Best Dermis Poems
“Dream in Dreams"
My mind awakes to taste the tongues of those words you release. Yeah its speaks to me!
Am hungry for those pink lips merry and mellow I wish to soak in.
Commanding and demanding those words dig in...undress your tongue of such tone oh twinkle toes, bathe me with lying lips that speaks me an undying truth.
The night burns black
My dreams lay still living a coward's dream.
I lay with my eyes shut, opening legs I lust of.
So smooth as white streets with lines aligned to digest this illness I splash in ink, the injuries, your skin, I walk my pen on pure brown dermis.
I want to rise with me in you, writing heads to come. A separate head is coming, I am cunning but take this white and erase sadness, pain and lies written on your inside.
I want to wine drinking wine, lip singing on your breast with noise.
Necks should be broken swords, flashing lips to melt in fusion forcing me in you! You in me!
Push harder and harder
We shall become one.
I beg you unlock my needs, please me please!
The world is a war outside, hide me in bosoms that heats my love a global warming. Set legs a waiting bed I wrap this broken pen in.
I stay away to not fade away for every look I look at you these lips see and these eyes speak!
Yes I become dysfunctional for I dream dreams of having you.
Why won't you admit?
I see the same in you.
I see potential behind fear serving a sentence beneath that skin.
I see you sitting waiting on he who is sitting.
I see you trying for trials I have tried.
Just north at the back of your head lays a mind so cohesive to mines.
We both dream in dreams.
Wake up, this is life.
Feel this heart beating
Hear these lips speaking
Watch this fear fading.
Let me lead this dream.
By:Ramone J. Young
Poetic System Kidz Entertainment
(Stories of Angie)
You ...
Burn fast in me
Searing like molten metal in my veins
Coursing my flesh with fiery magma, streaming
Each breath taken is more oxygen to feed the flames you ignite
Bones and marrow scorched with electric ferocity, afire
Core, being, skin, extremities, life itself - hot to the touch
For your steamy, torrid, id's sake alone, I light
Smouldering lava love speeds, leaving carnal chaos in its wake
Leveling all in its path with prurience, omnipotent
You are my hot drug, my spicy opiate
Imbued in an instance's consideration of your eyes
Or those plump, juicy fruits you call lips
Your streaked, heather tresses or satin dermis
Your curves and their sublime movements, defying gravity
Those hundred little places that quiver at the touch
I am addicted, and I drive you into my veins with reckless regard
Fast, searing, soul-pounding rushes of passion
That, in my best of minds and composure
I can never get enough of
And will surely die ...
In its grip.
~ 5th Place ~ in the "Your Amphetamine" Poetry Contest, Anthony Slausin, Judge & Sponsor.
feathered …
moony beams daub your lips -
the irregularities
shaping little cornflower thorns
but oh, how supple the
pliant press of those luscious fruits
(savored like honey) …
I touch them delicately with the
back of my finger
then move lower to your
daintily-dimpled chin, and down …
I follow the blue beams
with my fingertips
dancing across your surfaces as
little bumps form and
your flesh jumps here-and-there
telling me I’ve found the
sweetest spots,
though I’m winding my way to
an even dearer dermis
and warmer intent …
what is the enchantment of
these moments -
this magic of moonlight that
makes me want you so?
there is a mad mystery to why such
time stops and waits for us,
and were it not for
the responsibilities of morning,
we would hold this moment forever -
painted in dreamy shafts of blue
trading touches like truths
swimming the rill of each other’s soul
and haunting a wonder-world -
whimsical, immortal
and ours …
alone.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden
We wend through life with hopes of one true love,
Quite rare, such fits, that match you like a glove ...
A blend of souls ... divine inspiration.
Once heaven found you naught but in my dreams,
Yet now you're real, sweet angel, though it seems ...
This sacred gift ... divine inspiration.
Smooth tresses, golden silk, frame eyes of brown,
Those swirling depths where I would gladly drown ...
To love's abyss ... divine inspiration.
Oh moonbeams dance your dermis like doubloons,
The sweet price paid your form, as passion swoons ...
The carnal cost ... divine inspiration.
Each moment that I spend wrapped in your wings,
Means one less wasted 'midst those lesser things ...
A realm of you ... divine inspiration.
How long I've sought the truth of heaven's light,
Thus, now through you, dear angel, life is bright ...
One in our love ... divine inspiration.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Pick-A-Title Volume 14 - Tristitch" Poetry Contest, Edward Ibeh, Judge & Sponsor.
* The title and name I chose is "Afflatus" *
moon …
beams that burn -
that turn my surgings to slag
my teeth to serrations,
hungering …
can those silly sentients not see the
verity in my veneration, you?
do they truly think it’s only art,
only … verse?
that my blood runs in
these inky scratchings alone?
‘why pen these dark tales with such legitimacy -
such … clear scope?’
oh … why, indeed!
for were they but tales, they would
hold their own undoing -
such silly stories spatter the centuries,
but my secrets speak from the dark
of nightmares, whispered
they move with the muscle of truth
and bear witness to
the fiery curse …
I wonder, is my affliction as
ancient as your mares and mounts?
do those careworn crinkles hint of
a lifeblood unseen
that drips its poison to my arteries at
each milky plenilune?
with a single ruddy lesion you
tore the sun from my sky -
drove my days to the shadows,
the beast, blossoming …
did you entrance her, too, the one who
broke my skin to weeping -
who lit this pyre?
am I now but another minion of
your pale presidium,
bound by iniquitous urge to sever other
souls from the daylight?
if only that laughing lad I was
could’ve known why you tugged so
hard, his verdant heart …
why your shimmer ‘pon the sea
timed its cadence,
out-dazzling the sunrise …
why every kiss - every lass’ fair dermis
required your blue baptism to persuade -
to pique my passions …
perhaps then, with such portent,
I might have learned to silence your
alluring murmur in my ear,
and hardened my marrow to
your warm, wicked drug …
but the truth hid from me in the shards of
your strangling shadows
until your diabolical delirium flooded my
blood, thick as mud
brought by a human far too
exquisite to spurn -
a warm wound, opened in burgeoned intimacy
your scourge, igniting my veins -
mixing serum with torment
and ripping, like unfettered flesh,
the bright-born sun …
from my days.
I am the porcelain dermis seat;
I have been greeted by many without deceit.
Doing the dirty work; I don’t mind -
For this is my purpose; my daily grind -
I watch young children potty train;
Their parent’s efforts are not in vain.
Will all young men please lift my seat?
An angry young lady I don’t want to greet .
I’ve been hugged by drunks in the A.M.
I’m utterly disgusted at all of them…….
The ‘ magic triad ‘ = a smile, kind word, and a touch.
Of these three, “thank you!” is phrase I don’t hear very much :-(
Wash me, clean me, and my lid don’t slam…..
One day, you’re going to need me when you’re in a jam!
Although my seat is sometimes cold;
My heart is warm; and my courage is bold!
Today we will meet and then depart:
On your way out, a kind word impart…………..
*****************************************************
Inspired by Matt's contest "speak chair speak"
On scarred green corduroy couches, lined with age, sighing under my weight-
Like bearded old men, releasing ages of wearied wisdom,
Slipping in their sleep-
In rooms wreathed in smoke, wafting between breaths of laughter and exhale
And somehow beautiful, electricity in the music that shallows me out
And haunts.
I see the wooden floor, again, as you lead me, my feet moving to their own beat
Pound, pound, my heart and my shoes,
Do I know what’s happening?
And the rhythm I have is my own, but you don’t mind. Two hands grasp mine, warm with
sweat
Restraining, I have no escape, I breathe but I don’t know how.
Can I meet your eyes?
Two black holes, a vortex, pulling me into the tornado and the storm,
And the calmness in the middle, intense as it sparkles and shimmers in clarity,
Fading out cat-calls and undertones of despair.
Fading me into you, dissolving me through layers of dermis and epidermis
soaking silently through cotton and fear
A puddle on your now-closed eyelids, wrinkly in determination
smoothing out in waves of hope.
And then –you’re here, I feel
Shaky confusion, slippery thrill, wet and winsome glory
Searching, and finding -so I thought-
And sudden twists and turns
Do you know where you’re going?
And then I feel it, the smile, maybe you won’t
It grows inside of me and gives birth, to a tiny laugh
In high falsetto, notes dancing across a page
Barred inside snow-white fields, but exploding with mirthful mischief just the same.
So am I, and you may imprison me,
But I sing “in my chains like the sea”.*
*from Dylan Thomas’s “Fern Hill”
Life’s tortures seem a part of my biological design
absorbing pain, a phenotype
and solutions, seemingly advancing in a slow motion
ten hands all over, tearing my blouse
hundred long nails
shredding my skin down to the dermis
The waters have turned salty
and all edibles-decayed with maggots
I’m roasted by hunger and fried with thirst
pressed by two rocks
and the valley of escape filled with thorns and reptiles
I’ve been tied to the Earth for even animals to trample upon
escaping from a dangerous path
lands me on a slippery ground
sliding down, having a free fall with no help
But!
The same life which once passes urine on me
has now provided a fresh stream for a deep bath
the same sky, once filled with pregnant dark clouds
shines the light of hope and freedom
I’ve been hit but not crushed, bruised but not bleeding
heated but not burnt and swallowed but not chewed
I’m out! I’ve overcomed and now I’m free!
For days we mount white stallion,
going westward,
far from the black stone path
The beast pants,
but carry on
with fire in its eyes
New shoots down-trodden in the channel
I taste the straps on forerunners
deep beyond their dermis,
way pass the dark transgression
we obtained,
yet we hold this sin so dear;
a real peril to the end
I felt wind urging hoofs,
and heard the soil of a mother
calling from soles;
support for imperials
Mattocks pulled new soil
to conceal the cries
If philosophy changes,
there’ll be songs I’ll never sing,
but for now I’ll walk streets eastward,
and survey scuffles
while watching my reflections
on dark footprints
In hope the hoofs are hushed
I’ll lay me down
on fertile bed,
whence I will seep along common path
unto all taste buds
The earth will carry me,
as thick as blood
Animals in top hats,
Ride bicycles en road,
Spoked wheels and pedaled spats,
Round about, in ornamental spode.
Animals in monocles,
Spectate in obeisance,
Cuffed by inked chronicle:
Renascence-linked complacence.
Animals in Model Ts,
Toot along en route,
To queue below burlesque marquee,
Bloating bruit by gloat and brute.
Animals in suits,
Sustained by entree manner,
Tasting morsels, cheering lutes;
To labor, bond and banner.
Animals in petticoats,
Puffed in crinoline,
Corsets sweep beneath the bloat,
Ensure the meal’s unseen.
Animals in linen,
Lain in duvets, eider down,
Sunken pelt a skin had been in,
Before its fur had come to town.
Animals in animal,
Adorned disguise of dermis,
Woven threads of blastemal,
Posture vermin with a vermis.
Animals in animals,
Piquant bones to gnaw,
Ascetic starving cannibals,
Feed on creed and law.
Animals in groups,
Extensions of the self,
Lain in egg to cracked coops,
Atop a thrifted shelf.
Instead of rounding out our edges,
To conform our shape to objects,
End the heed, the empty pledges,
Be animal: love and sex.
Twenty-three ...
The freckles on your nape,
Tiny islands of wonder on your silky dermis ...
I have traveled every one, many times.
Day-after-day I sit here at the desk behind yours,
Oblivious to whatever algebraic nonsense is being purveyed on the board,
Utterly fascinated by every little detail about you and yours -
How you squeak at the end of every sentence,
The way you tuck your chocolate brown tresses behind your ear,
How your neck curves so perfectly into your shoulders,
The way you reach back to play with the clasp of your pendant,
And how every-so-often on a good day, a really, really good day,
You rest your right hand on your left shoulder,
And wiggle your fingers like a fan, in a private wave ... to ME!
(Well, I like to pretend it's a wave to me, though we rarely speak).
Oh, the romantic fantasies I have concocted here,
Sitting behind you every day ... adoring you ...
The dragons I've slayed, the battlements I've scaled, the wars I've won!
I have memorized your wardrobe and counted the buttons on each,
I can name the perfumes you wear - seven in all ...
Every tidbit you speak is like sacred manna from heaven,
And I a starving angel, enraptured.
You sit here, within arm's reach,
Yet you are worlds away.
Someday, perhaps ...
Someday.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "I'm Crushing On You" Poetry Contest, Julie Leigh Rodeheaver, Judge & Sponsor.
Capuccino tinted dermis
Button nose
Velvet strokes
Soft apple cheeks
Plump
Pink
I watch and think...
Forehead
Framed by feathers of slate
Tresses of ash
Each decadent lash
Never ending
Sweeping long
Across each almond
Eye blink
I watch and think...
A nest of hair
Powdery black
Waves of dark
A cushion of black ink
I watch and think...
Sparkling glitter drips from those eyes
You grip me with your ties
A smile to mesmerize
The perfect sunrise
"I love you Mama"
A cheeky wink
I watch and think...
Your laughter infects the skies
Cloudy blues turn to bright highs
A voice that heals
A void that fills
Sweet nothings
That's the thing
I watch...
I think...you are my everything
Nothing was tweaked when life's circle was formed
You would see speck of dark gem, microscopic, perfect!
This dark became chameleon
All voices hushed, as marriage vows were spoken
Never mind the veil, the mask, the caste
We were of sun, moon, and stardust, until
Blinding lights stalked night for more of day
Animals, too, fell prey; the God of clay blasphemed
But each morn, bold shades on earth were birth and blessed
The third child; I heard tooting of horns from two plus two
Nothing was flawed, except circle of light in mines so bright
It dared to vie, yet trembled right before the Source, electrifying it
Few forms played the Source; some stood in awe, as gentle spec
Do I care some lights reveal too much themselves?
Some will spy and vie; and deny fading to black, from whence they came
I am hidden in the dark, never knowing everything
but layers we wear, like dermis shield...
Our fragile lives return to ash
Limbs, dreams, roots; all gets trashed
But the perfect circle holds eternal fuel, for boundless spirits.
*
stop throbbing temple
blood pounded sight
dim daydreamt corneas
surround sharp morning light
hidden heart whispers
raging wan muffled souls
desire stoked embers
burn kiln shattered bowls
dermis flayed pilgrims
gnaw darkly smoked bones
slag dwelling convicts
flee coke crumbled clones
fly, fly away from
a wasteland of sorrows
as ash can yesterdays spill
into flashpoint tomorrows
is there only the now
present here in this spot
downshift stonebreak self speak
ungoverned egos run hot
blur sky, photochrome
squint into ink acid haze
peer at forever
as the danse macabre plays.
It was a five ringed circus
Complete with the ragged remains of a tourniquet
Heavily fringed by the under eye baggage of a bloated nefarious
Clown soul that is
Blowing across the freeway garnished with the white plastic baggies
From the local supermarket factory
Now fluttering like proud flags from the tops of trees
Spawned by an alien race
It was on a highway headed home that
I nearly ran over a kid high on societal delusion and
Upon pulling over near the canyon's edge
I shouted towards this cipher to no avail
A wind tunnel
Afterwards a mumbled mixed nursery rhyme
While hobbling away with a hollow body
That floated over curb blocks and arby's remains
Into a distance that was too vast to measure
Was all I was sure of
In this
I saw the effigy transformation that
Grasps everyone from time to time
If only the magnetic train could ram through the clouds
Speaking directly to synapses long derailed
With the urgency of a needed 7 beer urination during protracted conversation
Let me go
Looking deep into this mirror to see the molecules swirling
About this illusionary image reflected
Some wells runs deep
Some are saucers filled with swampy oil
Self created sideshows with a surplus of freaks
Oh yes
The rest is purely the constructs of madmen and deviant spirits
Itching to burn the dermis and the frontal cortex
Plus limbic
Tricks and trades of the craft
Welcoming a spill out of the most financially false origin
Singing like a lark touching both wires
200,000 volts of pure pleasure
Spell patterns of truth for the first time
Ah, the self of self is running on electrons and vapors
Smiling like a netted acrobat
The unicycle is unmanned
Gyrating though this monkey business
Yet the music continues on