"untampered" poems
Pretty boy, singing your pretty words:
pouring liquid symphonies into my ear,
knowing exactly what I want to hear.
Stolen words, from a romance guide;
pried from the heart of your previous lover,
and some two, three, four or maybe five girls other.
Cooing sweet nothings in your honey voice.
It is not enough, a mating ritual parade,
because I’ve been there before and I know your charade.
Don’t you understand? - what you did to me.
Demon possessed or a facade dropped,
the memory: the pain, the anxiety, the shock.
What you want is untouched, an untampered babe.
Yet again, you devote your concert to me,
but I don’t want it and you don’t really want me.
I am stitched back together, corrupt by your hand.
Your photocopied scars adjourn my skin,
but the ink seeped deeper, obscuring your sin.
And you’ll never understand, what you did to me:
because you’re still a pretty boy, with your pretty words
and I'll deal with the trauma, my story unheard.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 9:22 PM UTC
What, tell me,
is this lead in my brain?
When was it placed there?
Why have I abstained
from those nonsensical stories
I wrote as a kid?
Little mind unscathed,
silly thoughts untampered with.
I was such a quick thinker,
the reel never quit
What happened to the cheeky me
full of bravery and wit?
Now this heart's always pounding,
mind full of wanton dread
I suppose I'll start by peeling
Let's say off with my head!
Layer by layer
hold fast in its stead
One thought at a time now,
'til I'm back from the dead
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 8:42 PM UTC
Hey there (if you're there at all),
I sincerely hope all is well.
Guess you're really swamped with work,
honestly no need to explain, I could just tell.
See the thing is... the thing is, there is actually a thing.
Something has come up.
It's quite hard to explain cause I don't yet know what we are,
so if we are kind of a 'thing', then I want to breakup.
You don't write to me any more
and I really miss those emails
witty comments, sarcasm and ******** banter
strung together with immaculate grammar and ample clichés.
You seem to have forgotten that I didn't fall for you back then
and very little had changed since.
So three years later when you contacted me out of the blue
I was hardly convinced.
As a preplanned holiday got in our way
placing you 5 hours behind and 5000 miles apart
it was that daily email exchange over a month
which gave whatever it is we have now, its start
not calls, not facebook nor skype,
just words, simple phrases and our ability to type.
Essence of your raw personality seeped through
enticing me to a very pure, untampered version of you.
Since I returned, since we met, things haven't been the same.
Are you trying to gain the upper hand of this game?
Because, I wasn't even aware we were playing,
so technically neither can win, such a shame.
I appreciate your intellect, ambition, success
and middle class upbringing,
those random gestures of affection
and passionate **********
I understand your commitments
and the hierarchy of your priority que
But just because I get it
doesn't mean I'll agree to put up with them too.
It's true, my future is rather blurry
but that's a different thing.
I might be chronically needy
but I'm not asking you for a ring.
I do however fancy flowers
and would really like to go dancing
a daily doze of 'you're thinking of me'
topped with very large amounts of cuddling.
If all I wanted was to get laid,
there was plenty of opportunity to be swayed.
Time to end this hand has come a little too late
with a Royal Flush in Spades.
I will miss those endearing emails,
and the 12th floor of your office with its magnificent view.
I will miss the idea of having a man in my life,
but I won't so much miss you.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
she opens her soft arms
The glowing light
Shown to the world
A frail shell
Open at last
As she reveals
Her smallest secrets
Allowing her sweet beauty
To flow through
Untampered with
By her beautiful protective arms
She is natures greatest beauty
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
I fight for all those little girls in their tiny dresses
To be able to play outside, jump into that puddle of mud, and just love their lives, without being told that they're not ladylike
I fight for all those little boys who cry and aren't conforted, because "real men don't cry".
I want them to express their feelings, instead of becoming convinced that violence should be their only outlet.
I fight for all those little people who look at their bodies, and find they don't match the images in their heads, and automatically think "abnormal"
I want them to see their own beauty
I fight for all those women who are ***** without mercy and silenced when they dare speak up.
I want their strength acknowledged and respected.
I want their abusers destroyed.
I fight for all the people who are taught their bodies are shameful, and not worth celebrating.
I want them to be proud instead.
I fight for all those infants who are opperated on without their consent, in hopes of being made "normal", even at the cost of their health.
I want them to be left untampered with.
I fight for all the people who do not fit into the tiny little boxes society, and are deemed unworthy.
I want them to be celebrated.
You call me an angry feminist, hoping I would find it insulting.
Instead, I thank you. Because fighting for people is what feminism is all about.
If you saw that fighter in me, I can only be proud. It means I am not wasting my time here, like you are.
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 6:00 AM UTC
Undiscovered
Unconquered
and untampered with
Pure as the snow on the highest caps
No worries
no drama
no situation
no problems that she can call her own
Ducking and dodging the vultures
that can smell her innocence
Wanting to be the first to claim
She moves on knowing her worth
and will not settle for less
They yell after her with no respect
but she does not mind she don't have the time
or patience for such vulgarity
Now 18 with her virtue safe and sound
She has things to do
life to conquer
Out on her own a sheltered child
she face the big world with dreams and ambition
Not knowing about the wolves in sheep clothing
that she will meet along the way
She meet a man who befriended her
made her feel safe in this crazy world
Took her in, in a city where she knew no one
Took care of her bought her everything
she ever needed or wanted
Her whole life was this man
her savior in her eyes, the love of her life
She made a decision to giver her one true gift to him
and that was her virginity
The day of the gift giving she set everything up
so it would be special
Told him that she had a surprise for him
but what she didn't know he had a surprise waiting for her
It started off as planned but then his whole demeanor altered
to a man she didn't know
He got rough with her
Hitting and chocking her
Before she knew it 3 men appeared
before her like they were on stand by
A night she would always remember
they ravashed and spoiled her
used her like a wet rag
A night of pain and humiliation
With film to capture this horrible moment
The man she loved and believed in
turned out to be a snake/a monster
He started controlling her every move
said she had to pay him back
for everything he ever did for her
He tricked her out to hundreds of men
Threatened to **** her if she ever left
With no hope for a better life
She turned to drugs to dull the pain and anguish
Now an abused prositute crack *****
Abused in every form she thinks the only way out
is in the form of death
After 4 years of heartache and misery she finally had enough
She made the decision to give the last special gift, her life
The day of the gift giving she set everything up so it would be special
She wrote her last words and went to sleep
He found her the next morning in the tub surrounded by burnt down candles
Od'd on her drug of choice
with both wrist slit
She wanted to be sure
He read her final goodbyes
With her life in his hands the monster spiraled out of controlled
it haunted him til he couldnt take it no more
and ended his torment in a cloud of gunsmoke
QNA
Jul 11, 2011
Jul 11, 2011 at 11:05 AM UTC
Ever untouched by prying eyes
Your incandescence knows no price
No quantity of gold could wager
Your glimmering translucency
For beauty sits through frosted glass
It knows no mirror image
In sunny spells it lights the way
Just possible to distinguish
At night it sits upon the lake
Which ruminates inside your head
To change you but remain unchanged
To glow when couples wed
You are the anthropomorphism
Of waves on a summers day
You are the moment two opposing
Paths conjoin in harmony
In the instance your cover’s blown
Your reflection sits untampered
For that instant your delicate soul
Lies naked, conserved, unhampered
For all of this I sit in awe
As viscous silver streams
Carve channels at your feet
Ejecting precious molten metals
Which ignite with scorching heat
I find the strength to sit up
Then rise up onto my knees
Put out your hand and pull me up
I feel so deeply of your beauty
I cannot help but smile
When I think of your gift to me
It strikes me that time has passed
Since the sun shone to illuminate
Just how grateful I am to have an
Opposing path through frosted glass
A flower to my unkempt leaves.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 9:00 AM UTC
some people see through the guises of death and birth and see the emotional void created
( in )
motherless mother absence.
i feel when i walk-
in death i walk safe -
in life, i like talking walks
curious of realms beyond time and space
each universe person a beat of drum , a snare, a snake an elephant
a human
sometimes --
i feel the revolutions swing in motion and leave all past notions in the bin just
to search through them to feel again,
sometimes the pain is a mess and i kinda like it
( but i don't ) i grow from it and it feeds me
lyrically
emotional backlog untampered.
kept from childhood stance
to womanhood chartered flights.
to smoke signal nights of cinnamon daytime incense and reveling in universal flows with a jaded partner in 'crime'
my friends feel the intangible lines
i am glad i walk this path with friends
sometimes
i just feel that we are not working together
as a whole
as a fluid aspect of nature
through the perspex glass of freedom
the free doom
promised -
there lies beyond
fields of wild flowers and untainted mountain spring of green water flows
carving streams of minds flow onto blank screen filled
in the darkest crevice of my mind
i find
hope.
in people.
i find faith in humanity again. and again,
in myself
if i can,
you can,
if you can,
anyone can,
what can we do? now that is a question i'd like to ask.
what can we afford to do? what can we afford to not do?
(a smile is free)
riddle me this, humor me if you will ...
what can we do?
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
I don't know if you ever are awake
late enough to hear it:
the world before it opens it eyes.
If you are able to catch the yawning
echoes of the crickets from
the windowsill where you listen.
There, it is serenity laying in wait.
The silence of nature is never
truly silent.
It hums with the burn
of the not yet risen sun,
shy behind her clouded vision.
I don't know if you ever are awake
late enough to taste it:
the world before it opens its mouth.
Before the morning showers.
That delicate smell, just before rain.
That scent of grass alive in the
shimmer of the morning dew,
alight with the purity of creation.
I don't know if you have
ever witnessed these things.
This beautiful magnificence
creeping in before the
alarm clocks.
I don't believe so,
or else there might be
understanding between us.
That sound of morning.
That smell of rain.
The taste and touch
and sight of a world
we don't know, in the
moment untampered by
the one that we do.
Burn it all.
To allow me sleep one more
morning with your hair
careless on my cheek
and the covers handily
in your possession
as I wrap my arm
around you,
burn it all.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
Who and What decides the worth of a Woman?
The clothes she wears?
The oaths she swears?
The roles she bears?
The circumstances she dares?
The lipstick she adores?
The men she abhors?
The challenges she faces?
The life goals she aces?
The things she's bid adieu?
Her untampered list of rue?
Me or You?
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 5:54 AM UTC
Come and go
Seasons barely touching as autumn transitions to winter
The passers by see devastation unbeknown to theirselves
A storm of leaves in auburn hues constantly plummeting towards the ground in every which way possible
All a gorgeous streaky blur as they advance through the graveyard of the world
Leaving every grave untouched as they float past
It's all noticed by the passerby
Perceived through crystal clear glass
Every single stark detail untouched and untampered
Seen as it is
On they watch
They won't admit but relief, gratefulness flood their beings
As they glide by
Feet above the marshy ground, soggy and trodden
They are not yet ravaged by life's cruel twists
Free from the plooms of smoke and swirls of mist
Judgment unclouded by the murky emotions of the graveyard
On and on they advance
Torturous sights behold their eyes
Past souls tormented by the weight of fate
Lives consumed by its deviating path
A gloomy and crooked path indeed
For the passerby: some knowledge
Make the most of your lucid journey
And when it shall end do not lose yourself among graves
For those tortured souls: continue as passers by
Do not bury yourself with your grief for it shall drag you to the depths
And it does not let go
Such is the fate of this life
But ultimately it falls upon you
KG
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
I envy your poise
your solidarity
an untampered grace
of which I could not know
I imagine one day
I too
can keep the words from spilling
trickling from my throat
down the corners of an upturned mouth
I dream that I may keep focus
a clear and narrow vision
until then
I muddle through a landfill
of memory I keep
for old time sake, for god knows why
I tend to make sharp breaks
in word and action
for no apparent reason
except that logic is not my forte
I've given in
to irrational
insanity gave me a voice
and I will not soon
make myself a mute
all for a chance
at normalcy
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
Too late he whispered underneath the chill of the night
Too late
Too late
Too late
Too late I've been walking these back alleys
These ***** garbage soaked streets
Too late we are to see the charge that these magic men
Have been working long hours
With their magical hands
Too late are the eyes to open holding visions
To seriously
Too late
Too late
Too late
Too late are the hours that will float away like fire
Too late are the minutes whose sparks used to inspire
Mechanically pushing these buttons to the bottom
Of a withering crystal lake
Eternity breathes its left breath
As we think we are living
But instead
Are dying
And the clown man touches the surface
Of a glade that has not yet awakened
Telling faces who pass him by
To not be afraid when mistaken
These are the worries of human kind with a mind
Untampered, unknown, a permanent throne
Where high art lights itself on fire
To warm the people cold in the mire
As of late though
I see the naked hand of misery wiping everything clean
With all these people shouting loud and proud
With smiles that reflect nothing at all
Reflect the majestic solidarity and princely wink
Towards the bar room drunk
That we are the circumstances of a mistake
So take no advice
When a whine whistles "Don't wait in hate"
For it is
Too late
Too late
Too late
May 3, 2011
May 3, 2011 at 4:39 PM UTC
They look at me
And they see a blank face.
They see a mind like a blank slate
Ready to be written on
In permanent marker.
They don’t see someone else’s writing
Already there
In perfect cursive script.
You see, people don’t talk to me.
Whether its because my lips
Are normally sewn shut with my own heartstrings
Or because when I talk its a jumbled mess
Of nonsense about aliens and feminist politics
I don’t know.
You see, I think a lot.
I am chock full of socialist propaganda
And love songs about front teeth.
Arrow heads of conversation starters that
Never make it past my lips.
Memory disks with scratches that distort the image.
Sock drawers overflowing with symbolic syllables and similes.
I think about the fist sized holes in living room walls
And the love notes hidden inside.
The songs sung in lieu of apology.
I think about my teeth cracking on
The dentist’s wedding ring.
The opening and closing of the storm door and my mother
Saying “good god we need to get that thing fixed”.
Fainting in the shower.
The angry purple bruise that blossomed
Like jasmine on my arm the next day.
I think about my bones
Cracking like wooden wind chimes slamming together.
Wishbone hearts being snapped in two.
Eating nothing but salt and razor blades.
Stomach acid tearing through everything and anything.
The alleys between my teeth.
The hornets locked inside my mouth
Stinging my gums.
I think about Allen Ginsberg tasting his first sin,
Sylvia Plath kissing her children’s foreheads,
And Maya Angelou speaking again.
I think about Anne Sexton
Tipping the bottle back
And Frida Kahlo falling in love with herself.
I think about the poems being
Forced fed to me and
I don’t mind at all.
You see I think a lot.
Questions like wasps swarming, swarming, swarming
Around my skull like a hive.
You see this is unexpected.
A mute girl isn’t supposed to think so much.
A mute girl is supposed to listen
What will happen to me if I don’t listen?
Another question to add to the list.
You see I am not a blank slate.
I am a tattoo parlor wall
And a message board.
An online forum.
A dream journal washing up on a Jersey shore beach.
You see I am not clay.
I’m not even marble.
I am art in its purest form.
Untampered and untouched.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
They all said they had seen none
The owner vouched he had it on bed
But in the morning the mobile phone was gone
Who could steal it troubled the four heads.
The four mates in the house had their alibis
They slept sound after late night chore
One can’t expect them to be up by sunrise
The question is who opened the door.
Only one boy said he was out for a walk
But he locked from outside before exit
He affirmed he found untampered the lock
Everything was as it was when he left it.
Another boy’s story gave a vague impression
Earl morn he sensed someone was there
But before soon he vanished in thin air
He wasn’t sure if it was an apparition.
The remaining one he needed no alibi at all
They knew he would sleep without cessation
In his state of slumber would be nothing to recall
One could safely keep him out of suspicion.
The last one left was the owner of the phone
Of course he wouldn’t steal from himself
But fact was in his room he lay alone
Could remove it without any help!
He didn't appear much let down by the theft
Said somebody might have sneaked in
After the first boy for a walk had left
The apparition the other had seen.
To this day the case has not been solved
Among the suspects can count all the three
Each one had alibi but none could be absolved
The missing mobile remained a mystery.
The three still talk about the fourth guy
The owner of the missing mobile
For that same afternoon he went to buy
A new phone to close the case file.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:04 AM UTC
An empty book waiting to be filled, with pages clear and white...
A pure soul,so magnificently clean like glass that's polished bright...
A staircase ever winding, no stops and no dead ends...
A simple path so straight and perfect with no sharp turns or bends...
No fear of the future, unknown to them are lies...
No rush, no need for reason... is what you'll see in a baby's eyes
Such strong emotions displayed, still untampered with by minds...
Like windows to the soul, not yet covered by ages blinds...
A heart that knows no hurting, knows just the simplest forms of love...
A gentleness so calming and absolute like something from the above...
No fear of the future, unknown to them are lies...
No rush, no need for reason is what you'll see in a baby's eyes
Embrace the world with wonder, caution still just a word...
An eagerness to explore and discover with the freedom of a bird...
Fresh from God's workshop, just from nature's cradle...
Wholesome in their innocence although dependent and not yet fully able...
There's still no fear of the future, unknown to them are lies...
No rush, no need for reason is what you'll see in a baby's eyes
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 7:53 AM UTC
See my face
Coated in tears
Like how the rain paints the sidewalk
Only know that I tried
No matter how insignificant my attempts appear
An abomination to most
But my heart pure
I roll myself out to allow others to dry their shoes
A ***** old rug after time
with each boot leaving its imprint
Drop a match on my gasoline soaked skin to keep you warm
Watch the flames dance and my eyes turn gray,
but my smile untampered
Out of everyone, I thought you'd understand
But time after time
I realize I'm just letting myself down
Feb 16, 2021
Feb 16, 2021 at 1:34 AM UTC
In between time, have I wondered through dimensions of sacredness.
Between the spaces of unfrozen relic of us.
It was both pure and holy,
Untampered by the cold seas of dark night.
One day, might I lose to the wilderness of nature, to the untamed creatures of worldly beings, will you recognise me?
Every now and then, have my thoughts keep tangling themselves, from nothing to everything, from making sense to nonsensical.
From flowery visuals, vividly in shapes.
It was both pleasure and pain,
Unnamed by the strong winds of feelings.
And one day, might I fall out from these untimely moments, will you be there to save me?
This is the epitome of hopelessness, hoping for mere dreams to become a reality.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 11:00 PM UTC
I miss the person I was in elementary school: the innocent, untampered little girl that I was.
The girl I was before the world snatched me from my innocence and poisoned my mind.
I yearn for the girl who only cried because she skinned her knee or her tummy hurt.
I regret the person I was in middle school, not for who she was but for the person she was becoming, I bitterly regret allowing the world get to her, for it changed her; it altered her in tremendous ways.
She became dismantled, unrecognizable to the girl she was just a few years ago. She fell into the world’s hands, and the world destroyed her, it took her and impaled her with negativity and poison.
For that was just the beginning of the girl, she would become in high school.
You see that's the tragedy of growing up; you lose the things in life that truly made you happy, things you didn't have to compromise your happiness for.
When you grow up your trade the simplistic and the care-free life for a more brutal and agonizing one.
Waking up and having your whole body hurt, and your eyes red and puffy from crying all night, but once you walk into those glass doors it suddenly disappears -- almost like it never existed almost like you never felt those things at all.
But that's just the thing: it was all real and you still indeed feel that way, but you simply cover all that pain and all that emotion with a mask.
Because you know it is harder to show how you really feel than covering it.
And that mask keeps toying with your emotions and so then you are stuck between missing who you used to be and hating who you are now.
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 10:01 AM UTC
*Take flight-
Spread your wings
They're always there
Never fear
Don't forget to unfold thee
Those beautiful wings;
everyone possesses
Graceful, or as ungraceful as they may seem
Don't forget
Take flight-
Torn or Tattered
Untampered
or
Completely shattered
You'll always have your wings
Spread them, far and wide;
So you can see what I see
Beauty
© 2013 Christina Jackson*
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 12:26 AM UTC
HIS
EVERTYHING
RIGHT
Wanting you has left my soul suffocating...
Never realizing the length I would go to please you.. guilty by submission..becoming submissive inspite of me not belonging to you..pleasing you always came first..but for you its H.E.R...you say you prefer natural hair...I grew locs in spite of my free spirit that leads me to do a big chop annually...because to me that's me removing all the bad reminders...but for you I made that scarfice..inspite of you wanting H.E.R .....blemished skin...scars of heartache and pain...proclaiming you prefer naturally flawed..over this mac bottle that makes me feel completely irresistible because unlike other things it hides scars of what made me who I am...but for you I allow this bottle to go untampered with..unlike my heart always being tampered with...but H.E.R...is constantly on your mind.. never taking a moment to realize me putting you first...your only thoughts is of ....H.E.R..how to please and cater to H.E.R every desire...and need... "she has potential to make you happy"...when it's me that constantly strive to make you happy...consistantly taking you in deep until my muscles become weak...I can't compete...because even though I get on my knees and **** you deep...I'm still not H.E.R...and just because I made you ***** in one of your many random places...in fear of pro life with M.E because its H.E.R you desire..I've allowed my soul to weep...because by next week I'll be back in your sheets... giving you all of me...like a piece of prime meat..enough of me to fill what makes you weakkk..never understanding you want me mentally but her psychically...but she doesn't want you psychically...so you imagine H.e.r while doing M.e? I'm done with never being enough... but always too much for you...let her learn or care to know that you like a person that listens..you're a closed book..that pays attention to vivid detail..you do from the heart with happiness as a form of payment...liking your women of somewhat of a variety but not too much of a variety because if you lived in a world of H.E.R.'s you would be completely satisfied because her outer is what sets your soul on fire...allowing yourself to linger on what little she's gives because she's da bomb in everyway..bomb enough for you to hurt the feelings of someone that would've given you the world..but because my **** ain't "perky" and I'm not a size 8 my validation..means nothing....being super thick is more superficial..I'm self reliant..thick in all the right places..constantly loving you in all the wrong places....I'm not H.E.R I am M.E....My Everything on repeat...repent at my feet because my heart has always been on repeat...you have made me weak...we haven't spoken in weeks...
Nikki.the.goddess
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 11:04 AM UTC
You have left me dazed and confused
Lost in my own imaginings
And if you see me wander
Cease, desist, let me be
I am not here for you
I am unto myself
A lone wild thing
Untampered and forlorn
On the shore of a sea of ice
I stood awestruck by tears
At the sky as it moved
Birds specked in gold sunset light
Blue, the colour of grace
Black ink branches, sky
Sky flows and knells in vast empty space
A hollow where the birds sing
The wilderness of my mind
Meets the wildness of the grass
And folds back into sanity
Jun 24, 2020
Jun 24, 2020 at 10:48 AM UTC