Best Epidermal Poems


The Nature of Wisdom

Every flower has its own color
With annual observation,
this we springtime discover

Give a womb kernel cede
of acknowledgment
To the spectrum birthright
of each other

We are all one,
tho’ from a different umbilical mother

Notice the bloom of time,
come rain   ...   come sunshine

First eclipse dawn —  
tyranny tares grew with the 
the golden amber grain —
 
The face of nightshade oppression
had a dark tone
Steel magnolias was the fetter fragrance
of the pyramid rule chain 
Pharaohs, (of no melanin discretion)
who wore the ornamental godhead, 
sat atop the pinnacle
While the slaves were downtrodden fed
at the bottom below

Their crowning achievement
was to erect great tombs
But papyrus thieves in the temple
stole the toil of the ruins

Skin for skin,
this is a-fertile sowing season true
Each summer solstice empire
passes into autumnal decline view

Every bird has its own color
And the length of each wingspan
differs from one another

Take an umbilical hover,
acceptance flight
To the spectrum birthright
of each diverse other

We are all one,
tho’ tear delivered
joyously from a different womb mother

Notice the migration of time
come swaddle skybound   ...   come burial ground

Last obscure sunset
was the Legion silo bane talon — 

The thorny wrinkles of oppression
had a pale monotone
Caesars, (of no pigment distinction)
        who wore the prickly spiked laurel bled,
sat atop the carrier chariot
While the plebs were commercial shackle led
to the amphitheater above

Their crowning achievement
was to deify great destructive bombs
As scrip crooks in the palace
pilfered the taxable gift of the palms

Skin for skin   ~   Epidermal blend,
this is birds of prey a-nesting season true
Autumn equinox tech empires
passed into cold war, nuclear winter view

The nature of wisdom
teaches cross-pollination pure acceptance love:
Tho’ each fruit has its own color
Why then, doth this root of affinity divides us?

This is crystal clear!

Yet, what is the color of water,
of which thee Mist of Life doth bring?

It is snowflake known — 
Tears of repentance
is from whence salvation doth spring

Stitched Beauty


The surgeon generals 
are scalpel meeting once again
Fear doktors of war
are planning to raise another mar
on Earth’s topographical skin

Pigmented epidermal cells
are being prosperity lullabied put to sleep
under the celestial lights
Souls with eyes and minds closed — 
their ears tingle lustily, 
hearing cash pillow talk on poverty sheets
But, the gorgeous planetary patient
has no operating room human rights

Oh, such an awful terrestrial plight!
Yet, the view from the firmament heights
show another picture
of love from above

No stitches are seen
on the sky blue-eye, brown skin beauty
Regal global queen,
daughter of the Lunar tides,
your disfigurement is a cosmic shame

Moon princess,
Snow White seasonal changeling,
the galloping Four Horsemen are coming 
upon the dispossessing gale wind
to trample upon 
your perfect facial contours again

Hazel spring eyes,
with a cerulean crown
over her cloud-colored wedding veil
She wears such a Polar aurora adorable,
pristine mountainous gown

But the Jekyll dogs of war 
are viciously on the shadow Hyde,  waiting
to gnash another canine needle
into your verdant cheek vale fertility
 
Upon an evergreen face
does not one strand of virgin 
forest hair 
stand out of winter place
Until the anaesthesia bombs needle drop
to pockmark your oasis skin ... 
and the monstrous dissection begins

Bloody butchers bullet love
slaughterhouse flaying
Stitching border sutures   ...   raised-flag lines
that are ever changing

As the summer fruits of world peace 
are no longer autumn falling

Cris-cross scissor map marks
have so money land-lust sullied your timeless beauty
A planetary Bride of Frankenstein
is now your geo-political, laboratory scarred destiny
And I’m afraid   to experimentally speak:
more stitches are soon forthcoming

Yet, from high above,
tho’ I hear  
the negotiating table scalpel scrapes ...
I see no ugly stitches
on your indigo beautiful oceanic face

Epidermal Evidence


It’s skin deep evident,
being black is an inherent crime

It doesn’t matter whether we
peacefully
stand our ground,
or be siren subservient — 
Hands in the air, 
knees bent

We get shot seven times,
by a six-shooter

In the back of our mind,
fear is a pride looter

Epidermal evidence suggests,
probable cause is
five fingers of uniform blue grave danger

A click gavel falls trigger quick,
siren verdict be:    1st degree fatal anger

It’s just another casket open-and-shut case,
the latest obituary picture 
bearing eyewitness of Breonna Taylor’s face

Like chalk on a blackboard,
we get erased ...
so rap sheet easily

Four-by-for centuries,
our coffin pleas
have been iron fetter ignored

The only asphalt sound 
silently heard
are the yellow tape trace words:
	“I can’t breathe,” 
	       with our George Floyd face 
in the paved dirt

Epidermal evidence historically reveal:

We always got shot seven times,
by a six-shooter

Skin color hatred smoking barrel explode
on a trigger reload
Being black was our genetic crime

Wanting the good life
	on the whiter side
of the picket fence
Made former slave cotton-picking sense

Our emancipated thoughts
	were escaped equality sought
			But votes auction bought,
	forced us to tragically be
paddy wagon pellet caught

And when suffrage hope died,
it was our fault — 
Runaway tears shed for naught!

Morgue blame sent:
Usual suspect motives be
dreams non-violent

Desiring to be integrated legally
	   into American society
was our heinous offense

No need for more epidermal evidence

It’s just another cell open-and-shut case,
the latest unarmed picture 
bearing eyewitness of Jacob Blake’s face

We repeatedly 
get shot seven times,
by a six-shooter

Seems the lawlessness of the land says:
The badge can be
judge, jury
and executioner

Ain’t it blatant epidermal evident,
being black is an egregious, breathable offense
Of which there is no self-defense

We get shot seven times,
by a six-shooter

Perpetrator exit wombs inflicted on
menace to society ghetto we
Aborted justice is our 
perforated epidermal eulogy

Being black is a natural-born crime,
evidentiary,
an umbilical sin

It’ll get you pandemic shot seven times,
by a sick, sick six-shooter


Binary Decision


Life always offer choices — 
Some easy,
some hard

Alternate current inner voices:
Pulse charge emotional,
or neural beta rational

Positive or negative energy flow
Binary decision 
is either yes or no

Alpha cipher is the genesis code
Zero expectations
create infinite bonding variations

Uncertainty is the flux abode:
Love or hate
is an epidermal woven learned trait 

Terminal thoughts move in the Omega mode
Singular path of resistance:
Fight or flight

Chromosomal crossroad interaction — 
Attract or repel
Choose drop dead paradise or living hell

Spiritual quantum elevation:
Boundless outer limit of innervision
can be dark or light

Two-way street karma logic
Future visitation of the past divines the question ...
did you live wrong or right?

From Plantation To Implantation



Looks like dem old ugly chains
got a new modern face
Beauty upgrade ... high-end cosmetic tech;
low-cost dressed in labor modest, 
minimum maintentance convenience
From da delta plain sugar cane fields,
to the glamorous Silicon Valley hills:
Ancient bigotry of blood biochemistry
required some thinking ahead
Remove dem outdated iron appendages
from da carbon-based legs
Loose dem fettered bodies from da plantation
That warm-hearted gesture
was prompted by the cold realization
of mechanized industrialization
Machines worked tirelessly better than humans,
with zero margin error for rebellion
From da poppy-white numb cotton field chores,
to the black-site, laboratory rat maze corridors:
Modern slavery has been plastic, 
guinea pig perfected;
Darkly spirit heavy iron chains
got replaced by skin light bar codes,
and microscopic nanobyte pain
in the nether layers of the epidermal

From plantation to implantation ... 
total body control to full mind control
Invisible chains is a better option

From forced emancipation to voluntary enslavement ... 
necessity of convenience shackles the soul
Grateful servitude is a Dead adoption

Go sing illusory freedom, spiritual songs
in an unseen force-field: 
Laser etched number scrip plantation
Eat, drink and be merry, ye bonded bones ... 
harvest a bountiful yield
Give curses to the marked implantation — 
corrupt binary code command subjugation
The Mephistophelean workplace
is a future-now, 
internal space Gulag situation ... 
an augmented field mule muzzled occupation
With plenty of open-air, coffin acerage:
rows and rows 
of furrowed thought manipulation
Dem New Age lobotomy slaves
be toiling on a grave condition plantation,  
whose dirt cellular 
cubic dimensions are:  
Six-by-six-by-six injected damnation

Premium Member Guess Who Coming

GUESS WHO’S COMING…
(Apropos My Island Home..)

The sun slowly sunk
its exhausted reddish-orange
head into the waiting sea’s 
soothing sky blue bosom.

Excited white mane waves
splashed upon the waiting shore;
leaving the froth of their tears dissipating
in stilled sand soaked with haunting memories
of the disembarkation of stinking slave ships.

At the entrance gate of the sea wall,
a newly painted sign read: Guest Only.
Sighting my ebony epidermal hue,
red coral eyes of a bleeding conscience
painfully motioned me to move on:

Pity, you can’t be a guest
in your own yard.


Seeds of Promise

Same story told in sad famished pupils,
   Every effort given as hunger pangs thrive.
A mother lays her head pondering tomorrow,
   Wondering if her child is dead or alive. 

Creative souls full of epic promise,   
   Born in this bag of epidermal atrophy.
Pondering the generations next meal,    
   An epidemic disaster, true catastrophe.  

With chins resting on weary knees;
    Abdomen bloating with hope.
Perched on plains of poverty,
    Atop death’s plank, they cope.
   
Flies attack moistened eyes,
   Tears struggle to find their streams.
Starving spirits anticipate rain,
   Living on dehydrated dreams.

Creative souls full of promise, 
   Seeds planted in thirsty sands. 
Yearning to bloom as beautiful flowers, 
   In a garden of arid lands.   




---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sami Al-khalili's "A Piece of Bread Please" Contest
© Abe Lopez  Create an image from this poem.

I Found It

As you look at me I'm not him.
Wearing a face of a man that does not exist, a myth. 
   For i am reserved, deep within the confines of self.
Ensorcelled, impelled, upon a journey of discovery. 
   Under the melanin pigmentation of epidermal.
Through the subcutaneous tissue, to travel around blood vessels, capillaries, and arteries, the rivers of life. 
   Observed and closely investigated all the fibers of the muscles, the joints, and the tendons which bind them.
   From the plantar, up the nervous system, to the cranium. 
Within the essence of me, the was, the is, and the maybe, the realms of my brain. 
   Continuing through the optic nerve, peering through the retina.
If seeing is believing, then there's more says my fervor. 
   So I close the lids and travel further. 
Encaged within the thoracic, observing the pulmonary action of breath taking. 
   At that moment, I hear the rhythm, the drumming of existence. 
Astonished with disbelief, awaiting to awaken from this dream. 
   All the days and years of believing me void.
There it is, pulsating with strength, feeding all the limbs and giving me life.
   Contradicting the accusations and claims 
of the misinformed strife.
   Reinforced by the deeds and sacrifices, the joy and the pains endured.
Shattered like glass, the image i am not.
   Against all odds, I found that I do have a heart.

The Mirror Lied

You were seduced by silicate reflections,
unflattering images
of your perceived epidermal imperfections 
The bedroom mirror showed you
your deepest fear
It's crystalline voice told you
what you wanted to hear
Enhance your beauty
surgically
Change your outer self
cosmetically
But the silicate mirror lied,
it didn't tell you the whole truth
about shedding some of your skin
Once the laser knife goes in,
and parts of yourself 
gets thrown in the trash bin
You won't recognize yourself anymore
Someone else is gonna be looking back at you,
somebody you never knew
This person is gonna sell to you,
that they're better than your natural self
Rearranged celluloid perfection
erases the flaws you always seemed to see
The mirror speaks with superfluous authority,
lying so seductively
The new you didn't erase your inner scars permanently,
but you're the magazine cover you always wanted to be
The lying mirror says you acted so bravely ... 
Enhanced your beauty
surgically
Changed your outer self
cosmetically
You did what the mirror told you to do,
made yourself into a better you
But the beauty you wanted so desperately,
had already began to fade ...
the moment your skin kissed the blade
The silicate seducer tricked you,
played on your vanity,
played on your insecurity
And as your body withers away over time,
the disingenuous mirror is gonna chortle to you: tell you 
that your faded, altered beauty was a self-inflicted crime

Mind Muscle

MIND MUSCLE

Steroid cocktails, metallic flavor, Viagra rush; 
Mind numbing mush!

Sightless vision, cloudy comprehension, silent violence, whimpering misogyny; a blood-curdling hush…

Nervous perspiration, brain freeze, lactic acid rush; Gray matter atrophy flush! Dissipating oxygen accompanied by synapses firing twinges!

Amnesiac causing binge; constricting pyro nerve ending singed; Ascend to the black hole rush…

Epidermal twitches, vitamin E glitch, inhale and exhale switch, Marauding biceps, involuntary tick…, Bulging disc, brain-teasing peroxide, attention deficit; Word nerd…   Hard body…  Flex and discern… Secret genius…?

Mind Muscle...

Melvin “Chief” Lars	2/23/04	2:10 pm

Battle of the Case

Harsh! The  asphalt  sac circumscribes my spirit
   drowning  the  spectacle of sapphire ambiance
   That whirls a blue crush over my suntanned face,
    whose temples are rippling with shimmering grin
    And ,merry bustling the spontaneous chills smothering
    my qua-spirits yet  spray a  fiery  furnace of detesting 
    Scandinavian epidermal  whimpering over my incongruous
    antics with  the  talismanic  chemist  ritualistically rebirthing
   my  vexed  spirit  chaffed  away  with  enduring  rejection  of
    a  taciturn corps that writhed aggravatingly for  it  dresses 
   a  being  that is obvious of a race,say human identity....

A Poem of No Purpose Done For the Sake of Writing

Dry skin caused by frozen winter winds
Caused by over washing
Too much caution given to cleanliness
The rough ridges distinctly defined
Will soon go away with care and time
These epidermal deserts
Are greatly in need of an oasis
Some lotion for lubrication
To make the redness in the deserts turn to tan
And now I wonder, why?
Why am I writing about my hands?
© Daron Long  Create an image from this poem.

Time Slip Not


When they pleasure powered down to rest,
their twin-engine heart was beating still 
at the arterial warp speed of galactic love
With the endorphin catalyst fuel shutdown,
the rocket passion blast
was nearing impulse horizontal inertia
The space mariner woman at the bed starboard helm,
told her right-hand man navigating
to turn the hip thrusters off
They were entering the nebulous 
mind-meld zone
A mysterious space-time place,
where the soul pulsar gravitational curvature
formed a time slip-knot:
A bonding phenomenon where time slip not
The captain of this supernova class starship,
guided the navigator’s empath thoughts
with her sparkling, ruby-coated lips
Giving moaning, non-verbal commands telepathically
Alerting him where the next neutrino ****** 
micro-particles would hit at multiple vulnerable spots
Opening ecstasy fissures in the epidermal hull skin
As other asteroidal pelvic disruptions
made the body-shaped ship merge force-field shudder
The time slip-knot 
was a quantum quirk realm of hot 
dilithium electromagnetic loving
They were caught in the invisible force
of two strong gender poles of attraction ... 
causing time to slip not
The stars were frozen into place
like a crystalline solar plasma lake,
due to the time slip-knot
The dimension where perfunctory 
social thermodynamic physics were forgot
The fastest stream of consciousness
slowed to a virtual excitation phase shift halt ... 
Reversing the anticipated climax ecliptic slingshot,
lovemaking vibrations moved with stilled thought velocity — 
Reaching the outer limits where time slip not
The starship enters into a centripetal vortex of sweat,
plunging into the black hole of no biochemical regret
Coming out on the other side
of the molecular maelstrom kinetic frenzy
Solar sailing thru the null pain void,
on serene serotonin waves of the deep-space emotional sea
Charting the light-years of joy ahead,
flight destination: twin planets X’ura and N’gora,
the charming, AI computer voice said 
Retreating into their co-joined cushioned pod,
they rode the erotic cosmic journey out
in suspended romantic animation —
Face to face

Stream of Consciousness

Kick rocks with socks
Only to rip through your epidermal layers
Say your prayers before you're laid to rest
Like the nay-sayers disguised as
Mayors & representatives
Mainstream media sedatives turning your relatives
Into brain-dead gelatin
With an empty skeleton
At the gates of sleep,
Demanding to let us in
Our souls are reaped
As the strings are manipulated by
The elongated
Lives of the Elohim
Striking down like the beam
From a ray gun
Reflecting away from the sun
To delay the sun from the doomsday pun
Intended to run for office
With a strangled orifice
Greedy lungs don't breathe in bliss
Because their needy daughters & sons
Suck them dry of any wealth applied
To the one-percent that defied us all
& lied to protect their hide
In order to decide whether to preside
In luxurious homes or dwell in the catacombs
Of hell
Up to their necks in the wishing well only wishing 
they were well & rested
Yet, they remain hollow-chested
& detested as the rest of us protested
Like the oppressed did, as we're molested...

Splat Splatter


Your red light betters consider you a black bug
on the windshield of life

That freedom flight of fancy smushed condition,
it don’t spotted glass much matter

Just another ghetto pest
that didn’t pass the police car 
collision course tute test

Listen to the blue siren chatter,
dead air channel static
Broken wing green dreams start to fade to black,
as the fluttering pulse on the shield
ebbs exhalation erratic
Jitterbug sound of splat splatter

Fear of an accidental roadkill encounter
Smitten by the yield heated grill ... open hands up in the air 
or spread wide on the hot hood,
it don’t too much yellow tape matter

Ghetto exodus poverty flees
causes frosty mad dash, suburban chase paranoia
SWAT the criminal skin pigmented flies,
kill the epidermal honeybees

Wipe those dark bloodstains from the windbreaker riot vest
Get a brass shield, black beetle swish commendation, I guess

Law abiding fight against societal crushed condition ...
protest a little too loudly, it don’t asphalt smear much matter

Smack dab into the heated grill ... street interrogation
Accidental crossroad kill ... fatal intersection situation

Just another ghetto tick pest
that didn’t pass the patrol vehicle 
racial profile oppression test

Hear the fading siren, morgue dispatched chatter:
Black bugaboo chained melody
always gon freely get the blue metal splat splatter


*tute is an old Germanic word meaning "look out."

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace