"untouchable" poems
It streams down eye to eye
from the unseen but the all seeing.
Far from the Mars far from the Neptune
skipping all the planets hanging in space
only on the cheek of earth, a drop of tear fell.
Every angel in the heavens' shore
has heard of this lore.
It’s timeless long mesmerising beautiful.
Far from the blue yonder sky
hunky dory is delighting to the eyes
the stunner is made to measure.
A tear in the corner of the eye
as if it's diagonally weighed down
with the 360-degree open looking sky.
As close as within a fingertip comes the Moon
still, a sea is ahead forever untouchable!
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
Out here there are no hearthstones,
Hot grains, simply. It is dry, dry.
And the air dangerous. Noonday acts queerly
On the mind's eye erecting a line
Of poplars in the middle distance, the only
Object beside the mad, straight road
One can remember men and houses by.
A cool wind should inhabit these leaves
And a dew collect on them, dearer than money,
In the blue hour before sunup.
Yet they recede, untouchable as tomorrow,
Or those glittery fictions of spilt water
That glide ahead of the very thirsty.
I think of the lizards airing their tongues
In the crevice of an extremely small shadow
And the toad guarding his heart's droplet.
The desert is white as a blind man's eye,
Comfortless as salt. Snake and bird
Doze behind the old maskss of fury.
We swelter like firedogs in the wind.
The sun puts its cinder out. Where we lie
The heat-cracked crickets congregate
In their black armorplate and cry.
The day-moon lights up like a sorry mother,
And the crickets come creeping into our hair
To fiddle the short night away.
30.8k
Beneath the mango tree
death turns slowly -
creaks the branches/
untouchable - the tears
hanging low above the ground -
slowly swinging - no more singing/
beneath the mango tree.
r ~ 5/30/14
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
Bent
Near to breaking
by her burden
of fruit, swollen with seed
In that thrashing by wind
Bearing down on the sun
in her labor—
of Need
to bear
the pain
to bring
her yield
to his hands—
her harvest
of warm juicy softness
___
Gone—
the upright
reach of untouchable spring
When stems, stern and smooth
wore a lace-beaded bodice of bloom
of coral chiffon
First leaves
a scarf
with a fringe of lime green
wrapping her gifted and lean
to the buzzing
She was lighter than dew
to the amateur insects
smeared with her
Her only accessory--
a robin
They had left
as evidence
they had ravaged
its song
___
Now broken and leaking
more damage endured
Ripe fruit in rough hands
He leans against limbs
by his weight sternly pressed
so suffused in the fragrance
of peach intoxicants
which he will have--
He is lost to his lust
He is forcing his need
into another year's beauty
asserting his claim over and over again
of that lost and ancient bounty
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 3:59 PM UTC
i wish we'd met under different circumstances,
in a beautiful parallel universe.
where the dull blue skies we dwell under now were light,
and the hatred we respire no longer spewed from our mouths.
i want the air to be cleared and our brains
fogged from the heartless reality we maintain.
i want our imperfect utopia to be untouchable,
a place of perfect imperfection,
where i can love you with all my heart.
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 9:05 PM UTC
Everytime I'm near you, my body starts to shake.
When I'm away from you, my body begins to ache.
Every hug leaves me speechless.
Every kiss leaves me breathless.
Those three words make me quiver.
The though of us apart makes me shiver.
Together our love is untouchable,
apart were both vulnerable.
When our body's touch,
our soul becomes one.
Dec 4, 2010
Dec 4, 2010 at 5:27 PM UTC
Fantasizing
Feeling
Needing
Something scarce is eating at my melancholy.
As I deliberate, a vigor burns beneath my blood.
I get so warm thinking about his hands griping my hips.
My cheeks flush at the thought of his skin pressed heavily against mine.
Unalloyed ecstasy
His subsistence is the key that reveals my coffer.
I beg to feel his breathing
For him to cognize how much I want to gratify his every desire.
Slow motion when I fantasize.
A room bursting of fine riches I could erupt with gratification.
A gentleman who can pleasure me both with innocence and sensuality.
Rarity that comes as one.
He demonstrates loves configuration, he bestows complexity and certainty.
One could ****** with the thought of his supportive charisma.
I weaken at the awareness of his reciprocated needs.
The definition of love is embraced through his actions.
Bleeding perfection, he is untouchable.
He makes me feel amity.
He is the dream I want to feel as I shut my eyes at dusk.
I can sense him so close,
yet when I open my eyes
I’m alone.
He is what every women searches for.
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 10:41 PM UTC
First things first
I'd like to apologise
I'm sorry I'm not the good Indian girl I was bred to be
I'm sorry I don't make round rotis
I'm sorry that the tongue I use to speak punjabi is broken and hides in my mouth unused until desperately needed
I'm sorry that I don't cook and clean efficiently enough to be wifey material
Sorry that I love who I love and don't hate who I was told to
Sorry that I can't follow gods blindly and not try to sneak back stage to see their shining gold adornments and blue body paints and multiple arms in full and bare glory and scandal
I'm sorry that I'm actually not sorry for any of this
I'm sorry that these are false and empty apologies
I am unapologetically whole
A human not just a race
A female not a trust fund or business transaction
I filter out the good parts of the culture I'm from and the ones I identify with
I'll wear docs under my saari no apologies
I'll grind on dancefloors and do the best Bhangra dance you'll ever see unashamedly
Hareems and hoodies
Bindies and pin up eyeliner
Hedonism and head in the clouds
My ambition is Ambedkar untouchable
My drive is a salt march surging silently non violently through cities
My hometown pride is built in concrete and rickshaw dust,
Prejudice and Bollywood lust
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
The race isn't for the fastest,
But for those who can endure it until the end.
Boy like a cheater and a world record beater,
On the running track with his sponsored spiked sneakers.
Ready for the race and the crowd's screaming BOLT!!
An athlete's little secret later on was unfold.
Deceiver in the eyes and loyal in disguise.
A proper pro player, with heavy bonds and ties.
Not in it for it but in it for the fame,
Forgetting about the hard-work, sweat, loss and pain.
An athlete's little secret, later on explained.
People, can you trust in the one you trusted before?
Or even the one who stand among you today?
Their lies and deceits are like roaring storms,
And they are like animals that are very hard to tame.
But they took it upon themselves playing a dangerous game.
An athlete's little secret, later on in shame.
They took drugs like all around the clock.
The more drugs they took, the more enhanced they got.
But then they got exposed and hid in shame.
I guess that drugs didn't help their strive to fame.
Left in the dark and loss all but everything,
Can people still trust? Can a second chance be given?
An athlete's little secret, later on forgotten.
An athlete's little secret, later all on the news,
An athlete's little secret, so much they had to loose.
A athlete's little secret, once a try and a glance,
An athlete's little secret, there is no second chance.
An athlete's little secret, there's no more to say,
An athlete's little secret, the bed you made to lay.
The world once had great and untouchable athletes.
Who had admiring levels of personas.
Who truly understood what hard-work brings,
And who went through pain and unbearable things.
But there are some who stoop really low,
Just so they can bring a medal home.
Bronze or silver, none or gold,
An athlete's little secret later on was told.
Based on this topic and what I have learnt.
The lost of young athletes made me felt hurt.
But it's not fake it's all reality.
This fight isn't against powers nor principalities.
But a fight to teach honesty and give all of your heart.
An athlete's little secret, a fight to make it last.
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 4:00 PM UTC
In 1963
Mahalia prodded
the good reverend...
“tell them
about the dream
Martin”
transfixed on
a yonder time
he recounted
prophecies of
a near future
from a mountaintop
he foretold a
history of a people
returned again to
gardens of paradise
thriving in friendly
democratic soils
overflowing with a
colorful biodiversity
governed and
nurtured with a
vibrant sunshine
of divine justice
welcoming all
weary sojourners...
from the
pinnacle of
a Birmingham
jail cell
Martin burst
the bars with
the clarion peel
of a golden trumpet
proclaiming the gospel
of liberation to
the wardens of
unholy gulags
“free yourselves”
the horn emblazoned
in streaking lightning
across the sky
cowed by
prophetic truths
of righteousness,
shamed by
lies the pride
of arrogance
bespeaks to
placate the
intransigence
of dominion,
we prayed the
the walls of racism,
bigotry, prejudice
would tumble down as
Martin lit the Battle
of Jericho
today our country’s
profit driven gulags
overflow with people
of color as justice
lingers on death row
begging for a plea bargain
of a life sentence in
solitary confinement...
from the
****** Sunday Bridge
in Selma, Martin
offered a prayer for
peace, rebuking
the dogs of war
admonishing
the tenders of
blood thirsty
machines to
beat the gears
of war into
pruning hooks
and plowshares
advocates of peace
hope to steer
the plow across
the battlefields of
acrimony to sow
rich seeds of
reconciliation, planting
new gardens where
the rich yields of peace
will be consumed
by all God's children
yet these gardens
remain unplanted,
untended and defiled
by the machinery
of war that churns
churns, churns...
Martin last
dream occurred
on a balcony
in Memphis
witnessing
to the divinity
of those considered
untouchable after
a hard days work
collecting a city’s
refuse
he insisted all labor
was worthy of dignity
and the economic
justice of a fair wage
Martin looked squarely
into the eye of the gun sights
of those who thought differently
he never blinked, he dreamed
Martin formed his last
testament to an angry nation
yearning for the reconciliation
of stability and peace,
unmoved that it’s violence,
exploitation and bigotry only
stoke bonfires of acrimony
and division, condemning
the reprobate principality
to the bleakness of a
smoldering discontent and
continued generations
of recurring nightmares…
Martin's dream continues
in awakened hearts
sojourning on
Music Selection:
Mahalia Jackson
Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho
MLK Day
2014
Oakland
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
~explaining light to the blind~
~for Suzy~
the insanity of even attempting
who among us, the sighted,
has the capability to clarify
an animate inanimate,
an untouchable invisible,
that can be folded, bent,
travel universes unseen
at its own chosen speed,
even to another sighted
and to the blind...
imagine then light
as something that
be recognized from the inside only with
in- sight
~***think of the continuum from
warmth to steel furnaced heat,
that is an element of what is light,
the sun cheek kissing, the furnace of chests
when you grasp another’s body first time
think of light as water,
the faucet spigot a measured pouring,
that can overshoot, the stream behind the house,
a toe tickling masseuse caress,
a dam’s waterfall endless crashing,
a sea, wave licking sudden raging dangerous
blend these sensations that belong to all,
and you’ll know light better than most,
indeed, light is for those who cannot vision
except from the inside with a sight that can be
touched, felt, imagined, and which the sightless
command better than us ordinary thoughtless
indeed light is as simple to understand as
abc,
which you have never seen, but creates the words
that we all
use
even share***~
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 6:34 AM UTC
What is deep house. Many people think that deep house its just a rhythm. Noo! Deep house is a rhythm that speaks to our soul and flow make us dance. The spirit of deep rhythm touch our soul. Other people says I love this would yeah is because of love of music. The brightness and the light of deep will never be dem. Escaping from no rhyme to rhyme. Is luck success. We say we've been bladed by other hide spirit of the deep rhythm inside. Life without deep house music is like light without switch. The light must be bright to bright up the would. Deep house is the beat, deep house is a spirit ,deep house is love and joy ,deep house is untouchable love. But you can feel it I've been hiding my feeling of music inside hard core of rock they used many materials to can removed the graphical feeling inside the rock. But they failed wise man said let's spin the deck and put speaker next to the rock push play button .the love of deep house explode out. They call me hidlacore deejay graphic. I'm on lucky I'm blessed by the love of deep house music the love I have is unconditional
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 5:53 AM UTC
skyscraper man on seattle time
looms in the corner of swan lake and fry
untouchable denim untouchable blueblack plaid jacket
he's put together with clothespins
he's put together with stipends
he's crammed between taxi cab book ends
skyscraper man on seattle time
stoic as the jet engines roar by
all his friends are magazines all his friends currentbrief
he's got a little future
he's got a few dimes
he's got no father to call out the lies
skyscraper man on seattle time
watches smog children kick ***** on concrete
vulnerable under trees writes his novels in purpleink
he's married once before
he's read crucifixion lore
he's returned his money to the store
skyscraper man on seattle time
looking through spectacles of ***** and brine
the rain falls hard the breeze sweet on the leaves
he's emptying the soul of modern rock n' roll
he's emptying the tray of ashed thought
he's emptying the bank account cold
skyscraper man on seattle time
sheds crinkled skinmemory like the cicada
a twin-sized deathbed deathbed in apt. 203
he's nothing.
he's ever.
he's happened.
skyscraper man on seattle time
carbon copied and eternal as saltwater as rust
invisible and tapping at the runrain window
he's nothing.
he's ever.
he's happened.
skyscraper man on seattle time
climbs himself to the cosmos lightheaded perfection
ethereal visions of fullbloom love and legacy with measure
he's nothing.
he's ever.
he's happened.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 11:04 AM UTC
Anthropogenic climate change
Nuclear fallout Chernobyl
Raptors flourish
And wolves
Dwell
Sleeping.
Catfish swimming
In a cooling eye
Grown old and untouchable
By mans wills.
Rusty ships
Wetlands
Roam free.
Storks in their nests
1875
The cheval de prjevalski
Dye without mercy
The fallout from time
A call to restore
A broken land.
The wolves cry
The wolves cry
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
Alexander of Macedonia this time
won’t U-turn from the might Gangaridai.
At the bubbling edge in the Indian subcontinent,
one would dare, taking his last plunge,
believing it here the proverbial Well of Life!
Yet Al Khwarizmi will discover the algebra,
drawing from ‘nothing,’ purely untouchable:
The Zero from the Indian pole.
Not a digit, not a number on its own, yet it’s all.
Every number jumps up in the zero loophole!
Then the whole number bows down into decimals,
escalating the hunts of the 1.618 golden ratios.
Plough through at your own pace
for the uncharted water, for ab-e-hayath.
Sip in a drop of elixir in this secured zone.
Sylhet is in the core, is written in stone.
What do these mean? I too wonder
down the line, I was intrigued by the Arab
and Indian tectonic plates’ slow dance.
Both rolled out, hugging each other
Then the Makkan soil lying at the heart of earth
gets exposed, with Sylhet’s soil it pairs up!
360 Sufi dynamos, mathematically a perfect circle,
find the match giving a perfect heads up
laid on the nine yard show the whole box of wax,
simply inking the vivo jump on the storylines.
What’s under the tectonic-rug at the bottom of the earth?
Shush softly, whisper—the heavens might hear it out!
Hold on to the least bit, it could be all one wants.
The earth, the ocean, all started with a drop of water!
Let alone any well, which way did this original matter,
the first, primeval drop of water stream down
Has this alleyway been exposed here, or in Paradise?
Then how can we say we don't have a secret for Paradise?
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC
he used his hands to touch around my pure bare smooth skin
and told me it was supposed to feel magical,
but what is magic without a shinny golden lamp?
he rubbed it three time and continued.
he told me that i was a princess, untouchable to others, but him.
set on a perfect seated throne.
that seat was made just for me.
he ignored every blood drip drop
and shoved the glass slipper in as if it fit.
he whispered into my ear
and told me, i sounded like mourning birds chirping
as i screeched horridly being poisoned by an apple.
it felt like a needle pricking in and out of my skin.
laying there in eternity, still and steady.
wishing i could forever sleep.
but how can i sleep forever when he is the beast that has held me captive in his castle of words?
“the princess is supposed to kiss the frog and he will turn into a prince.”
i kissed the frog.
no.
i did even more, but he was nothing like their stories.
his story was different from the books.
he told me it was my fault that i was a singing siren.
i was just too desirable,
so he had to pull me out of the water and show me something new.
Dec 3, 2021
Dec 3, 2021 at 6:57 PM UTC
Red tailed fox striped jewelry box,
but these jewels shine of coal.
I keep trying to feel,
but I got no hope
in my heart
or in my soul.
Red tailed fox striped jewelry box,
you sit next to the bearded elf.
Third from the right, seventh shelf.
I carry you around like a babydoll.
Ragged dress with a hooded eye;
you reek of destruction,
but like a prized possession
I'll carry you to my grave when I die.
Red tailed fox striped jewelry box,
may you spare me one key?
I beg of you to open up,
Please, please, please!
Shed some light for me.
Golden
Grown
Sewn
and
Shown.
That's how our hearts seem out to be.
Dripping wild, red cries of kerosine.
Their voice sounds of dusty rust
when they sing.
Tripping over the finish line
their broken back
CRACK
CRACK
CRACK
cracking.
Red tailed fox striped jewelry box,
but like a door
this box holds much more.
Much more than a box has held before.
The secrets that lie
rest behind
dark, evil crescent moons
like the sun reaching an eclipse.
Typhoon lips.
Untouchable kiss.
Half of a whole.
Red tailed fox striped jewelry box
shines of nothing
but a bunch of coal.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 9:02 PM UTC
I am a man, this is so
I am tall, I am broad
I am seen as untouchable,
immune to hurt
This is not true
Under the muscle
Under the broad shoulders of this man
there sits a sensitive heart
It sits there unrecognized by many
Many that do not know,
that what they say hurts
"It will just glance off him" they think
But in truth, it strikes to the very core
They do not know of my tear stained pillow
They do not know of my heartbreak,
The isolation that welcomes me
They think they know me but they don't
They do not really know my manly but sensitive heart
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC
There is a pear above me
hovering reluctantly.
It's skin firm,
the colour of meadows in the midst
of spring.
Tightly it clung
to that little stem on the branch
which exerted much effort
to keep it away from the ground.
It looked down on me
wanting badly to be picked.
To be kept inside my pocket
safe - and could be taken out
in dark moments for company.
It could also be tossed roughly in the sack
to migle with other pears.
Scratched pears.
Battered pears.
Broken pears.
Happy pears.
Wounded pears.
Rotten pears.
Abandoned pears.
Neglected pears.
Hate pears.
Love pears.
But it clings, above me
completely out of reach.
It sways in the wind,
impossible to be climbed.
And all I can do
is wait here,
down here, down below
until time exhausts the branch
until it decides to push my pear away
in moments when I am most unprepared.
It will fall on the ground
and I won't be there to catch it - like people execute to people.
Its flesh will cover the pavement
the soil will sap its juice.
It will kiss the soles of my shoes when I passed by
Its remnants will knock, then eventually pound.
And I will see that my untouchable pear
has been reassembled to be a ruin
that shelters history
that homes the history people
with historical names
and historical nails
and historical breath.
That house will contain the smell of oil lamps
lost letters, burnt maps and scarred love
and my pear will accompany the parchment
that human thoughts choose to abandon.
Until then,
I will not be writing for a while.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
I remember when we were so pure our love was untouchable I remember your voice in my ear telling me how much you were in love with me mind body and soul those words run so deep down my spine it gave me chills like no other I've never yearn for your love as much as I yearn for yours now the day you left made my heart crumble into a thousand pieces but when we were together I remember your soft skin you're dreaming Journey eyes that took me on a worldwide Adventure I remember those pointless drives where we drive down Lake Shore with no direction or destination. I remember when we used to cuddle and watch movies laugh and kiss your soft lips against mine I remember you said forever and never will I leave you you will always be mine I remember those words like yesterday...
were you playing in my hair and you look in my innocent beautiful eyes and tell me how beautiful I am as you caress your fingers across my soft skin you tell me how you don't want this moment to never end I look at you and see my future as bright as the Moon on a night so peaceful and blue I stood there next to you telling you how much you mean to me telling you all my pain and sorrow as you comfort me..I lay my head on your shoulder and as you pull me in closer my knees begin weaken by yourself touch and by the sound of your voice put me at ease put me at peace you touch my mind body and soul I'll remember you
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 2:43 PM UTC
I went from a lover to a liar in a heartbeat;
the flip of a switch as soon as I heard I could get what I'd been craving.
The jolt of electricity through your bloodstream, the feeling of being alive with your senses on fire, the ability to seem untouchable: superhero like even...
Almost nothing compares in that moment, but in the afterglow, when your cape begins to lose its wind and your heart starts to slow, nothing feels worse than pondering it's destined finale.
Discovering your conscience, all the while knowing that no matter how much you love someone, the poison always comes first.
It's a terrible reality, the ability to choose.
And I always choose wrong, down the path of the chemical adventure, knowing that at the end, I always inevitably fall off the cliff.
But it's an obsession: being on top of the world, and no matter how much time passes, or how far I think I've come, she always wins.
It's the slow onset, the clarity, the peaks where everything seems far better than it actually is, but now the dream is over.
I need to let it go or it will consume me; living in a false reality, locked in to my need for perfection.
She used to calm me and make me godlike, but now I've fallen from my pedestal and upon looking up, I see she turns me into the monster I've never wanted to be...
Hiding, in shame, from the soul I love the most. I wish I could tell her, divulge all of my secrets, but the fear of the disappointment on her face is too much for me to bare.
Because I know she could help me,
if I would just tell her the truth.
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 12:39 AM UTC
when you left me
gin became my new lover
smooth and hot
intoxication of a new type
when i lick my lips
i no longer taste your mouth
instead my tongue burns of pine
and my body welcomes it with pleasure
the feeling of you has been replaced
with the overwhelming, untouchable feeling of a drunken stupor
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC
When I kissed you,
The world imploded,
But we were left untouched.
When I kissed you,
I was drifting,
Through the galaxies in your eyes.
When I kissed you,
My heartbeat intertwined with yours,
The way our hands did,
In your car,
On the way home.
When I kissed you,
It didn't matter that anyone could see us,
We are untouchable,
And infinite,
And endless.
I get it now,
This is love.
Feb 11, 2020
Feb 11, 2020 at 8:50 AM UTC
The night descended upon the day
Inhaling the goodness
Smothering
Murderous
Diseased and dark
.Mankind swallowed down the perverse evil and sickened
Desperate for the emotions once felt
No longer remembered
That will once more warm and quicken
Dead jaded hearts,
Rose from their bank's angry rivers
Now rocky dry brooks
The ocean overcame the land
Islands sank to sea beds below
The earth furious heaved and split
The coals of the sleeping volcano's were lit
Humanity shivered in moldy damp caves
Counting their once thought endless days
No longer gods of the earth
Of green rich ground
Or untouchable stars
The world was falling apart
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby Oct. 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC