"sunburn" poems
I used to pray that I’d never be loved by
anyone I couldn’t love back,
but then I remembered how many mountains
I grew strong enough to climb when
you didn’t love me back
and I realized that
there’s no use in praying for
the absence of pain
because it will always find you
whether it be through sunburn or aching silence
and broken bones grow back stronger
so I won’t pray you’ll never get hurt
I’ll pray you clean out the cuts on your
elbows and learn to not pick at
the scabs on your knees
and that you’ll stand up more times
than the wind knocks you down
And that you’ll find ways to appreciate
the circles beneath your eyes, but
still hold onto the hope that one day
you will count your scars and smile because
you are proud of how far you’ve come
and how much you’ve grown, and
you’re not just surviving, you are alive.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
I Craw in the Urban Jungle night after night, making shadows my best friend
Because my pale skin would get sunburn in the day time.
Many of you have read about me on the internet,
But don't know if we exist like the Yeti or Bigfoot
Every now and then you see photos of me and hear stories about our existence
But here I am, White, Nerdy and…. Nerdy
Nerdy like the Nerds falling out of the box and skipping on the floor of my lair
(or my parents basement whatever you call it).
Some moments you will find me praying to my shrine for my savior, Weird Al Yankovic
Many of you may call us “ Losers”
But let me take a moment to tell you why you are wrong, in every way.
First off, We are not losers we just win at things that you don't care about
Like the Rubik's Cube, Dungeon and Dragons, and Larping
We don’t care about making friends, getting the poo tang, or getting high off of our *****
No we are too occupied trying to plan how we will survive the zombie apocalypse,
Or debating on if Star Wars is better than Star Track.
We are too busy reading comic books, Leveling up our one handedness
On Skyrim of course.
You think that we are hideous,
But in all reality, my acne improves my defenses against mother nature,
My braces are actually tools that government uses so they can reflect solar flares back to space
I'm ugly because god decided to make me pick up girls on ******** mode because before you Meet me it was way too easy.
Many of you think that we are weak
I may have spaghetti arms, no abs, but you know what, no problem,
Because if you look at my shadow, you see someone that 10 feet tall and bulletproof
I am a nerd, hear me roar.
My roar breaks your paper thin confidence
As it just floats in the wind like leaves, leaving the tree in October
My roar will rock your house with all of your friends leaving you alone because in the end, you May be popular but lets be honest, who are your real friends?
Call me weak, I dare you
Being a nerd has taught me many things
Like don't eat cake because it is deceiving
And that Neo should of taken the blue pill
Because that movie series was terrible.
And that DC Comics is the best, ***** Marvel
But the one thing it taught me the most is that be proud of myself.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
you ripped my heart
out of my chest and swallowed
it whole on a day where the
sun shone brightly; despite the
clouds hanging over
my head, there's still
a sunburn where you
used to
touch me.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
Separate beds and shades
Of reds. Intimacy is
A ****** handprint.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 2:52 PM UTC
Goodbye wasps
Goodbye bees
Goodbye pollen from the trees
Goodbye midges
Goodbye flies
Goodbye scorching cloudless skies
Goodbye seagulls
Goodbye ants
Goodbye sunbathers in tiny pants
Goodbye sunburn
Goodbye oiled skin
Goodbye iced drinks laced with gin
Goodbye tourists
Goodbye throngs
Goodbye men wearing sarongs
Goodbye hosepipe
Goodbye lawn mower
Welcome to the noisy leaf blower
Hello Autumn
Hello cool bright day
Hello rolling around in the hay
Hello harvest
Hello fruits
Hello hiking in hiking boots
Hello warm colours
Hello warm hearts
Good riddance Summer
Autumn starts
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 4:07 AM UTC
acceptance is something we all wish was contagious,
but true acceptance comes from a heart that is filled with patience.
fingers tremble as dreams race through your bloodstream.
trying on different clothes and attitudes makes your body ache and turn,
outside is an identity that isn't yours which feels as bad if not worse than a peeling sunburn.
"don't." you tell yourself. "don't give in to the personality you've thrown in the highest corner upon the highest shelf.
it's gone.
(j.a.r.)
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
Island can't stop sliding
even when dull pencils
stuck in sand push back
strong, even when your
toes are curling inward
and holding on tight
The sunburn highway is
crowded today and we're
stuck in traffic, caught
behind a particularly
thick cloud, compounding
beach breezes and midday
shivering beneath towels
With sweaty hands clapping
beat and fast punches, the
overnight foliage blooms
and dies, laughing hard
in the bright room with no doors
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
The agony of summer sunburn
The abundance of bright light
The sound of drizzling rain of monsoon
The sound of thunder and lightning flash
The breeze of the early winter
The cold of the chilly frost
The falling of yellowed leaves in autumn
The birth of lush green in spring
I miss them all
When I sit behind the corporate walls.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:00 AM UTC
They say lots of things about love,
They make it seem it is the ultimate desire,
Wanton and wilder than the known universe,
An cataclysmic explosion of two personalities,
Born separate, reborn together,
And yet...
I have loved worse men,
And lost better women than I deserve,
And now my convex chest is as vast and devastated as abbey ruins,
sanctuary,
sacred,
crooked,
ruined,
beautiful,
still here,
After hundreds of years.
Maybe I will live on in my memories,
For there are graveyards in my bones,
Eulogies imprinted on my arteries,
Long lost love letters scarred on my very marrow
For those that I drowned,
And those I saved.
My faith is a moorland hillside war memorial,
An obelisk to reach the very gods,
Your love is but a squall,
My hope is a trickle, a stream, a reservoir, in the deepest steepest canyon and Valley,
Your love is but a rain drop,
My clarity is at the bottom of a whiskey bottle,
Your love is but an ice cube.
Do not ask me brazenly to die for you,
When ******* me is your finest hour,
And I am but a pleasure boat ride for your masculinity to take a trip in,
We are not divine here;
My expectations are as low as your esteem:
A water you paddle in, a toe dipped perhaps,
but you wouldn't swim through, dare to at least,
And yet,
I am a rushing beautiful rainbow of a waterfall on a sunburn induced day,
The haze in the corner of your eye,
When you begin to question,
"is this too good to be true?".
Yes.
We are all but fallacies.
Dip your fingers and cross yourself,
As you wish for clemency.
But still,
Be still,
And know,
That,
I am,
God.
Am I?
Or am I just divine on your tongue?
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
Got A Sunburn On My Belly Button
Yup. Thought I had it covered.
The lesson learned,
When they say they got your back,
Ask 'em,
Why not the front too?
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
I had never liked my name until i heard you say it.
Watching the syllables roll off your lips while they slip into a smile is equivalent to watching our hometown pass away through an open window,
the serene sensation of the wind blowing through my hair,
and blowing away the person i used to be.
You found the words to erase the self-portrait my brush always seemed to repaint,
no matter how hard i tried to change the ending.
When i asked you what your favourite food was, you said it was just dinner-
home cooked chicken and potatoes.
You said it reminded you of the easier days when a sunburn after a day at the beach was the worst thing that could ever happen to you.
On the night that was the very beginning of the rest of our lives,
In that moonlit cabin,
I realized i would be happy passing my days just listening to you talk.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea,
Pristine sands aglow under a deep blue sky,
Crabbing and kite flying, every day a perpetual cream tea,
Never mind the bites and stings, the sunburn and occasional tears, the hours flew deliciously by,
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, in sweet memory of a lost childhood
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea,
Endless games and innocent playful frolics,
Hide and seek in the dunes, eyes barely covered and a speedy count to twenty,
Mum and Dad fussing and fretting, always late for the midday picnics,
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, in sweet memory of a lost childhood
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea,
Rainy days didn’t stop the fun, funfairs and arcades beckoned,
Never managed to hook those ****** cuddly toys, made Dad so angry!
Waste of time and money Mum always reckoned,
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, in sweet memory of a lost childhood
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea,
Harmless nostalgia or dangerous reverie?
Perhaps things were never as I imagined them to be,
But I ache for those happier days, and ease this endlessly painful adult misery,
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, in sweet memory of a lost childhood
© Robert Porteus
Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 8:39 AM UTC
Outside two squirrels foraging
Inside one hundred and one keys tapping
Three buttons clicking and one wheel spinning
Eight hours a day sitting badly
In an ergonomic desk chair
Soft fingers tap on plastic and glass
Weak muscle memory of calluses and splinters
And sunburn blisters from another life
Outside the old prairie wind howls like a phantom
Lost in urban canyons buffets the panes
Drives the torrents of freezing rain
Hard droplets tap on metal and glass
While inside our high-rise terrariums we sit
Generating transient value that flits
Up into the clouds till whenever
You tap plastic to trade your invisible worth
For a hot meal in a disposable bowl
Ponder and sip in another life you could be
Spending all day in the freezing rain
Hunting squirrels for soup
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 4:57 PM UTC
wind's cool lips envelop and chill
protruding listeners, speckled stamps
on crinkled noses
or sun-bit, stacked vertebrae
dabbing each one, I count the
anatomical stars, fibers of you
glancing over with the brim of
my own beginning, parted just so
maps unwind, sighing deeply
but robustly seducing the depths
of our curiosity, condemning
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
11/9/2014
it’s not a question
of whether or not
but rather how
your crooked elbow
hangs over my collarbone
as you reach for your phone
lying procumbent on wherever
the circumstances have placed
us
whether it is a dorm bed or
a basement couch me sitting up in a cold
sweat
or the red of my sunburn on the white
sheets of my july bed
it’s never been a question of state
no matter where the state
until i’m sitting
staring at the empty space you left
next to me or
in my head.
it’s not a question of legitimacy
with the intimacy in your tethered
voice suggesting otherwise
but i can’t help but despise
wild intricacies of time.
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 6:24 PM UTC
I have.....
curly hair
autism
a sunburn
freckles
a black cat
a blister! AAAHHH get a bandaid!!! MOOOMMMYYY!!!
I am.....
left handed
long legged
a girl
funny
My ID card describes me as:
caucasian-whats that mean?
female
minor
blue eyes
red hair
All of this describes me
None of it defines me
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
-----------------------The air that
surrounds us
crackled
the temperature
s p i k e d
our scorched
skin forgot how it was to be
skin
that moment
we touched
that moment
we touched
that moment our skin both
touched
it only knew
that it was
meant to
be shared
touched
felt
loved-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 7:59 AM UTC
peeling off labels is like peeling off skin of a 3rd degree sunburn
i hate how it looks
and it's gonna hurt like hell
but i don't want the evidence there
why do i even care so much?
dear society
rip
i am not "anorexic"
tear
i have metabolism issues
the stickiness gums up
i didn't ask for this
shred
i'm not "antisocial"
strip
but i like being alone
stab
i'm not teen angst
hack
i'm growing up
stop telling me
i have problems
scratch
i know i have problems
i'm not canned vegetables
why do you need to know my contents?
pick
i'm not yours to scrutinize
stop staring at my body
stop trying to get into my head
stop slapping **** on me
and expecting me to fit into the little labeled box
i'm not
your labels
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
Why do I love to
Peel the skin off my sunburn?
Such satisfaction!
Gross it is I know.
But it is like when you start
Healing: chuck the past.
The dead skin itches.
It's annoying and useless.
Peel it off--new skin.
Old wounds--offenses--
Keep us irritated, mad,
Instead of thriving.
Peeling dead skin is
Satisfactory because
Then I get new skin.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:22 PM UTC
#forgotten longing
deep custard days gone by
my morning trip: the pool, always
then, to stay swimming in the ocean
favorite lifeguards who never stared me back
boardwalk seagulls, seafood season
shops with time like windy cobwebs
the hotel, our melancholy Ferris smell
that last painful sunburn pizza and
sadder September funnel cakes
vacation
where I now walk alone
crying for dreams past
not just things#
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 2:46 PM UTC
February is like one of the darkest nights,
a sleep full of nightmares,
it is like a bad, old cigarette,
filling up my lungs with
smoke
that won’t let me breathe.
February is like a muddy day,
anywhere I go it makes me feel miserable and filthy,
it makes me feel like a child whose birthday everyone forgot about,
February is like the monster under the bed,
it gets me scared and makes me cry
and I cannot sleep at night.
February makes me want to run away,
it’s like a bad mother who keeps on hurting her child,
it’s like a storm when you’re walking home after a hard day,
it's like the worst sunburn or
the worst paper cut.
February is like an endless Sunday
it’s like the saddest clown,
the most painful song,
February is like a cemetery at night,
like a day in a ****** war.
I have the same menu every February day
wine for breakfast and wine for lunch
and some more wine for dinner..
I still can’t forget, I still can’t forget
the way you left.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC
it's the emptiness
it's the hatred that builds up in the creases of your
smile, of the laughter you hide your disgust with
it's the appointments you tear from your organizer
the holes in your stomach
the sunburn on your shoulders; the redness of your nose
it's your incurable phobias
your cut-up legs
your bleeding nose
your teary eyes
your itchy back
your raw skin
swollen lips
bare nails
unkept hair
ugly voice
tiredness
why the fuck'd you think spring would fix you?
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 1:35 AM UTC
I ate all the stars last night
every single one
Then I had a comet cone for dessert
Now I have starburn
and I'm burping up rays of light
that sunburn my throat
The comet cone was too sugary
So I let it spew away
Now I have to learn
all the new constellations
And of course
it's all Confucius
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
Whenever it was painful,
Whenever I was away,
I'd miss you,
And I miss you.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 12:17 AM UTC
pap
pap
pap
I can't breath
my stomach is bubbling
like hot cheese
on an fresh oven pizza
my legs feel skinny
I want to lean into a wall
the floor looks spinny
the wainscoting is squint
my vision is blurry
because...tears?
Why is there worry
in my middle?
I feel fine,
my mind is sound
this fear isn't mine
what’s it doing here?
What is this panic?
Fight or flight I understand,
but this is plain manic.
I need to go
at top speed
or maybe hide?
Either way, be freed
from this distress.
pap
pap
pap
Push someone over,
human shield that ****
reduce my exposure
to hyperventilation.
Shallow in,
shallow out,
I feel akin
to sprinting Mufasa
Pure distress
acute discomfort,
a proper mental problem. Nonetheless,
it’s strange to foresee the diagnosis.
It’s as if I’m watching
from someone else’s skin
as alligator clamps are botching
holding my physiology in.
A sunburn on my innards,
a paperweight within
you’d think I’d feel pride
for finally having something wrong.
Hypochondria being accurate
the years of inventing doom,
suddenly isn't aberrant
those fabrications had substance.
Or maybe all these thinks
are symptoms in themselves
after sifting through piles of shrinks,
maybe I can finally get some help.
pap
pap
pap
Look at my pretty framed prescription,
doctor certified, messy handwriting,
this will take some decryption...
don’t worry, take your time,
this pathoreaction won't go away.
I’m told desolation
is a temperament set to stay
until after eighteen simple payments.
I’m inclined to reject treatment
of drugs that fiddle with the mind
I’d rather stay present,
continue inconsistency.
I would like to try narration,
see how many kilometers I can recall.
I can deal with frustration,
so let’s talk about my childhood.
Public transit without destination
sends me on a revere,
an absence of crippling desperation.
I've found peace before
it was between yellow poles,
in the outside pocket
of a backpack on parole.
It smiled at me quietly.
pap
pap
pap
Apparently, it’s the small things
that help you deal with anxiety.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 6:10 AM UTC