetting the roots, the fons et origo of mine. To love you does not mean to stand still to the soulless melodies, to love you does not mean to bow down to the meaningless piece of cloth that has overseen countless infiltration and bombing over the years.
Kneel, my friend, kneel.
To love you is to fight for the rights of many, by any means, even by not standing up. When black is no longer the symbol of miserable, filth and calamity, we shall then breath with ease, stand on our feet and fully embrace the real meaning behind all those majestic words.
Kudos to Kaepernick.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 10:09 PM UTC
There were days
I remembered
To put my heart on my sleeve.
The other days
I hid it
So deep inside my body
I couldn’t find it for myself.
The terror of anyone finding
Me judging me
Seemed to linger in the air
I inhaled.
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 4:13 PM UTC
I once knew a boy
Who liked to draw
Beautiful pictures
That nobody saw
He drew by himself
Alone at night
Locked in his bedroom
Out of sight
The pictures where strange
They came with a twist
His pen was a razor
His canvas, his wrist
We lay out at night
Watching the stars
When he lifted his sleeve
And showed me his scars
I wasn't shocked
I knew what to do
So I lifted my sleeve
And said "I draw too."
-n.m.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
kiss me in your backseat
like nothing has ever been like this before
'cause you kiss like a promise
like you have never wanted anything more
than me
and just maybe, i'm crazy about you baby
and i guess it's a mess but i've always loved messy
things
and with your lips on my neck, i feel like the best is yet to come
and with my heart on my sleeve, i hope you can see it beats like a drum
and i'm wrapped around your finger and my gaze might just linger on your face
and i can't help but notice what we've made of this moment in this place
is beautiful
you're beautiful.
in the streetlights, with your brown eyes looking into my heart
hold me tighter, with your bright lights lighting up the dark
you're lighting up
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 8:57 AM UTC
Oh what a fight, push shove duck Dodge.
Miss count dance prounce, Oh what a fight.
Bob Weave trick up my sleeve, Oh what a fight.
Toss turn ive awaken, It was just a dream But, Oh what a fight.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
With those acid wash jeans
With that full sleeve of twirling black ink
With the drapes of long hair
I thought that we could leave the xplosion-club
After the confection of colognes
After the South African red wine
After the pounding music all night
Something **** about
A statue that can move
It's eyes
Something **** about
A man that thinks
Openly
We took the subway back to my apartment
You picked up a pebble and tossed it
I was quieter now
Would I let him inside? I have to at this point it seems
A charming prince
is a charming prince
I open the door.
Nothing bad happens, as I expect
I am a little paranoid I don't know why
(The club flashes back)
The door closes without its usual creek,
And we're inside.
Me and the charmer; I wonder, was he once a frog?
I have a funny feeling that I think came from the wine
Am I trashed or
Does he have horns?
Slimy toadskin, red eyes, 1000 inches of claws
Suddenly
Are upon me, Oh my God!
I tell it to leave mE ALONE,
It doesn't listen to me.
Every time I try to slip out of it's grip
I slide into a claw
Gushing this stuff from the movies,
It covered the bed and then the floor,
It probably leaked out from under the apartment door.
My cellphone rings in my pants pocket
I can't reach it because by then this grendel thing had broken me
Into two legs, a torso, two arms
And a decapitated head
While it eats my right lung, my left hand tries to desperately crawl away
He pokes it with a great fork; no escaping crums
The awful amphibian finishes and leaves forever.
He's never coming back
A winner-and-loser kind of *** I guess.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 9:54 PM UTC
It doesn't have to be healthy,
Only street corner poison;
Teeth marks,
Maybe something broken.
It's not about what it is,
But what it leaves.
The quiet skin beneath your sleeve,
The choir that sings in your sleep.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
I don't care who said crying was overrated, who gave you the ******* right to control the tear ducts of another human .
A human shows emotion through tears , laughter , smiles. The human face has 24 different emotions yet the water stains on her cheeks was never stated as one .
The stains of mascara running down her cheeks , dripping on to neck , her nose sniffling up the excess embarrassment .
I told her to stop trying to be brave , she had to embrace each feeling as it came , I saw her chest heave up and down in a rapid movement so fast I couldn't keep count.
Her mouth was open , no sound came out , she looked like a fish out of water and person screaming but no sound .
Her hands started to shake her body soon followed next I held her close put her head in between the crook of my face and neck .
I felt the water dripping down my neck to my top I never said a word , never told her to stop.
Even though I just changed my sheets that day I never told her to man up because crying is a source of speech when words are not enough .
She had so much emotion and all she could do was mutter incoherent words ,I think it was " I'm sorry" .
Sorry for what I will never know , she never once asked me to let go and I never did .
For once in her life I gave her an embrace even though she refused because if she didn't feel my comfort I'm not sure what she would do .
I did it because when I need that embrace they all refused to give it , they told me to " **** it up" " be ******* brave" , I soon found comfort in smashing my fist against my bathroom mirror and throwing my mothers jewellery box outside in the rain .
I stopped and I jumped in the mud that had formed and that was when I promised myself , if another person needs my embrace no matter who it was , I sure as ******* hell will give it because crying alone is just no good.
It's no good that others can't see your pain , I encourage you to throw a fit and call names , call them all ******* ***** tell them how worthless they are that when you needed comfort he would rather go sit in the car .
I want you to scream , yell and shout with the tears streaming down your face , show them what expressing yourself is all about.
Darling don't ever hold your tears in , wearing mascara or not ,just always keep a tissue tucked in your sleeve, and wipe your eyes till they are raw with the courage that they need.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
It's so much easier to make the same mistakes
to wage a war upon myself
It's so much simpler to smile in your face
to wish that I were someone else
I'm so **** hurtful
but only to my own skin
I'm worth so much more
but I'll still draw blood again
And when will I let myself go
And when will I push far
And when will It be to late
And when will I stop opening the same scars
It's barely past midnight
Red is all I see
A innocent boy who's shattered
A beautiful catastrophe
But who will help him now
Cause he's still making the same mistakes
But who will fight for his life
When he feels he's nothing but a waste
And when does this war end
Cause I still crave razors against my skin
When I look into the mirror
It's still a reflection I can't withstand
Back at war again
Under your sleeve is the battlefield
A million casualties
Tallied are battles that have healed
Be a warrior
Scar tissue is tougher than regular skin
Be a warrior
Find your strength from within
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
A piece of you
Reflecting back
The bitter words in your mouth
Too raw to speak
A poet is
Someone in pain
And someone in love
Someone who looks at the world
Through a kaleidoscope
Who takes a magnifying glass to each
And every
Word you say
And lets them imprint on their heart
A poet is
A star gazer
A dreamer
A chaser of
The improbable
But hopes anyway
A poet is
Tissue paper skin
A heart of glass
And a soul of titanium
A poet is
A sharp tongue
And a gentle kiss
She is a sob
He is a sigh
A poet is
The sun at midnight
Bright and
Burning
Hot
Alive
But cloaked in a darkness
They cannot shake
The brightest day
And the darkest night
A poet is
The human experience
A paradox
An oxymoron
So complicatedly
Simple
A poet is
A lover
Who refuses
To stop wearing their heart on their sleeve
No matter how much it bleeds
But rolls them up
So you can’t see
The blood stains
A poet
Is Poetry
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
You've read my rant from yesterday
About those Christmas Letters
But one thing just disturbs me
Those Ugly Christmas Sweaters!!!
You know the ones we love to hate
They're all so scratchy and they itch
You can barely get the **** thing on
And to remove it...it's a *****
Pictures of things Christmassy
Like a reindeer all in red
Mine looks like an emaciated cow
with a candelabra on his head
Snowflakes, trees and Norway Spruce
and colours....oh my lord
They can take them back to Norway
and throw them in the fjord!!!
My nan made one for me one year
It was silver with some blue
Turns out she used old brillo pads
Because she liked the soapy hue
They itch and scratch and don't fit right
They are a cancer to my eyes
I had one in green and red
With one sleeve down past my thighs
I thought it was a jumpsuit
The kind the paratroopers wear
The pattern pages stuck together
And that sleeve....went down to there!!!
We all have one hidden away
In a box, 'neath lock and key
In a place so nicely hidden
One we've had since we were three
We never plan to wear one more
We all know that we once did
but, if we had to wear one out
We're gonna buy one for our kids!!!
If you need to get assistance
go to uglysweaters dot o- r- g
They can help you with your wardrobe
Tell them you heard of them from me.
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
(a tribute; if mere words could be enough)
~
the life of this River,
'tis an unending stream;
is an unpublished book,
its current fast at flood;
a flow that washes clean,
all the gathered debris;
its words like diamonds,
sparkling neath its lapping
waters at its river bank;
a sound refreshing,
hushes the rush in my mind,
calling to my soul.
where does the river go at night,
and whence flows its waters
when hidden, out of sight?
its flow is eternal to the sea;
a place of waters gathering,
of floods heaping,
of reflection's seeking,
where still waters lie,
where the hand of friendship
holds and lifts all who venture
to its depth where feet
can touch no longer
the point where most
would flounder
become a place of calm
of peaceable retreat without
and deep within
a flow of tears for thee!
~
*post script.
a heart on sleeve composure,
for he who knows the River best!
who's breath is water deep,...
who's heart beat its very current!
added 12-13-16
my dearest HP friends, i want to thank you for this Daily and for your generous words, though i cannot truly claim this credit for my own. those of you who have walked these halls with me for a few years will read between the lines and will know precisely for whom this tribute is written. he is become to me one of a small handful of poetry mentors and it was a moment of great appreciation for his artistic talent that inspired these words... words that tumbled from this pen as a rush, and in mere minutes. such is he, that he inspired this spill of words; a flood that i would not claim for my own. to he who knows, thank you, my friend... this River... these and this belongs to you!!*
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 2:22 PM UTC
Have you ever felt so sick
That there's a churning in your stomach
That you just can't shake
Have you ever felt so broken
That you just can't sleep
Lost in confusion to how life brought you here
Have you ever felt so low
That you didn't think there was anywhere else to go
Have you ever been so angry
You can't control your rage
Ripping every photo in you picture frames
(Yeah) have you ever wondered why it is your heart breaks
Are you good at getting stuck in situations
Feel as though you have lost all communication
And you can't seem to navigate your way out of this dark place
You landed yourself in
Shouldn't have given everything so soon
And maybe then you wouldn't have lost you
Signals beyond detection
Lost in my own space
No stars or light to guide your way
You just met the monster under your bed
Gave into the voices inside of your head
This is the moment everybody dreads
So is this my hell
This is where I've been sent
This is the fall
This is the steep descent
Told you I bleed for my heart
Can't you tell from the scars
Engraved into my skin
Maybe I'm addicted to the pain
Maybe it doesn't feel right when life kicks me back in the face
Maybe I just can't go a day without making a mistake
Maybe I'm a lost cause
Maybe I have no faith
Maybe I've fallen from grace
Maybe I'm a disgrace
Maybe there is no hope for the hopeless
But I still give hope to those
That hang off of every word that I write
And it's lines and times like this that keep me alive (Yeah)
Are you good at getting stuck in situations
Feel as though you have lost all communication
And you can't seem to navigate your way out of this dark place
You landed yourself in
Shouldn't have given everything so soon
And maybe then you wouldn't have lost you
Signals beyond detection
Lost in my own space
No stars or light to guide your way
You just met the monster under your bed
Gave into the voices inside of your head
This is the moment everybody dreads
So is this my hell
This is where I've been sent
This is the fall
This is the steep descent
Maybe I'm drowning in sorrows
Maybe you have some love I could borrow
Maybe you could get me back on my feet
Should never have worn this heart on my sleeve
Maybe I shared too much
Maybe my kindness
got the best of me
Maybe I gave to much trust
Maybe I just lost the one
Maybe the battle was lost
Before it was ever won (Yeah)
Are you good at getting stuck in situations
Feel as though you have lost all communication
And you can't seem to navigate your way out of this dark place
You landed yourself in
Shouldn't have given everything so soon
And maybe then you wouldn't have lost you
Signals beyond detection
Lost in my own space
No stars or light to guide your way
You just met the monster under your bed
Gave into the voices inside of your head
This is the moment everybody dreads
So is this my hell
This is where I've been sent
This is the fall
This is the steep descent
©2017 Written By Benji James
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 4:45 AM UTC
This trumpeter of nothingness, employed
To keep our reason dull and null and void.
This man of wind and froth and flux will sell
The wares of any who reward him well.
Praising whatever he is paid to praise,
He hunts for ever-newer, smarter ways
To make the gilt seen gold; the shoddy, silk;
To cheat us legally; to bluff and bilk
By methods which no jury can prevent
Because the law's not broken, only bent.
This mind for hire, this mental **********
Can tell the half-lie hardest to refute;
Knows how to hide an inconvenient fact
And when to leave a doubtful claim unbacked;
Manipulates the truth but not too much,
And if his patter needs the Human Touch,
Skillfully artless, artlessly naive,
Wears his convenient heart upon his sleeve.
He uses words that once were strong and fine,
Primal as sun and moon and bread and wine,
True, honourable, honoured, clear and keen,
And leaves them shabby, worn, diminished, mean.
He takes ideas and trains them to engage
In the long little wars big combines wage...
He keeps his logic loose, his feelings flimsy;
Turns eloquence to cant and wit to whimsy;
Trims language till it fits his clients, pattern
And style's a glossy **** or limping slattern.
He studies our defences, finds the cracks
And where the wall is weak or worn, attacks.
lie finds the fear that's deep, the wound that's tender,
And mastered, outmanouevered, we surrender.
We who have tried to choose accept his choice
And tired succumb to his untiring voice.
The dripping tap makes even granite soften
We trust the brand-name we have heard so often
And join the queue of sheep that flock to buy;
We fools who know our folly, you and I.
11.1k
We were poets,
Once,
Hearts etched upon our sleeve
The lords of our intent,
Words bloomed for all to see.
Each branch of thought considered,
Chiseled,
Whittled to express.
Carving the forest in our likeness
We paved the landscape with our breath.
Woods would sway in idle days
Sunkissed glades lay bathed in gold.
Nights waylaid by dancing maids
Cheap ale and tales of old.
Fires burn, flames unfold.
Though
Embers remember
Tender clutch of the cold.
We tend to forget the bargained,
The sold.
Up rivers and creeks,
Paddles, disowned by the meek,
Cast away to distant shores.
Glades decay,
Fade to grey.
We become poets once more.
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 4:01 AM UTC
I used to wear my heart upon my sleeve
But then it frayed,
And now I'm left with a pile of string
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 10:36 PM UTC
she wore her heart,
on a tattoo sleeve.
her feelings inked,
all a jumble.
from poetry,
to lyric art.
these words
she couldn't mumble.
eyes almost dead,
glistening with tears,
not one emotion read.
her lips sealed shut,
tongue in a knot,
no words could be said.
she wore her heart,
on a tattoo sleeve,
and this was how she lived.
hoping one day,
she'd get the love,
the same she freely gives.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
*I ponder of something great
My lungs will fill and then deflate
They fill with fire
Exhale desire
I know it's dire
My time today
I have these thoughts
So often I ought
To replace that slot
With what I once bought
'Cause somebody stole
My car radio
And now I just sit in silence
Sometimes quiet is violent
I find it hard to hide it
My pride is no longer inside
It's on my sleeve
My skin will scream
Reminding me of
Who I killed inside my dream
I hate this car that I'm driving
There's no hiding for me
I'm forced to deal with what I feel
There is no distraction to mask what is real
I could pull the steering wheel
I have these thoughts
So often I ought
To replace that slot
With what I once bought
'Cause somebody stole
My car radio
And now I just sit in silence
I ponder of something terrifying
'Cause this time there's no sound to hide behind
I find over the course of our human existence
One thing consists of consistence
And it's that we're all battling fear
Oh dear, I don't know if we know why we're here
Oh my,
Too deep
Please stop thinking
I liked it better when my car had sound
There are things we can do
But from the things that work there are only two
And from the two that we choose to do
Peace will win
And fear will lose
There's faith and there's sleep
We need to pick one please because
Faith is to be awake
And to be awake is for us to think
And for us to think is to be alive
And I will try with every rhyme
To come across like I am dying
To let you know you need to try to think
I have these thoughts
So often I ought
To replace that slot
With what I once bought
'Cause somebody stole
My car radio
And now I just sit in silence
I ponder of something great
My lungs will fill and then deflate
They fill with fire
Exhale desire
I know it's dire
My time today
I have these thoughts
So often I ought
To replace that slot
With what I once bought
'Cause somebody stole
My car radio
And now I just sit in silence*
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC