"unrefined" poems
On my skin I wear the bands of shielded sun.
Commitment to the heart makes this skin colour run.
With one liberal hand, I tear down these branches being hung,
to shower in yellowed leaf confetti.
These forest roots ran like hair line skull fractures,
under canopies blooming red from the sunlight rapture
and now these trees leave their taller brothers to fall as ashes,
with ivy on my ankles, stifling hope up to my chin.
Living memories, my forest sheltered, scrambled for home;
small pretty beasts, unrefined, breathing caricatures with bones.
Screaming they beg for attention, inattentive to this situation as a whole.
Our own view is all we can consider.
This house of cards built on paper-cuts, from the trees before.
I'm now growing wiser to my winter freeze and your summer thaw.
I need all of these things I hate about me, and they can never be ignored;
a psychological pre-disposition, the only one I can afford.
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 10:59 AM UTC
I stare into the half length,
double wide vanity that sits
poised in my two bathroom home.
It's reflection of me, naked and
unrefined, are often and unmistakingly
disappointing. But, no longer.
I will embrace my scars of battle. I
will soak in the curves and crevices
of the weight I carry with me.
Counting carbs and chasing carrots
with salad day after day were never
really even my style.
Health. Happiness. Heart. Those
are what matter. Cliche, yes. But true:
A number on a scale is nothing.
I clutch my sides and embrace the
mountains that ridge and peak
laterally on my canvas.
I embrace my full bust and curvy
thighs with earnest demeanor. I
am an image of me. Nearly 20.
No longer will I hold my head low
at a passing glance. I refuse to hide
in clothes too large to disguise my shape.
Beauty is who you are. It's not what
you look like according to the golden
ratios or whatever the hell "they" say.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
Sunshine!
Sickly yellow
slow-light colored streaks
slithering worse than sweat
down my body.
That golden ball stares down at me
like a haughty goddess,
her duality shallow and hot.
She cares not for the freedoms of humans.
She's a two-faced coin,
purgatory masked by the promise
of freedom from pained brains
and scholarly shackles.
The sun laughs at her own trickery, gargling through melting teeth
as she collects suppressed confessions
from weakened teens.
When her crescent counterpart
offers solace from her torment,
the moonlit darkness
only serves to drown us
and we splutter in our own
self-taught
year-round
lies.
And the sun
rears her tattered, flaming mane
at daybreak,
belly-laughing at idle minds now unrefined,
gleefully adding her own scorch
to already inflamed brains.
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 8:24 PM UTC
She builds a nest, builds a home
Out of twine and twigs and love
Day and night, dawn and gloam,
She works in trees above.
All to prepare for her offspring
To give them the chance to fly
Only the best for her children
These are the words to her cry
A fortnight her eyes are skinned
She is sentinel over her eggs
Come storm, gale, blustering wind
Her treasures safe under her legs
At last she meets her brood
Hungry and unrefined
She tirelessly gathers food
Their lives now intertwined
She kisses the food into their beaks
She cares for their every need
She answers their every screak
To love, to tend, to feed.
She watches them grow new feathers,
And reach out to the beckoning sky
They want to see other weathers
So she teaches them how to fly
They soar higher and higher
She watches from below
It makes her smile and smile
To see her babies go
As they climb and tumble
She makes sure to let them know
They are always welcome to return
To the home built long ago
The love she gave her young ones
Gave them the strength to fly
The strength to build their own nests
High up in the sky.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 7:09 PM UTC
From blossoms
released
by the moonlight,
from an
aroma of exasperated
love,
steeped in fragrance,
yellowness
drifted from the lemon tree,
and from its planetarium
lemons descended to the earth.
Tender yield!
The coasts,
the markets glowed
with light, with
unrefined gold;
we opened
two halves
of a miracle,
congealed acid
trickled
from the hemispheres
of a star,
the most intense liqueur
of nature,
unique, vivid,
concentrated,
born of the cool, fresh
lemon,
of its fragrant house,
its acid, secret symmetry.
Knives
sliced a small
cathedral
in the lemon,
the concealed apse, opened,
revealed acid stained glass,
drops
oozed topaz,
altars,
cool architecture.
So, when you hold
the hemisphere
of a cut lemon
above your plate,
you spill
a universe of gold,
a
yellow goblet
of miracles,
a fragrant ******
of the earth's breast,
a ray of light that was made fruit,
the minute fire of a planet.
6.8k
He came from a land unrefined;
Encompassed by violence, poverty yet possesses clarity of mind.
A mind built from Hardwork and Determination,
A soul inspired by Intrepidation
Freedom, Release and an infectious sense of inner Peace.
They met in a state of flux,
Going, coming, nothing left but to give it up,
So heart broken, she took his hand,
The adventure began on water but would end on land,
Meadows, Beaches, Visions left them speechless.
She saw a flash, a light;
Precautionary measures tested the capacity of his might.
Slow Down! She'd lost sight.
Tried to keep up but her heart said "Flight"!
Escape! Hide from the cruelty clawing from the inside.
Time was chasing, they had to keep up,
He left as she collapsed into the mouth of a half empty cup.
She gobbled up the cup with no thought of tomorrow.
"He is strong, he'll be fine," focus deflected from sorrow.
Regret, Remorse, shall Fate be trusted to run it's course?
Smiles and Mischief were all that could remain,
She slowly began to learn to becloud fruitless pain,
She's walked away from tough stains,
In memory of his arms where enthusiasm never wanes.
Growing, longer, when he returns she shall be stronger.
If Fate knows Love and Love is true,
Fate shall be entrusted to do what it do,
But Fate can be twisted, Fate can be cruel
And the little girl knew the twisted Power of Fate's Rule
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 7:37 AM UTC
Driving around this valley of sheets
When I see a IHOP and realize
that a sudden hunger has come over me
They say Come Hungry, Leave Happy, and
with one glance at your buns, perfectly made
I realize that I have been staring far too long.
Like Taco Bell, I should Think Outside The Bun
But as I pass a Burger King I begin to wonder
how many possible ways there really are
to Have It Your Way, and as I lay you down
I smile at the thought of how wonderful the taste
of each one of your Baskin Robbins 31 Flavors will be.
While I start to undress you I pause, hesitant
With your smile and slow rhythmic breaths
a song bursts into my head with a just one tip
as if I'm at Cold Stone, and I think, just Let Yourself Go.
"Where to start?" I ask as I glance up at Subway
and I am reminded that I should always Eat Fresh.
I should go in slow, but I dive right in like a bucket of KFC
The scent of you, so enticing. The taste, Finger Lickin' Good
I'll savor every moment, and by the subtle McDonald's arches
that your back resembles, I'm Lovin' It and so are you.
I grab a handful at ******* and realize that this poem
is Delightfully Tacky, Yet Unrefined. Nonetheless,
I can tell by the look in your eyes that you are ready
Asking the same question that they ask at Wendy's
Where's The Beef?
Mar 28, 2011
Mar 28, 2011 at 1:30 PM UTC
The rise of a new empire begins.
Worst of the known 'unrefined generation
full of pride and extortion
as the profecy comes to pass
worst of a generation beyond repair
the foundation is weak,
that it can't peak
where are our seniors?
to civilize the juniors
one of a generation
moved by the masses of the electronic gadgets
poor at reasoning but perfect at the gadgets
long hours glued at them
principles and ethics vanished into the thin air,
games,social media,pornography are the topic of the day
Give me a break,who's the saviour of this rotten generation?
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
I am Jupiter storms
Unabounded by time
Raging on
And eons
Can not hope to confine me
To unstable matter
And mass
Rearranging
My molecules morphing
To liquefied jewels
And my surface
A canvas
Of unrefined fuels
Like an abstract mosaic
Of swirling
Unfurling
Tempests of archaic
As constellations
And the ages I've waited
And slumbered and spun
Into memories
Faded
And taken the names of your gods
As my payment
Inflating my ego's
Mesmeric rotations
So quick to claim hearts
Of Europa's amidst
My seductive, enchanting
Illusory bliss
Venture into my centrifuge
Fumy abyss
I have pressed up my lips
Of a frigid, wet steel
And then sealed
With a kiss
What ‘nary
A planetary
Can resist
And as she revolves
Around me
And gives life
Io dances about me,
Callisto my wife
Ganymede my seed
And the rest of my progeny breed
Future needs
What the Earthlings will need
To make up for their greed
All will see
Look to me
In my enormity
As my reservoirs
Fill them
With infinity
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 3:44 AM UTC
I and I
We are alone
No man is here
For us to lean on
Perhaps it is time
For us to stand on our own
And so we've learnt
That solitude is bravery
But we are a fearful one
With a courageous soul
I and I
With our teary eyes
It is ok to cry
Yet let it not be a sign
Of our weakness for desire
And so we've discovered
Our two legs and two arms
One mind and one heart
One life and one start
I and I
We shall not be broken
By these words that are spoken
Or the party of four
And so from ignorance
We've risen
But by consciousness
We've fallen
I and I
Here, the coward cannot run
But must face crowd
Like a tiger above tame
Unrefined and without shame
And so they WILL learn
To call us by our name
With ease or with strain
But never in vain.
I and I
Be strong
Be brave
For society cannot tell you
Just how to be you.
And soon we will see
That we are destined to be free
Destined for oneness
Peace and harmony.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 5:16 AM UTC
I imagine my happy place,
I picture it in vignette taste.
Like looking through colored glass,
There's a sepia quality to its grasp.
Like wading through a dream,
There's a vagueness to its every gleam.
Everything's the same yet different here,
A constant familiarity hangs in the air.
The picture varies from time to time...
Always it would be a house of some kind;
The edges forever unrefined,
Be it a cabin, a mansion, a farmhouse or two or three
Every ***** nook and cranny this mind could carry
Always it would be somewhere remote;
By the sea, the countryside, by a cliff, or under trees,
Sometimes in an open clearing of endless green grass swaying in the breeze.
... Home.
Though every version varies,
One thing's for certain in this house of made-up stories.
Always, always, and always a thousand times more,
You'd be there standing by the door.
Now I never questioned this part somehow
Cause here's the truth of the matter in tow:
This place could be a garbage dump for all I care
But I'd still call it heaven so long as you're there.
And I find that it's the only thing that matters;
To have your figure carved into this place's corners
I'd gladly let this place take your shape
The smell of warm bread and books here you shall drape.
This landscape is treacherous and ever-changing.
But I know as long you're there in my dreaming,
These childish mock-ups of reality
Shall remain my favorite moments of clarity.
It is my piece of heaven on earth,
My secret happy place while I'm on this dirt.
Heaven don't have a name
But God forbid I find it fitting
That if it did, of course
It would be yours.
Jan 18, 2022
Jan 18, 2022 at 6:25 AM UTC
Ireland is riddled with
cancer.
Pesticides, herbicides,
fungicides-
Are obviously, not the
answer.
Dairygold® have got
it right. Surprisingly!
Organic pastureland,
green grass, happy cows!
"Golden Valleys,
Growing Naturally" ?
("Logo ™")
without the question
mark.
<>
In the event of Corporate
Punishment, IE, finding a
herd of hungry Friesians
in my front lawn, or my
next organic pizza happens
to be a Crispy Cow Pat with
lashings of Mozzarella, I am
hereby declaring that Silent
Spring lady, Rachel Carson,
was bumped off for making
metaphorical accusations, such
as could be interpreted by those
who are currently involved in
the depopulation process by
way of poisoning the people
via consumer products, that
are known to contain harmful
carcinogenic compounds veiled
by misleading advertising.
natural
adjective
1. her policy of using fresh, natural produce: unprocessed, organic, pure, wholesome, unrefined, pesticide-free, chemical-free, additive-free, unbleached, unmixed, real, plain, ****** crude, raw. ANTONYMS artificial, refined.
2. a natural occurrence: normal, ordinary, everyday, usual, regular, common, commonplace, typical, routine, standard, established, customary, accustomed, habitual, run-of-the-mill, stock, unexceptional. ANTONYMS abnormal, unnatural, exceptional.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 4:43 AM UTC
Chip away,
Piece by piece,
At the unrefined granite,
Erode each layer,
Define it further,
Find the perfect contours,
The creature within,
That lives and breathes,
But beneath a prison of rock,
And you hold the key,
A chisel,
Take it away,
Chunk by chunk,
Reveal the true form,
Let its eye see again,
Let its fingers reach for the sky,
Perfected,
Not created,
Reduced,
From rough stone,
To beauty.
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 11:04 AM UTC
I dipped a cup of water,
From the edge of endless sea.
Such ocean I will know as God,
While the cup resembles me.
Within the cup are particles,
Of substance undefined;
Yet sole in their uniqueness,
And clearly unrefined.
I’ll view such things as trials,
Or memories distilled;
That oft obscure such clarity,
In practice of my will.
The sand I’ll place this cup upon,
Shall be of life, surround;
Ever-changing with the wind,
Forms ripples on this ground.
Compressing cup into the soft,
Creates stability;
But grounded to such fickle sand,
Defers my destiny.
So lightly I will plant this cup,
On this shore and unafraid;
And welcome curious tidal reach,
With Spirit’s hand in wave.
The sun that rises, east to west,
Is incessant pass of time.
Intense or distant is its charm,
And never will be mine.
As it speeds its warmth and bright,
Across my vessel, waits;
Such heat will pare my still design,
And I’ll evaporate.
Yet, choice in my possession,
To choose a time, that when,
I’m left with only particles,
I may dip my cup again.
There’s comfort in the knowledge,
Of life upon this shore;
Where time may find me self-contained,
And needing nothing more.
Some winds deposit challenges,
For some I’m unprepared;
Appending my complexity,
To those I choose to share.
One day the sands will surely shift,
And toppled I will be;
Spilling freely, I’ll reach out,
Returning to the sea.
Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 9:44 AM UTC
A warm sensation fills my body
my heart race with every touch
the softness of your voice soothes
my soul
as i lay there hoping the moment
will never end
calling out for you
praying that you never let me go
the sensation so strong
i can no longer feel my body
slowly i fade in and out or reality
in an instant the warm sensation
fades away
my heart empty
my soul torn apart
lying there, wondering wete i went
wrong
calling out for you, only to find
there is no answer
my mind invades with thoughts
so cruel and unrefined
the sensation of fear of whats to come
slowly the reality over powering
the lust and fantasy
leaving me empty
confused on how to think or feel
the loneliness i feel
so wretched and compelled.
betrayal to myself
revealing the terrors of my love.
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 12:00 PM UTC
Nobody no longer contains the desire for unrefinity
The urge to tap into the void smacks of divinity
What exists in its place in the flesh market place
Are bartering skill sets and chocoalte puddings
When confronted by an invisible elephant
The people, in consensus, turn away
This happens within the day to day
The elephants march on, heedless vessels
Turbans floating downstreat, mainstream.
****** babble replaces conversation
Emblamatic gestures infiltrate the realm of the symbolic
The priests have all taken off their underwear
And the women are putting their brasiers
Back onto their chests, underneath their shirts
Blouses are burnt.
Toast is burnt.
Jams are being made by machines, horses do have dreams
Jelly and ice cream make delicate farts
Ghosts live in pipes and buy and sell art
People whose names are Horace or Rupert
Have been decommisioned
And the stories are locked in pie dishes
And the tale remains the same.
Remember, that future archeologists will exist.
Excavating sites will bring us all
To the kingdom of devon
In the beautiful future of documented tales
Which we are building for
Inside the spaceships.
When ponies are invalid and germs become common currency
Know that it will be time to fly your pillow cases as flags
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
.
Unknown
Unaware
Unrefined
Undefined
Unwanted
Unachieved
Unappreciated
Life is like a cash register, in the sense that change comes from within. The words above/below describe my outlook on myself (past/now). For me to fill the voids described above, certain adjustments had to be made. Notice how the words placed above can easily be changed by removing a specific letter or two.. change begins with “U”
Known
Aware
Refined
Defined
Wanted
Achieved
Appreciated
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 7:32 AM UTC
clutching at pebbles
thrown hard into sky as birds
bitter yolk of unceasing raindrop
ideals personified, then scattered in leaf
a coarse blending of the soul and what is
scream of forgotten swing alone in sunshine
a fear internalized, an unquenched song of watery despair and silence
pacing, pacing, toward and away from a melody that is
as intangible as balloons whispering to decaying stars
fading into nothingness, brief respite, void of sound, emptiness most
profoundly pierced with kaleidoscopic shards of senses and memory;
with music of blueberries, gleefully dropped
into tinny pails overflowing from wistfulness
with touch of unblossomed rosebuds admired,
unyielding like crabapples moist in calloused palms
with smell of tree, unrepentant and unchanging,
yet gnarled and longing, indistinct, uncertain
with taste of wind, speckled purity of truth elusive,
of realization categorized, of wispy but unrelenting passion
with the image of a hope
etched, recessed, scorned, repressed, grasped, suspended in song
the maybe’s and the why’s
the can’t’s and the shouldn’t’s
the have-to’s and the why’s
then slowly fingers defiantly uncurl from stone, in motion unrefined
and quietly, fervently; quietly, fervently, I begin to sing...
a mottled snapshot of my mind.
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 8:40 PM UTC
The lost causes never remember
moonlight matters
it's tapping at your window
Sounds of baby peddles and November
The looming causes fail to comprehend
loneliness lingers
It's ebbing at your elbows
The best of beer bottles and dead ends
The loose causes refuse to acknowledge
Ignorance ignites
It's gnawing as it follows
Daily articles and unrefined polish
The least causes lose sight in the daybreak
blossoms bittering
It will fade as hearts hollow
Graveyard backyards and bone aches
The lone causes acquiesce to uncertainty
pages punctured
It is freeing as it swallows
Sunsets red and abrupt against afternoon purity
The loaned causes shatter against the bribery
Coins cascading
It is a vision as she wallows
Lipstick Luscious and cultivating calvary
The last causes shall never translate
Sculptures scalloped
it is swallowing in shallows
Hoarded hearts and breakup dates
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 11:10 PM UTC
An unlit cigarette
Burns
Breathlessly
Inhaling
High
On a low
Between the lines
Waiting
Patiently
For nothing
Watching death
With life filled eyes
A caged
Free spirit
Haunting the haunted
Listening
To silence
In a loud room
While speachlessly
Conversing
Of unrefined
Technique
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
I enjoy the perpetual blanket of unrefined cotton clouds snug tight against the night turned day, grey and unrelenting.
*There is a thin film layer then
in between ~
Me. Myself. & Eye.*
If I blink real hard and purposeful, I'm sure it would all dissipate....
Pin-popped balloons always do....
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
I am struggling to get the words out
They are starting to feel empty, and forced
Poetry shouldn't be like that.
Poetry should be as natural as breathing
As flowing as air currents
It should pour out with power, with purpose
Unrefined, but beautiful
Not in spite of it, but because of it.
And that is getting difficult to do.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 6:53 AM UTC
Unrefined,raw
Real
beautiful.
She was crude.
Plastered up,size 0
'Unreal'
'Beautiful'
She was perfect.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC