"undisguised" poems
perhaps a subject already well covered. but I consult no one else,
who can expertly summon the artificial artifacts, no better yet,
art~iN~facts of prior expert~tease, and speak only and wholly
for myself, blatant, and openly undisguised
it is the spilling, the upward sensory explosive detonating,
in a pressured chest, the eagerness
to race, to complete,
find the next line, to define, to refine to get the balance tween
elegance and simplicity, to have the ******** sensory totality
of completely having spun off a piece of me and let it free float as a balloon, that may fly to China or get stuck on a telephone pole
just beyond my front door
=============
^ I write this midst the composition of another poem, wherein
unusually I feel the need to pause, collect my thoughts which are bombarding my atoms internal, causing a new fissionable element,
distinct and unique, my poem…next…
Sep 21, 2025
Sep 21, 2025 at 5:02 AM UTC
~
in sympathy, in honor, in horror
with those whose heads are shaved
against their free will
and to uncover
my nakedness before you,
as prisoner, as victim, as poet,
nothing must come between us
even this:
*and yet,
the prickly stubble head resprouts
soon enough,
spring floral efforts
an annual reminder,
that even undisguised and exposed,
my bald palate plate,*
is just another nether hiding place
~
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 5:39 PM UTC
Gazing up at the sky with that stupid grin on my face
Radiant with undisguised joy
I said
Thank you for hanging out with me.
I didn’t mean that
Not exactly
And I don’t believe you think I did-
I think you saw through me
Completely.
You looked at me sidelong
And I blushed,
Having just seen
Forests and deserts and oceans in your eyes
Having just seen the world all wrapped up in a person
Looking at me
And been
Overwhelmed.
See?-
I can’t just say
What I mean.
Especially not when what I mean is
Thank you
For ever being near me in this world.
Thank you for the nights I’ve given up sleep
To sit and watch the light seep through my curtains, lost in the strange beauty of your dreams and thoughts and ideas.
Thank you for your art
That digs its way into my heart and takes root there
Making me vibrant inside.
Thank you for those times I’ve spent
Happily close to you
The warmth like sunlight that spreads through me whenever I see you.
Thank you for the beauty I notice in the world
When I think about you-
The broken glass on my street
Suddenly like fallen stars.
The little weeds that push valiantly up through the cracks
Like mighty trees.
The lights spilling over the pavement
Like dawn.
Thank you for
The chance to feel
Alive.
Thank you for knowing me.
Thank you for letting me in.
Thank you for letting me in even though you know me.
Thank you for the image of an odd, smart, wonderful little kid
Asking mom what color her A was.
Thank you for the tenderness that brought to my heart.
Thank you for your stories and your courage and your wit.
Thank you for looking at me with gentleness.
Thank you for giving me some of your time.
Thank you for your passions, your dark, angry moments,
The beautiful, bitter hurt you carry inside of you and let me witness like a storm at sea
But always shelter me from being touched by.
Thank you for being the kind of person
Who struggles to understand being loved
But does not rage against it.
Thank you for being kind.
Thank you for being complicated.
Thank you for being strong, and insightful, and wicked, and bold.
Thank you for hoping I’ll be happy.
Thank you for making me happy.
Thank you for the moments when I can look at your face in full
Its captivating beauty
The little thoughts that pass across it like clouds across the sky
Mischief and vulnerability and laughter and pain all mingling in your eyes.
When I look at you like that I feel like I might belong somewhere someday.
Thank you for being sarcastic, and humble, and sweet, all at once, all the time.
The truth is that when I said thank you for hanging out with me,
I really meant
Thank you
For being.
I meant thank you, thank you, thank you
For ever being born.
But,
After all,
You can’t just say that.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 2:23 AM UTC
Love Maze
Through the blood and sweat I write
a wishful story you'll remember.
A flower which bloomed too soon I thought
was only my own to surrender.
A voice I once heard urged me
to speak myself and love myself.
Although I attempted to touch it
That voice I heard, was someone else.
I ran around in a pool of tears
afraid and wet from pain.
I ran around only in circles
it was a maze I wandered around in vain.
And so I heard that lonely ballad,
a voice that wasn't my own.
In my pool of tears as I searched
I realized my maze was made of stones.
"A little push, a little tug"
I heard the voice tell me.
"Is all it takes to begin the growth
of your very own journey."
I felt it's warmth was
the closest to reality.
The voice that kept on
urging me.
For when I swam ahead
instead of search, I realized
I had found my magic shop
undisguised, it vaporized...
The stones fell away
my maze was shattered.
For now I saw before me
a "love" maze, the stones were all scattered.
-Little Saint
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 1:25 PM UTC
Contemplating the dark
With a life neither bright nor stark
Shrivelled and fragile inside
Aiming for wonders of the glorious mind
With the sun peeping out from ominous clouds
Undisguised, yet elusive, towards an onset of doubts
Shrouding any fallacy
Cultivating mere fantasy
And the phantom of a far-fetched imagination
To bring out an electric, yet marvellous sensation
Shut inside a mysterious cage
Grasping poetry like some sage
Aiming for aloofness
While mourning over the senseless
Forever the beauty of words is a myth
Forever superficiality is a filth
The sublime scenery of sunset swish
Warms the heart, treasuring one’s deepest wish
Via the shimmering dawn
The azure sky I so adorn
To sniff the sweet odour of nature
All alone, as solitary as ever, with a hazy future
Nobody can gauge the depth of the imaginary
And taste the splendour of the ordinary
All this simplicity unravels a cosy palace
Where art is sacred; where the aesthetic is a solace
To end up in sensuous poetry
In which there’s no calculated geometry
Where the comfort of spontaneity is soothing
And readiness is but a blessing
For in poetry, a loner like me finds her grace
For via poetry, the solitary is free to embrace
And through the line of a verse, the loner dwells a florid universe…
-07/04/07
Feb 8, 2010
Feb 8, 2010 at 2:11 AM UTC
Skipping through the forest,
Laughing with delight,
Glimpsing my sweetheart,
Off to the right.
Sneaking up closely,
Taking a peek.
Watching him moving,
I do not speak.
Silently climbing,
Up and out on a limb.
Taking some acorns,
And grinning down on him.
Watching him move,
unaware of my perch.
Thinking how funny,
He's going to lurch.
Taking careful aim,
Then glancing about,
I whack him on the head,
And he gives a shout.
Laughing, and swinging,
Out on a limb.
Hanging upside down,
And grinning at him.
First he was scowling,
Looking quite mad.
Now he is smiling,
And, boy, am I glad.
Still hanging there,
My knees over the limb,
He approaches me slowly,
And I get a kiss from him.
His hands on my face,
His heart in his eyes.
Kissing so sweetly,
With fun undisguised.
Slipping from my perch,
I settle in his arms.
Feeling so safe,
Loving his charms.
Not a thing could be better,
than being this close.
with his heart to my heart
his nose to my nose
Nov 6, 2010
Nov 6, 2010 at 2:00 PM UTC
BAREFOOT
I follow the road
of my father’s voice
journey with him
along white roads...over green fields
barefoot
to school & back
(shoes if at all...worn only to church)
picking up the cuts & scabs
stubbed toes
his going to school
would entail
in the early years of the 1920’s
only so much history to me
real
to him
his toes
knowing the wind
in the grass
for what it is
his toes
clasping a rock
fording a stream
Irish & poems
bubbling through his head
babbling along
the tongue
words thrown to
those lost summer skies
startling a blackbird
spouting his poetry
with poetry
of his own
(3 miles to school...3 miles back)
his mind a skimmed stone
dancing along a river
over unforgiving
stones
thorns attacking his feet
with undisguised relish
the vehemence of glass
glinting greedily
for the next footstep
the menace
of the twisted rusty nail
& its treachery
betraying the next footfall
as he walks over
the unremitting years
into my eyes
wide with wonder
listening to him
tell of himself
as a little boy
to his little boy
the me of then
my eyes now
following the road
of my father’s voice
as it wanders
barefoot
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 1:53 PM UTC
a guy sits here
hair a twist
no ordinary man
but a case
whatever prefix fits
he knows no limitations
seeks no thrill but fear
holds no memory dear
brains grasp simply too frail
such a broken outside
and gargoyles pier
however
he tranquilizes them
anytime someone comes near
yet the people abstain still
no shame, no cheer
they simply cannot see what purity
he has in his crypt
intimidated
severe
so let us move forward and glaze over the thick
move towards the misery which anguishes him
nonsense is sensical, whimsy at best
rational is of logic and dreary
detest
********* and thumbing
he frantically does his best
pulls his hair out
pulls his hair out
closed fist
punches chest
"where is she
where is her
name i cannot confess
for it escapes me...
not because
but rather-"
due to his distress
he stopped and sighed
violence
cried
broke down
then bled
red from his eyes
i want her
the sad one
shy
hurt inside
abused, accursed
diseased but undisguised
she'll love me
she will
there's nothing there to hide
she'll make me forget myself
sing or dance or
romanticize
"i want her...
a baby's friend
the neighbor's newborn daughter
the baby friend that came over
as an infant, i saw her
i kept the same heart
but its been through a lot
and now its done with slaughter
i kept the same heart
its growing apart
i need the neighbor's daughter"
it seems as though convinced
he truly had the heart of a newborn
ambivalent
knowing no complexity
purely hurt or comfort
either way's a shoulder
diamond or dirt
seemed to be bipolar
so he seeks the same
not the opposite
that would be a shame
because no one else can relate
to someone who feels the world
has turned its back on fate
he seeks out this girl
overlooking
all the beasts in his way
with evil colors they mask their face
appear to appeal, they may
but he knows better
their defenses fragile
they attract a plethora
to which they expose
like a sinister rose
the black rock in frame
the black rock so hard
shapely carved
to which its "blacksmith"
inscribes no name
a black heart
he sighs
which holds no light
might as well not exist
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 3:39 AM UTC
before I step out into public,
I lock my opinions in a safe
that resides deep within
the ridges of my brain.
I wear a sweet smile
to mask the dull pain
radiating throughout my body.
but when I enter my safe space,
I strip myself of that smile,
and look my pain in the eye.
I dig into the ridges of my brain
to grab and unlock the safe.
I welcome my vulnerability
in all its undisguised nakedness.
Apr 8, 2021
Apr 8, 2021 at 12:22 AM UTC
I passed the thronging Gariahat market each day,
There were quite a few comrades on that very road; but only one seemed acquainted to me
A florist; whom I would survey.
He held a basket of red, lucid, hibiscus flowers as I could see for wee.
The drastic smile reminded me of old Grand-dad.
The alluring gleam in his hazel eyes remarked despondency.
I wanted to confide to the hard working lad,
That he isn't alone, and sing him a strain, melancholy.
His smile was blemished.
His bony hand could not hold the basket for a prolonged time,
And I thought his wounds must be replenished.
My contemplative eye would be abstracted by the tram's chime.
Once, on the night of May
When I thought he was endowed with glee,
To him, I lost my way
For sleeping pills vanquished me.
I stood there like a woebegone,
In reminiscence of my inamorato
As the funeral carriages were drawn,
I weeped while that naked smile on me, would bestow.
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
exposition of my position
connecting epic art of
scifi legend extraordinare
frank franzetta.
from my back to distant Barsoom
A princess of Mars is my captive muse
to a story of a pale blue dot.
where an archer's bow points
her lady-ship has no censorship
unbiased in crowded eyes.
blinking aeons of information
torching elemental tables
undisguised for public record.
unforgettable this ticking thought of self
Converging lines and tectonic season
Moving over earth with pilgrim miles.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 6:25 PM UTC
Undisguised not camouflaged
Standing out, A bright sun
in the blue sky stars hidden
within go unnoticed by the
Indifferent world Trapped
in their own cocoon of delusions
Unable Unwilling to metamorphose
to the beauty of kindred nature
into a free fall spiraling down
into the mundane
Illusion of Solid crust
beneath which the turbulent
molten lava flows
sometimes bursting out
yet another times causing
Tsunami and tremor
And yet the indifferent world
lays blinded by floodlights of duty
warming blanket of empathy
shredded by scissors of hate
buried within the grave yard
under the tombstone of misery
The different who rise up
from time to time are consumed
by the indifferent
like a flash of lighting absorbed
by the indifferent earth as storms
of war thunder around in dusky
skies and innocent plants take refuge
in purging rains only to be flooded
out into the indifferent sea of documentaries
only to make a trickle of frozen blood flow through
the chambers of tranquil heart
and indifferent yet try to contribute
subduing the thorny vines of growing guilt
by a click of like or share or Tweet
Sometimes the silent song
is heard through the sonorous
souls within mind and winds
of change blow nucleating through
an idea propagating through words
symbols of art hitting the conscience
and arise the single conscious crowd
not the raging temporary mob
new sprouts of generation rise up
through the barren land
and art forms inherently provide
what people need dragging from
the oblivion of what people want?
as bright illusion of illumination
is smoldered through enlightening
darkness as indifference transforms
into glowing luminous flowers of empathy
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC
Taunt, firm, ***** and pleasing fair
and warm amidst the cool night air.
A drop of breast milk is expressed
to please the one who loves it best.
He who waits with undisguised pleasure
to **** upon it at his leisure.
Relax, this is no **** spawned prattle
Just baby Rob and his Two A.M. bottle.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 6:45 AM UTC
Fluffy kitten love smitten fighting over milk
Itching finger on them linger cuddly glossy silk
Ocean blue eyes love undisguised seven heaven’s glow
Oh God be broad see they do not quickly enough grow.
On the cushion mischief mission ripping pillow part
Though it demand can’t raise hand cruel is not heart
Indulgent look mildly rebuke faked in anger’s voice
Watching them mad in game is heavenly rejoice.
One on other sister brother dizzying somersault
If the vase is broken surely not for their fault
Sing lullaby show the TV sleep is far away
Make the pretense all nonsense but a playful day.
Again a boy lovingly toy tender tiny paw
They’re too smart never do hurt haven’t grown a claw
Frolic funny keep time runny feel the silence deep
Comes when night robs the delight weary bodies sleep.
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 7:11 AM UTC
In the darkly lit room
Hangs the smell of doom
As he babbles about his eyes
He seems bent on a mission
To paint a bleak vision
His elation isn’t disguised!
*I’ve them aplenty
My eyes bloodied
In surgeon’s needles
Retinal detachment
Cataract
Glaucoma
There isn’t a trauma
My eyes haven’t suffered*
His eyeballs roll
On the sclera
In perverse pleasure
*I don’t mind
If I go blind,
The misery around
Doesn’t make eyesight a treasure*
I haven’t met a man
To himself this inhuman
Treating the most valued lens
With such immense disdains
More than my suffering eyes
He says in glee undisguised
*I suffer your cruelty,
That’s when you say
It’s my way
To garner sympathy!*
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC
Quiet
A word her peers say
not with appreciation
But with undisguised hate
They never wonder why she doesn't try to pay anyone the time of day
Slouching her shoulders dejectedly as she walks away
And so it's seen as an excuse
For the weak minded with nothing better to do
Who pick and **** and laugh along with the bullies to seem so cool
She's delicate
She once was
pure and soft like the skin she now cuts
In attempt to numb the voices, make them shut up
If only for a little while
But a little whiles never enough
Demons screaming in the shadows of her mind
She sees herself as a ghost whispering
"I'm fine"
Repetitively, endlessly she utters this lie
Disappointed at those who believe it
She's quiet
She never utters a sound
Numb to her surroundings
She's bound
to misery
She's perfection but she'll never believe
Shoulders slumped, pulling down her sleeves
Beauty, As faint as the curve on her lips
The opinion's the blade that now picks
Out her flaws as she prods onto her reflection
The voices overpowering her mind
She's fine
But her weary eyes betray the lie
Her lips can no longer make true
She's broken
Shattered pieces of her lay on the floor
Reflecting just how insecure
She's become
She's far past numb
Inside she's dead
And in the shards of glass scattered on the bed
Is the faint trace of smile
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 11:59 PM UTC
At The Cafe
I heard her say to the teary-eyed lady
as they sliced their custard creams,
" Move on and go find someone else"
As if suggesting to take that knife and slice
that face out of her brain and replace it with
another. As if perhaps she should cut out
her heart and separate it from the rest of
her. I suppose the thoughtless lady was only
trying to help. I suppose that's normal procedure
in such circumstances. Like quickly go find a
lollipop for god's sake.
I felt like saying to the broken woman;
wait a bit. No need to be in such a rush.
This terrible ache, this fierce wrenching
this oozing sore is love disguised.
You'll come to it. You will. No substitute
necessary.
That someone else is waiting
in the dim horizon, fresh faced and true
with eyes that pierce through
the mish mash of dough and syrup
of wounds and ruins of love and war
and sharp metal objects.
That someone else is you, whole
and undisguised.
You can't rush that.
You'll come to it
You will.
Feb 23, 2020
Feb 23, 2020 at 6:07 AM UTC
The tortoise has began
To sniff aloud impatiently,
Causing the *** full of
Palm-wine to burst into flames,
But the bat can only
Think of himself as a bird,
Let the yam tendril
Grow rapidly in this season,
For this matey idea
Engenders glowing nightmares,
Now know this,
The sacrifices of palm-wine
Cannot be substituted with water,
For your departure has caused
Me to sleep with the magic owl,
Oh yes, hear the sparrow
Singing your conventional song,
Listen dear, listen!
Listen and quicken the precious
Beads on your convex hips,
So that my heavy heart
Can behold her boisterousness,
Even though good beads
Do not speak in public,
Indeed, the machete has
Fallen on the wrong victim,
For I left the chicken undisguised,
And the ravenous hawk
Took an instinctive care of it,
***** dear, *****
***** all your pain
Into the thirsty calabash,
For I have evinced
A strong desire to be
Reconciled with your love,
So, let our imperturbable love
Unfold as the implacable day unfolds,
Obaahemaa Nyarkowaa,
The mother of my heart,
Please forgive my dumb insolence,
For I acted out of love.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:46 AM UTC
Bright Seraphim in glorious light
Existing for God's praise
You circle Him in endless flight
You dip and soar with grace
Six wing's angels, silver robed
You fly above His throne
His brilliant glory shines and strobes
You lift your voice as one
Holy Holy Holy
Holy is the Lamb
He, the One unchanging
The faithful Son of Man
O, Seraphim, lovely as gems
Yet can't behold the beams
Of the light that brings renewal
And causes you to sing
You cover up your glowing eyes
With crystal feathers bright
For God's glory undisguised
Would blind you with it's might
Yet through your feathers you still see
Our Lord's spectrum's glow
Until in heaven he shall be
These hues no man can know
(chorus)
Faces in ecstatic pose
You sing in beauty found
Only in this glorious host
So lifted from the ground
O, Seraphim, bright jewels of God
You are a mighty throng
Lord Jehovah you will laud
And raise His praise with song
(chorus)
SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/28/2016
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 12:48 AM UTC
Seconds go by in tender bliss
We smell roses and stain our hands with
crushed petals.
Declarations of life long rumination
live between the distance in our
exchanged affirmations.
Happiness opens its undisguised embrace
As the silence between our spoken words
fills the gaps of our stuttered promises.
Feb 24, 2022
Feb 24, 2022 at 6:23 PM UTC
Self deceived, I squander marrow,
I masquerade the straight and narrow,
Seasons stretched, my essence hollows,
Desire, dreams and purpose follows.
My journey dulled by everyday,
Monotony, days veiled in grey,
Life's sombre ruin underway,
Significance, my yesterday.
Deceit defends; my bow and arrow,
Mentality in disarray,
Love recedes, eternal sorrow,
Vitality wearing away.
Before me you materialize,
Rescuer, hero undisguised,
Bore truth, bore love, to my surprise,
Abetted, found what underlies.
Imminent growth, restored, I ascend,
Weakness' welcomed, defenses end,
No longer wish to play pretend,
More pleased than I could comprehend.
Discovered where desire lies.
Forever impassioned, we transcend
Forsaw my future in your eyes,
My flame, my lover, my best friend.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
You always wanted a bullet ,
A bullet to shoot down the ghosts of your past
And bleed meaning ,
From the darkness ,
Of the dreams you cast
Until the wordsmith in you ,
Bothered to remember;
Your past is already dead,
It’s the Eighth of September .
“A bullet’s too quick” ,
I hear you weep ,
“Plus gunpowder costs ,
While my dreams are cheap”
The modesty of ******
Undisguised in that line
Lead me to propose,
Cheap country wine .
High on the eureka,
We walked into a bar ,
And asked for a pint of poison ,
Preserved in a rusty jar ,
But then ,
The Bartender asked , for age proof from you ,
Alas ,
One of us was sixteen , the other was two
coughs
Heartbroken,
We got drunk on our memories ,
While it was still free,
It might be the age of reason ,
But death still came , at a cost you see
We drank and drank,
Until the wordsmith in you ,
Bothered to remember
Your past is already dead,
After all ,It’s the Eighth of September.
“But i still want a bullet “
To my surprise you ask ,
“ To shoot down your poetry ,
And the lameness they mask”
Such are the dangers of having a friend
Who would not just follow ,
But guide you ,
To your very end.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 8:48 AM UTC
The Compact
Some of us are given to,
upon our person to secret
instrumentation to adjust
the patina of our ****** tones,
lest the glare of man made light
lend a shine undesired and worse,
uncovered windowed pores allow
revelations undesirable into our souls.
In other words, a compact and its constituents:
puff, powder and mirror.
Observed a compact in use
between Act I and Act II,
the deft use of the mirror,
angled, moved back and forth
to provide perspective,
close-up and/or total.
The Gods of Metaphor,
Deities of Derision
force my unwilling reveal
thru the holy confessional screen:
I too have a compact.
My compact, a deal, a treaty accord
between the white rigors of life daily,
and spasms of black lies
to make appearances tolerable.
My compact is what I cover up
with powder and puffery.
Aged sixty two years, life nonsensical,
perversely inversely, the dependence upon
these cracked hands grows,
dying cells dividing like newborns,
worrisome weariness make the lies
come faster and more frequent,
which is why my compact has a mirror.
No matter what perspective enamored,
In the mirror, my reality check,
No powder upon my eyes,
the brutality and the joy,
of life is undisguised.
Nonetheless, I have more,
Morethanless, the balance
is favorable, the outlook positive.
My compact with you is to
remind us all, through
music, dance, words and love,
This is the only compact
with the power of human law.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:27 AM UTC
I forget your soft pulling mouth and below
the luring grin it holds
Your all-browned features,
and the way I drown in them
Prickly bubbles, breaking with warmth and steam,
splashing my insipid shins
Icy tree tears cuff below our newly sunburned eyes
onto the lips of my collar bone
I forgot how my underwear detained the chemicals,
took to the pool as blood takes to white
and became soaked
mopping and sticking to my skin
The furthest tips of my silver hair
like a mirror to the stars, curling on my shoulders
Now I get the shivers, I can remember those
But I forgot the senseless talk of the universe
we sat under and looked up
The winter wind scratching our bare summer thighs
and the crisp smell of your mother’s snowy garden
Feet cold, they turned hot and carelessly running
to the playground illuminating the black, I forget
It was careless because I was with you
your russet body holding me in,
our toes always just gripping the verge
Undisguised
-MJS
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC