"undresses" poems
the everyday
should not seep
through the walls
it is behind these walls
that truth undresses
then lies
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC
i fall in love with melancholy—
it undresses my mind and ushers out words
i didn’t know i had in me
there are some things that i can only say
when i am swimming in loneliness,
but not drowning
but sometimes it’s too much;
sad songs don’t caress the wound anymore
they poke at them,
make them bleed,
worsen it
i guess they were right, after all
when you feel darkness
knocking on your door,
don’t let it in—
it is not your friend
you deserve more than this sadness.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
I am fully clothed,
Yet he undresses me with his thoughts.
Intoxicating thoughts.
I am drunk in it.
He is haunted by my seductive fragrance.
Silence.
Speaking would be too simple.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 9:09 PM UTC
─illustrations on the ceiling
i love the way
the sunlight ripples along his skin
with no complaints
"messiah" the shadow talks
"of course he is" i reply
and i resume to orchestrating my love
─little phobias
i wander aimlessly along his windows,
his eyes;
they are gates to afterlives unloved;
they are oceanic shrapnel
sky imprisoned infinities
a lapis point of view-
that i treasure
his heart is drenched
in my soul-
in a sweeter sickness-
in the liquid measure of my steps-
he mentions i'm contagious
i tell him he is my favorite way
to bleed
"september prodigy" the shadow babbles
"why?" i rasp
**"sun at long last
kisses away
all the ghosts
harvesting from
the heart of the moon"**
and i broke out into stars
─my serendipity
i love the raw
music of our conversations,
and how his voice
undresses me
and my monsters
so delicately
in fabrics of the dark
i love how his laugh
makes all the other planets
look dull;
how his smile
is the first step
to curing the blind
so the blind may know
what i know
"the symphony of seams"
i love how he is the shocking
philosophy
of turning suicide notes
into paper cranes
of picking fights with death
so i may remain
i love the phoenix tucked in his soul
how it defines-
the altitudes-
the limits-
our existence he describes to me
"reincarnation?" the shadow asks
"every morning he wonders" i answer
and the fever invests it's time in me
"what is he to you?" the shadow murmurs
"*besides broken flowers,
and ink blots shaped like rain
he is my favorite stairway to heaven.*"
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 10:32 PM UTC
.
The moon undresses you, little bird,
Your eyes are indigo skies without stars,
Your breath is summer grass after shower.
How you hold your arms before the night,
A lance of milky sheen and flailing bliss,
Your arms arrest as they softly surrender
And your ******* overflow in moist shores
Of white sand and shells, little ears to kiss,
I am drowning in your curves on the waves
From the sea, delirious with eye of moon,
Drunk with wild ocean as it consumes me,
Your hair is new grassland to run through,
Windy as a child breaking for the beach,
I latch my fingers to yours like driftwood
Tangled in kelp, the salt we share, steeps,
Is **** and deep and our lips are shucked
Oysters, blind, iridescent, sliding with eyes
Into the famished throat of ***** heavens.
.
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 7:58 PM UTC
I would tell her that this is how you die by distance even being so close.
I would tell her "Hey lover, do you remember me? Maybe you don't, but let me introduce myself and we'll see...".
I would tell her that it's the third time I try to quit smoking, but this is another addiction that will remain. We all need something to prevent us from going insane.
I would tell her that "You can leave, you can always leave, come with me and let's catch a train". I would tell her that "You can come back, you can always come back, that's what a house is, a shelter from pain".
I would tell her that the memory of her rough voice undresses my memories.
I would tell her that her laugh sounds like those perfectly designed sweet melodies.
I would tell her that we are always afraid of each other even when we're not. We are more afraid of being together than of being apart.
I would tell her she doesn't have to believe in her every single thought.
I would tell her that I tried to stop writing about her but everything that comes out of me are love poems and death sighs.
I would tell her that I know everytime that she cries, I can feel it in me, when she lays at night choking in all her lies.
I would tell her that being empty comes with a big price.
I would tell her that I'm mad at her for making it so hard to leave.
I would tell her that I know what she hides behind that sleeve, many scars from all the people that still can make her grieve.
I would tell her that I love her through music, through literature, through nature, through everything my eyes touch...because everything reminds me of her, because I will always love her so so much.
I would tell her that I think she's the most majestic creature.
I would tell her that connections like this are rare so there's no need to be afraid. And maybe I'll need her to tell me the same.
I would tell her that after all this time, I wish she stayed. Or do I wish I stayed?
I would tell her that I never want to say goodbye because everytime she smiles I feel like she cracks open the sky.
I would tell her that this is for her and everyone else who reads this is just a stranger looking through a window at us.
I would tell her...
If I ever met her.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Sophia sorts through
her parents' room;
they're out for the day,
some Polish old comrades
meeting of her father's,
old war pals. She opens up
the old wardrobe, sorts
through things, takes out
her mother's old dresses
and some new ones, puts
them on the bed. She likes
a red one, old but well kept.
She ponders, she decides
to try it on. She undresses
from her own jeans and top
and puts on the old red dress
and looks at herself in the
wardrobe mirror. Her mother
must have been her size back
then, it fits like it was made
for her. She does a twirl, looks
back at her *** her thighs,
turns to the front and stares
at her ******* She doesn't
remember her mother wearing
the dress, not a dress she recalls
her mother wearing at all. She
looks down, it comes just below
the knees, although she's taller
than her mother, so it would
come lower on her mother.
She embraces herself as if
Benedict were there behind her
putting his arms around her
and breathing on her neck.
She stares at herself in the mirror;
stares at her full length. She
smells the material. It smells
of stale perfume, but not horrible
or clammy. She walks around
the room in it; looks at herself
in the mirror across the room.
She'd ask her mother if she could
borrow it, but then she'd have to
say she'd been in her mother's wardrobe
and that would cause hell with her
father and she didn't want that. She
take off the dress and stands there
in her bra and ******* and puts the
dress back on the hanger, and puts
it back with the other dresses where
she found it the wardrobe, in the right
place, and pushes the clothes back as
far as shes can recall in the order they
were, and closes the wardrobe door.
She dresses back in her jeans and top.
She pauses by the bed. The crucifix over
the bed. The Crucified staring down
pityingly. She touches the bed with her
fingers. She'd like to bring Benedict here;
make love here. But not after last time
in her room and her parents came back
after and that was too close. And some
neighbour had split on her and said
they'd seen young man and her come
here while her parents were out and her
father gave her the third degree over it.
Her father said she can only bring the
boy when they were home. Couldn't bring
Benedict back for *** while they were
downstairs sitting watching TV and
drinking their wine and such, and not
in her parent's bed, not beneath the
Crucified, except in her blonde haired head.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 2:49 AM UTC
Did I ever tell you of the day I cleansed my Saturday?
Saturday kept kissing me goodbye, telling me 'I need to be free, please let me be free,'
And I said,
"Acceptance,
Acceptance."
Once upon a time, Saturday weeped upon departure
But now I know that Saturday is fine
Doing a loop around the world
Tasting, touching, talking, taking,
And listening to tales from the Cascades to the Pyrenees
And every Saturday,
Saturday returns to tell me all she's seen.
And she tells me as I bathe her affectionately
Until she stops mid-sentence and we fall into a soft embrace, our essences dipping intimately into one another to recreate the world from those silver square circles suspended in a sunbeam
Saturday undresses me slowly
As if unrobing a long-dead Egyptian pharaoh
Gazing upon my naked body like shes the first in a thousand years
Each time a grand discovery of the New World
And we sink further into one another
As the silver square circles of the sunbeam imprint themselves beneath our eyes like diamond tattoos
And every Sunday I awake alone in bed,
With a note on the pillow.
"I am free,
And you understand
That this must be true love."
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 4:08 PM UTC
Lady adjacent waiter,
ruler of the medulla,
give me a certain angle
that'll make her want to maneuver,
make her want to consider
in the absence of his figure,
that maybe not the whole gender
is full of secret agendas,
with her left over right leg,
glass in her right hand,
a tribute to her innocence
ever since she walked in,
assembled it's, white wine
Krispy Kreme eyes,
glazed look,
lips glossed like her oil thighs,
it's finally off time
her sorority cross line,
it's happy hour,
she wasn't,
his whole crime has been a cover up
since she wants him,
this whole scene has been taped off
by her girlfriends,
it's often I see it,
alcoholic rehab,
a culprit — a demon
making contracts with my open tab,
broken bad in the bathroom,
clad woman,
For all the attention
such good first impressions,
but not you,
I feel a different aura,
I feel I'll get exposed
so I call a different offense,
Semper Fi
within my eyes
this energy —
I quiet the restaurant,
Can you hear me?
Proceed to throwing signals
Tom Brady couldn't throw,
the ball's in my court so I'm finally on the move,
crushing on you while the sky undresses,
you catch a glimpse
as the clouds bare witness,
Excuse me Miss Unfortunate,
I know I'm at a disadvantage
but I had to call it
head or tails
I'm still offering,
a chance to be your man? No
a chance to be your author?
a chance to be your narrator now or later
call me,
a chance to say “there she is”
her piercing eyes, fixes her finger on my lips
be quiet, “I saw this in a movie once”
she told me as I spy and I grab onto her truths,
excuse me thats selfish, pardon me
apart of me just wants to see that movie,
a father daughter dance,
a chance to be your groupie,
a chance to see that smile
that you flashed
like a lunar star,
meteor crash
and its back to reality,
eye connection broken
and it’s back to the irony,
a word barely spoken
and I’m back to asking:
Check Please.
Sep 6, 2023
Sep 6, 2023 at 3:12 PM UTC
O my God
the ride down here
to this base camp
in those converted
army trucks
wasnt that something?
Miriam says
my face felt frozen
and my hair
looked as if
Id been in front
of a massive
hair-dryer
for hours
I sip my coke
and watch her
sitting at the bar stool
thinking
her jaw sure must
have unfroze
since shed not
stopped speaking
for a good five minutes
and guess who
Im sharing
a tent with?
she informs
I dont know
I say
that hippy girl
you know the one
whose boyfriend
looks like Jesus
o yes
I know the one
yes so whats
she like
to share with?
o you dont
want to know
she says
then dont tell me
o but I must
so she does
and as she rabbits on
I study her hair
a mass of curls
tight and red
which reminded me
of a guy
I worked for once
who said
I took a red head
out last night
no hair
just a red head
and I laughed
because he was
my employer
but it was a kind
of put on laugh
and o
she says
and thats not all
when she undresses
at night in the tent
I am brought back
to the present
and am all ears
hanging on to
her every word
about the dame
**********
like a penitent
awaiting
a priests blessing.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 2:30 AM UTC
The Nakedness of Execution
~for Balanchine~
the empty page possesses the perfect clarity of nothingness,
making it perfectly clear nothingness has no business here
come, execute,
clothe thy nakedness,
be a carpenter and build
a shelter for your cover
be a carpenter
construct the art that dresses thy body
yet, undresses the glowing glory spirited nakedness
we desire,
let us see the visibility of your naked invisibility
execute
unmasked unadulterated unasked unmodulated
pick the wood, select the tools, carve the words
on your forehead, Carpenter Cain
that we may copy them onto our eyes
ask then what can I make of my perfect clarity
and execute
disclose yourself, clothe ourselves
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 1:51 PM UTC
Candle lit room
Illuminated by moon light
A faint smile from the unknown lady of the night
*I found her wandering in the boulevard
She's smiling for a person with unsatisfied carnal desires*
She undresses and starts spreading sheets above us
Faint scent of her hair
A beauty, no doubt
*I listened to her stories with a lit cigarette
How she used to be an honor student*
She undresses me and kisses me
She knows where to lead her mouth and hands
She moves- making me quiver with her damp thighs
*I will never know your name.
Only the shared cigarette and your story*
She slides it in- Moaning, scraping, pulling, tugging.
I lost myself in ecstasy falling in my vivid dreams in the hedonist dimension of the universe.
*She grabbed my wallet and ran.
She opened it; and saw a picture of herself in my arms as a toddler.*
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 11:26 AM UTC
Running from a demented Ex,
Several kilometers to a lone cabin,
She travelled.
She was feeling comfortable
Although lonely in this forest world.
A glass of juice in hand,
She steps out on the porch.
Halting in shock,
For on the edge of the foot path,
Waits a big grey wolf,
With intense gaze fixed on her.
"Shoo!" She tells it.
But flinch, it doesn't.
Retreats into the cabin she does,
To bolt all windows and doors.
Soon, the wolf loses interest and leaves.
Come night, she undresses to bath.
But in her bedroom doorway,
Appears the grey wolf.
Caught in surprise, she gasps and falls.
And in her shock, she watches it
Morph into a man.
Not just any man, a breathtaking one.
She's hypnotized by the sight of him.
He approaches, carries her,
In his arms to the shower
Where he makes passionate love
To her against the wall.
His fangs sinking into her shoulder
In the ****** of the ****** passion,
Until after a mind-blowing ****** she blacks out into unconsciousness.
Several hours later,
Her consciousness she regains.
On her bed she wakes.
She remembers. But perhaps,
It was all a dream.
But the soiled paw-print on her rug,
And the aching pain on her shoulder
Revealed otherwise,
Until the distant howl of her new
Lover, reaches her from the forest,
Making her shudder with a new craving need to be made love to-
Again!
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 6:14 AM UTC
Jamie wakes up
A gunshot from within
Eyelids crash into the cage
Jamie gets up
The heavy shadow also rises
The unwanted, only company
Jamie takes a shower
Water pouring hot and clean as angry man's blood
The bars cannot be washed nor melted
Jamie, the golden child
Jamie's gold is turning into stone
Jamie takes a bus ride
Circumventing the forever nameless faces
Are their shields up too?
Jamie gets to school
Nails buried deep within the palms
A secret buried deep within it's ugliest of kingdoms
Jamie laughs much too loudly
For it takes an earthquake to cover the storm
It's relentless shivers just won't die
Jamie, the martyr
The crown of thorns restlessly resting on Jamie's head
Jamie walks back
Way back
Yesterday's sun - today's dark cloud
Jamie listens to a song
Swimming in the pool of ease
A pool much too shallow for Jamie's big fat shadow
Jamie stops to smell the flowers
But finds none
Only a concrete meadow swallows Jamie's feet
Nobody ever considers Jamie
But this evening Jamie is considering
Jamie comes back home
And finds all hopes lay fast asleep
Or is it the reek of death?
Jamie undresses, and then some more
The essence without thick skin collapses
It's tortured and it tortures
It's weak and it weakens
It's broken and it brakes
The menacing trigger
The blood flow
The bare images of hot white pain
It all drifts away
As Jamie drifts into sleep
Jamie, the divine soul tainted
Much too used to taking bullets
Jamie, the heart that bravely fought
Jamie, for who would have thought so many demons
could live within an angel?
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
They punch me in the face
Until it is apparently asymmetrical
They call me human waste
And tell me not to be sentimental
When they're insistent
On our difference
I begin to see asymmetry
In the way they're treating me
Does anybody remember or even care
About what happened in Nisour Square?
A Blackwater slaughter
Killing sons and daughters
An unprovoked
Macabre joke
The militants were convicted
The victims remained deceased
The locals were livid
When the problem would repeat
We don't mind taking innocent lives intentionally
When we see their value asymmetrically
Does anyone remember when the city of Fallujah
Smoked like a hookah?
Thermobaric rocket launchers
That used depleted uranium
To melt insurgent craniums
Left behind waste
That is radioactive
The citizens could taste
The shame of being passive
When they couldn't reject
The spike in birth defects
A child is born with its heart protruding from its chest
So we can more easily grab it
That child was born with an asymmetrical breast
Because of our capitalist habit
Contractor corpses hang from a bridge
While we stand on a ridge
Separating chaos and order
A symmetrical border
Order oppresses
Chaos undresses
Both cause messes
We need to see each other equally
Or we'll continue seeing sequel sprees
We need to stop seeing asymmetrically
And adopt a completely loving creed
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 6:24 AM UTC
The carpenter in one glance
undresses the house
with his eyes.
She, a Victorian dame
of voluptuous frame
in faded, ragged dress
seems to blush
at his appraisal.
He yearns to explore
intimate spaces,
strip her pretension,
commit filthy acts
hammering skillfully
with strange pleasure,
the work of hands,
attention to detail,
rubbing sweet oils
her inner beauty revealed.
It will end in soft strokes
a thoughtful cleanup
leaving an afterglow
of rejuvenation.
Her timbers moan
with anticipation.
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 4:01 PM UTC
He captains the ship
with a grin
You’re all in
Hoist the sail
Climb the rigging
Settle down in the cabin
Close that door in behind,
You want to go live in
His life, your life, his wife
You say
He scoffs at the crew
But not you
You’re the maiden
He’ll find treasure to hide
In you he’ll confide
And provide
The answers you desired
He knows best
You say
When seas are rough
And he’s had enough
Surrounding ships wreck
All are affected
Once important neglected
It can’t go undetected, surely,
As he undresses you
with his insults
Addresses all your faults
He’s just stressed
You say.
Your attempts to rekindle
Throw you overboard
His words
undercurrents,
that drag you beneath.
Used to swim
Now amongst the weeds
Can’t help but concede
He needs me
You say
You struggle
You had learnt to blow bubbles
But now you’re in trouble
A muddle
Confuddled
That’s typical for you
He says
You plead to be rescued
Lock eyes with the crew
But they’re through
So washed ashore
Bedraggled and torn
He picks you up
Keeps you safe,
Loved
And warm
You say
Dec 2, 2023
Dec 2, 2023 at 3:34 AM UTC
.
The moon undresses you, little bird,
Your eyes are indigo skies without stars,
Your breath is summer grass after shower.
How you hold your arms before the night,
A lance of milky sheen and flailing bliss,
Your arms arrest as they softly surrender
And your ******* overflow in moist shores
Of white sand and shells, little ears to kiss,
I am drowning in your curves on the waves
From the sea, delirious with eye of moon,
Drunk with wild ocean as it consumes me,
Your hair is new grassland to run through,
Windy as a child breaking for the beach,
I latch my fingers to yours like driftwood
Tangled in kelp, the salt we share, steeps,
Is **** and deep and our lips are shucked
Oysters, blind, iridescent, sliding with eyes
Into the famished throat of ***** heavens.
.
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 12:04 PM UTC
Cosmic serpent
Flies in circles
Orbits earths
Visits vessels
Stings and wrestles
Prowls the plain
The desert arrangements
Faces fire no fear
Takes one look at the spider
Sees through the fire
Undresses the only envy
The necessity plenty
Of spiraling ascent
To meaning manifest
A plunge into the nest of the fortune cookie prophecies
Fate pulled from a hat
In the terraforming visions of the seven breasted harpy speech devours itself
The visioneer’s ouroboros precludes ovals of assimilation clinging tight to the exoteric
The vessel rejects the half digested
An ammonia laden upheaval
Dispelling folderol with blinding reverence
Inviting tragedy with nostalgic foresight
Wet nightmares
Logic abandons the visioneer ****** into the opposite of static
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC
Whimsical roses and uttered rhetorics
spare the disgrace of the grieved afflictions
pebbled roads of restraints and constraints
laughter and compressed redundancy
the tone changes and emptiness nest
the tongue races and eventuality sets
such a season of unknown unrest
undresses one to a bare *****
where the ****** peaks, unsure of the leak
offended in the reign of unnamed seeds
with evocative sprouts that germinate
to the unlocked mysteries of happenstance
such a season of bearable tests
caress one to a bare bottom
where even shame never turn or press
oppressed in the fields of unmarked borders
with seductive crowns that culminates
to the unlocked mysteries of happenstance
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 4:02 AM UTC
Beautiful darkness
Lighting strikes the stones
As my mouth unpeels
Liquefy on the edge of hope
Descending toward imagines of my ghost
My weapons are my words
Spiritually sickened
Convulsing with electritcy as it undresses my wounds
Comatose hallucantions howled
Unhinged calamity of the naked shivered sky
As the womb needs its whiskey high
Birdlike flapping my anxieties away
The twine is weak morally I will drown
My bones begin to find me as I go down
Arms and legs that no longer move
As my eye lashes begin to kiss the night
My teeth and lips will never feel a kiss
Looking out the windshield of sobriety
Entwined lovers drunken mourners
I beg of you to slit my tears
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 12:12 AM UTC
All those eyes
Slowly shedding their skin
Making small circles around each other’s
Substance
The look it seemingly undresses the nights
Ghosts
A blood fest of fists surrounds your head
The aroma of darkness covering my placenta dreams
An empty gun
Lays adjacent to the rooms open view
While in distracted light there appears my punch-drunk sanity
As it devours (all) the shadows
An uneven floor that injects my blood stream with dust and hollow words
Stumbling over you was the answer to my loss of hope
Like running thru graveyards and speaking in silence through tiny pinhole
Mouths and forever living and not finding what may be in stored
The afterglow of solitude
The disjointed smiles that grasps for air
Under your enormous wings of blame
My tonic suggestion to incubate my after birth words
A stillness of heart that shackles
A memory and mortar apprehension I have not escaped
In the long hallways of your past
My own blank stare dissolves in the sunlight
Then it was you
Inhabiting the smaller cracks of my skin
Taking my hurt and
Willingly
Being beautiful in the madness of blind faith
A sordid ball of ugly lights which glisten
And down the path where it leads
To me
You can place your gift to the dead crowd like
Unraveled wire touching your lips
A severed look of ignorance
Beings of soft shells
And broken by spinal cord modifications
The lustful grasp shrouding your heart
Makes its way taking shortcuts through graveyards
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 8:41 AM UTC
It is not
The sweet, far thing
But that wretched, near
Temptation.
That in shame
Follows my heart
To the safety
Of my soul's chamber.
Temptation
That undresses
My guilty conscious
And makes love
To my dreams.
Temptation
With blue eyes
And the voice of a gypsy,
Speaking only
In lullabies.
Temptation
Bartering my love
For those limpid pools of ocean,
Upon which I sail
When drifting to sleep.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 10:04 PM UTC