"unbleached" poems
You will always be able to have what you want
Unlimited canvases of soft inner thighs and painted lips, curled hair
I saw into you and found that you will always be content
I saw this in the way you slept
Have you ever looked at someone and thought they were too attractive to ever deserve to be sad
Your cheekbones and chest, your arms and back are better than anything specifically crafted
Your words are sugar
Unbleached but naturally craving
Your voice is one of my favourite things
I don't know if I believe you when you call me beautiful
I should be too embarrassed to write you notes
I prefer your blue eyes to the sea and sky.
I would always choose to look at them over the static nature
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
In My Salad Days
Salad Days
**Wikipedia:
Modern use, especially in the United States, refers to a person's heyday when somebody was at the peak of his/her abilities, not necessarily in that person's youth.**
~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Salad
Hints of tints of golden
pear skins,
combine with
ruby'd cranberries
each a face, the cheeks of alcoholic old men,
each wrinkle,
a life's recording.
All are mates for the
marcona almonds
nestling, playing hide n' go seeking
tween silk sheeted leaves of
butter lettuce.
All dressed to the nines,
underneath a top hatted, cravatted, Fred Astaire
marinade.
Coated, bathed, loved,
protected by a vinegar of balsams,
aged grape must, pressed,
a lovely, desirable color,
a brown and bronzed rust,
pressed, then left,
to easy rest for
oh so many years,
like I do, easy resting,
when you feed me in
My Salad Days.
The Days
Though it was a life, decades destructed
Millenniums of de minimus,
Forty plus Seders of exile, of hell,
Marked by promises, whispers, horseradish tears of
Next Year and Jerusalem,
Time steeped in a tradition of patient waiting.
Each year, recorded by a spot of red wine
Purposely Spilled,
By my father on unbleached Passover tablecloth,
To example, to symbolize that
Messiness in life,
Is O.K.
The Salad Days
Salad served with irony generous,
When beard greyed and scraggly,
White speckled, wisps of sea salt,
All my youthful greenery, long wilted.
Yet the words herein writ are my
Afikomen, my just dessert,
My victory song of Hallelujah
Just before we eat, celebrating
My Feast of Ascension, marking a
Delayed Arrival, yet right-on time of
My Salad Days.
It was only when
I was resurrected as two bodies,
A pair of cuffed links coupled,
In My Salad Days,
With the taste of freedom,
A first-born infant survivor,
Was I rebirthed, and to the fore, risen.
When words fell from smiling lips, and
Rain and tears flew upwards, and
Each and every breath was an
Amen.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 1:44 PM UTC
Ireland is riddled with
cancer.
Pesticides, herbicides,
fungicides-
Are obviously, not the
answer.
Dairygold® have got
it right. Surprisingly!
Organic pastureland,
green grass, happy cows!
"Golden Valleys,
Growing Naturally" ?
("Logo ™")
without the question
mark.
<>
In the event of Corporate
Punishment, IE, finding a
herd of hungry Friesians
in my front lawn, or my
next organic pizza happens
to be a Crispy Cow Pat with
lashings of Mozzarella, I am
hereby declaring that Silent
Spring lady, Rachel Carson,
was bumped off for making
metaphorical accusations, such
as could be interpreted by those
who are currently involved in
the depopulation process by
way of poisoning the people
via consumer products, that
are known to contain harmful
carcinogenic compounds veiled
by misleading advertising.
natural
adjective
1. her policy of using fresh, natural produce: unprocessed, organic, pure, wholesome, unrefined, pesticide-free, chemical-free, additive-free, unbleached, unmixed, real, plain, ****** crude, raw. ANTONYMS artificial, refined.
2. a natural occurrence: normal, ordinary, everyday, usual, regular, common, commonplace, typical, routine, standard, established, customary, accustomed, habitual, run-of-the-mill, stock, unexceptional. ANTONYMS abnormal, unnatural, exceptional.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 4:43 AM UTC
I am Liberia!
Though scared by scourges of allien spades,
My resilience bears the fountain of heaven's grace,
Piercing the pangs of all my shades!
My independence, I breathed into Africa's lungs,
Clothed her with my stripes, the red, white and blue;
And gave her a star when she knew not one!
My waters rhythm waves of freedom,
Hailing treasured mountains and supreme chiefdoms.
Divine gemstones overflow the scopes of my coast,
Their sparkles define the image of my undeniable beauty!
My children are the ordained species of apex predators!
Their lineages are woven with blackness,
The tattooed birthmark of optimism—
Unbleached to proclaim the glorified identity of their motherland!
With arms of liberty I do solemnly pledge
The allegiance of a century filled heritage!
I today connect a living channel to the realm of your soul,
Bidding you welcome,
Welcome to Rediscover Mama Liberia
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 6:47 PM UTC
You’re so exotic.
He’d stare into my almond eyes,
one lighter than the other
fingers following the tangled waves
that ran down my shoulder blades.
What was exotic?
My father, blue eyed brute,
born into the Los Angeles slums
when the city lights were still
filled by browning fields.
My mother, unbleached hazel,
proud to say she’s been
an American longer,
than ever a refugee.
You should dye it black.
The tangled waves,
hues of coffee and amber
were never good enough.
You should dress more like them.
I’m sorry,
the pink and blue sampot hol
with silk ruffles and mandarin flowers
don’t match my ***** sneakers,
and for the hundredth time,
it’s not a kimono.
No, I don’t know anyone
who works at that massage parlor
with the women in six inch heels
parading around the golden dragon
out in front.
No, my father didn’t rescue
my mother from the nail salon
and what makes you think
I would know anything about
mail order brides.
Television has taught you
that I should be exotic
and neurotic.
Ready to submit
at the snap of your fingers.
Ready to present,
with a geisha’s poise.
You really expect me to respond?
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
Tightly stretched across the frame I am cut from unbleached cloth,
The coarse craftmanship of my canvas awaits an artist's touch,
Outline the path to discovery and redemption on my surface,
Paint me with the colors of hope and prosperity as you guide my creation,
Let the pigments dance across my existence as I glisten and gleam,
I am a sight to behold,
A testament to the contributions of all before me,
Unified together through this masterpiece I now carry their legacy.
Mar 26, 2021
Mar 26, 2021 at 4:26 PM UTC
As I sit beneath the midday sun,
It too sits in a cloudless
Light blue sky
Behind to the left,
Away from the sun's glare,
The blue sky is richer and deeper,
Unbleached
To the right,
The constant babble
And raucous laughter
From a green and white marquee
And here I sit,
In the middle of it all,
Happy and alone
A football too sits here
On the grass,
Seemingly lost in thoughts,
Watching ducks on the pond
Soon the beer and wine
Will flow freely,
The gaggle of excited ducks
As the babble leaves the tent
To mock the afflicted
They will delight,
Kicking the ball,
Passing it around,
Laughing,
Shouting,
Screaming,
But to what goal?
Is that all I am today?
A football to be played with,
A childs toy for the babble
Who enjoy their endless
Gaggle?
They talk at me,
And all I hear is
QUACK!
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
In the midnight cafe where the smoke dances with steam
where I once had a dream of being the creme dela creme
when the day was still young and unbleached.
I sit sipping tea bought for me by the waitress
largesse it would seem but hardly the dream I once had.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 5:28 AM UTC
__I loved you the first time__
__I loved you the last time__
___Mon amour___, your eyes, _like a peacock feather kissed by the sun, glancing between emerald and sapphire, as if nature blessed your eyes with petrichor and the scent of endless blue._
Hair like wheat fields, _a lion's mane swirled with amber and gold._
Curls _soft_ and _elegant_
_Unadorned but intricate_
You stood with ___peau beige___ skin
Warm but yet so _cold and unsure_
It glimmers in the sun, ivory white
_Unbleached, untouched._
You werent just perfect, _your heart was as kind as the first rain after a drought, gentle, soaking into the cracks._
Love ___soft___, ___kind___, ___Agape___ and ___selfless___.
_All the things you do, the ways you move, they send me straight to heaven._
May 4, 2025
May 4, 2025 at 7:37 PM UTC
Oh black girl
Some call you a blackberry
Some say the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice
Some call you chocolate
Skin filled with the dark brown essence of beauty
Some lack the eyes to see your beauty
Some call you a kiwi polish
Undoubtedly you keep on polishing our lives
Some are clouded by the fine texture of ultramel
They forget that you’re caramel
Let the melody of your voice be the creator of good vows
For your beauty makes everyone bow
Oh black girl
Hazel eyes
So dark brown they never go without creating an arc of a smile on our faces
A beauty that is so real and so tantalizing
Some people choose to turn a blind eye on you
But babe you’ve got us running behind your back
Voice so welcoming like a morning chirping bird
You’ve suddenly turned into a bed of roses
A woman full of strength
A woman that brings turnt
A woman that is usually undermined
A woman that is a mine of gold
A woman that never ages easily, no matter how old.
Boldness is your middle name
Whilst others aim to acquire yellowness
Your aim is to remain cocoa-colored
Nut brown
Bronzed
Unbleached
Forever unleashing your extravagant cuteness
A woman that has forever stood strong
A hard worker
A hero
A pure beauty.
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
My sweet little mollusk,
You polish the sea-tangy sand dollars smooth with the soles of your feet
You fill up your sweet siren lungs with a sun-sated breeze and submerge your bare fingers
Until they can sweep the slippery silt of the seabed abyss. I can’t sleep.
Your anemone fingers trace watery ripples through the ebbs of my dreams, trailing streams
Of fluorescent-blue algae sunk deep. Your barnacle tongue shatters ships
Into ruinous splinters of treasure. I kiss
The cerulean ocean that hides in your lips.
My sweet little scallop,
The galloping waves break the curves of your shallows.
There are flecks of unpressed sea salt brine in your irises, tireless riptides of foaming-bright promises.
Your skin has the silvery sparkle of scales that effervesce endlessly, bending beneath the fierce tides of your palmprints.
I’m dropping. The current caresses your cheeks’ fishbone hollows, rethreading the necklaces strung out of seashells.
You bury your face in the swells of the tempest. I envy
Your azure, I worship your lapis.
My sweet little mussel,
Your tussled cyan-coral hair is unbleached, unleeched and resplendent
I am rendered transcendent by the green iridescence of your silk seaweed whispers. I have drowned in your splendid.
I can still hear your aquamarine through the white roaring waves cracking onto the shore.
I want more. Your crustaceous sand whirlpool has nestled below the soft curl of your chest. You press the world’s oceans in the dip of your palms
And drink deep from the waves swirling under.
I’ve drowned in the water-spilled seas that are cupped in your hands,
I have drowned in the pearls of your wonder.
Mar 9, 2020
Mar 9, 2020 at 12:15 PM UTC
How rude of you
To invade my still mind
Like a blast
Of all colors
Heating up... Well everything.
Was that crude?
My bad.
I can only express it
The way it comes out
Keeping me from sleep
How rude of you
To be so unavailable
So untangable
How rude indeed
Of you to come in to my mind
Like it's yours to keep
I have not pledged
Loyalty to you
To my great dismay.
Might you be indeed
As gentle as I imagine you to be
How unfair of you
To be all that you are
Continuesly out of reach
Your mind might be genious
But I'll never know
Such is life
Can't always have what I want
When I want it
Wish I could wait
But I can't
Too cute
I've come to resent
The scent of unbleached cotton
On acrylic adhesive.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 7:42 AM UTC
The boy who took
Nothing from no one
How did we get here
I felt it coming
And charged head first
Why would I gamble
It's all here
All things I needed
All the things
I ever wanted to hear
Fluently leave your lips
You were never unreasonable
And
I get it all now, I read you now
We were so young
Who can blame us
I have your arms around me
And your hands where
They should be
Your lips on mine
And we're so drunk
You do all the things
I needed you to do
And yet I feel nothing
all I can think of
is unbleached cotton
on acrylic adhesive
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 8:46 AM UTC
I stab the heart of darkness
And turn the blade leisurely slow.
The blade plunged in black blood.
The pale skin of blindness,
I wash with a colorful glow,
And bathe it in a gentle scud.
I choke the throat of sorrow
With bare hands of absolute rapture.
Its wheezes make a symphony.
And pour beauty in morrow
For my eyes to adoringly capture
The yawps in a revel ceremony.
On the corrupted soul of sadness
I paint hues of brief blisses
But so pristine that it blushes
As I cleanse the spirit with happiness
I cover her with sweet kisses
So lovely that it brings in rushes
I cherish the death of all ugliness
And reminisce the cold miserable days
Enclosed by dirt, filth and lust
I lose myself in the ecstatic liveliness
Of altruistic pruriency's welcomed stays
Wrapped in benign love and its trust
My saviour, love, I mumble a prayer
For your vigour and ****** heart
Unbleached mind and smile's delight
Through this poesy I present a layer
Of gratitude for my journey's start,
With your soft touch, of life and light.
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 10:49 PM UTC