"unfasten" poems
open the door
a man stands there with a smile
the package he passes
is not on my Christmas list
that doorway sure is no chimney.
shaking, frightened, it's finally time
alone, i unfasten the bag,
as if it's the first brithday
that my grandma is no longer with us.
this was the most expensive present
i have ever received
although the grantor is no ******* Santa Claus
&
that instant i recognize
my existence
lies in these jars.
i outwitted mother nature
if i begin consumption
i live
if not well.....How Will It End?
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
i.
Mine Dame
Unfasten mine cream pigment barong;
Scuff the tiny button's, serenadeth me with Tagalog.
ii.
None need for baon
Where we shalt go is not strained by materialism;
This is not a place of Balaam.
iii.
Mother-naked, ourn quiddity's latched
None leviathan demonic's, no human electronic's;
Mine darling, hug closely, none murrain pain's to be hatched.
iv.
Mine foremost, drinketh with me
Amour's Buko juice as a toast;
A barkada of high-up angelic's to guide ourn ghost's.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication/Filipino rose
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
I want to cut you up in little pieces
And scatter you amongst the sky
So you will be reflected in every pool of light
And shimmer like a halo around every face
I want to distill your very nature
Wear it like a perfume on my skin
Letting it permeate my every pore
Seeping
Inside
Me
To my very core
I want to reach inside your chest
To unfasten your heart
And swallow it whole
So it will beat forever in tandem next to mine
Each beat imparting
Every word
You could never say aloud
Love
Want
Need
Mine
Please
Please
Your eyes are by far my favorite
Two sparkling jewels
Hidden like a holy secret
Underneath your veil of lashes
One look and you
Undo me,
Unravel me,
Undress me
Again, again.
Behind my lips
I keep your kiss
My smile suggesting a clandestine wish
Only you possess the key
To unlock me
Turn it slowly
So I may relish the twist of my womb
And the fire that travels up my spine
To light my eyes
So that you will know
What you
Must
Do.
I want to cut you up in little pieces
And scatter you amongst the sky.
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 7:40 PM UTC
when the lace
from my shirt
fell away,
you helped me
tie it back
together,
even though i know
you'd love to love me
uncovered
i knew,
you cradled
the scars
the sunlight
gave me,
you kissed
between my ribs
where the swollen
skin lay tender,
you would have
stitched them up
if you knew how
i remember
the ultrasound
my fingers took
of your heart,
i could see it
beating
red and angry
in your chest,
trying to
unfasten the ties
that held it inside
my palms
were hot, but
they healed you
my scabbed knuckles
brushed over your eyes
and you settled
into me like a gasp,
slowly but alive
sweetheart,
i would
end the earth
in one swift movement
if i could watch
the asteroids fall
in your eyes
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 7:07 PM UTC
There was once a child
born beneath the sign
of unburial.
She carried too much—
not in arms
but in tethered memory.
Things with no names,
only weights.
A cracked watch
that ticked in reverse.
A button from a coat
that no one had worn
in three generations.
A feather
from a bird
dreamt once
by her grandmother,
never seen again.
She believed—
as those marked by absence do—
that keeping meant remembering,
and remembering meant
nothing would vanish.
Others crossed her path,
offered to help unfasten the straps.
She refused.
They did not know
which talismans bled
and which only looked like wounds.
So she walked.
Through salt seasons,
through bone-rattling frost,
through forests with no floor
and skies that never asked her name.
The bag grew heavier.
She grew cleverer.
Silent.
And then—
on a day that wasn’t special,
under a sun that wasn’t kind—
she set it down.
Not as surrender.
As an experiment.
The earth did not crack.
The ghosts did not scatter.
Her shadow did not abandon her.
She sifted the contents.
Some were dust.
Some were still singing.
Some curled away like dried petals
and begged to be left behind.
She took a key.
She took the bell.
She left the rest
for the moss.
She walked on.
Not lighter, exactly—
but less governed
by the shape
of her grief.
Jun 18, 2025
Jun 18, 2025 at 10:23 PM UTC
*Tonight the softness of the air
touches my skin gently.
Like once your fingertips did.
The air blooms
with moonlight and Jasmine.
A breeze touches the flowers
one by one
Roses Dahlias Carnations
night stock and Gardenia.
Ahh Gardenia your favorite.
I close my eyes
in my mind my senses
bring you here to me.
You are wearing the gown
that once we were married in.
Your lips so red
and eyes so inviting.
I touch you long flowing hair
I can feel the softness of you
even in my mind.
You reach up and
unfasten the ribbons
that hold it.
it flows like a storm
over my bare chest.
Outside I can hear
the ****** of your laughter
like a sweet night song.
But it is only the
windchimes
that you loved.
bringing me back
to the empty heart
That only you could fill.*
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
“Unbind
Unclasp
Uncover
Uncurl
Unfurl
Undo
Unfasten
Unfold
Unhinge
Unhook
Unleash
Unlink
Unmask
Unroll
Unveil
Unclip
Unlace
Unzip
Untie
Unbutton
Unlock”
“Undress.”
“Understood.”
Unravel
Mar 1, 2021
Mar 1, 2021 at 5:39 AM UTC
The fragrance of the pink lotus
fails, the jade mat hints of autumn.
Softly I unfasten my silk cloak,
Who is sending a letter from
among the clouds?
When the swan message returns,
the balcony is flooded with moonlight.
The blossoms drift on, the water flows.
There is the same yearning of the heart,
But it abides in two places.
There is no way to drive away this yearning:
Driven from the eyebrows,
It enters the heart.
1.7k
i guide your hands to where they need to be
breathlessly,
you follow the trail i blaze
wide eyed
you watch as i gaze
i, unfastened your innocence
and your locket of tenderness
you, unfasten the wooden buttons
on my summer dress
i, look at you your chest
and the map of tan lines
you, look at me my freckles
and my milky skin,
its covered in what christians call sin
you, don't mind,
you say my skin has a glow
i smile and kiss your neck
make you crinkle your toes
i pull you close i look into your dreams
you take me in, you trace my creases and seams
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 3:57 AM UTC
It’s been a while, but it’s nice to see you.
Kinda nervous, so I sip upon this brew,
But you have no clue what I’m about to do…
Take me back home in one of your whips,
Lick the liquor off your lips,
Pull down the ******* right quick…
To make unrequited love is the mission.
Show me what you can do with your intuition.
Oh, **** I think I’m going into remission.
Baby I ain't no mathematician,
But I think this expedition’s turning to a coalition.
Got you once so I’m gettin’ you again.
You knew you wanted this and then
The grey seat belts start to unfasten…
Your petitie coitus assassin
Let you touch the *** and…
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
Google defines detach as--
"disengage (something or part of something)
and remove it."
But Google could never tell me
how to detach myself
from the feelings that
consume me
and swallow me whole.
I'm not being irrational.
I'm not blowing things out of proportion.
I'm not overreacting.
I'm not being dramatic.
I'm not being hypersensitive.
Before pointing your fingers at me,
I want you to look at yourself.
Do you have empathy?
Do you realize these bad things can happen?
You may not say the words you speak
with the intent to hurt
but that is exactly what you're doing.
Stop ******* dancing around the problem,
like it's this fun thing to do.
Violation.
Tears shed.
Screams.
Hands on a body that isn't theirs.
Pain.
Blame where it doesn't belong.
This is reality
and you have no right
to decide how this story goes.
I ask you to step back
and think about the ways
in which you are impacting others.
If I can't detach myself,
neither can you.
******* talk.
Say words that mean something.
Speak the truth.
This is painful.
I refuse to let you pretend
as if it's not.
This is all I think about.
Unfasten, disconnect, separate, remove.
Pull off, free, disengage, loosen.
I wish I could.
I really do.
But there's nothing that can make this
go away.
I feel the walls closing in.
My breaths are shorter.
Tears.
I want to escape
but you can't escape
your own feelings,
your own pain.
It must be nice to
de
tach.
How lucky
you are.
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 4:36 PM UTC
clean lines cut shiny wet skin
cold menacing eel eyes meet
a jellybean nose child's sticky fingers,
calculating; deriving the smoothest way
to unfasten Oshkosh suspenders
in a sun-drenched park, with fierce
protectors, and the wrath of an angry God,
one that judges perverse men and protects
innocent children,
but God must be on vacation;
too quickly, aplomb aplenty,
he slithers past the slide where
a trio of blond ringlet drenched heads tantalize
when the boys hop and jump
their curls excitedly bob, mimicking the children's movements.
the man, he waits, tucked
in a leafy green pardah, a veil.
the sun crawls into the clouds;
thunder bellows in the distance,
and like a mercy, a tiny raindrop
hits his eyes, which he has closed
in respect of this jubilant miracle.
the mothers grab their own sticky handed babies
and run for drier places
and safer
though they only heed the rain
and not the man peering from the soaking foliage
flash of lightening.
darkness.
a scream.
silence.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC
I remember now,
Trying not to fall in love,
Fighting the emotional pull.
Just one of the best feelings ever,
It teases, taunts, torments, and plays,
With alluring, delightful sweetness.
Especially during the early hours,
Though not in a bad way, never that,
But in a self-serving pleasing way.
Having one latch onto certain tunes,
Replay those pleasurable moments,
Unfasten the catch releasing desire,
Indulging in salacious imagery,
Until eventually, we are grounded,
Or, we manage to escape, floating free.
Either way, the secret inner-resistance,
Is lovely to behold, making one smile,
Laugh unexpectedly, or consider deeply,
All within the space of a few heartbeats.
One becomes wholly consumed, yes,
Heart all~a~flutter, nerves jangling.
The telephone rings, bated breath,
Dry-mouth, such clammy hands,
A faint cracked whisper, ‘Hello?’
Only to be, just someone else.
The anticipation now running riot,
Unknowns spinning beyond control,
Imagination hot and fevered,
Created scenarios rise and fall,
Rise again, twist into, ‘what if?’
Before dissipating into hazy dreams.
And we know, yes, deep inside,
Once beyond the very early stages,
The truth is clear, should have seen,
Resistance is, quite useless, when,
Trying not to fall in love,
I remember now.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
Paint me naked with your pen.
Write me naked with your quill.
See me naked in your mind.
Open your eyes wide.
Rip my cloak from my shoulders.
Unbutton my crisp white linen blouse.
Open it wide.
Peel it back.
I'll turn around.
You may unfasten my fresh white bra.
I feel fresh too.
Remove my breast restraint.
Let it fall to the floor.
Run your fingers down my spine.
It's wholly sensitive.
Undo my jeans.
Gently slip them over my form.
Cautiously lay me on your bed.
We kiss with fire.
My ****** are black.
They're French in style
Now you see me near naked.
And then que sera sera!
(C) Livvi
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
Amidst the vast blue planet
Of what is sea and porous flesh
The ***** rides the current
At its hunger’s great expense
When restless waters compose
suppressing their distress
With frail mouth tethered closed
The swollen being is dismissed
Lusting for substance
Demure discarded for greed
Heart and hooded nudibranch
Unfasten their jaw to feed
Opaque moon for a mouth
Siphons water like blood
Rhythmic pulsing of valves
Gaping mouth left undone
As time judges persistence
Each beat echoes the ache
The ***** too ravenous
To hinder its weary gates
Then the surface cast light
To the starving and hollow
Who proceed to ignite
With the spark of each swallow
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
It seemed so much as no new and uncommon thing
that what passes on as only a disappearance,
is but a temporary postponement of something
long withheld in feelingfulness, in treason of one’s
desire or simply, a hand which is there, or kept in a pocket
scouring for loose change, a hand which, somewhere,
is known in accurate proprioception: refusing to be held;
I swim against the current not
for the water behind your river
that dreams of fish
I wake not underneath the bowl
of moon slated by sensorial howl,
whose wounds are white like
a face once held in between palms
and sleep almost endlessly, together
with everything that twitches, slewing
to avoid collision, alliterates to blur meaning,
sways fervently to addle meeting
until we let loose a sigh, and unfasten ourselves,
dropping pace and both our eyes meet.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
Yearning to say those words,
But not daring to enter those lingual waters.
Being entranced by the soft touch of
Lips to her own
Makes the once fear
Of expressing what is wanted
Vanish.
Except for these few words
Which remain trapped
Behind a closed jaw
And fingers which refuse to type.
The girl filled with stories
Becomes timid.
The girl who speaks of finding something real
Stops in the tracks of these words.
All in the name of losing.
Losing what she thinks is real.
Losing because of the release of what she has concealed.
Losing the thing she vanquishes sleep over.
Losing her realistic shot at happiness.
Losing the muse that sheds light
On her old soul.
Her soul is restless and dark,
Or so it seemed.
A hazy veil is lifted after years of cloaking
The true potential of an individual
That no one truly knew.
This unexpected unmasking
Came as a jolt,
Something electrifying.
It revived the girl's heart.
But still,
The girl sits waiting for a time
To unfasten her jaw and stretch her fingers
To reveal those words
Those horribly whimsical words.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 11:32 PM UTC
sometimes i decide to be brave
but in doing so, i put on a set of armor that covers this delicate body
no one can hurt me this way
no sword can pierce my skin
no word can break my bones
nothing at all will harm me
but . . .
what if . . .
one day i decided to be brave
and take off this metal illusion of safety
because there are times when bravery means being able to feel
even the pain
some days, it isn't holding yourself together, but shedding tears that takes the most courage
as i unfasten my breastplate and drop my shield
i think to myself
this is living:
not shielding yourself from feeling
this is healing
only by allowing yourself to break
Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 8:15 PM UTC
Grandad did keep a pig and chickens also a monkey which was either sat on his shoulder or up on the clothes rack which was set high up in the kitchen..sometimes we would unfasten the rope that tied the rack, and did that monkey chatter as it fell towards the kitchen table..happy days.
My Grandad kept in the back garden ,a big fat rosy coloured pig.
Not the one that did a jig
but another
which was certainly a smelly thing.
Granpa would bring it bits and bobs and the pig would grunt in its approval
until the day came for the pig's removal.
It ended up in 16 dinner bowls and on one big serving plate.
I have to say pig tasted great with apple sauce
But of course
I miss him all the same.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 4:08 AM UTC
When I was walking, my life dropped out of my pocket. It fell and it shattered. Pieces were scattered all over the ground, so I took a long while to find every one. When I’d thought I’d found every last one, I looked again, and again. I went to the store and I bought some glue. As I was gluing, a sharp piece of my life cut my little finger. My finger cried and it cried and my life cried with it, and the glue, once white, turned red.
I continued to glue, and eventually, I glued my life’s pieces into a ball. I looked it all over and then I discovered, I had forgotten a small shard on the table; where could it go? I have used all the spaces, and I like what my life has become. I held my life in one hand and held the shard in the other. I could not take my life apart again, unless I want to start over. So, with the small shard, I closed my hand, and threw it over my shoulder. ‘There, now it’s gone and I don’t have to worry.’ I thought.
I put my new life back in my pocket, and went on walking. I saw a nice man on the street across from mine and smiled. He smiled back and so we crossed paths and we talked and we laughed and we walked together. I started to think about how close we’d become, and how happy I was, and I decided that it was time. Out of my pocket I pulled, my mended red life. He smiled and told me ‘It’s lovely.’
He then pulled out his, which was ragged and worn. I lied, I said ‘I like it’ although I did not. We tried to hug, but we just didn't fit. Our lives kept getting in the way. He got angry and snatched them both up and threw them down on the ground. Once again, my life was shattered.
I picked every piece up and I cried big, wet tears, which dropped on the shards of my life. The wet pieces clung to the dirt, as they lay, and became smudged and filthy. It was hard to tell which were mine, but the ones I thought were his, I picked out and threw them far away. I pulled out my glue, and started again. When I was finished putting all the ***** pieces in place and I looked at the relics of my life; Sad, broken, mismatched and in peril.
I took my poor life, and I put it in a small box; it was dark, and it was tight on my life. People could not hurt it. People could not see it. I could not see it.
When I was out walking with my life, hidden away in it's box, I saw a nice girl. She smiled at me, and I smiled back and paused. ‘No, this won’t happen again.’ But the girl approached me, and she told me she liked me. I couldn't help but reciprocate; she was beautiful and sweet and I loved her. She pulled out her life and I turned away. ‘You don’t like it’ she said. Her eyes filled with tears and she began to sob. ‘No, I really do, please don’t cry’ I told her. ‘Mine has been broken so many times, I hid it away’. I pulled out the box and tried to unfasten it, but it would not open. I pulled and I pried but the box wouldn't budge. I became angry and I threw the box at the ground. The girl walked towards it and picked up the box full of my shattered life. She gently lifted the latch and looked inside at the shards. She smiled. She put her life inside with mine, and put the latch back down, and she dropped it. ‘What are you doing?!’ I asked, confused and disturbed.
‘I'm mixing our lives, and when we got home, we’ll mend our life together.’
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
Your eyes
unbutton every button
unzip every zipper
unfasten every clasp
and tear through my soul
like a ravaging bull
hungry for a meal.
I'm sorry,
but I'm not meant to be
devoured...
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
Briskly moving through brisk weather
Death under each step I take.
Time is up now, minds are turning
Fear and freeze about to break.
Polyester coverings buttoned tightly around her
Similar to feelings unable to unfasten.
Bound around her neck and made of fur,
Slide it off in a fit of passion.
Building up slowly during late autumn months,
Sadness and anxiety and desire.
Desire.
Desire.
Craving, itching, lusting for more;
Locked in an apartment and confined.
Books are my company and in them I explore
All of the worlds that have made my mind blind.
The girl with polyester coverings,
Hang up your coat.
It is time for a rediscovering
Of your very first note.
Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 1:24 PM UTC
Touch me hello
and
unfasten
Touch me goodbye
and
I
unfasten.
May 2, 2021
May 2, 2021 at 3:32 AM UTC
Unfasten every safely tight insecurity and crash into a wall of failure, to disguise that you're really not happy. Delusional glass shattered into ****** open skin a flooded mess of blood and confessional drama queens sin. Prepared daily to support our difficult decisions with karma tasted burdens. You're magazine religion makes me sick with all your false information.
And the papers say you committed ****** once again, addressing that you're accident from behind the fire. Let someone else take the blame of a narcisstic evocation, so you can continue this game. While they're all in the hospital defining they're face like yours all the same. So touch up that skin another ride is going to begin.
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 10:49 AM UTC