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"sunblock" poems
i don't watch home movies hate them reason being because when i was young i was looking for a movie my mother had recorded for me and accidentally put one in the vcr that i'm not sure i was supposed to see i know the obvious response *"uh oh, **** sorry to disappoint they were only marked with dates   1991 on live television montel williams asks my father *"how can you just throw your child away like a piece of trash?"*    1994 i spend so much time in the emergency room that my parents stop penciling in growth marks on the frame of my bedroom door i always thought it was because they believed i would never grow out of this sickness sometimes i believe the reason that they never bought me a dream catcher was because they never thought i'd live long enough to see them come true    1996 i am eliminated from a spelling bee because i didn't know the 'dad' is silent in 'family'    2013 before i got into poetry i used to do standup none of my jokes were funny one of the other comics tells me my skits are dry sometimes sad he says *"why don't you joke about something like your family?"* so i say *"i never wore any sunblock because i didn't want anything to keep me from my father"* i say *"what do you call christmas without lights or heat?"* before he has a chance to answer i say *"1997. better yet why don't you make like a dad and leave"*    2014 every time we drive past the hospital my mother reminds me how much it cost to save my life like she'd rather have her money back she doesn't have to say that sometimes she wishes it was me who had died instead of my brother i can hear it in the way she says "love you" sometimes i imagine that if i were to die that she would pick out a casket for a child because she never loved the person i became yesterday i told my father how close i'd been to suicide lately and he said *"that's my boy, livin on the edge.."* and i can't remember if i laughed or cried
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Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
there are only dates
i don't watch home movies hate them reason being because when i was young i was looking for a movie my mother had recorded for me and accidentally put one in the vcr that i'm not sure i was supposed to see i know the obvious response *"uh oh, **** sorry to disappoint they were only marked with dates   1991 on live television montel williams asks my father *"how can you just throw your child away like a piece of trash?"*    1994 i spend so much time in the emergency room that my parents stop penciling in growth marks on the frame of my bedroom door i always thought it was because they believed i would never grow out of this sickness sometimes i believe the reason that they never bought me a dream catcher was because they never thought i'd live long enough to see them come true    1996 i am eliminated from a spelling bee because i didn't know the 'dad' is silent in 'family'    2013 before i got into poetry i used to do standup none of my jokes were funny one of the other comics tells me my skits are dry sometimes sad he says *"why don't you joke about something like your family?"* so i say *"i never wore any sunblock because i didn't want anything to keep me from my father"* i say *"what do you call christmas without lights or heat?"* before he has a chance to answer i say *"1997. better yet why don't you make like a dad and leave"*    2014 every time we drive past the hospital my mother reminds me how much it cost to save my life like she'd rather have her money back she doesn't have to say that sometimes she wishes it was me who had died instead of my brother i can hear it in the way she says "love you" sometimes i imagine that if i were to die that she would pick out a casket for a child because she never loved the person i became yesterday i told my father how close i'd been to suicide lately and he said *"that's my boy, livin on the edge.."* and i can't remember if i laughed or cried
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91
The divine walkway To the river-side Has began to warp in Singing and whooping with love, But I was in the palace To witness the examination, See how the evening sky Has suffered with crimson And delight, awaiting The gorgeous joy of the dawn, How can the nations Begin this monthly journey With a broken arm? The old gossip proclaimed that Mother Africa caused the *** to burst into loud wails Early on that faithful morning, Whiles the companions took No pain to grace the occasion, Oh gosh, is that the time? Is that an absolute Gospel of the gory spectacle? Indeed, we need to offer Sacrifices of praise To propitiate the gods, Let the gracious protocol begin! Mothers, please cover That beautiful black skin With that sunblock sheabutter cream, And cover that gracious hips With that piece of kente cloth, My dear, please Taste the sacred food And swallow the egg also, For sitting on a golden stool Which stands on a precious mat, Has become good news for the ancestors, Now perceive this, When the moonlight slipped Past the curled edges Of the shades of nature, and The children faces gleamed, I knew I had Fallen victim to the sensual Lures and snares of the Twin towers protruding From your glorious chest, You have indeed kindled The eternal flame within me, My black eternal beauty, You are truly A fine African woman. © PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI Email: [email protected]
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Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 12:55 PM UTC
VIVID LOVE (BRAGORO - PUBERTY RITES)
Go grab your wetsuit your sunblock and wax go get a clean towel put them all in your pack I'll watch as the sun beams from your face and feel the breeze stirred by your running flip-flopped feet I'll laugh as you shout "YES" and fistpump the air This is us. Our thing. We. Surfs up li'l dude!
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 11:43 AM UTC
surfs up li'l dude
You wore extra sunblock because you admired the girls in magazines That had skin like porcelain free of any blemish or distinguishable mark When freckles began to spread across your skin you would cry to yourself Because you felt farther away from your idea of beauty than ever before When you started wearing makeup to cover them up it broke my heart Because your freckles were the first thing that I fell in love with The way they scattered across your face like stars in the night sky It made me feel like I was looking at something rare and extraordinary When you said I was too good for you I thought it was just a lame excuse I assumed you never really loved me to begin with so I decided to give up I really wish I hadn't been too upset to look you in the eyes that day Because if I had I would have seen the sadness and heartbreak in them And I would have known that you really believed all of the things you said I never forgot the girl with the freckles and a part of me never stopped loving her Once you love somebody I think a part of you holds on forever I wish I could tell her that every time I look at the stars I see her face
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May 25, 2011
May 25, 2011 at 8:03 PM UTC
The girl with freckles
A sudden splash of misty whiteness Where sterile outlines fill With skin pink water colors, Then the rainbows separate into distinct arcs, Blending again at my supplication. Shushed whispers turn my head. I listened for whistles, songs, familiar voices; Pleased to praise when requested, when warranted, Advise when asked, offer silence when needed. I felt skin on my skin, Sunblock and creams, Long before your hand in mine. I have offered my hands too, Palm to Palm. Your scent is forever, And can't be covered with perfumes or incense. At the most unusual times, it hits me. I'll turn in a line, or somewhere, Expecting you right there. I enter a room knowing you're near, Here, within. Part of my life I live in vain memory. It's bitter sweet, this journey, And we are the salt of the earth, our earth. From deprivation to overload. And I sense, with sound insight, We can still get it right.
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Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 11:13 AM UTC
I Wish I Was Ever Born
Grains of sand fall through the cracks. Gritty & hot between your toes. Squishy & mushy in the salty water. Waves crash forward one after another. During the winter & the summer. The rocks near the shore have seagulls. They are waiting for the fish. Their silent daily wish. At the beach it was just us two. I couldn't are anyone else there I knew. The color of the water was green & blue. The ghost voice speaks, but can it see? La Jolla Cliffs is haunted. On video tape in 2008 I recorded it's voice that taunted. Then it said ' Ha ha, I found you". Spooky right? It wasn't like Casper saying "boo". It said " Ariel come closer". It's like it chose her. Seashells wash up on the shore. Like little presents from the sea floor. The relentless sun bakes your flesh. Sunblock or sunscreen works the best. Feeling thirsty to drink some ice water. Under the shade from the trees just me & my daughter.
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Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 11:03 PM UTC
Relentless & Sadistic
Stay happy. Stay safe. Sometimes go shopping. Sometimes it's okay to change something that is the same. Always take your trash out daily. Always use toothpaste & deodarant. Always bathe & shower daily. Always wear sunblock when near large areas of water like beaches, pools, rivers, lakes, or oceans. Always stop at a red light or a stop sign. Always pay your car insurance & phone bill on time Always do your dishes daily & your laundry weekly. Always be calm & polite. Always wash your car every 2 weeks. Don't trust any strangers. Don't answer the phone without caller id. Don't pick up hitch hikers. Don't take rides from strangers. Don't gamble. Don't get drunk. Don't breathe second hand smoke. Never smoke around children. Never shoplift for nothing or no one. Never let anyone watch your children. Never let anyone borrow money or your car. Never call in sick to work. Never request a day off from your job. Never be late for your shift.
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Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 1:18 AM UTC
Ill Fated Intentions Never Mentioned
My umbrellas always dressed for the occasion, feels adorned being gripped around my thick palms, Ironic you block out the pours  for me, when  you're the one getting rained on, You walk in contradictions.. The sun looks distraught, therapy wont cool out its raised temper, You say you'll block out the rays  for me, but your skins peeling from being my sunblock, What are you blocking if you're getting hit too? Can you at least grow the tenacity to protect yourself while you shelter me, Yes, I remained covered under hot colors, but suffer watching you sacrifice, You are such a paradox, bruised and beaten with sounds of your breathing running out clocks, I just wanted us both to be safe, Through mixed skies, I took you for granted Now you look old and fragile, grappling with the forecasts while my grips felt like strangles, Not much life in you anymore and those weather losses turn to mourns, mopes drip like the tears from eyes of storms   I HANDLED you wrong,
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May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
Umbrellas for Mixed Skies (R.I.P.) by Shahrukh Zamir
Never leave me in a place you can find Hang up your curtains to shield me from the sun I am your darkest secret You better keep me in a place you can’t find Never find me bleached from the sun I am your darkest secret Don’t let me rest in your head Bury me in the ground instead I am your darkest secret Don’t let me ever be found
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Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
Don't forget sunblock
one day the sky will burn to invest your money wisely choose sunblock.
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Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 5:38 PM UTC
the end of the world is nigh
for many years they've come to schwenksville crowding the streets to camp on the hill. life is brought to the Old Pool farmfields; pitch the tents and shrug off the suit shields. they've come to sing these grasslands alive guarding traditions that will survive with guitars, violins, flutes and song. while the beat dances to the crowd strong. for many years city people leave their orderly days to hear minstrels weave tales of love and loss set to music with strummings old, new, and exotic. over the bridge that arcs a small creek to the concert area and seek a good spot for a blanket hoedown; they come from uptown, downtown, hometown. dress is casual, sunblock crucial; campsites range from fancy to frugal. hand claps, toe taps, knee slaps to the beat; musicians drum, hum, strum in the heat. for many years the keepers of song have come to schwenksville to play along. with stories in their mouths and a spark in their hearts, that burns into the dark. in the years ahead this tradition will survive, that will be their mission. simple melodies and rhythms play, the spirit of folksong will not stray.
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Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
ode to the folk of song
My thoughts race and race throughout my day. I can never muster up my words I wish to say. Though I felt fine, I can't help but long for what remains mine. I'm on the run from the sun. Her rays left burns as she called me a son of a gun. Winter is around the corner and maybe she'll let me be. It never crossed my mind that we weren't meant to be. The beautiful sun and the little shining moon. I hope to see your rays soon.
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Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC
Sunblock
Sunsets of a thousand colors, jumping into crystal blue waters, yeah, school's out for summer. At first, it’s a shock - ignoring the clock, we’re like prisoners set free - for a two-month party - and no responsibilities Ditch the books ******* - you’re my tribe - summer’s our vibe - it’s time to slip-n-slide. Barbeque, corn on the cob, juicy peaches, lemonade, popsicles, hot sandy beaches, thunderstorms, short shorts, cotton candy clouds, let's get a little too silly and a little too loud. Coleslaw, hotdogs, sharing French fries Charles smokin' ribs, burgers piled high, lounging by the pool, with friends dropping by. Sunglasses, flip-flops, midnight walks, crop tops, sunrise mornings, throwing frisbees in the park Playlist DJ’n, the bare feet are tappin', we’re TikTok dancin’, and, truth or dare, I’m seeing a couple of new romances. Ferris wheel spinnin', funnel-cake eatin’, roller coaster screamin’, the kettle-corn’s poppin’ for rom-com streamin’ and reality-TVing. My mom asked, “Why are you girls all sleeping in one room?” The answer? “Cause there ain’t no cure for the summertime snooze” Why doesn’t someone make a sunblock perfume? Umbrellas, watermelons, 3am dips, Taco Bell trips and roasting marshmallows on the poolside fire-pit Beach towels spread like butterfly wings, hey, our tans are starting to match our bikinis! Come on, relax, have an ice-cold martini. We’re not doin’ nothin' - we’re makin’ memories!
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Jul 7, 2024
Jul 7, 2024 at 1:28 PM UTC
summertime
Sunsets of a thousand colors, jumping into crystal blue waters, yeah, school's out for summer. At first, it’s a shock - ignoring the clock, we’re like prisoners set free - for a two-month party - and no responsibilities Ditch the books ******* - you’re my tribe - summer’s our vibe - it’s time to slip-n-slide. Barbeque, corn on the cob, juicy peaches, lemonade, popsicles, hot sandy beaches, thunderstorms, short shorts, cotton candy clouds, let's get a little too silly and a little too loud. Coleslaw, hotdogs, sharing French fries Charles smokin' ribs, burgers piled high, lounging by the pool, with friends dropping by. Sunglasses, flip-flops, midnight walks, crop tops, sunrise mornings, throwing frisbees in the park Playlist DJ’n, the bare feet are tappin', we’re TikTok dancin’, and, truth or dare, I’m seeing a couple of new romances. Ferris wheel spinnin', funnel-cake eatin’, roller coaster screamin’, the kettle-corn’s poppin’ for rom-com streamin’ and reality-TVing. My mom asked, “Why are you girls all sleeping in one room?” The answer? “Cause there ain’t no cure for the summertime snooze” Why doesn’t someone make a sunblock perfume? Umbrellas, watermelons, 3am dips, Taco Bell trips and roasting marshmallows on the poolside fire-pit Beach towels spread like butterfly wings, hey, our tans are starting to match our bikinis! Come on, relax, have an ice-cold martini. We’re not doin’ nothin' - we’re makin’ memories!
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31
*She told me she loves days of green when soft rain falls. yet she always seeks shelter when it rains. She told me she loves the hot hazy days of summer when cloudless sky and relentless sun bake the earth yet she covers herself with sunblock and sits below a shady tree when its sunny. She told me she loves the feel of the wind as it wails in the night. yey she closes the windows and shutters when it is windy. That is why I am terrified of her for today she told me she loves me.*
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Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC
Her favorite things
I I stopped writing because of the sun I could not see the dark and my letters became invisible so I stopped and waited for clouds II And darkness crept in through the cracks of a fake smile hiding the real painful enlightenment that truly blocked the sun III But in the dark there were letters like keys to boxes of treasured light that did not sting or burn out like the sun
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Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
Sunblock Trilogy
the suns dance around in their orbits picking and choosing what will revolve around them all in their tribal costumes nothing matches no unified purpose no one remembers the first dawn curled lips and fiery gazes their chaos absorbs through the skin of so many but i am wearing sunblock
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Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
8/30
If you enjoy the sun, then go outside, have fun. Just remember that each time you go outside, wear sunblock every time Or else you'll get burned.
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Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 1:02 AM UTC
Sunblock
...and darkness crept in through the cracks of a fake smile hiding the real painful enlightenment that truly blocked the sun
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Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 3:00 PM UTC
Sunblock II
But in the dark there were letters like keys to boxes of treasured light that did not sting or burn out like the sun
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Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
Sunblock III
I stopped writing because of the sun I could not see the dark and my letters became invisible so I stopped and waited for clouds
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Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
Sunblock
here we all have given up on the weather forecast wearing raincoats, hats, and wellington boots and wasted money on sunblock cream all par for the course this year. The nights are getting darker and longer fifteen minuets either end each day which we are used to, kind of, with autumn just around the corner and winter hiding in her hair, this summer this summer never really had a chance.
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Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
summer never really had a chance
*She told me she loves days of green when soft rain falls. yet she always seeks shelter when it rains. She told me she loves the hot hazy days of summer when cloudless sky and relentless sun bake the earth yet she covers herself with sunblock and sits below a shady tree when its sunny. She told me she loves the feel of the wind as it wails in the night. yey she closes the windows and shutters when it is windy. That is why I am terrified of her for today she told me she loves me.*
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Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
all the things she told me
On a sailboat On Lake Superior This shimmering body of water and I are separated only by a thin layer of sunblock, a pair of shades On a sailboat On Lake Superior Moments move as slowly as the low breeze nudging the sail I know not the year or state I’m in out here I know only that I am the water and the water is me To Do Lists of life on land cannot find me sheltered here by waves Cradled here by currents older than any human care I am free as I float Agendas, ambitions, anxieties—all inferior On this sailboat On sacred Lake Superior © 2025 SincerelyJoanWrites. All rights reserved.
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Jun 21, 2025
Jun 21, 2025 at 2:05 PM UTC
On Lake Superior
(In which good fellowship between Russians and Americans is probably not advanced) Start the Evinrude – pull! Grandpa’s Evinrude – pull! Where is my sunblock? Where! Over by the sodas – there! Start the Evinrude – pull! It won’t start, Dad – %^&*! Where is my +*^% phone? Where! There by your fishing hat - There! Start the Evinrude – pull! Grandpa’s Evinrude – pull! Watch those tree stumps! Where? &%#*ing tree stumps! *@#$! Start the Evinrude – pull! Grandpa’s Evinrude – pull! Drift to that cove, now – there! Cut the engine, now – shhhh! Where are them fish, then - $#@%! They ain’t here, Dad – *&^%! Start the Evinrude – pull! Grandpa’s Evinrude – &#%&! *(Chorus fades as the sun sets over Tovarisch Bubba’s Bait, Beer, ‘n’ Borscht)
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Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
Song of the ****** Boatmen (a Russian series, 17)