Best Abrasions Poems
Hold on tight
A journey begins
Not in the crowded city streets
A journey of high mountains
as close to heaven
that you think you can catch the stars
Pack your backpack with sad thoughts
Upwards ... the bag is heavy
I will hold you in your hand
Stop ... take a deep breath
Your journey has begun
Proud high mountains suddenly makes the backpack a little lighter
Follow your feet forward
The air is crisp and fresh
Even if you are tired
Lower your shoulders
I'll teach you to dance on the sparkling snow
Our goal is the top
The backpack feels lighter
Do not give up - we will reach our peak
Heavy thoughts erased
Abrasions and tired feet
Satisfaction - a major force
The goal is reached ... you won
Dance in the sparkling snow ... catch your star
The backpack is empty
The whole world is at your feet
21.05.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Buried Alive
These walls....
they laugh at me but no one else hears
They steal the very breath of me
...but no one seems to notice
They blare a suffocating silence
Leave invisible abrasions from unseen restraints
These walls I once called home
These walls have become my coffin
~FJ Thomas
Most of us run through varying emotions at times. It helps to jot them down and get them out ;) These walls can be emotional or very literal. Usually the one causes the other to collapse in along with it.
The important thing is to remember that there are others who very much understand how you feel; you are not alone. So never give up!
Amidst this greenery and purple heather
Azure blue skies grace our naked souls
Beneath the Cullins on the Isle of Skye
Two in love sharing adventurous goals
On our tartan blanket facing each other
Noses in touch sharing kisses aplenty
Rapid they are in teasingly smother
Tongues now fence, complimentary
Wandering hands on porcelain skin
Gracing, caressing, she sighs as I do
Arching her back, her breasts in rise
Pert to the air, this soon to join two
Slowly in kissing crawl, to her lips I
Caressing undulations, blushing she
Our eyes meet, for they tell no lies
In loving clasp she welcomes me
Rhythmic we are in this rustic place
Seismic groans of wonderment cry
Skin to skin of loving abrasions
Two fused astride my manly thighs
Gyrating hips in sensuous grind
Internal flows await their desire
Passionate kisses now frenzied
Fusion of two in wanting transpire
I fear our next encounter;
haunted by your sight.
Your presence penetrates my heart like a knife.
Your not a man but an intruder,
forcing your way, judge and juror.
Hand down your penalty, much we must take.
Abrasions, contusions, are your biggest mistake.
Hugs and kisses, only come from jerks,
"I LOVE YOU - I'M SORRY",
your BANDAIDS don't work.
Brute force.
Torn at the seams.
Dare to move.
Dare to scream.
Noise not permitted,
take it, be silent.
Withhold your tears in his judgement.
Is there a thin line between DISLIKE and HATE?
Can you define where one begins and the other one waits?
Germ-free Mason jars, hot from the pot of boiling water, gurgling on the cast iron wood stove, stood ready to receive the fruits and vegetables, fresh from the fields and orchards. Lids and sealing rings locked in the freshness. Mama, in her apron skillfully flavored the veggies as she prepared for meals months ahead. The old pressure cooker hissed as it played its part in preserving the bounty of the family farm. Preserves, jams and jellies, sealed in wax, filled the cupboard just waiting for future hot buttered biscuits.
Peeling, dicing, chopping, pickling were all part of the process that brought kin from far away to socialize and join in preserving food for times when the land rested and awaited the start of a new season.
Outside, Sauerkraut (layer of shredded cabbage, layer of salt,) repeated and compressed, awaiting fermentation filled the depth of a Crock on the front porch.
These glimpses of the times that are all but gone will remain with me forever. Life was tough at times but love was the balm that treated the abrasions of near poverty. And the tender touch of those who came for “Canning Days” was felt until the last jar was consumed. God’s bounty awaited, and next year’s promises stood always before us.
Written by: John Posey 10/21/13
Inspired by Canning Colors,
A poem by Donna Jones
A rhyming thank you written in verse
To the wonderful women and men who work as a nurse
They do so much more than just first aid
Considering their responsibility they should be better paid
They assist in the process of creation
They are even responsible for drug calculation
In crisis situations they aid in evacuation
Nurses need to be treated better across the whole nation
They are faced with the challenge of an ageing population
They work overseas and help the poor
For those incapacitated they come to the door
They are on the front line during times of war
They have a duty of care legislated by law
On a daily basis they are faced with death
They are with a patient for their last breath
They work long hours without adequate pay
They face trauma and grief day by day
They have to work at a rapid pace
Often having to rush from place to place
Due to cutbacks they are often short of staff
In some areas staffing is less than half
Our healthcare system is in a state of demise
C’mon you politicians give nurses a pay rise
They deal with patients who are disorderly or wild
They provide comfort to parents of a child
They encounter various problems with people’s health
They don’t discriminate the poor or those with wealth
They assist in the prevention or destruction of disease
They are expected by some to do this with ease
They are ordinary people doing extraordinary acts
Don’t question them unless you know all of the facts
They deal with issues that cause stress
They treat patients who are in distress
They deal with patients who want to fight
They deal with patients who sometimes bite
They help patients who are deaf or without sight
They work seven days a week both day and night
They assist a patient who has lost their mind
Their mannerisms are generally pleasant and kind
Only recently have they been given reasonable superannuation
The government must do more and increase remuneration
They are highly educated, instructed and trained
When facing trauma their uniforms can get blood stained
They deal with cuts, abrasions and breaks
Constantly they have to avoid making mistakes
Nurses without a doubt do a wonderful job
They are the blood supply that keeps our hearts a throb
I am so proud that I have a sister who is a nurse
To you my sister and your peers I give you this verse
At my own admission I've grown black hearted, Find it hard to cry for the dearly departed. I've started with myself and made no difference...
my reflection ain't healthy I've been plagued by ignorance. An insignificance to that shown by my people offering deliverance.
Belligerent my mind state, no room for benevolence. I'm gonna times fate by two and make my own destiny. Remember without you there is no me!!
Contemplation on occassion as and when neccasary, no abrasions mental and or physical. Raisin like im spiritual on the mountian gazin like im quizical, I ain't doubtin I been dazin lyrical too busy blazin that's not critcal. Don't be phazin past the miracle.
Far from superior closer to inferior goes some way to explaining why my message isn't clear to ya. Far from delirious nah man, this is serious!
Remains 2 be seen weather its imperious. Far from laughin this materialistic gapping will drive us appart and continue trappin.
Can't be scared to talk bout it. We're conditioned in a way in which we doubt it.
So in ya face its a disgrace. I need a bit of saving grace. Saving face be paving waste, am I misbehaving as lm gaining pace? The blames in place and its plain in taste. We can only learn if we share with eachother!
Sounds disearning coming from a non-veteran brotha, discova the soul ja in me. I ain't on the front line wouldn't want to be. What they fightin for!? Territories, minerals to fuel our principles. I'd like to appoligise for being so cynical. This is a perfect time to take an interval.
Feel
the day
when my warmth
caressed your skin
and cocooned your heart
in blankets of soft smiles.
Gentle yet penetrating,
a balm that soothed life’s abrasions
with a rich elixir of summer
and a drizzle of sweet molten sunshine.
Re-live it and relay it back to me,
free me from this chilly-fingered grip
that squeezes the light from my eyes
and the colour from my breath.
Kiss me with soft shadows
and burnished highlights
that I may know
how it feels.
Touch me
…Dusk
Sharon Tideswell
Sgt. Bedlam of heavy artillery reporting sir
Bedlam I want you to pick the runt of the litter
and turn him into an agent assassin
with the clandestine power of hypnotism
yes Generalissimo I am here to obey
decked out like a burlesque revue warlord
his Mauser cigar lighter on his belt
a curlicue mustache and a pie tin helmet
Opal his opium fiend gun moll squirming in his lap
was our Generalissimo
Bedlam weighed the coming abrasions
concluded we are our scars and furthermore
if adaptation is survival so is parasitism
cleared his throat noisily and bowed an exit
later that fate laden candle lit night
he made a deep study of his globes and charts
Europa Asia Oceana the Steppes the Savannah
the Scorched Hills of Malibu
a map addict re-educated in the cleanup of '89
his bell-shaped curve insisted love me
server and served a beautiful thing
if one enjoyed giant jungle arachnids and leeches
and centipedes that crawl up your butt
to lay millions of eggs when you sleep
where the laws of physics become
a tumbling burbling retinal stew
geysering steam and sulfur and mud and
where was I oh yah
yet a thing of beauty was Opal to Bedlam
he heard scratching and purring at the door
it was she incognito in an iguana skin
we must escape this hideous circus of shame
she coo coo rooed as her tongue dove into
the holy fissure in his brain
and he threw caution to the feral hogs
forgetting good posture he oozed upon Opal
I bet you think you make your own decisions
she cloyed and again he tossed caution
into a cauldron of grunting mammalian rut
for several hours perhaps the entire weekend
it's easy to rewire a human
you just give them a little epiphany
and bingo ownership
his hypnotic gambit paid off in ducats
the Generalissimo slept like a corpse
the pet centipedes concluded their labors
his ex-kingdom rejoiced at their new liberty
and that's anarchy for ya
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
It courses through the blood
hidden from view it seeks out
the T-cells attaching itself
it silently goes to work
Invading and taking over
not caring if it's host
be a young person or old
killing of the white cells
Your gender it cares nothing for
or if you are straight or gay
insidiously it can hide for years
a master of disguise it patiently waits
Growing stronger all the time
breaking down the body's defences
it corrupts turning cells alien
not caring that as it slowly kills
That eventually it will too die
that as it completes its invasion
leaving a sick body open to attack
covered with open sores and abrasions
This silent killer in murdering you
does itself meet its own doom
dying along with its host
will we ever find a real cure?
This is about Aids/ HIV though it could also refer to cancer HIV is ingenious in
its ability to hide itself inspires by Harlan Coben's book Miracle cure
we are all built for hell but some have made modification to adjust their placement and still they have miles to go before their finished racin
so daily i enter my mental basement to destroy its encasement only to find its like beating a twig on the pavement
my courageous statements are met with resentment
my untainted patience is often more than should be given
and still im driven to keep winnin through unbiased livin
i refuse to envision my manhood in a compromising position
and my past transgressions are contradictions to my mission
since I strayed from the christians but thats my conviction
so i try to throw blessins in many directions in the form of lessons depictin the streets oppression
and this food i feed to my brethren is like feeding a cold congestion with no medicine for suppression
seeing as im spreading this contagion with no abrasions to the most evasive men in the nation
These beautiful black creations were supposed to be raising are raising hell in our faces and catchin cases with briefcases filled with life sentence phrases and sierra leone bracelets
I'm destined to change this.
I fall a raindrop from stratus to stratum
birthed from clouds pregnant with thunder
a lion’s roar —a pride in the sky— fierce!
armed with lightning’s rip and slit
the scythe of claw and tooth finds its prey
knifing sunset’s skin desecrating cranberry rays
it’s red demise fills my see-through-eyes
Sun’s canvas shredded
I fall through tattered pages of watercolor-layers
accumulating dust and blood of the slayed day
I arrive not a predator but a peace-maker
my raiment fleece of lamb not mane of beast
I come to rest
a drop of rain who clings to a windowpane
… translucence transforms me
inside a room I see myself with my possession-pain
a swaddle-bundle I rock to soothe
pain held against my breast like a newborn
crying to be fed
nurtured with lemon-squeezed tears
and sticky sick-sweet milk of revenge
my fingertips trace my descent down the glass
I pray not to let the dark moon be my doom
I know myself like turmoil-seas know the shore
let the salt-sea’s seethe meet still grains of sand
abrasions cleanse one of crime and grime
I know myself like the night knows the morn
let the night be a knight
and capture rapture with light-swords of dawn
I know myself
the games I played with leather fringe and lace
his Marlboro face the Moët taste
the magnet attraction pulled my limbs apart
I am a tear liberated from the storm
free to fall free to fall oh I had to fall so far to be free
fall from heights where lust-wishes glisten
slip the stardust handcuffs
fall from nimbus find the limbus of self and soul
find a way to rise above black seams
and wanton scenes of my scream-dreams
translucence transforms me
I let go of the windowpane
and die to myself casting off pleasure of pain and sin
I fall to silent-sister soil inhaled to be exhaled
on dizzy wind-whimsy-warmth of first light
I fall a new drop of dew wet with sky light
as I bear Love's cross like a white lotus bears its muddy birth
Pt. 2
with her a tray of stack flapjacks, crisp bacon, and a foam cup filled to the rim with apple juice. I remember that she came once before, and I was glad to see her again. Her face was without concerning lines, and she had a pleasant aura about her.
I was exceedingly voracious, and so she didn't need to encourage me to eat.
She too disappeared through the steel portal, but this time dolly and I followed her.
On the other side , there were large and small numerous forms of peculiarity.
The brightness of the sun penetrated through a large window and freely occupy the rooms.
The populace was shepherd by stiff characters.
Dolly and I felt out of sort, yet flashes of memories of this place stole into my encephalon.
One of the stiff characters rushed towards me and ushered me to another large peculiar room. I was frail against her strength. She placed dolly in a wet chair in the room. Dolly gazed at the floor, and I could not see the pain in her face, but felt her misery.
The stiff character, who had the shape of an immense melon, removed my clothes and shoved me under a shower head. The pressure of the tepid water soothed the long raw abrasions on my body, in which I had no memories of how they came about.
With fresh raiment and dolly in my arms, I felt anew and I willingly let the stiff character lead me back into the population. With the stiff character at my side , I walked the grounds and fed the geese that waddled onto the thick lawn. Greedily I inhaled the scents of magnolia trees and azalea bushes.
The events of the day were quick and hearty meals. The tear of the day came when I was swept back into her world.
*****
I clawed at my arms and struggle against the unwanted phantom of my despair.
He called himself my originator, the ruler of my existence, and he proved his power over me routinely. I am ignorant to the start and the reason of his savage encroachment of my body and mind.
As far as I can remember this world that I lived in has been an eternity.
My autopsy room is a confessional,
where killers in absentia divulge
their sins through bodies
rigid and frigid, mutilated and mute.
Graffiti of abrasions, contusions and lacerations
reenact without deceit or reservations
a catalogue of perversions and violations.
Rage, hatred, greed, jealousy, sickness
explode and leave behind vandalized anatomies,
a *********** of naked emotions
in the topography of vacated husks.
Silently, they talk.
With my eyes, I listen.
They confide in me about themselves too,
these chatty cadavers,
about their public faces and private hell.
Tattoos speak of loves and obsessions,
silicone breasts betray insecurities,
medications reveal internal insurgencies,
needle marks give away muffled screams,
cirrhosis lets on alcoholic dreams.
A hundred foibles preserved by the
candor of rigor mortis,
each corpse an abridged,
unfinished biography.
By the end of their final confessions, the departed
have parted with their burdens of secrets.
In death much more than in life,
there is honesty.
Still, I take comfort in the lies of the living.
I fear people
People who are wearing colorful masks
Hiding poisoned daggers in their casks
I'm afraid of people
Whom over their head
Carry the banner of benediction
Then again at night
carry salt to rub on my abrasions
I am afraid of people
Out of their mouths comes mesmerizing words
An ax is what they are holding behind their swords
Do you think they won’t break my trusting core?
I'm afraid of people
They lie and call it knowledge,
do evil and declare it courage.
Their eyes filled with lust so foul
I am really afraid of these people
I am so afraid that I crouch and hide in the cellar
People’s shadows are dancing on the wall
And I tremble and curl myself in a ball
I know it well
I have to go and buy myself a disguise
Plus a dagger dipped in malice
Shouldn’t I forget to secure a heart of stone
Tomorrow I will got to become one of these folks!