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"unexposed" poems
Two people both alike in character Of the opposite sexes Sit across a candlelit dinner In a lovely, fancy restaurant The room is incandescently lit With a dimness that balances between ever so bright and ever so dark Allowing for a gold tinge to envelop the restaurant But not gold enough to take away notice of the lit candle set upon the White table cloth The waiter appears and asks the couple What they would like for dinner The couple order the food and drink Much to the waiter's delight the food and drink is expensive The waiter returns shortly With a bottle of their finest Pinto Noir And pours the blood-red wine slowly Into each of the couple's glasses And leaves the couple to sip upon their sweet sin delicately The food is laid out Triumphant in its debut A vast smorgasbord of entries Including frog legs, crab, and delicious ****** steak The couple prepare their silverware for the battle that is eating The man stabs his knife into the ****** steak Cutting it open and spilling the juices all over his plate He stabs the meat with the fork and guides it toward his mouth And slowly but surely chomps upon it with the strength of his fine jaw And swallows the meat into the unexposed mystery that is his stomach The woman begins to mutilate the frog legs with her knife Cutting into the once moveable limbs And stabs the limbs with her fork and brings it to her mouth And delicately bites the limbs and politely chews And swallows it into her fine and precious insides The couple then split the crab legs Using their bear hands they split the shells open And remove the meat or **** it right out of the shell They swallow it whole and do nothing with the shell Leaving the shell aside to be as still as a carcass The waiter arrives and asks how the food was The couple obliged him with their satisfaction The bill is handed to them and the couple pay it Leaving a hefty tip They then leave the lovingly dimly lit restaurant To enjoy the night that is ahead of them
0
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 1:37 AM UTC
A Dinner
Two people both alike in character Of the opposite sexes Sit across a candlelit dinner In a lovely, fancy restaurant The room is incandescently lit With a dimness that balances between ever so bright and ever so dark Allowing for a gold tinge to envelop the restaurant But not gold enough to take away notice of the lit candle set upon the White table cloth The waiter appears and asks the couple What they would like for dinner The couple order the food and drink Much to the waiter's delight the food and drink is expensive The waiter returns shortly With a bottle of their finest Pinto Noir And pours the blood-red wine slowly Into each of the couple's glasses And leaves the couple to sip upon their sweet sin delicately The food is laid out Triumphant in its debut A vast smorgasbord of entries Including frog legs, crab, and delicious ****** steak The couple prepare their silverware for the battle that is eating The man stabs his knife into the ****** steak Cutting it open and spilling the juices all over his plate He stabs the meat with the fork and guides it toward his mouth And slowly but surely chomps upon it with the strength of his fine jaw And swallows the meat into the unexposed mystery that is his stomach The woman begins to mutilate the frog legs with her knife Cutting into the once moveable limbs And stabs the limbs with her fork and brings it to her mouth And delicately bites the limbs and politely chews And swallows it into her fine and precious insides The couple then split the crab legs Using their bear hands they split the shells open And remove the meat or **** it right out of the shell They swallow it whole and do nothing with the shell Leaving the shell aside to be as still as a carcass The waiter arrives and asks how the food was The couple obliged him with their satisfaction The bill is handed to them and the couple pay it Leaving a hefty tip They then leave the lovingly dimly lit restaurant To enjoy the night that is ahead of them
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43
Some things are simply understood Without the need for spoken word Others better said out loud So they may be heard Some thoughts are better unexposed So not to harm the atmosphere Others need to fly and soar To land on lover's waiting ear Hold the tongue, bite the lip Let not insults from it trip But compliments that smooth the way Let them see the light of day
0
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
smooth way
Frightened from the start till the end Both felt same love, forbidden but still love Love the best feeling i have Bearing it, Feeling it Trying to be the same Perfect for each other but secrets should remain Night and day It feels like forever Invisible but precious Unchangeable and unexposed If the world gave us a chance Our world won't be apart Barrier will fade Uncovered inside our heart
0
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC
Uncover the Forbidden
Sleepless nights I wake up often No reason to be seen It just happens I wake up in darkness No sight to use I feel panic rise I know this experience well I wake up in fear The darkness scares What could be there, Scare me the most I never got over it The fear of darkness The fear of what could be The uncertainty of it all Take deep breaths Pull the sheets up Cover my face and head Keep feet unexposed It doesn't help usually Turn a light on Make sure door is shut tight Turn TV on for sound Fall asleep Wake up Turn off light and TV Go back to sleep. The cycle starts again Initially asleep Wake up Fear
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Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 6:39 AM UTC
sleeplessness
There are beautiful souls Somewhere in the limelight Unexposed to the colorful world Unwritten in any verse Not tempted to hear They are beautiful Incarnation of angelic spirit With noble decency Beauty like that Manifest rarely You vibe that
0
Dec 31, 2020
Dec 31, 2020 at 7:17 PM UTC
Elegance
I love the way it feels To be barefooted In the park, The normally unexposed Flesh of my feet Brushing the blades of Slightly browned grass And dirt. I hear the chirping Of insect correspondence, Croaking like frogs In loud crescendos. The lush green leaves On the trees with fat wooden trunks, They glow yellow under the Fluorescent night lamps. The leaves crinkle and crackle, Shimmy in the wind, Creating a summer staccato Against the sounds Emerging from those Ever-chattering crickets. A light breeze kisses my skin, Twisting itself around The darkness, Morphing into a double helix, DNA of the breath Of Fresh air, The summer Heat Briefly catching A Cold.
0
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
Ten PM in August
Today, This tree was the very picture Of a pair of birds Who had a fight after mating. You will never understand The eagerness of this tree In making every morning a new one Or daily showing me a new movie, However I try to describe it One day Leaves, that cry “don’t go” “don’t leave” To the wind That passes by Another day Of shooing cats feasting in the shade, On fish bone, from someone’s leftover meal, After dribbling pigeon-droppings from a branch, Another day The tear-filled eyes Of its own branch That cries And supplicates the sun To heal its wound Another day Of its own sister branches Or, in human parlance, wooden chairs That have become prostitutes; On which strange people sit casually. One day The Bihari Who is scared stiff of his lord, And who runs every time a wind blows To sweep away the dried leaves Which the wind has killed, Having made violent love to them. On yet another day, The fruits that laugh their heads off Along with the little blossoms that laughed once | At the silver-blue sky On still another day The tap root That suddenly burst into tears Gazing at the dusk That draped golden strands on boughs and twigs On yet another day, The aged middle-portion of the tree That unveiled the hitherto unexposed Moss-green nursling And prayed that it be named Another day before this, Had made me sad By asking “Are you wont to see the other tree-friends Throughout the countryside ?” Had made me heartsore By asking me “Would you forget me?” Once, have asked Whether I would point out The mother-bird Who sowed the seed after she ate the fruit I have made myself broken-hearted | wondering Where or how mother was. At the moment When the mind gets shaken up And becomes even more fragile, In the memory of Some trees That have helped some lives thrive, Have given shade, Given oxygen, Crucified, O tree, I am hugging you, Giving you A frozen, but still very passionate kiss With the Alloyed numbness of death and life : A tree-kiss
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Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
Tree kiss
Today, This tree was the very picture Of a pair of birds Who had a fight after mating. You will never understand The eagerness of this tree In making every morning a new one Or daily showing me a new movie, However I try to describe it One day Leaves, that cry “don’t go” “don’t leave” To the wind That passes by Another day Of shooing cats feasting in the shade, On fish bone, from someone’s leftover meal, After dribbling pigeon-droppings from a branch, Another day The tear-filled eyes Of its own branch That cries And supplicates the sun To heal its wound Another day Of its own sister branches Or, in human parlance, wooden chairs That have become prostitutes; On which strange people sit casually. One day The Bihari Who is scared stiff of his lord, And who runs every time a wind blows To sweep away the dried leaves Which the wind has killed, Having made violent love to them. On yet another day, The fruits that laugh their heads off Along with the little blossoms that laughed once | At the silver-blue sky On still another day The tap root That suddenly burst into tears Gazing at the dusk That draped golden strands on boughs and twigs On yet another day, The aged middle-portion of the tree That unveiled the hitherto unexposed Moss-green nursling And prayed that it be named Another day before this, Had made me sad By asking “Are you wont to see the other tree-friends Throughout the countryside ?” Had made me heartsore By asking me “Would you forget me?” Once, have asked Whether I would point out The mother-bird Who sowed the seed after she ate the fruit I have made myself broken-hearted | wondering Where or how mother was. At the moment When the mind gets shaken up And becomes even more fragile, In the memory of Some trees That have helped some lives thrive, Have given shade, Given oxygen, Crucified, O tree, I am hugging you, Giving you A frozen, but still very passionate kiss With the Alloyed numbness of death and life : A tree-kiss
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81
And when you told me about all the things you love, With mad passion in your eyes, I fell in love with you And when you shared your thoughts, Too private for small talk, I fell in love with you And when you placed your responsibilities over your self, Too demanding for anyone to fulfil, I fell in love with you And when you loved, Loved a stray dog, affectionately working your fingers on his neck, I fell in love with you And when you hid your pain, Masked brilliantly in your laugh, for no naked eye to suspect, I fell in love with you And when you sang Chasing Cars, Humming, unconcerned with the passing traffic, I fell in love with you And when you told me about your day, From the big accomplishments, to the tiny, gorgeous observations, I fell in love with you And when Ed Sheeran sang All of the Stars, Thinking all I wanted was nothing more, than to see you walking in that door, I fell in love with you And when they told me how amazing you are, People unexposed to even a fifth of your brilliance; Privileged, I fell in love with you And a million other times, In a thousand other moments, Irrespective of intent, Forever more, I fell in love with you
0
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
I Fell in Love with You
I recall the feel of our bodies pressed tightly in the backseat. The freedom of letting my fingers linger over your palm and up your arm, around your neck, and adams apple. I’d always wanted to know a body, not just the unexposed places between our thighs. Because everything is forbidden. The cool feel of placing my cheek to chest. The intimacy of hearing a heart beat on a quiet night in the summer. The way it will murmur secret love and secret shame. My hands, making a map of the placement of your face, will draw along your cheekbones, high and freckled slightly, down to the lips which part and tell me to never stop. Skin stretching over muscle and bone. Timid virility. Reaching and searching for validation in my touch. This is what we give each other.
0
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 1:53 AM UTC
Skin
Starting out so young and free No troubles in the world Pure, clear skin for all to see. Not a sign of hurt Bright, young eyes and light pink lips Innocence at best Unexposed and unaware of God's most painful test Wandering lost and all alone, no one there to trust Voices laughing, hidden deep within the prickly brush Eternal darkness cascading down from a clouded sky Frightened, cornered with one question, and that one word is why? There's no life that's left to live There's no more need for breath Succumbing to the evil force And wishing only death.
0
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 4:40 PM UTC
Final Exam
As we get older, we forget all the things we cherished. The further away we grow, the more we forget to remember Remember to hold those things close Remember to never let go. I wish I could know what a child knows. What they know without the slightest hint of the doubt that overwhelms me now. I want to remember what it feels like to love without restraint to love without fear and love without pain The love only a child knows. I want to know a Jesus who resides in my heart and protects me from the hurt. I want to know a Jesus who is my own peaceful warrior who doesn't create evil. I want to know what a child knows. Take me back to when my daddy knew everything for me To the place where base was the only safety I considered To when I knew all I needed about God To a place where I believe wholeheartedly in something crazy Take  me to the place only a child knows Where there is good that is genuine Where brokenness is the start The altar is the healing And hope is redemption Help me to know what a child knows Can anyone but the innocent and unexposed truly know these things? Is it possible for someone to feel the pain to see the hurt to bear the load and still believe? Can we honestly believe with the passion of a child? I have seen the good in people. I have experienced the hurt, and felt the healing I have been let down thrown down shut down I have yet to be broken down. Deep within me there is a place Where the truth will prevail the sincere will overcome the place only a child knows.
0
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 12:56 AM UTC
Heart of Neverland
As we get older, we forget all the things we cherished. The further away we grow, the more we forget to remember Remember to hold those things close Remember to never let go. I wish I could know what a child knows. What they know without the slightest hint of the doubt that overwhelms me now. I want to remember what it feels like to love without restraint to love without fear and love without pain The love only a child knows. I want to know a Jesus who resides in my heart and protects me from the hurt. I want to know a Jesus who is my own peaceful warrior who doesn't create evil. I want to know what a child knows. Take me back to when my daddy knew everything for me To the place where base was the only safety I considered To when I knew all I needed about God To a place where I believe wholeheartedly in something crazy Take  me to the place only a child knows Where there is good that is genuine Where brokenness is the start The altar is the healing And hope is redemption Help me to know what a child knows Can anyone but the innocent and unexposed truly know these things? Is it possible for someone to feel the pain to see the hurt to bear the load and still believe? Can we honestly believe with the passion of a child? I have seen the good in people. I have experienced the hurt, and felt the healing I have been let down thrown down shut down I have yet to be broken down. Deep within me there is a place Where the truth will prevail the sincere will overcome the place only a child knows.
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72
You're a murderer you know, and you've gotten away with it. No witnesses to testify against you, No alibi needed to strengthen your case. No evidence strong enough to unmask you. Just an unidentified victim, with no open wounds or visible markings to give away its' subject- For all the bloodshed is within. CHOKED! RIPPED! ***** STABBED! BEAT! STRIPPED! It is all secretly covered, unexposed. A beautiful mirage- Painted lips and crystal eyes, velvet skin, draped, in golden, satin hair. A flawed mirage- With bleeding lips, and crying eyes. Diseased skin, smothered in, dull, lifeless hair. Yet still, the inside reveals nothing. A murderer you remain, but what a lovely victim I make.
0
Feb 4, 2011
Feb 4, 2011 at 4:47 PM UTC
TRIAL
amidst the loud noise & the sweat that drips from heated foreheads your hands slip from a new friend to a red cup & for the rest of the night you’ll idly stand maybe concerned with tomorrows homework trying to catch a feeling of the way peoples arms look without weight you weren’t going to even go out tonight but your friends said you’d regret it even though you knew you wouldn’t if you did go you went anyways, worried this time was different but now that your here and they’re playing fetty wap for the second time this time isn’t different what is different is the artwork someones failed attempt at collaging girls ***** tasteful side **** to full exposed kardashian the only thing unexposed is the exposed brick they covered ironically and sadistically you remember frat boys don’t do metaphores you manage to get your hands on some chips as your eyes meet some guys across the room awkwardly and unobviously locking in place you step away from his line of vision moving backwards towards kate who can’t remember your name from film class so you have to hint at chanelle for input stumbling to call your name through liquored breathe lost in thought, but somehow forming sentences to kate someone nudges your side Alex He was the guy across the room the lighting must have been weird or something you talk for a bit about middle school he hugs you uncomfortably wondering if there was some broken rule about accepting hugs from people that aren’t your boyfriend He tells you about his skate board attempting sarcasm at every turn his voice burning into the air soon the conversation swoops to music he asks about your taste you say you don’t have any and you’re arms start to feel weightless too You say bye to Alex (and to Kate) Chanelle mouths “where the hell are you going” before you know it your on line 2 drifting to bloor and younge writing about a party that you weren’t even suppose to be at you're writing about a party that never really happened but somehow that night still really ****** you off
0
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
The Party
amidst the loud noise & the sweat that drips from heated foreheads your hands slip from a new friend to a red cup & for the rest of the night you’ll idly stand maybe concerned with tomorrows homework trying to catch a feeling of the way peoples arms look without weight you weren’t going to even go out tonight but your friends said you’d regret it even though you knew you wouldn’t if you did go you went anyways, worried this time was different but now that your here and they’re playing fetty wap for the second time this time isn’t different what is different is the artwork someones failed attempt at collaging girls ***** tasteful side **** to full exposed kardashian the only thing unexposed is the exposed brick they covered ironically and sadistically you remember frat boys don’t do metaphores you manage to get your hands on some chips as your eyes meet some guys across the room awkwardly and unobviously locking in place you step away from his line of vision moving backwards towards kate who can’t remember your name from film class so you have to hint at chanelle for input stumbling to call your name through liquored breathe lost in thought, but somehow forming sentences to kate someone nudges your side Alex He was the guy across the room the lighting must have been weird or something you talk for a bit about middle school he hugs you uncomfortably wondering if there was some broken rule about accepting hugs from people that aren’t your boyfriend He tells you about his skate board attempting sarcasm at every turn his voice burning into the air soon the conversation swoops to music he asks about your taste you say you don’t have any and you’re arms start to feel weightless too You say bye to Alex (and to Kate) Chanelle mouths “where the hell are you going” before you know it your on line 2 drifting to bloor and younge writing about a party that you weren’t even suppose to be at you're writing about a party that never really happened but somehow that night still really ****** you off
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52
Loneliness is the manila color which enchants paper as it ages. It grows old and musky regardless of how many eyes look upon its texture. It reaches the air of abandonment more quickly when exposed to the atmosphere and light. An unexposed paper will stay pristine longer. It doesn't know vacancy and longing. It never had someone in the first place.
0
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 4:34 AM UTC
Loneliness
I I sat on a bench in the park, Talking to death, People staring and whispering, I didn’t care I laughed at them, And kept talking to him, I loved the way he talked, Always offering a great bargain I would gladly accept it, And say good bye, see you tomorrow. We We always laughed together, Talking on that park bench, Stealing pieces of each other, We never gave them back, Keeping them for only us, Knowing unexposed secrets, We deteriorated each other , Until we would come down, All at once falling down, You You were watching us, Standing in the crowd whispering, To the other people around you, You were interested but confused, Wondering why, But there was no answer, You wanted to find an answer, But were scared to say anything, Now you are stuck wondering forever. ~Zalea
0
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 9:51 AM UTC
IWEYOU
The curtain rod does not fit into my window so the sun has a key to get in My room is on the unexposed side of my house and the morning light climbs into my bed like a lover that I had a fight with the night before who I told to stay on the couch and so, I wake up crabby.
0
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 9:17 AM UTC
No Curtains
Eros has claimed another victim… This I must admit, this sin. This time it’s you, struck in the crossfire. It must drain you much like a vampire. I've seen your wretched purity. I've seen your disconnected reality. Mind like a lacrimosa, unexposed… You wouldn't show it, but it floats, fragile, sad, empty ghost. You match my dreams… you attract my screams. For love and for hate… It’s much too late. You, angel with the tattered wings… You, devil on my shoulder, enjoying and destroying me… You’re the source of my euphoria… You’re the source of my melancholia. You’re a drunken kiss and a broken bliss. What shall I do with this? Why has this all gone amiss?
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Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 7:48 AM UTC
Eros
A disciple cannot be antisocial. Or introverted. How can we when our command is to reach out to those who for so long we've tried to avoid? Tried to protect unexposed insecurities instead of overcoming them. How do I get ME out of the way so I can see you? And every thing your going through. Your soul is more important than my feelings, and as I die out, I must first take the 'I' out.
0
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 12:26 PM UTC
Conflict of this Disciple
I know from the first time I saw her she's different. She sees the world differently, She lives her world differently. Every time I stare at her brown eyes, I know there's something going on inside her mind-- Her imagination, Her creativity, Is flowing up and down through the skies. She has her own world, Trapped inside her mind, Unexposed and pure. I love her, I love to read her, Like how she carefully read her books; I love to caress her, Like how she gently Turn the pages of her old books. The more I look into her eyes The more I get lost, From trying to see a glimpse Of her own world buried deep behind her eyes, But all I can see is the reflection Of the world behind us.
0
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC
Untitled
today, I was asked, by a machine, "what's the best thing that happened to you this week?" and, it followed up with, "don't be afraid to brag." I spent awhile wondering how you might compute and crunch just what it means to receive your first hug from a third grader who you're harder on than most because you know behind the lack of focus lies genius left unexposed, but I'm pretty sure that's made every sloppy, sludgy, snowy trek this month more than worth my while
0
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
february
I'm not a love poet, My words are hallow, And unexposed, But I took everlasting pictures, In my mind, They never developed, Little did you know, It was you, It was meant to be, Beautiful.
0
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC
Polaroids
The mask over his face hides away his true expression His eyes depict that I should be aware and have cation Leaving the nature of his thoughts unexposed Makes me wonder what his actions will dispose The temptation of his own reaction appeals to me The question of my slight gestures to be worthy Every time our eyes cross...within every glance I get lost Time diminishes and one minute feels endless Bounded...entwined...I can read into you mind My heart is aching  and I know what you're thinking I only conceal it from you because I don't have the strength to tell you how I feel. He comes to me and he grabs me by the hand Holds me in his arms and dances till we can't stand Whispering forbidden words inside my ear of his own decree My self conscious imposes and disagrees My body reverts in it's own defense and starts to shake Another glimpse inside his eyes I retake "I can see it in your eyes and I know whats on your mind, But I don't have the strength to tell you how I feel."
0
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 9:22 AM UTC
Masquerade
Mirrors are the throat of time Devouring all in their path Leaving nothing not even bones Relentless in their wrath Mirrors are the throat of time Taking all with nil to give Leaving only the profound loss So deep we can never forgive Mirrors are the throat of time Stealing from each of us all Leaving no corner unexposed Silent witness to our downfall
0
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 9:17 AM UTC
Mirrors
I'm at the edge. behind, open clear free space, green in all directions. Blue skies that I've met before, become acquainted with, and have become my dearest friends. They stand tall behind me, pushing forward, encouraging when fatigue becomes too much. They are my sword, my shield. in front, closed full just unknown. Trees piled high, no sky seen. No blue, still green looks down from above. This time, though, it's dark. It looks on, expectant. Of what, I'm not exactly sure. in front, there is thick brush built of brambles, raspberry bushes, and dense, low branches. They cut, scrape skin and burrow deep for the unexposed. They have no aim, no end goal, but they keep on growing, pushing up, spreading, acre after acre, demolishing what I aim for myself to be. They swallow me whole, or try, but . . . Still, there is only one direction I can go from here.
0
Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 10:37 PM UTC
The Battle
Misery dressed up in her favorite shade Curled to perfection and drowning within raw unexposed beauty How my mind loves to surprise me Ripping away at my hopes, while flirting with happiness and ticking away at my sanity Madness? To which do you address? Countless blessings lay unwanted Torn from one thought to another Emptiness remains, always. To experience, never to forget Burning eternally within infinite faces lay without name We each have our moment within the sour beam of light and with this absolute clarity see us more about them than ourselves Forgive me, oh mistake-less brothers banish all my foul sins Keep me from the water and shower me in flame For I am a believer that everything has a consequence But why are you to decide who possesses the gleaming innocence Fear once covered me and sheltered me like a blanket How it held me down but protected me from the colds of the storm With the two lights of my life in endless conflict For guidance, I can't help but look towards the shadow
0
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 4:43 AM UTC
Empurity