"unclothe" poems
So, what's the deal with ******
Why is it that there's this whole weird thing
associated with being unclothed,
as if we don't wake up and each of us
strip down for a completely naked shower,
and under our clothes, we're completely naked.
Why is it we spend so much time pretending our bodies don't exist
and fragilely hiding behind these pointless social
constructions about what and whom you should and shouldn't be,
why do we lie about who we are and cover it up
because it's not safe for children?
CHILDREN ARE THE SAME SPECIES AS US.
THEY ARE THE SAME SHAPE.
They get naked too.
and if they're not quite the same shape yet, why do we hide what they're going to become?
It's completely pointless to build walls and act as if they were set there by someone other than ourselves, we've given each other amnesia, it's always 'they', it's always 'society', that did it.
Why do we create all these rules and desperately
struggle to follow them as if we weren't the ones
who wrote the rule book and we aren't the ones
who can erase it?
Why does he cover his emotions because he's scared to be called gay or too feminine?
Why does she wear long sleeves or look down when you talk to her?
It's not because of some conniving voice in all of our heads,
an imaginary force,
It's every time you made a sarcastic joke about people who defied the norm
and every time you yourself were afraid to break it,
you built the walls and now you're suffocating within them.
I see you, there, hiding, just like me, and it's painful to repress it, isn't it? It hurts because there's something more we're longing to do, somewhere else we're longing to be.
What is it that is so broken within ourselves that
we can't be raw and we can't be free and we can't kiss random strangers when we want to?
****** isn't dangerous if you don't hurt
and you don't make someone else feel vulnerable
or like they're trash for displaying
the image of God.
Why are we hiding the image of God?
Why do we cover our hearts like they're shameful to show?
We are born into this world naked and our parents
try to instill this ridiculous idea in our heads
that we can't share our innermost thoughts, we mustn't display,
"society won't like that"
YOU. ARE. SOCIETY.
I am a member of this universe, just like you,
and I was born naked and I take showers naked
and when we get up on stage, we're naked
and late at night, we're naked,
and when we cry, we're naked.
WHY ARE THERE ANY SECRETS LEFT WHEN WE ARE ALL HUMAN?
I have pain and joy, just like you, so show me.
My goal is to unclothe the knights in shining armor
because I don't care about the armor, I care
about his heart.
I will strip down these walls dividing you and me,
because I want to know everything about all people.
I want to unravel the secrets deep within God's mind.
I want to open the doors that are locked,
and I want to see you naked.
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 8:25 PM UTC
A lot of raindrops, yes, get them and you will have a whole bunch of choir right up your rooftops.
Such small things screaming bravery, vulnerable to die in just a splash yet excitement runs with them in every dive.
They are never created for themselves but the quenching of the thirsty world and they give their all with every fall.
And I wish I’m like one little rain drop.
One who is not afraid to fall even at breaking point to losing the self too better the world.
But a price is to be paid, I have to unclothe myself of these coats of pride and selfishness.
Then will I be able to to join this beautiful selfless choir falling from heaven.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 1:41 AM UTC
I used to laugh at my mother
when she told me that I'd go crazy
from reading all of those books and that
I'd lose my mind trying to get my PhD
attempting to unclothe the universe.
Now I wonder why she didn't laugh at me
and my ignorant smugness and speeches
as I struggle to piece my sanity back together
from the countless blows of all this learning
which has failed to make me whole.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 4:05 PM UTC
serenade me with silence
...
I look for your affections between the lines...
on napkin corners...
in notebooks, worn with age
...
unclothe me to the metronome of your latest rabbit trail
I won't mind if it is meant for someone else
...
love, I'm asking for nothing more than to share your bed
...
play muse, for a night
or two
...
darling, I think I could be poetic for you.
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 1:43 AM UTC
"You are my ocean"
You said.
Enclosed, unclothe me each chance you get.
We played pass with the waves, shore to shore, along the inlet.
And yet, as far as it was, you felt my breath up and down your neck.
My words whispered through your head, wishing you close.
But the tide ran up.
And I drowned instead.
"Its tough luck, love . Take what you get."
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 3:35 AM UTC
Every coulee, thirsting, gladly drinks,
Every basin and every sleepless hollow;
Where duly each charitable droplet sinks,
Whither hasten the novel spring follow.
Yet it goes, unfolding as a tempo mosies
Shoots will shiver open their split edges,
To strip, unclothe their budding posies,
In the timber, the garden, and hedges;
Weaved is a grove of anchored love
A Finch or Sparrow to meet another,
A nest, a cloak, a marquee high above
A den for father, hatchlings & mother.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 10:49 PM UTC
reminiscing you—
back to the dawn when you unclothed all of the petals
so you can see what kind of love
he's made of & if he can
make the same love with you;
he would want to feel anytime again every touch
that scorched his skin that gave him
the wintry chill of fire
when you breathed him in it felt like an undaunted caress
of sea breeze to his soul & he carelessly
opened to your stranglehold
unafraid to die but also unafraid
that it was how it feels to be alive
like a sea on full tide
you love to drown whatever is on your hands;
wildflowers blossomed in the silent breaking of dawn
when he surrendered to you
by the rural seaside where
you plucked him
into stenchless strips that you laid on his palms when you were ready to leave with feelings he can't keep
& give,
strips you can never put back
once you unclothe a flower
of everything;
𝑫𝒊𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕, you asked him with a gaze that
would make him want to be with you
but wildflowers don't belong to the sea
𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘, you held his hand
& he's suddenly desperate to fall in love
that before you could ask, he lets you go;
this time by the seaside, it's sunny without you; with eyes closed
he stares into the blue
wondering where would he be now
—if he hadn't said no.
Feb 25, 2021
Feb 25, 2021 at 12:19 PM UTC
"With that body you should get whatever you want"
And I am not just this body.
But
With this body I hold a heart that has loved flesh stretched across continents
A beating monster misunderstood but listened too, with teeth rigid and shined like opal or mother of pearl
A pounding prophecy promising something else, something else, something else is waiting beyond every time I have felt for the off switch with tired eyes
With this body I hold a mind stark in its quest for answers
One that does not settle on maybes or tomorrow or partial answers
A mind persistent in its pursuit for wholeness for oneness for connection to other tanks of skin covered bones with minds and hearts that beat and pound and pursue just as hard
With this body I hold a soul that is as vast as the cosmos.
Stardust sunken in long necked jars lining across my ribs whispering answers that my mind cannot read and my heart is not yet ready to see
This body homes a soul that is part moon, part star, part divinity.
One that finds its homes along stretch marks and supple flesh alike
One that is not dictated by the way I clothe or unclothe my skin
With this body I should get whatever I want because this body is a home and it has never been empty.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
I know about the necklace.
How you re-gifted a leftover reject present
from a buddy who mentioned it the day before,
and I know about Lyndsey and the book of YOUR
favorite poems you bought for ME. I know you call me baby,
but I also know that I’m not the only one.
You demanded a certain elegance
that I always thought I carried, but really
I was just a bag of apologies
for simply existing in the same space that you were.
You know the night that I got drunk on cranberry and *****
called you twice, and cried into a box of homemade
chocolate chip cookies? That wasn't the first time
I sat at your chair in your sweatpants
waiting for you to return from wherever
you said you weren't. I know about what you've done.
But, of course, as you so eagerly expected,
you’ll come in with a sigh and sleek smile,
and I’ll unclothe myself as I talk about
every detail of my day even though I know
you never bother to listen. I’ll lay naked
in your bed as you cradle what you believe
is your biggest mistake, while I silently hope
that faked ignorance can mask the reality
of how beautiful I should be and how ugly
I never wanted to admit you were.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
Late at night I lie with blinds drawn back
Night drifts just beyond a thin piece of glass,
it drifts too far from reach.
I wish I were outside in it, but watch it I will.
Street lights guide empty roads, impatient, they wait for the air of morning.
I am for once alone in an undisturbed solitude.
Each ticking moment,
from the peaking hour of our brightest stars to the resting streetlights and pale blue air,
Runs through me indefatigable.
Slowly I turn into a new person as the people and day fade to nothing
Slowly I become more.
The moon cascades light into my room,
it presses its face close to the glass
Both present we are alone.
I consciously listen as my mind wanders.
I am still here, not dreaming.
It is at the death of each day,
far past midnight, words drip onto the white page.
They are not shy nor afraid of displaying their truth.
The moon is empty of judgement.
When the brisk daylight arrives I will cover myself.
When the birds songs ring through dawn
I begin dying again among the life of everything.
But for now in the depth of silence and stillness,
I shall bare myself.
For the night invites such comforting warmth,
I unclothe my thoughts
For the night invites such comforting warmth,
I do not sleep.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
Sewn into the garments of despair
Swaying to the sound of dirges
Souls trapped in crystalline miniature jars
Undefined, frozen
Glassy-eyed and drunk as lords
Cigarette thrills
On the terrace where dreams die
Society perceives them to be degenerate cretins
With no hope
The poets
Whose melancholy birthed creativity
And gave way to brilliance
Their astonishing translucency from laying it bare
To write poetry is to unclothe
Oneself in front of the masses
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
Cornish spring drips and
all growth becomes riddled with
desire for warmth,
ridden with need for having more.
Freshly risen, green
gets liquid-addiction, an invisible
draw makes sward
swoon for regular fixes of water.
Crafty Spring knows
plants crave doses so being fickle
he drops trickles used
to tease shoots upwards for fuel.
Whoresome he opens
cores formerly hidden, then the
illicit physician lopes
in and flippantly erases hopes.
Bold, he impregnates
the deep sleep of inactive nature,
forcing in secret wet
potions to unclothe closed petals.
Then he may withhold
his advances and allow winter's
return to bring nights
of freeze to show is own might.
Old Spring hangs around
to tickle ground's fancy yet Sol's
hard passion he fears
for at start of heat he disappears.
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 6:52 AM UTC
Undying confession
for loving the one
for he is the one
loving the sun
Aton and his men
can taste the beam
and see the light
through solstice and steam
The harvest is plenty
the drinks are too few
the sun decides to set
and leads me to you
Helios and Sol
don't describe what I see
its shine and its heart
unclothe me
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 10:21 AM UTC
fulfilled two hoax with one tree express
stix and stones upon greenest branches
high birth dwell assemble ducks straight
wood delayed bosomed under ****
hyperventilating incubated *******
red face blemished mild to wild ***
harassed plucked feathered a ram pecker
bird sext for just a tuppence second
***** ladies tweet ravaged scramble
long white tees unclothe eggshells
knocking hollow full of yoke hard
pounding missionary position french
foreplay kisses ****** ***** in holster
expelling spermatozoa in suspension
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
I used to sit by the window and stare for hours,
Look at the illuminated moon and how it resembled your face,
Watch the stars sparkle and try to connect the dots,
Searching for answers lost in thought.
Do you love me?
Can you feel the intensity of every breath I take?
Can you feel the pain, when my heart aches?
How do you feel, when our bodies merge?
When I submerge and we converge?
I get a rush when I hold your hand,
A powerful feeling that most wouldn’t understand,
There was a time.
What would you do to see me smile?
To see me laugh like a newborn child?
Would you feel my flesh and wipe my tears?
Would you hold me close and embrace my fears?
Trust.
I long for this love that we once had,
I wish I could still see that brightly lit path,
But we now walk this troubled trail,
As we lose ourselves in this twisted tale.
The hues of fall may lift our souls,
But the leaves still fall,
The tress will soon unclothe.
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 3:36 PM UTC
Deep in the forest I unclothe myself
Unwrap the canvas from my left foot; right foot
Step into layers of cotton, silk and wood
To be alone here is not similar to back then
Walk over to the dimly lit branches
And climb inside the home waiting for me
Made of mud, sticks, rocks, moss, branches
And inside a carved chair sits entirely still
I roam the woods at once when my eyes are stirred from sleep
I lay my palms upon the bark of wild berry trees
And **** the nectar from the queen of all the bees
Finding comfort in a nature both the dry spells and the steam
My body is not a temple, my body is not a trap
My body is cells and bones and skin
With love inside of that
Nature nurtures to my heart, my soul is kept miles apart
So only in the deepest woods will I unseal the soul I struck
With golden chains and silver locks to save me from the world
The suffering of the world
I stay inside the woods today, I stay inside the woods tomorrow
I have not forgotten the woods at all, although my heart has been hallowed
I hide between the bushes and I sit in the carved chair
The one that you carved for me years ago and decided to put in there
Things are weary since you've gone, left the forest all alone
But I still feel your spirit flying near me as it has been all along
Deep in the forest I soothe my own wounds
I treat my own burns, I pick my own scars
But only once they have fully healed
I am all the things I do to others until others disappear
And then I am what's inside of me and that's what you'll find here
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 6:02 PM UTC
The mother and a kitten:
He was in a deep slumber when she sentient him,
left abandoned by his mother in the perilous world,
She couldn't resist herself but to hold him in her palms and to get him out of this vulnerable plight,
She touched with her bare fingers,
Her fingers which caused the convulsions in his body and he was astir from the sleep,
He ungainly postures his body from the ground,
With her gentle hand and nimble fingers she clasps him to her *****
His starving triggered by then,
His craving cry from the parched throat was in resonance with the throbbing of her heart,
She couldn't bear the mewling and he was just delivered from the cocoon of the nature,
The immediate slake with the milk is most essential to his survival now,
Every moment she waits could bring only the harm to his existence,
She unveils her motherhood and unclothe her breast,
The deepest feeling trenched his soul which pushed her hands to snuggle his neck to her *****
He dipped his silhouetted lips unconcerned about gasps to satiate his flesh,
He suckles the **** of her and sips the essence of the motherhood,
The tears tilted across her chin and then traversed to her breast and then to his face,
She then realized that the tears are shed from her eyes and drenched her body,
She couldn't even weep as she was holding him and she doesn't care a hoot about tears,
and with the satiated appetite his eyes slowly sinks into the darkness,
the mother mirth induces the rainbow in her eyes by seeing the kitten sleeping tranquilly in her hands......
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
*FRIEND
Unclothe
your garments
of fear.
Run off
with the wind
of change.
Dive off
your cliff of
uncertainties
into
the warm
embracing
hands of
HAPPINESS*
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 1:29 PM UTC
today i feel like putting a gun to my temple
colt .45 ravaged my cranium only so i don't have to go to temple
no more sins i need to have confessed
polished sleek glock; my prayer ejected through the chamber
PULL THE TRIGGER -- FUCKN PULL IT MAN!!
hold on, the last time i come to terms with contraband
am i filled with love, joy, despair or anger?
all i need is my reverend spirit to unclothe its self
i no longer succumb to the falsity of needing to have impressed
cut the gesture man
you just be playing chicken
but when i quit playing
you'll hear me squawk
one shot you'll know i've been stricken
farmer Joe tell him this is his last wake-up call
and that bright light in the mornin bruh
we all know sunrises don't last for a split second
POP! muuu fckkkaaa
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 3:22 AM UTC
wondrous conundrum
perplexing sublimation
that as I build the fires in other's hearts
my own brightness grows
to unclothe for the naked
is to find ever increasing layers on my skin
Giving out gold
only to find my glinting hands fuller
Placing rubies in my sister's crown
and finding my own circlet more heavy
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 7:19 PM UTC
Worlds die
she said
people die
but the gods live on.
Benny knew it
was the ***** talking
but he listened to her
none the less.
In the background
the Mahler's 6th
coming from the Hi-Fi
over in the corner.
Where'd you read that?
he said.
Not read
she said
intuition a woman's
intuition.
She supped
more of the scotch
he had brought
he supped too.
You know what?
she said
making love
is to be with the gods
momentarily such
as mortals can briefly
so we need
to make love.
Her speech
was slurred now
but understandable.
Are you sure?
Benny said.
She stared at him
of course the gods
demand it of us
she said.
She closed her eyes
sipping the last drops
of the scotch.
He finished his
and placed it on
the coffee table
in front of the blue sofa.
She put her glass down
with a clatter.
What about the music?
he said.
It will play on
she said
Mahler shall be
our accompanist
to the love making.
She stood up
from the sofa unsteady.
Are you ready
for the task before us?
she said.
Sure am
he said.
She took his hand
and led him out
of the room along
the passage to her
bedroom.
Here is our altar
she said
pointing to the bed
unclothe yourself
she slurred.
She proceeded
to disrobed herself
swaying back and forth.
Are you sure
about his?
he said
********** slowly
watching her sway.
It is as the gods demand
she replied.
He stood and watched
as she lay on the bed naked
her clothes thrown
on a chair.
She was silent
the Mahler filtered down
to the bedroom
the final movement.
He watched her
her eyes closed.
He began
to dress again
as she dozed.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 6:22 AM UTC
Some people haunt you for a lifetime.
But we're all a little unstable, and
I think we like to dwell in the potentiality.
Grazing their face with your eyes as you catch a glance from far off,
Across the street
Across the city.
Across the well-traversed train tracks of our minds
Worn down, rusted,
Built over the bridges of our neural networks;
Prepared to feel how we've always felt,
Emotions keeping the tank of our fleshy bodies pressurized.
We dwell in the what-ifs more than we dwell in our realities.
We unclothe ourselves and swim naked, unapologetically
In the condensed droplets of our thoughts
Conforming to our bare hips, collarbones
Aching in the tension
of our vice,
Potentiality.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 1:55 PM UTC
What if love was the only cure,
To the ailments facing the world?
What if we could stop judging,condemning,
And start sharing love with each other unconditionally?
What if we could learn the art of forgiveness,
And unclothe ourselves of hate and malice and revenge?
What if those we despise today, those we see as nothing,
Are the ones to set us free from our shackles?
What if we could stop being too religious,
And embrace the art of human equity?
What if we shade off the scales of pride,
And guarded ourselves with suits of humility?
Life is short, live it wisely,
Share love unconditionally,
Bless those who curse you,
And leave vengeance to the Lord.
Before you act, ask yourself;
What if...
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 5:49 AM UTC