"unders" poems
It is one more night.
There is no light when you
Come in to do the things you do
Things that I don’t want to.
I don’t mean to taunt you
To encourage you to touch,
To touch my secret parts.
That makes me feel *****
You say I act flirty and that’s why,
But it makes me cry.
I wish you won’t want to play
This awful game again today
That you will go play it
With Mommy.
Maybe she likes it.
I already know I won’t.
Daddy, please don’t.
Don’t get on your knees
Beside my bed and touch my head
And tell me I am pretty like a girl.
It makes my head whirl with fear.
You tell me no tears, keep quiet
And I try it, but it never works
When you **** down my unders
And I feel your fingers blunder
All around on me.
And inside me.
It’s nasty.
Daddy, please don’t do it.
I knew it was wrong the first time
And I know I’m the reason
And you say you are pleasing me
And you mean it lovingly
But it is hurting me inside.
That’s why I always cried
Even though it made you mad
I couldn’t help myself, Daddy
It hurt so badly, and you didn’t care.
You told me not to dare to tell
Or I would go to hell.
That I was a bad little boy.
You didn’t have to tell me
Because nobody will help me.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
Burgundy, the color of a dress I’ve never worn
to an occasion that never occurred
Velvet lined
coffin
Where lies the violin
There lies its song
The heart of fiddle strings
that bare of arms
That heart that sings, speaks, no, yells
to the hands that can’t respond!
to a mind that can’t remember
I was drowning in some future
not a violinist’s
“Alive with Pleasure”
read the billboard slogan for cigarettes
behind the happy couple
running out into their future
Forcing the hand of marriage
Waving goodbye to my life
from a rooftop in Scranton
as the wind hauled my laundry three city blocks
dumping my unders on Saint Luke’s sills
sailing my sheets up Wyoming Avenue
I lay on the tar and pebble roof
watching pigeons swirl
listening to traffic pass on the street below
The moment you know you’ve made the mistake
you can’t return from....
Wherever my towels have blown?
I wish them well....
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
I hear it
half in the bag of blankets
with an empty glass of wine
dumped
Between--
the furnace rumbling on
and the cat purring on my lap
"What the hell!"
That foreign sound!--
...of water in the winter
Far too cold for rain
more like a forest stream's refrain
I start to think of birds-- Then it occurs
I have a problem in the basement
Wading into the waters of Lake Laundry
Glancing warily for those snakes of wires
suspended from their rafter's limbs
about to spit and snag me
with their lightning strike
Slamming that ****
to make it go--
away--
Defeat
dripping off
jeans and unders
A clothes line pinned
with curses
Ah yes.
The smell of the Tide ...
going out
on another day
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC
All the efforts to be near
by being far away,
like the shoelaces we
pull apart
to tie together.
Like the ***** white shoelaces
on your worn out night sneakers,
And to be together would be a tangle of us,
a knot of seemingly simple twists and ties,
but naturally young children,
the young children we are,
must learn to do.
A series of overs and unders,
that we forget
when we ripen.
Yet to untie us would be easy,
one pull and we'd fall lifeless,
next to the black skin of your sneakers,
knowing that we'd be brought back together again,
until you wear out of us,
and replace us with the new leather and fancy threads.
But we'll always be there,
at the bottom of your closet,
wishing to go through the loops once more,
just to be tied together again.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 9:39 AM UTC
I was swimming beneath the ocean, the silence providing my comfort, the break acting as my disguise, the waves standing guard
Finally, I was able to think, to really think about the world that was spinning, the time that was ticking, and my heart that was beating
The fish swam past me wondering why I was holding my breath in agony when I could just swim to the surface and breathe again, but they were never going to understand, because time doesn't exist to them.
Time doesn't exist to them
Time doesn't exist to them
Time doesn't exist to them
it all made sense as the water continued taunting me submitting to the current, and the seconds of air remaining in my lungs swam away safely to the surface
The shackles of time are a prison of our own creation, and we waste our lives swimming in our existence trying to unders
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Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 3:25 AM UTC
Jean-kneed trees and boring brown shoes
Fuzzy cuddle fabrics in muddy subtle blues
Bumble words above like buzzing baby bees
Sticky-fingered nonsense and distant mysteries
Table-gum unders like grubby colored stars
Sticky-starchy name tags to tell us who we are
Untouched wishes flustered and everything is new
Laughing candles blown-out from a two-foot view
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 12:20 AM UTC
i remember waves
on the sea at night,
of billowings above
your touch, rowings
with me under stars,
what should be cold
feeling steep as bath
water in midsummer
and our fingers held
such ocean of swirls,
forms on silky sleeks
and running with hair
tangled in slick kelps
as seals slide unders
to murmuring waves.
for Beth
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
Eros got bored
one shimmering afternoon
he watched television
and was asking the moon
Do I have to look that deep
to find simply what I need
while thy wifes simply
plays, the food she preparates
And suddenly Psyche appeared
dressed in **** underwears
and sporty shoes
like a modern lady
stepping up infront
dancing the most simple funk
They just had a conversation
and the time abreviation
shall we now count ?
and fall in bed both
in a haste
and have some love to
grabb !
of the modern era
or postmodern blue
flower s biggest leaves
once more under the moon.
Then passion awoke
and their bodys so hot
they slide and caressed each other
gently, and these humble existences
turned sweety
sweaty.
Music sounds from the radio jazz
laying in bed and shimmering sounds
the one under the others arms
the other over the unders barm
touching , feeling, loving , dreaming
penetrating, sensing, needing
screaming.
Desirer, up in ****** zones
Into Yin and Yan silver notes
Eros over the other playing
Psyche is falling the other yearning
the love of earning
desirer shifting
together
into a big sleep
were he woke
up, seing her in
the most beautiful
dress
Gazing skys
Both left behind.
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
this lalala lightly felt
high noon breeze
has my head stuck
in all sorts of texty zoos
legs hips navel
clavicle ridge line
hands behind binary bars shallow
these wet blues i feel
feel real
swimming hues
suggesting so much
i am the fool who'll
follow knotty impressions and
fall for that crevice
just beyond
crenelated hipflesh
where woolly strips the color of sea unders
straps across
and barely covers it
three
light
taps
of the tongue
at the back of
both incisors
is all it takes
and i
lick you
from where you came
to where you went
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 4:57 PM UTC
There are little habits
that hold us together
little things that make the world
keep spinning
like washing our hands
kissing each other good morning
and,
for me,
wandering around the house in the mornings
wearing unders and a nighty
dancing like an idiot
and singing a song that played in my dreams
just the night before
other wise,
it'll be stuck in my head all day
I thought you died alone...
a long long time ago...
oh no, not me....
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC
Dear lover, I do not know in whose arms you sleep
I can only vouch for the feelings in me deep
I can find solace in the promises we aim to keep
Dear lover I long for you to fill where I am lonely
Take me to the rivers where divinity seekers feel holy
Fill me with emotions coloured in the tapestry of the wind when the songbird inspires a rhapsody
Dear lover, is it me or is there another?
Play me the muse of your love and let me **** from its udder
Let it quench the thirst that bursts when it hurts to be without you, especially in our unders
Dear lover, I am sincerely thinking about you
This feels like some sickening undiscovered dusty hue
You will be the canvas I paint on ****
a flower in bloom.
Dear love I love you more my paramour, I hope you adore this roar of emotion raw collected from secret drawers that store only ideas pure... Lover let us endure.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 2:27 AM UTC
meteorite radiates z o o o m m i n g
crashes onto
Three Anchor Bay turquoise
sky dust onto beach white grains
winds sweep cobbled paths profane
a fetus acquires solitary soul lost
womb enlarges posting veins
shine baby blessed shine divine
observation work is thine
platinum pressure paintbrushes
dove hands devilish articulate
Scythian lifetimes past remembered
fast forward ferrolic clocks spun in head
read write and arithmetic dread
chemical interactions drool squiggles
bathe chuckle study laboratory sniggles
grow compete win defeat cry cameos dead
songs atmospheric to be sung, give up dread
pick Robertson berries drink rare ruby wine
justice jugulars delicately combine
smashing glass, meteorite sits silent under
eyelids pink presence fine
explores inner Canaan cobweb caves galore
climbing pineal heights to evolutionary delight
seer sight ~ peel, poetic heal a temporary deal
before lissom living long there will be no chemical chasing ding-dongs to skip
or stormy interactions to dip acid slips
merely alkaline planetary victories to blip
moonlit meteorite slowly surely suavely
becomes mythic master meteorologist merry
odd spacial morbidities burnt and buried
she solitary eats mashed mussels musing …
crack crack hush hush
zero rush
her dust floats across the Bay’s
now cobalt midnight waters smoothly
ocean floor seaweed entangles slave ship sunk
circular rhodium ring twines coral reefs sung
Trans
muta
tion
unDers
T o o d
a coelacanth s w i m s a w a y
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright:GhairoDanielsPoetry&song 2025
Aug 6, 2025
Aug 6, 2025 at 4:16 AM UTC