Best Epidermis Poems
Paint me blue like the sky
rainbow's smile; thunder's cry
clouded curtains rife with rain
till shroud is lanced and bluebirds fly again
Wistful moods in mahogany frames
melancholy painters with undiscovered names
rearrange reveries in pastel hues
decorating lonely walls with brooding blues
Paint me emerald like the sea
feeling caged; rolling free
stormy rage; morning calm
who knows where swelling waves come from?
Which shades best record a personality?
Which side of the coin is preserved for history?
Shall I smile or appear dignified?
Do I show my true self, or try to hide?
Paint me tawny like a lark
as the sky dissolves to dark
flying free but not for long
a gloomy gloaming swallows up its song
What do you see as I hold this pose?
Will you reveal or conceal my imperfect nose?
Will you paint scars and wrinkles or leave no trace?
Will your biography in oils show lines on my face?
Paint me crystalline like a wine glass
for you somehow see right through
the paintbrush captures the epidermis
but the painter overlays the spirit
Superimposing your style, passions, heartbreaks, joie de vivre
onto my facets, form, features, and flaws
with love, you labor on
transforming my brief life into a lasting work of art
Paint me gold like a sunrise
as it marks the dark's demise
background wash of faith, hope, love;
the colors life's palette is made of.
When bones are one with graveyard soils
these memories preserved in oils
are saved for those who later come
that they may know where they've come from
written 1 Sep 2022
...with gratitude for all the inspired artists who
carry forward the grand tradition of portraiture.
Insanity or Death
Life begins with insanity~~
~Your soul is kicking and screaming,
Ready to exit with the touch of human hands.
Insanity rides on a gallant stallion ready to pant.
Hides in the mind, mourning its captive soul.
Ready to breach over holding its breath.
Projecting in and out without a guide.
Bites away at the feast, enchants for freedom.
From the lips……….....
Taking length against a world of dilemmas,
Contrasting to a never happy end.
The epidermis cover every wall of insanity.
To live, to eat, and to suffocate it determination without air.
Dramatically hallucination against its will of no wells.
Until it realizes it can drink without water.
No further needs a slumber.
The mind-bends and unfolds to ordinary jolts,
When left to human consummation.
Insincerely bidding and cutting to die in the sleep.
Is how it pleads!
Graves where dreams have no meaning.
Caves where goodness can be redeemed.
A temple of misguided fortune.
All respect lost to this infection,
The patients’ weight distracted from an antidote.
The madness begins too finds admiration-
That makes catastrophe go on and on.
The psychosis of the mind and mockeries of them will never be gone
Dictating in everything wrong,
Layers of cramped bricks, level the isolation.
Death drags its feet off into this infinite helix world.
A source of light breeding out of darkness.
"Sanity is no friend of mine!"
Insanity is earth herself,
Where there is life, there is a reason,
Where there is reason, there is madness,
Where there is madness, there you are,
Feeling nothing………………...
Lost in darkness................
~Your soul is kicking and screaming
Life ends with death~~
(first I feared life, now I fear death)
Ursus Maritimus ...
I entered your world in quietude, slipping through the granular, soft.
Long slats to feet parting the frozen. Cold of a previously unknown
Extreme, nipping, sharp, the epidermis with ardor. A Mid-May akin to
February, homeward, first warning of extrinsic ire, ignored. Hours of
Similar (sobering) revelations ensued, supplanted by days, weeks,
Moons ... reality - icebound and born of abiding trial. The basic
Elements staggering, swallowed by the providence around me. A
Vastness beyond vast, afar ... crushing cold of limitless value, each
Sunrise a new contingency for measure of my insignificance. How I
Adored you for your beauty - such reward for the naked eye, there
Amidst a denuded struggle. Shaped by eons of selection into a
Creation of perfect form and ease, as at home with desolation as
I at a warm hearth and aliment. Moving sprite through your environs,
All senses attuned to the mind's axis ... at once knowing and known,
Master of a savage domain. Every dynamism a fluid dance, every
Steamed puff of exhalation a waif of delicacy, bespoken. Do not the
Gods aspire to such? If there were deities afforded such barren and
Bleak scapes, it would be none other than you - as exquisitely
Magnificent and divine as the forbidding but breathtaking element
Around you, my brother. Yet, I fear I have doomed you, for others
Will now follow ... others who find no such elegance in anything
But graft and greed. By the simple act of watching I may have
Sealed your fate, firm and grim. So, I will not turn to admire you
As I leave ... but rather keep you forever as a phantom in my mind
And heart and longings - to let you devour my spirit and join with
You, ever after straining to hear the echo of your lonely, distant
Growl, the one that so often haunts my thoughts and meanderings,
Dark and cold in the arctic night, dark and cold in the willows ...
Deep and frozen and dreaming, of your gleaming and breathless
Beauty. If but mine to touch ... to know. Forgive me and farewell ...
Brother Bear.
Fear Of The Unknown
That sudden unknown, so unrevealing,
it's the tell-tale trademark of the one in question
as it sets off nerves in every-which-way,
plainly creeping aimlessly neath our epidermis.
Shock-waves traipse, recruiting ghostly minions to crawl hither,
steeping the fleshy folds with squirming eels marinade,
forever slithering downward and chilling our brittle bones,
while simultaneously causing us to gnash our pearly whites.
Until we came upon the realization,
that what had truly manifested itself,
was a self-induced fear that was so absorbing,
it had overwhelmed the mind in consuming anxiety,
losing control of our mental faculties,
proffering it free-will to buildup theoretical obsessions,
and alternate concessions.
2019 November 25
*1st Place*
Goosebumps
~~Delilah Ventura
There is a darkness in my life,
a forecast of torrential rain that drowns my heart with sorrow,
and its gloom clouds my mind,
washing away any hope for tomorrow,
This darkness overshadows me,
eclipsing whatever light that remains within my soul,
and the more I try to fight it,
the less I feel in control,
Tears spill onto my cheeks,
tracing the outlines of a smile seldom shown,
as I sit alone in this cave of a home,
hidden from the world and hardening like stone,
It's as if I'm dying inside,
trapped within the confines of an epidermis tomb,
while my cries for help echo through the barrenness of my existence,
resonating with apprise of my impending doom,
But in this aphotic zone in the depths of my core,
my words are a sconce on the walls of my heart,
illuminating the halls of my soul,
so that others may navigate their way through the dark.
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”
Alice plummets down the hole, a fallin’ to no end,
She mumbles to herself these words, for she’s without a friend:
>>Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats? Do bats eat cats?> It hurts, by George, it hurts…
It hurts a million times and more and then it hurts again!> Hot cross buns, hot cross buns.
One a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns.<<
Is there no balm in Gilead? for here I can’t find none.
Even now my grammar appears to come undone!
“Thick Skinned – What it Feels Like for a Girl”
When you speak
it’s as if stars cascade
out of your mouth
galaxies you produce
musical incantations
that I listen religiously to
I watch your lips
form glistening cupids’ bows
they spread wide open
like the subtle legs
of a forgotten nun
whispering vesper wishes
before priestly sermons
and John Donne
your hushed and salient
remonstrations, you now
plant me in your
sentence,
no, that this should
never have occurred at all
we are irreverent
in our choices
forming new begottens
you usher from the
pulpit of your world
eloquent reasons
to justify wrong from right
right from wrong
as if your internal fortitude
consists within a
mirror universe
deep and soulful
it promises
more than heaven
those curves
and waivers
contracts we signed
some time ago
souls sunk in a
bad marriage
and hushed assurances
of ‘til death do us part weatherin’
kissing the skin
against my throat
the very place
my comeback is primed
to be launched, yours
deliver that kind of
loose compensation
lathered in snake oil
and a clear path
to redemption
that tie my hands
make me mute
I was launched long ago
from safe harbour,
now
off sure
to lay down all my
naked vicious antigens
I have grown in
the petri dish of my
muddy life to fight your
viral love
like diamonds
your words
they sharpen and glisten
cut through
the thick tempered
glass of me,
through the epidermis
of a close-packed woman
you laser your refined tongue
eyes viscerally undressing
you address the wide open
tableau of me, knowing
you adroitly twist your points
penetrating through
to the now
all too familiar
subcutaneous
safe base chakra of me
within a short space of time
I am sold
into
your chicanery
wanting little of the
life that was before
the unfortunate
taming of me
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
"What it Feels Like for a Girl"/ Madonna , Paul Oakenfold (Remix)
https://youtu.be/tbtt0WTKqnQ
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/8-steps-that-explain-why-_b_9143360
http://www.hiddenhurt.co.uk/domestic_violence_poems_1.html#learned
https://songmeanings.com/songs/view/7940/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/What_It_Feels_Like_for_a_Girl
Halo matutino en barro
Depresivo estanque nutricional
Epidermis en amontonamiento
Particular
Escasean; segunda capa
Cableado óseo para tomar
Ligero desvarío perceptual
Deshebra leguaje colegial
Frontal olímpico
Sin dejar de ser materia potencial
Los peces vuelan mejor en estrechos
Posibilidad
Entre espacio gramatical
Pasillo curvo
A punto de fuga
Cascada lo no usual
Riel fijo, se encorva; octagonal
Barbarie sensorial
Extensión de personalidad figurada
Perversión física legal
Ilegible pulso sobre planos
Odisea en cuchara de caucho
Último punto navegable
Sur cenital al salir
Retorna al puerto matinal
Cuadrando patrón monarca
Infinidad
I lie prostrate on my bed, breathless and afraid,
Emotions fly through my head, feel dismayed,
Forsaken by God even though I prayed
I weep for the tomorrow's I will not see
A smile lit up my face, doctors want to try a new something
A break through in medical science needs testing
Would I agree they say, I said I will try anything
Looks like God listened after all
My destiny now lies in the hands of science
Feeling gross but will stay compliance
Will get better, I mentally say in defiance
Tomorrow is just another day
I cry out as the drug brings pain to the surface
A rash appears, itching, red, inflaming the epidermis
Am I allergic to this wonder drug, I dont need this
I awake feeling better, I give thanks.
Written on 14/5/2018
chosen title... How I feel today
Contest Rhyme and Refrain sponsored by Broken Wings.
Welcome to this "risk"-taking game of "life."
Choose a blue companion peg, or snag a pink wife,
or ride "solitaire" through this "scrabble"d "mousetrap,"
or add so many kids that they stack on your lap.
Enjoy the terrible twos and the "crazy eights,"
for they go by faster when they're wearing skates.
For love and career there's no "perfect match,"
but when you find what works best, it's best to attach.
If you start "hearing things," ignore the "mad gab."
Speak only kindness, giving gossipers a silent jab.
If you have no "clue" what you want to do for a career,
I'll "connect 4" or more options and list them here:
You can file by "sequence" in your "Rubik's cube"-icle,
using the "5 second rule" if food lands on your shoe buckle.
It may "boggle" your "cranium" to crunch numbers all day.
Would you rather be an "operation"al doctor for the pay?
As a farmer you could "pick up stix" in the field,
and compare "apples to apples" for the ripest yield.
If you're a prosperous hunter or a taxidermist,
you can display your "rack-o" antlers, with furry epidermis.
The "trouble" is there are many options to choose.
In this game of "life," sometimes you tie --- a child's shoes.
To be fair, it was the end
of a long day and a large drink
we called Screaming Jesus
nothing more than watered-down
vodka, grape soda, and a stalk of rosemary.
We were dug in near a sandcastle
at Ormand Beach. My skin shrieked
against the heat, but all I heard were the angel's
murmurs between the eternal slosh
of loamy, gray-brown waves.
Eyes salty with dehydrated sea,
considering an impending trial
separation, my anonymous angel said,
"The keys to the kingdom are reserved
for those with an appetite for interpretation."
My husband had no idea
what it meant. Even I still remain
areligious, despite the evidence—
the seraphim's calligraphy across hot sand,
carved into my skeleton.
We shed ten layers of epidermis that week,
Ohio bodies exposed to a new slant of sunlight.
Hotel housekeeping kindly hoovered up
the sheets of our leftover skins.
My husband still jokes about it,
volumes of our DNA collected,
discarded vacuum bags of vacationers
rotting at the bottom of a Florida landfill,
how I sat with an angel whose graygolden halo
was a rusted-silver carabiner secured to a spike
driven into the hands of heaven.
"Commit to the bit," were the last words
I heard before the horizon turned orange.
Everything since is a hidden scripture, bewitched
in red and yellow, fragrant as pestled ginger.
A path of revised perspective, sifting sand
through sunblistered fingertips until the memory
of it settles—
like a beachside angel on the fence, manufacturing
meaning in her downtime for desolate humans.
Shhh,
its ok
scream if you need to
I’m doing this
because I want to (need to),
do what you feel,
its just a release.
We all have…
things…
we have to run through,
if its not experienced
we can’t learn,
like if I cut this
you can’t voice yourself
and we can’t have that,
I need to hear
every chortling howl of yours,
my ears cry for it,
grabbing at every last tone.
I cut with my curved blade,
lightly,
just enough to pierce the skin
along the rib cage
and slide my steel under it
feeling your muscles contract
as if trying to run from the dagger
that’s peeling away the epidermis.
Nice slow, long strokes,
the piece need to be big,
I have a lot to write
on this leathery
section of parchment
and its best
when I can fit everything on one piece.
I leave the whimpering carcass behind,
if I don’t dry this right
it’ll wrinkle,
devastating its smooth surface.
Puncturing holes in its edge
I tie it to a drying frame,
tight and secure
like my grip on your throat
when I found you cowering,
hiding as if that would work.
Snatching up a smaller knife
I delicately
carve my verses within,
as it dries
they’ll open to reveal
what pours from my mind,
spreading my whims and ambitions.
I use the salty tears
of my victims
to tan and preserve
my epitaph for the world,
the irony is
I’m making useless prattle
into something priceless.
Last time I checked,
it was still on my neck,
What now is a mark,
once was a speck,
Protected by the freckle,
I can now never forget,
Tattooed into a bad mood,
the ink I still regret,
Smooth surface, epidermis,
let color fill the pores,
Black lines, abstract designs,
around the open sores,
Follow my fingers
from the valley to the summit,
Let go of all your baggage,
watch all your worries plummet,
Rub it in a circle
’til the purple turns to pink,
Palm against palm
let our fingers interlink,
Wrinkles and folds,
crevices and creases,
Capturing the beads
a sweat gland releases,
Scars and birthmarks
and lipstick kisses,
Fleshly desires
and skinful blisses,
Cuts and wounds
and bumps and bruises,
Believing the lies
when beauty confuses,
A tingling sensation
while waiting patiently,
Exhale into the navel
and let creation breathe,
Scriptures and phrases
that raises goosebumps,
The laying on of healing hands
and disappearing lumps,
I’ve spent a lifetime,
counting freckles and moles,
Skin against skin,
like magnetic poles.
www.psalmsandpsychoses.com
Condemned
I
I just woke up from my breathless bed
And wondered why I still live
I thought death would take me on a leave
Unto the path I never dread.
I sat down on the couch
My sins stirring at my frightening face
The iniquities of yester years sort me to trace.
And so I sat on the fence while all I could say is ouch!.
The darkening of my heart could not be seen
The guilt of my soul took me on a death roll
My condemnation had commenced yester night on a scroll
I wrote my own verdict knowing it was mean.
It had not been long since I was recognized
All the same in my heart I knew I was condemned
The whole land had seen my commercial commend
Yet I knew I had only being marginalized.
And so I sat sentenced by my sins
Wondering why I still live
And thought, would God I will eternally leave
So I can escape the painful pitiful pinches of guilt’s pins.
II
I still sit on the fence burden by today’s sins
My heart as heavy as logs
Only wait for guilt to elope with me to hades since
Nothing can compare with my burdens but winters fogs
I am the chief of all sinners, he announced his condemnation
The Apostle had pitifully acclaimed
That there is a torn in his epidermis inhabiting his emancipation
Yet ample elegance bestowed on him; He proclaimed.
Now, like this man I say, what a do not want to do, that a do!
But among the celestial beings heard a voice say
My child, grace enough I give to you
Only get out of guilt’s tray
So I sat up and saw Hope smiling at me like the sun shining in its altitude
My face awakened from its eternal condemnation
My love had come to me with such an assuring attitude
No human could beat His imagination
With a kiss He said; judge no one and you will not be judged
Condemn not so you will not be
Only embrace so my house will be merged
Into the formal blissful beauty bestowed on every being at a bloody fee.