"uncleaned" poems
She have never been into things such as growing a garden, they say her potential will have to be reached by a streak of light draping through the window pane.
she builds her greenhouse and collected some seeds, she doesn't sort if she'll grew by season or if it's a monstrous plant— she just want to see a lot of butterflies that she have never seen before.
she remain unimpressed, seeing a hues full of periwinkle and blues, roses and thorns decorated beautifully by her fragile hands, you can see on her plain tone the visible traces of paper cuts and ink blotch.
one day, a boy visited her garden, he grew fond and perpetrated on every flower she had. they sat on an empty, unfurnished room, filled with his paintings and brushes, not seem to notice the one uncleaned palette she used and left forgotten. She watched the boy as he paints, as if he knew every detail of his magic, it reminds her of the days she spent the same way, on how she loves it, tenderly in her heart— she said he was a stray butterfly, everything on him is luminous.
they spent their time there, little did the boy knew that she loves everything he had done on the garden. She wonders how a little misadventures were found in a wild wood.
Oct 8, 2021
Oct 8, 2021 at 11:00 PM UTC
Sweet as the pantries,
She basked herself in a fanciful coating of clothes and accessories,
Longing to find what she termed her "Identity" in her self-proclaimed journey of seeking Truth.
Basing herself upon these coatings,
The sweetness, the addictive tone of hanging on to the securities of being visually appealing had been the sole thought harnessed in her underutilized mind.
"What should I wear?" "Am I looking too ugly in this?".... undisclosed, subtle yet toxic cycle of thoughts kept protruding from the braincentre.
Things unkempt, bottles scattered over the floor, food wrappers uncleaned....she continued glorifying herself with her trance-like state of consciousness: Calling it "Nirvana" as she glanced over her new list of Boy-friends on Facebook.
While ignoring being a pejoratory display to others, she went on profusely with her self-consuming obssession on "Beautification"....with few occassions of gaining a few disapproving glints of nostalgia from her used-to-be down-to-earth mates.
****** Her work was disorganized, she was casted out from the team she used to collaborate with on a Science project, and became merely an alluring visual representation for pack of hungry alpha wolves.
Disintegration, down to the floor her teardrops were drained from her tearducts as she pushed every bottle of her exclusive make-up products away. "Useless, worthless...."the self-degenerating dictionary of vocabulary swarmed her psyche, attacking every single optimistic living cell in her.
Few days had passed when she found herself sleeping on the cold, hard, unrelenting floor. With a slow recovering stance, she gets up with the final thought of taking a chocolate bar for sugar.
Now she is a healthy, spiritual woman committed in empowering others to find their true identity
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
Before too long I'm gonna go away.
I'll walk the unswept streets and the humid heats
In the uncleaned city of L.A.
There are things I'm sure I'll break as I make my way;
Laws and promises, hearts and confidences--
That's the sad way we work today.
My heart'll find its home out in the West,
In the form of a man who will enclose my hands,
And he'll spill all his words out and digress.
We'll have four children, then never get our rest,
And we'll apologize when they finally find out that
Mothers do not always know best.
The sun will stain our skin,
And then illness can take us, our treatments will break us,
And we might not ever be whole again.
Then we'll never know
If there will always be borders and pain and disorders
And longing and fences to slip below.
Our children will grow old after we die,
While we sleep in the ground with our roots all around
Or our ashes will wade through the deep sky,
And they will miss our lives, and so will I,
But they'll think of when we walked the unswept streets
And we tucked in their sheets
And they'll smile while they cry.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
Frequently I find myself covered in soot
Looking down I ***** shackles tied to each foot
Above I see bolts of boring bold steel
Limiting the stretch of what my feelings can feel
Within the private gift we all have been deemed
I am vested in crisscrossed layers uncleaned
Hammering my head are your ticks and your tocks
Recalling my labors for horrid have nots
I must amuse the begotten bejeweled
Robotically remain a chaotic fool
Most of us have been trained to forget
But avail awaits harvest like a reserve in the mess
Special they are that save and revive
Recognize the saviors that make you alive
Ahh…
Safely deep is the desire, a vision of retreat
Infectious is the perfect picture which I have begun to see
Fussing forgone, and put down with glee
I've found the buzz that busies me
That awakens my long since lazy feet
And ends the feast that which my fears eat
The world has given my soul a rhyme
To which I flow and from which I rise
I confused my curse; I'll refuse no more
Its decidedly a gift that has settled my war
Jun 7, 2012
Jun 7, 2012 at 5:46 AM UTC
He's as straight as a curved line
Or so we speculate, or so he denies
A thousand signs, a million hints
Never as refreshing as an evening mint
He praises the men who live in the screen
Projected in front for all to be seen
“Is he attracted?” we ask
“Or is he just trying to bring joy so that his sadness will be masked?”
Deeper and deeper the bird plunges
Smaller and smaller the sky gets
His limbs flow and soon, suffocated
The days of his junk is dated
A sudden movement, always an explosion
Always seems intoxicated by a freak potion
Unnecessary but not always unwanted
But still every inch of his body is demented
His wretchedness is our pleasure
The distance between his pain and our joy cannot be measured
I say, everything in the universe is against him
We say, his very existence is sticky and dim
Angry mom
Uncleaned room
Missing chair
Math grade in doom
Lost books
Crossed and shaky legs
Blemished looks
Intermediate pad in despair
Rotten eggs
Sudden rain
Dancing legs
Junk in pain
Moldy bread
Virused usb
Relationship with girlfriend now dead
Showing off his bare body
Humongous hands
Side comments
Life never bland
But forever in lament
Alas, I bombarded him with questions
He states that he feels no hatred is most situations
Sometimes we wish that his life would change
But that would make our own very strange
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 7:32 AM UTC
I scurry to the bathroom, shutting the door of the uncleaned world behind me and I just stare in the mirror.
I see myself, but not only myself, but what I have become.
I see blood and tears shattering down to the purist of sinks.
I have become Sweeney Todd, a man forsaking his lost world.
A man who doesn't even see himself anymore.
It just comes to show how much this cruel world can change someone, making them think that there’s No Place Like London. Their own creation of their own world.
Here with a mask, portraying what I have become; this man.
A man who kills for passion and with love and with no scarce for bleeding over the white dove.
A man who is mistaken by a fellow Judge, a bias judge who has ruled his final destiny, my final destiny.
I see myself becoming more lost, slowly slitting my throat by this man with white hair; dead bodies filling up the floor. I’m losing control.
Just like The Worst Pies in London, I’m disgusting, I am revolting; like an unsold bottle of elixir.
I have been tossed and used and if I dare take one step out of place I will be beaten.
People expect so much from me and I've tried my best to be worthy in their presence just like
my childhood, nothing but a blurred line, controlled by an egotistic, vile Italian wanna-be.
I've grown into a killer.
Not only on myself, but those who even dare to care for me.
I stare in the mirror with a forbidden soul I call my wasteland, my graveyard, my sewer; this man, this man has shown me the ways of disgrace and having an unloved life.
I scream in horror as this blade takes control of my new life.
Am I evolving into something I have wanted? Or am I following the footsteps just like the customers did when they lined for their funeral?
I glance at the puddle of blood I have created and wonder if this is the life for me.
I take a taste of what is yet to come of this new life and all I can do wait.
Wait Down By the Sea for this man to become, this man who lives this life of Sweeney Todd; the man of my creation, me.
I stare in the mirror struggling to open that closed door, wondering and thinking what it’s like out there, out there in the real world and question myself, is it the world for me?
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
You touched the dark side of my moon
And you set it on fire.
You were born into the dark side
But who doesn't crave for the light?
One fleeing glimpse. Your eyes met mine.
Our hearts tumbled and then lost.
You loved me mad, and they say I was out of
my mind.A Lady and A Peaky Blinder.
Decadent, romantic, roses meet guns
My pretty face was the glamorous facade,
Standing behind me was you with uncleaned blood
You said I was a lady. Your lady.
High society's darling sweetheart.
They have never seen the devil
Until an angel tears off her mask.
0.3 calibre, Louboutins in check, rouge
on my lips, warm crimson filling my pond.
La Reina. The Queen. They whisper
little birds travel far on the backstreets
Just you see.
In love and revenge
I am always more barbaric than men.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 7:29 AM UTC
Eyes wide shut,
Fists lightly clenched,
Images slow dancing across my blackened, rosy lid.
Roll over,
Feel the stillness
That unstills my every breath,
And remember to forget,
The negative forbid.
I wrap my arms around its case
And place my head upon its face,
Imagining a steady beat pulsing on my ear,
But retract my every thought,
And reject all that I fought,
For though I’ve clipped my sorry wings,
They do not fly in fear.
To fly without my wings
Will be my one and only feat
To surpass all of the tremors
And darkened, doomed deceit.
And to unwind all that is tied
To this endless weary cheat
Was the greatest forward stroke,
Melt the chains upon my feet.
Scrub to numb,
Worn to a strength.
My eyes no longer paint on it their salty, selfish tears.
Callused hands,
Cleanse away
The stain that uncleaned me –
My reflection on this cloth
As it so long appeared.
I won’t say it here, but it’s still within,
No fading, faltered fall,
And sometimes through my longing heart
I wonder if it’s stall –
Is this really who I am, or have I fooled myself at last? –
But this glimmer of light I feel whispers,
“Your soul has grown in vast.”
I can hear my lonely, happy heart.
It taps,
It thumps,
It pounds.
Keeps time to the pillow pressed to my ear,
A beat without a sound.
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 11:55 PM UTC
This cage is just big enough,
So that I can have some space,
To barley turn around,
And look Death in the face.
Throw me away,
Because you hate dealing with my ****
**** me cleanly,
So you can stop having to smell my ****
It is so cozy in here,
A bed barely made.
But it is still a place to stay,
Although everyone looks sad through my cage.
Sticking their uncleaned hands,
Inside my mouth.
Suppose it's better though,
Then when they stick their hands down south.
Compliments like insults
Brand who I am.
But I know they'll **** me,
With poisonous jam.
Put me out of my misery,
Or at least theirs.
No one wants cloths,
Covered in my **** and hair.
They smile at me,
I just stare.
Call me the best,
But I know they don't care...
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 9:34 AM UTC
I left a mark;
A stain of my love
Onto your heart the very same
Day you met me.
I took the bus home,
And you took the taxi.
We made an eye contact,
And your smile was very catchy.
I almost missed the bus,
And you almost missed
Your taxi.
I glazed out the fogged,
Uncleaned window,
And you glazed down low;
At your heart beat that steadily
Pumped.
I seen your taxi # the night
I got off the bus.
There I walked over,
And seen you sitting there.
You didn’t see me because of
Your heart beat that caught your
Attention.
The same smile you gave me;
Was the smile before your name
Was mentioned;
So I called you guy.
I stood in the street
Waiting for you to
Notice me.
Maybe if you would look up
And smile again;
This time I would've crack a grin…
But there I stood on the
Hollow, dark, gloomy, misty
Street called Maine,
And there you remained;
In the taxi car;
With your head down, looking
At your heart beat
That I stained.
-Marci H.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 5:30 PM UTC
*Just like the day I turned the corner,
And came face to face
With the majesty suspended from the sky;
The huge white paint brush strokes
Gleaming brighter than their metallic counterparts,
Just like how everyday these soft lines
Grow prettier as the sun shifts;
With their colors providing what land cannot give,
The serenity of an uncleaned palette
In the never ending sky,
This is how you take my breath away.*
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
Hold your hands in mine,
As the sun becomes engulfed
In the mouth of the bleeding
Dove, cooing in desperation
As the world grows darker
And dim, with hate and fear
The final moments lasting somber,
Lingering as cuts uncleaned
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 6:19 PM UTC
By Arcassin B & Alex G
AB : Mother earth , look what they did to you,
You were beautiful back in your day of being pampered
In those seven days.
**** heads that act like jerks that don't have nothing to do,
You were clean once in this universe and they uncleaned you
With their harmful plays.
In this country and this cold world lingering and going through
Situations,
Like a regular human being with funds and accusations,
Life's a pretty blonde ***** with Daddy issues,
I guess that's where father time comes in , deaths happen,
Get some tissues,
I've had a lot and I've lost a lot where heaven and hell will forget you not,
Better choose the right slot,
Cause the women out here getting plastic surgery,
And the men , some enlargement pills,
Why don't you just be happy with yourself and let time heal?
AG : Now that I know what I know,
I had to let go for the sake of my soul,
I was turning into a person I didn't even know,
I had to tell my heart it's alright to be cold,
Nobody gives a ****
That's the truth,
This is your road,
You didn't have a choice but you gotta learn to grow,
You only live one life,
Better focus on your goals,
The clock is ticking and there ain't nothing you can hold,
That you won't lose in the end,
You gotta keep control,
So I'm here with my pen letting the ink explode,
Exposing myself to everyone that I know,
This **** is 100,
I keep it real for the foes.
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 10:37 AM UTC
The best place for the
scarred is a nice
uncleaned room;
with it are the few
necessary things he'll
need to keep
himself going.
He could go on for
days without having
someone to speak with
and frankly he'd be
much better that way
than putting himself
out there where everyone
is sickening and annoying.
What could have caused
this way of seemingly
irrational thinking
doesn't need to be explained.
As long as there are
******** and phonies
trying to take down
one another, and others
getting dragged along
their crap,
the world will never
fulfill the rest of our lives.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 2:17 AM UTC
I'm not completely stupid, that is why I killed Baby Cupid for the arrow shot that had ripped throughout the air, forcing the grandest mistakes that I ever did. **** I wished he had missed, now my lover had silently slid passed my defenses, completely under the grid to the dying heart, that even as a kid, he was hesitant whenever he tried to get rid of the cursed sins from the Nonparticipant. Heaven forbid something cute hid something wicked deep down within.
I wasn't stupid on the date when I killed Baby Cupid, but now I am trying to right my wrongs before I join the ridiculously long list of depressive songs, that are only remember once you're gone. **** I guess this we should no longer prolong; You were the fool all along, another dead king, ain't that right Mr. Kong? Pity you're another soul counted alongside the tag-a-longs and those whose love was robbed.
Baby Cupid was who got killed for thinking I was stupid. Now I'm wandering into a mental zone: a wicked dessert of thoughts dryer than the bones that are left of both my friends and foes, reminding me that I'm completely and utterly alone. Placing reality on hold, as we try to postpone time in order to save our wary souls before we grow into someone so cold, yet we're no longer innocent as fresh snow. Let us crawl onto our fallen throne, and the peasants behold, King of the Unknown!
What had happened to Baby Cupid, you ask? He was killed for thinking I was completely stupid. Oh, don''t let the tear forming in your eye, because we know the saying "Real Men Never Cry", even when humanity words become vicious lies that they will so happily supply. We stand our ground, ready to reply to our enemies and allies alike, that we are ready to die for Death is what we deify. We already said our goodbyes on this most beautiful of nights.
We are the Uncleaned
We are forever Unseen
Under the rule of the holy Thirteen
And in Death, we are forever Free
I'm not completely stupid, that why I killed Baby Cupid........
Jul 22, 2020
Jul 22, 2020 at 2:55 PM UTC
"Thank God" you say
Working hands go uncleaned
Tired minds don't rest
Thank God
"Why do you do this God?"
The guilty run free
The snake slither
Why God?
"God has a plan"
The unorganized reign
Allotted chaos
Plan God
god forbid
The world continues to turn
Giants continue to grow
The apple still sweet
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC
Hypocrisy prevails from phase to phase
This world is nothing but a center of praise
All are busy in their tricks and on their ways
Daggers are in their hands under bouquets
Intentions do not match with ***** actions
Whatever they do that returns in reactions
Hatred needs hatred in prominent selections
Images portray imperfections to perfections
Hearts and eyes need pure water to be cleaned
There is no unity even if meetings are convened
Integrity is void character remains uncleaned
With the help of valiant,humanity is intervened
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 9:54 AM UTC