"tatooed" poems
They came in search of incredible sun,
seduced by cicadas and an easy time;
extraneous baggage with nothing to declare.
Two days in:
Sister Rose shrivels on her browning stem;
survives on lettuce leaves and cheap wine.
Pitiable by design, knowing perfectly
she's past her beauty max.
At her feet:
The blue pool cups cured hide
of idle heat-crazed beast
unleashed from his computer belt-
a doughboy moulded to his insubstantial boat-
afloat for fourteen days!
Entwined-
my crazy brother reclines with his latest lover
to share 'delightful' elderflower champagne
through a single straw,
****** together by their eyes.
And in the shade:
mother sits it out in floral silk,
sustained by seventy deniers
and her would-have-liked ideals-
the shadow of a lattice grill tatooed across her brow.
Then as the just deserts arrive,
and darted looks are handed round,
I glower at the heat - crazed ground
and muse- 'it's time to go,'
........but they would never forgive me..
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 5:10 AM UTC
**The Marginal Difference
Tween Child And Adult**
awake Sunday stuff to do...
another unit of life decapsulated,
where one will compromise
with all those lofty
make believe dreamy would-be goals
that course thru the brain,
when sleepy morphs into
the to do list at the premier of today's
wacky wakey consciousness movie
and a poem forms on lips
that have not yet been
coffee'd
into adult responsibility
the list purview'd,
and you purvey,
foresee, attending,
bend back that pointer finger
looking right at ya guiltily
one and enough,
believe getting that one done,
will be
satisfyingly crossed off that
grownup
groaning
tatooed list
of the unavoidable
one will make the
marginal difference....
tween child and adult
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
Sweet Catherine Eddowes,
Second lady one of two,
On a night of grisly finds in the square of the bishop's headdress,
In London's not so fair city,
On this the Sabbath's tragic night,
'Kate' tragic shrew was tamed, not by Petruchio,
This murdered lady from tragedy of night walk,
Tatooed lady, hazel eyes and fiery auburn hair,
Bonnet left on after death, protected her beautiful hair,
Perhaps the ripper cared,
Kate filled usually with vile temper,
Her temper not apparent on that sad night,
Appeared to put up no fight,
Her beautiful face was sliced to ribbons,
Cruelly disfigured by this evil,
Usually was a jolly gal, loved to sing and dance,
Unable to make a flight to escape the merciless wrath of this mystery man,
Carotid artery slashed and dashed,
No blood left on the ground,
Smeared foul faecal matter all around,
As ripping evil stole, her bowels,
Lain, like sleeping naturally ,
Still warm corpse discovered,
Fellow passing by saw a woman pass,
May have been her with a chap, fair haired,looking shabby,
Different description from the others,
Poor Kate left family of three behind,
A daughter and two sons,
The sun had set for the last time,
For their poor dear mother.
The forth ripper victim!
By ladylivvi1
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 5:33 AM UTC
My tired eyes meet yours
Straining in the dim lighting
Sipping the drink you bought me
Through the thin straw
Sweetness tatooed on my lips
I gently lick it away
Your voice is brash
But mine is almost somber
I play the part well
Of the innocent rabbit
And you're the sly fox
Looking to devour me
Suddenly I'm in your den
Sitting on your mattress
Watching reruns we've both seen
You say loosen up
And touch my thigh
Sending pulses between my legs
Your tongue dives in my mouth
Exploring every crevice
Like a cartographer
You reach up my dress
Looking for the ocean
Your tongue tastes of sea salt
Your face between my thighs
Telling a story I've never heard
Your tongue is a paint brush
Skillfully scribbling caligraphy
I cry out in a foreign language
That feels so familiar
Every inch of my body
Quivers with joy
But there is no love here
And I wonder
If I'm really the innocent one
Or if I devour hearts as well
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
i see this face
this face i see
is tortured and at peace
it speaks for all
and all it speaks
the language of a sunset
beauty burned into its words
strong and full of reason
i hear this face
and no one else
the world has gone dead silent.
i see this face
this face sees me
its eyes tatooed with wisdom
dipicting tales of past and present
the future of this generation.
caution creeps behind its eyes
warning and protecting
yet leaving all to fight alone
the miseries
of blind beleiving.
i see this face
who has no face
lost in realization
crumbled and contorted
by a selfish
oblivious civiliazation
it crys without a tear duct
releasing from the heavens
a pure and noble life preserver
contaminated by humanitys freedom.
i see this face
disintagrate
befor my very eyes
collapsing into space and time
i feel the heart
the soul the source
of my humble existance die.
Aug 14, 2011
Aug 14, 2011 at 12:36 AM UTC
who am I?
it is a question i ask in vain
amidst all the terror my life has brought
i find time to inquire.
who am I?
the answer never comes
through all the screams
i look up at the sky and askk.
who am I?
my name never mattered
instead i was given a number
tatooed on my arm in burning ink.
who am I?
in order to stay sane i speak
to myself or others
and together we try to remember.
who am I?
i do not think i will ever know
and i stare at the black doorway in front of me
with the smokestack up above.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 10:40 AM UTC
tried to buy a little of it
a new brain and new shoes
thought the name had meaning, like Good humor stood for
good treats my mamma never had a dollar for,
placed , after selecting a two dollar pair of Adidas and a fifty cents pair of socks
on the counter, and a brain with street sense common, the
( tatooed brown girl, kinda hot)
smiling, chuckled when I tried to pay with my food stamps.
Where as I was serious she thought I was kidding as she said we don't take EBT's and I asked can I get you next week.
meaning, innocently , the balance.
She did give me her number,
but no credit. I walked out empty headed , handed,
skipping with a 555 ou812 written on my forehead.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
There is a thunder in my brain,
rush of adrenaline,
my secret addiction,
better than chocolate,
all consuming my body and mind,
extraordinary love,
nothing mediocre about you,
sweet tenderness,
inspiring my ingenuity,
making love not war with each other,
your face tatooed on my heart,
love to us is a verb,
this is mad love.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
You militate my mind
And Rehabilitate
My heart back into normal pace
You're a Rainbow Fish, I'm a Dace
Outcast put in his place
He now wants to go face to face
With what is stipulating his
Progress as a human
His furnace is fuming
You are the one subsuming
His mind when he's angry
Now the anger is dwindling
He thinks of cherry blossoms and her smile
He's content for awhile
While alone
If he heard you on the phone
He'd be out of all zones
Not a single hint of drone
In his behavior
You put him in his best
Your name is lightly engraved into his chest
Only you may know about it
Since it's not tatooed there
He'd rather stare
Into your eyes
Instead of tell you lies
He'll hate himself
If he betrayed your trust
You're gold to him
When he thinks he's rust.
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 7:08 AM UTC
He said he was a veteran of the war
not this last one, but the one before
Operation euphamism conflict desert storm
he said they brought him here straight from the floor
He said they brought the bodies to a rink
And that the ice did not quite help the stink
He could not hold his hand still, he could not hold his drink
He threw up thirty xanax in the sink
There was Rickie, he was twice my age
Hoped it's not too late to turn a page
he told me 'make the best of it', he tought me to play spades
He said meals are the way to split the day
Aerosol computer duster hose
As far as he could get it up his nose
Something about oblivion, ethyl and the cold
Wednesday lunchtime traffic had to slow.
I'm not crazy, I'm just low
I've got nowhere else to go
I'm not sick I'm just upset
As all these thoughts race through my head
I'm so tired of telling lies
Smooth as corbon dioxide.
Victoria had seen and lost her day
She had the makeup tatooed on her face
She just seemed grateful for a place to stay
And wondered of they'd take her kids away.
Three days for tears and slices on her arm
Nine days, my fault for showing them my card
They'd love to do the right thing, and treat us as we are
But good insurance is as rare as heart
I'm not crazy, I'm just low
I've got nowhere else to go
I'm not sick I'm just upset
As all these thoughts race through my head
I'm so tired of telling lies
Smooth as corbon dioxide.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 5:22 AM UTC
Lying lazily in the venus chamber rose-tinted and arabian damp,
the rifle rests nearby, and twilight the color of corpses glows in the blinds.
Beyond, chimeras velvet mechanical gnaw and bud,
spilling out babes crazed and crucifixion stained.
And I know I was spilled with them,
with my back scarred with phantoms of missing wings.
But just like my seeds are boiling in her tatooed altar,
my plot is defining itself.
With my lungs rendered sore by the milky smoke exhaled
and lingering like ghosts of melancholy, the chamber fades to black.
Then my skull begins turning with the planet's core,
and into the alien forest I go, hunting for another kiss.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
I got the cup i deserved not
Playing hero
In front of a crowd
A crowd that only cheered and jeered
Overjoyed with my bedding destruction
They gave me a new name, Devastation
Still a name I deserved not
And with the blink of an eye,
A jeck and a wreck i became
Cowardice tatooed on my back,
As i faked my bravery
I took a step forward
When i was supposed to back off
Lured myself into the ocean of darkness
Plunged deep, deeper than i imagined
And i lost myself
Dined with demons
Sang lullabies of doom
Ensnared in their deciet
And crooked, my pathway became
How, why, when and where?
As the questions roars in mind,
I just wish I had done things differently.
Feb 4, 2024
Feb 4, 2024 at 12:27 AM UTC
sometimes i wonder where she went, that girl. who used to love to dream and read and write and draw, who was so passionate. i wonder why she isn't here with me now, where she went, if she went anywhere at all. if she eroded away with time and if i might find her sediments still somewhere, being tossed around in the waves of my mind. if she was startled from that dreaminess when the alarm clock woke her because she was only a dream, if she ever felt tired enough to go back to her old self. sometimes i wonder if she died, if i missed her funeral, if she even had a funeral (and if she did, who would go? she didn't have any friends), if her body is still rotting somewhere in the cracks on my skull. because that's where she's fallen—in the cracks.
i think about her too often. I am too caught up in the past and future, i don't even recognize the present when it's staring back at me in the mirror.
the words have left me.
i am so lonely without them.
i am so lonely without her.
i write her obituary over and over in my head but none of the words sound right. she was great, she was awesome, she was more than that. she was a dreamer, an artist, she was more than that. she had thrown her head into the sky and rejoiced to see it floating amongst the clouds. no, she was more than that. still more than that.
because i miss her.
i really ******* miss her.
i've said this to myself so many times they're carved into my skull, tatooed onto my lips, blackened my teeth with their ink. i've said it so many times but it doesn't bring her back. i miss her more but that doesn't bring her back either.
i should use my time resourcefully and try to find myself while she's gone but i'm nothing without her. without her i'm just a headless body navigating the streets of newyorkcity at 3a.m. i get lost when i'm alone and i can't stand it. i am a simile without the adjective, just two nouns that don't know what to do with each other. i am getting lost now, writing this.
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 11:05 PM UTC
Walks along a silver shore
Arrows drawn to the moon. Stepping lightly.
Agile hunter.
Drifting slightly
In her graceful room
Wanders through the wilderness
Her eyes sharp and feline
The twisted curls of ebony
Entangled with the vines.
Her body's temple
Tan and pure
Is tatooed with myth and time
When her dirt stained face turns to the sun
It kisses her lips, divine
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC