"unscratched" poems
If I told anyone I was ***** they wouldn’t believe me
I live in a world that preaches against hypothetical violence but when that **** comes into your life, everyone pushes it away.
I remember, no I don’t remember, I can barely remember his name.
I think it started with a “C”.
I think he was from Minnesota.
I think we were on a sixteen hour flight.
I think he smiled at me.
I think I smiled back, because why the **** wouldn’t I.
I think he took that as a green light.
I think I shut my eyes to try and sleep.
I think he took that as a green light.
I am fifteen.
I think too little of his advances and trust society enough for me to rest.
I know that was a mistake.
I know I woke up to a blanket around me that wasn’t there before.
I know I woke up to his palm pressed in my pants.
I know I woke up screaming.
I know I couldn’t open my mouth.
I know I was screaming.
I know my mother was on that same plane three rows back.
I was fifteen.
I told my friends and they never believed me.
I haven’t told a soul since.
Why did he walk away from that unscratched while I have been carrying it around like a dead animal for three years?
Why do men think they can own what they can see?
Let me tell you what I can see:
Five people who asked me why I didn’t fight back.
Four people that were sitting around me and claimed to see him putting the cover on me, yet did nothing.
Three of his friends I saw later on the trip who praised him for what he accomplished upon seeing what I looked like.
Two eyes in the mirror that cry almost everyday.
And one crack in that same mirror that will never go away.
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC
I cannot say I don't miss you
in hushed tones of violet
I cannot say I don't miss your
rapid hands that wrapped
around my fragile neck
I cannot say I don't miss
Your yellow mark bruises
That washed against my skin
I cannot say I don't miss the
violence that escaped your mouth
and found your way to your fists
that brushed against my skin
on my legs, on my arms
on my face it found its place
Everywhere on my fragile body
that consisted of the words
“she belongs to me”
I do not miss the hits that
found their way to my once
Unscratched face
but somehow, I let you into
my fragile life and you made
a bruise out of me
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 3:06 PM UTC
The fingernails of my brain brim
Horizons of grime. Can’t seem to keep them paws
Out of the dirt.
And the dirt lives on the ground, so its head is always
Down.
And it claws like a dog spraying a groove under a fence
After he’s picked up in the scent what it would be like
To roll in the other grass, which is the same grass, but it’s
Across the pickets.
It’s the uncovering, and it’s dead awfully hard.
For instance…
Thinking I must scratch sound to hear sound.
Not knowing, like this, of course there’d be only
That scratch-scr-scratch-scr-scratch-scr-scratch…
Around me like hellrats…
For instance, hurling my eyes at vision, only
That they should slam against something like stonewall.
(And the crash, unscratched, unheard.)
Imagine how gravity would throw your skeleton
(Nest of forest twigs-become-tooth-pick birdcage)
Ten, twenty thirty stories
Meeting earth’s immovable bone—
That cold you’d feel crack your headrock—
That concrete is my vision.
Yes, finish off the senses, finish off the lines.
If you put your life here, in this poem’s lonely glass,
It will take its shape.
For isn’t that the oldest metaphor? Life—water?
Yes, water with yourself these lines.
My brain needs to rinse me clean from its hands.
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 11:39 PM UTC
Walked to the lake nobody around
Watery clear mirrored no sound
Fish made their move taken by surprise
Divine Love entered the clearing in disguise
Appeared from nowhere crossed time bridged space
How did Love know where to find this place
Knew from the start Love wanted her heart
To make her stay from far away
Destined to meet had no idea why
Kind hopeful passionate romantic guy
Foliage reflection silent forest clime
A window a portal a wormhole in time
Peeked through the veil past the Divide
Clandestine link to the other side
A kiss a chain two souls linked together
A golden moment personified forever
To a river where the crowds gather
Followed invited welcomed her there
Visualized materialized the crack sublime
The crowd parted for her proof paradigm
Her mission veiled her purpose oblivious
Death lurked undetectable ubiquitous
Invisible Denizen of Fear
Behind in front at her side always near
Waited for a mistake hoped for a lie
A justified excuse to take her life
Stalked her everywhere dragged her around
Wondered when to take her down under
The ledge behind the edge set up high
Nowhere to hide Death always close by
Steeled herself gathered her strength
Lethal Weapon disarmed; Exigent Innocent
Luminous Numinis shielded on all sides
Taken to dark regions unknown unseen by eyes
Brainwashed cornered Captive memory gone
Stood her ground as Death stared her down
Lured to the river hard cold fast water slid past
“How Can I .... You, I Love You”, Death asked
Brutalized left for dead her sentence repealed
Death needed permission the plan revealed
Passed back through the portal unscratched
Delivered home safe to Divine Love at last
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC
And I wish you would know that
I know how you feel.
How I know what you've been through.
And how I've been through it
Too.
Because then we might talk,
Shattering unscratched glass with the first sentence,
"What did you get for Number Seven?"
You would say, "Negative eleven, just factor..."
Maybe one day you'd text me and
Ask what the homework was
Because our teacher didn't tell you
From when you were sick.
And eventually, after tons of small talk,
After "How's the weather?"
Got old,
I could finally tell you
That I know.
I'd tell you that
I'm here, not the fake kind of here,
Which sounds like,
"I-know-and-I'm-here-and-you-can-talk-to-me-goodbye-forever."
Not like that.
But the kind of here
That asks what ****** about your day,
And sends you links to cat videos,
And the kind of here
That texts you at two in the morning
And asks if you're alright
And doesn't take yes for an answer.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
This girl plays with her doll alone. This room so cold, so faulted with the smell of coal. She lays between the chalk to bring them closer. Even I can't even tell if this girl whole. Half of her looks like smoke, disappearing playing hop-scotch on her toes. She doesn't want to leave this place, like a ghost finding its home.
Trying hard to not feel anything absent, she setups dinner plates and candles lights, and prays. Yet her voice has no effect because it to is gone, lost with her soul. Picture frames of a happy family, now torn and burnt from their home. The walls ripped away, and doors that locked up dismay. And the girl still prays, for something to replace the hole. To go back and not burn alone.
The air gets heavier, when i go downstairs to find the girl dead far from their hands to hold. She protected her doll like it was her own. Unscratched from head to toe. Taking it feels like stealing, from a mother's womb. And yet i think will everyone eventually find their way back home. Or does every child lose it's way finding it's own. This girl plays with her doll all alone.
Apr 2, 2011
Apr 2, 2011 at 2:06 PM UTC
On the hunt for love
i nearly died
i became precious prey
to violent predators
with my body
they had their way.
I slipped
through the grips
of fierce savages
but I did not escape
their attacks unscratched
burdens and battle wounds
now cover my back.
Still, I wiped my tears
and nurtured my burns
from the wild fire I grew
hard lessons i learned
back then I had faith
but unbelief happenened
and hate became my fate.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
We never talk
About the day the movers came and filled two trucks with our things
How in a matter of hours they took 13 years-
3 floors, 4 bedrooms, 5 baths, fully furnished attic-
13 years of kids playing
Where I went through 4 schools
Broke the window
Learned to drive
We never talk
About the day we sat on the radiator in the dining room and saw clear across the house
You were crying
And I put on a brave face to comfort you-
How you walked out the red front door and didn’t look back
Well I looked back
I went to our old house
I saw how they painted my dining room red
How they tore up all the carpet
The living room, now orange
The new kitchen complete with see through doors on the refrigerator
How you think that ridding the walls of old wallpaper
And putting up a coat of paint-
Will silence those walls from disclosing other people’s secrets
That a new carpet and new countertops will make this new place yours
Then you invite your friends to come marvel at the new place
The new royal blue carpet
The choice of paint color
The new countertops, unscratched, unstained, unscathed
And you tell them you don’t miss the old house at all
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
Written to my girlfriend, after a single rose I had given her managed to stay alive and flower long after it was supposed to die
Our lives differ no less than from a flower
What keeps us apart is it’s destined power
A power that starts its life as a seed
Seeking the light and the love it will need
Ambitiously growing with hopes to one-day find
A reason for living, leaving inevitability behind
For a flower is subjected to a cycle of life
Experiencing the inevitables of love, death and strife.
Some flowers have a will power of their own
To stall their cycle, having death remain unknown
For when that flowers see’s something that it likes
It will hold out for longer, no matter what strikes
Like being brought into love, a flower holds out longer
To see the relationship grow, and get even stronger
Watching two people connect, with no strings attached
Seeing true love unfold, remaining unscratched
Satisfied it holds out, even through the death of it’s flower
Pushing itself to stay alive, even if for an hour
For it has hope for someone, so it must reply
By showing us beauty in something, will never die
Using it’s last bit of strength, to be optimistic
It starts to grow again, as if it were mystic
Leaving two lovers to be astounded by this miracle
They put aside their differences, until they are wrinkled
These flowers of course are brought to us by fate
To show us beauty in our love, before it’s too late
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC
Ambiguous sky so full of color:
Your rosy complexion mocks my pain,
Driving along a winding serrated edge,
waiting upon the precipice of disdain.
Disdain for all the wrong reasons,
dulled by the sense of an ache,
Riddled with unspoken treason,
wanting it all to change.
The seasons predictable in essence,
as is our merry-go-round,
With a circle change is impalpable,
It just ends where it begins,
In essence.
Fate thought a pliable substance,
no longer can be changed,
A hardened shell of circumstance,
a vivid truth guarding the way.
Though I can change my path,
the road to you is closed,
I cannot travel down it once more,
to be enveloped in your throes.
I cannot end this rhyme,
without saying something rash,
so I will end it here,
with an itch that will go unscratched.
Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 8:40 PM UTC
how can i ever hate you
i was created to love you
(seems like i’m the one who loves more)
how can they say
i’m getting someone better than you
i’ve loved you for the rest of my life
and no one can ever replace you
(don’t know how i’ll ever heal this wound)
you were my reason to live
everything, me becoming a king
all was so i can come back to you
come back to you safely
(unscratched even if you scream at me)
and i want to slam everything to the floor
so i wouldn’t be the broken one alone
be it glass, crystal, or diamond
(all i want is you love)
tell me how to live like you’ve never been my home
because i endlessly miss you
reset my head like you’ve never existed
because i survived without you
Aug 13, 2024
Aug 13, 2024 at 11:43 AM UTC
I remember well his spirit
on that warm September day.
Al Quaida had attacked us,
Tom enlisted right away.
In Operation Phantom Fury,
near deaf from the cannons roar,
He manned a Marine battery
in November of 04'
He was present when Fallujah fell
proud of his unit's aim.
Then he saw his best friend die
After that, his letters changed.
He came unscratched through tours of duty
both there and in Afghanistan.
He was strangely quiet when back home
like he was a different man.
At night we would be awakened
by his screaming in his sleep.
He was haunted by experiences
of which he wouldn't speak.
The V.A. couldn't help him
escape the horror of the war.
Wounds so deep opened in sleep,
unbound, unsalved,and raw.
I thank you for the folded flag,
The honors of the field.
We lost Tom several years ago,
only now is it revealed.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 7:35 PM UTC
Last night I discovered of how little you think of yourself
How you battle insecurity and feel like less of a human being
How you look in the mirror and do not see perfection
You count the calories you intake instead of the constellations in your eyes
You see an empty soul instead of the alluring prize
And what you don’t understand is I think
You are so beautiful, I wouldn't recognize you among the stars
You are so beautiful, that flowers must be jealous
You are so beautiful, the oceans are envious of the depth of blue in your eyes
You are so blind to not see your charm and grace
And it tears me apart because I look at you and see a diamond
Unscratched, untouched, perfect
Yet all you see is a pebble
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 10:20 AM UTC
~
Dishevelled he stood, unable to speak,
from years of abuse in youthful upkeep
the years of admonishment had taken their toll
reduced to obsequious, lugubrious soul
the once-happy boy, unable to opine,
or quip in humour, save garble and whine,
decades would pass before he'd undo
and jettison the harm taken years to accrue
now he stood dumb, bewildered and slow,
top ziggurat of abuse, debilitating blow,
still, gentle flower, a gem unscratched,
as new-borne babe, chick freshly hatched
unprimed, unready, for onslaught of world,
the cruel schadenfreude, the evil unfurled,
the juggernaut of malevolence, of intemperate hurt
that would crush gentle flower, dissolve into dirt.
Feb 8, 2022
Feb 8, 2022 at 5:21 AM UTC
the light, its every unsteady flicker
every unfolding beam — it's all just a farce;
at least over there,
in the shadows,
i cannot tell which areas of my skin
are cursed and befouled
and which remain untouched by the blade,
unscratched by my nails;
i cannot read the lines;
written whilst sad and lost,
drunk and sober.
all the wounds,
all the carcasses,
all the living and breathing parts,
all the hints of a vague gestalt —
now all fading,
now all unseen,
now all and entirely swallowed by the darkness.
and in the shadows, i have become finally whole.
Nov 13, 2019
Nov 13, 2019 at 7:19 AM UTC
The tell me to go out, but I haven't gone off yet, can't bluff but be sure that I will bet. I bet you don't know why I keep going, keep trying, I'm not lying some times it's hard for me to keep on trying. Sighing, looking back while moving forward, I want to be brave, for I hate being a coward. As awkward and random as Howard the duck, running over the rap game like I'm a monster truck. I don't believe in luck, no karma here either, I reference it but take it like a grain of salt, I may have said it because the other night I drank too much liquor. Classy J is here to stay, I will be here until I believe that society is no longer grey. I'm different, setting standards, underdog, native born man I don't care if it takes me forever to become relevant. I used to be just like the revenant a story that claims is true but so much of it was fake, I can't change myself because life isn't that great, and it certainly isn't sweet as cake. At this rate, you might think I just have given up, because I have realized that no matter what I do it is never enough, but ****** be me for not giving up. Heart used to be black, but it a good thing I found some white out, negativity has it's place but it was time for me to get out. I do know that reality and negativity sometimes intertwine with each other, but it's good to keep positive so that you can help others. Middle ground, mental health is sound, what used to be lost can always be remade or found. Twists and turns, gone through flames and came out unscratched or burned. I learned to chill and mature, I used to be diseased by the curse of the world but now I'm cured. Caught up in between, learning what this world means to me, trying to help others see. I thought I was deranged, as people only looked and treated me like I was strange, but I am me, never going to be like everyone else, you will never drain my hp gauge. Interlude's and new beginnings, I now am half way there, revolving doors, some days it may be stormy but I look forward to the days that are clear.
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 10:14 AM UTC
Jaw dropping was the sight that came before the tide.
On a river that flows with a brush of dandelions right beside.
Marching down from the distance in a long and winding path.
A curious beholder emerging from a well shrouded shaft.
Resting his feet while holding a scripture on his lap.
And with a tree that he found in the open field.
Beneath its shadows and the shade it wields.
Reading a lovely story while he holds its scroll.
Off he went and his imaginative mind goes for a stroll.
Jacked into the realm of novel and the world of fiction.
Entangled to a different space and reality of conviction.
Nested as a bird in a perfect ly written conclusion.
And was deeply submerged in an endless fictional delusion.
Blown by every word in structure.
Admiring the rythmic strings of a vocabulary that seemed different in its own feature.
Yearning to attain the same prowess and skill.
Oddly thinking of words within the thoughts that makes him still.
Trapped in his mentality is a knowledge still unscratched.
A wee bit more of hidden capacity that is still unhatched
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 9:35 PM UTC