Best Eyeliner Poems
I sit on the toilet...
planning my choice of clothing,
hairstyle, makeup and daily chores.
Using my eyeliner for writing
a reminder to myself on the toiletpaper,
and make me complete.
Leaving the bathroom aware that
I used my reminder and flushed it down
the toilett.
HMMMM, what was my daily chores...?
_____
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(____/\ )
|___ U? (____
_\L. | \ ___
/ /"""\ /.-' | |\ |
( / _/u | \___|_)_|
\ | \ \ / / \_(___ __)
| \ \ / / | | |
| ) _/ / ) | |
_\__/.-' / ___( | |
_/ __________/ \ | |
/ / / ( ) | |
( \__ |___\ \______ /_ l____ |
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\ \ )/ /__ (
__ | / _//___| \_________
_/ ( / OUuuu \
` ---- ' (____________)
Hell breaks loose through the trusting door
Whining its splintering, wooden hinges
Claws wrapping onto the arches beyond
Gnarled feet pressed on the threshold
Lower limbs jingling with sparky anklets
Ready to catapult and kick with spitting mouth
To shove its shine like a worthy prick
It was time for her daily purges
Peace is slapped about in her fickle hands and made ragged
Turmoil in her pedicured toes erodes the smoothed surfaces
Of the fashions’ must, into dusty rust of sick disgust
Her coral lips curve in delight
At the sight of confused and crazy creatures
Staring numbly at her hell-bent sight
She is always laughing, snarling or lying low
Waiting for the climatic blow
Bottom dwelling, blush smearer
Eyeliner runner, nail-biting binger
Her lies tease and her eyes see a perfect she will never be
As her large, curved nails glimmer
She scuttles her way like a crab in a salty delirium
She hides her hiss like a snake ready to miss for a chase
Challenging practicality,
“Dear Prudence,
Won’t you come out to play?”
But we are silent to the accursed
The wise are wary and rehearsed
We all slip right through as she intrudes an empty room
Waiting for a reaction, screwing with the lights to assert a distraction
She wreaks havoc in the dark,
“Dear Prudence!”
She screams,
As we softly walk down the path, nomads against the crabs
She doesn’t realize she is her worst fear—alone
Her mask melting and her anklets snapping
Collapsing, the tears she squeezed for her high
Were emptied, vindicated and dried
Angrily she must realize
In her twisted, stubborn way
It’s a beautiful day…
A crazy collab with my brother David Breidenthal [J.W Earnings]
Intricately fragile, embracing her curves,
She silently breathes in this womb,
This womb where she is a prey to its wants,
Its black silken webbing costume,
That clenches her neck, runs down her back,
Is tattooed the length of her leg,
Where every small inch of her dark gothic body,
Is covered in this spider’s thread,
She’s at one with this life of widowed disguise,
Eyeliner, fishnets, boots, and nails,
Each covered in this rich exquisite black web,
Becoming her corseted black jail,
And she wakes up at three, the unlit in the dark,
To play and to stalk and to bite,
To walk in the black crisp air of your town,
Our black widow who walks in the night.
She wanders through the rubble,
Tears streaming down her twisted face.
Red eyes mixed with black eyeliner.
Her pupils shine green among the dancing flames.
Branches snag her tattered clothes,
Causing her to fall.
On hands and knees,
She has no will to stand.
Chains and locks on her wrists and ankles,
Not letting her move.
Too weak…
She’s losing the fight.
Days of crying and sobbing,
Such pain.
Screaming on the inside,
But her voice won’t work…
Tuesday was the day the ogre found my kitchen.
The dog sat in the hallway for an hour watching her
Empty my refrigerator, and two cupboards.
I had never heard my dog whine like this, I thought it odd
But I was tired, after a fitful sleep,
So I called in sick, and slid back under my pillow.
By noon the ogre had emptied two more cupboards.
I know because she was a braggart.
When I trotted into my bathroom I noticed my makeup was gone.
I did not see who was wearing my eyeliner and lipstick
Until I reached the kitchen. Where the dog would not go.
No wonder. The ogre was enormous, flamboyant, and intimidating.
“Is that my lipstick?” I asked her.
She laughed, showing me uneven yellow teeth
Then she began to brag about what she had eaten first,
and how fast she had done it.
I tried to chase her away, but she refused to go.
She sent me to the store with a shopping list.
What could I do?
She was holding my dog hostage.
Slouched in the chair, with the lights off
Bottle in her hand she’s
Amused, by the illusions she’s having
No parents, dropped off at the steps of those who don’t even know her.
Who don’t even care
Don’t judge me!
Smoke slowly releases from her soft lips
She has no education no understanding
What comes after 10!
Who cares.
Her hair is wild as she smacks the guys hand away
That tries to touch her
You don’t know me like that!
Lost and no love
She sniffs away the powdery
Snow that falls from the sky with no shoes on
Black eyeliner drips down her face
And her scent is unbearable
I have low- self esteem she says.
Her skirt rides up her backside
And her eyes roll back
She is at the point of no return
She is lost with no home and no one to love.
All because someone forgot to love her a little more
God's Palette
How does God paint a calico cat?
With smidgeons of orange, gold
and the most charcoal black.
A white background is his canvas.
His heavenly brushes, of these, God
has no lack!
The cat serenely stands, as God
chooses what blessed brush to use
with His Divine artistry!
The cat suddenly speaks:
"Please, God! Can I have half of an
orange mustache and a black hat,
too?
One of my eyes surrounded in orange?
The other surrounded in charcoal black,
please?"
God does exactly as directed, then says:
"We are not done my creature,you!"
He paints her back, swirls of gold,
orange and black.
Then adds black eyeliner for contrast
and hue.
At last, her back legs receive all colors.
God, then, is well pleased with his creation,
kisses her,and has His angels carry her to the
human nation.
Oh, most beautiful creature, God's gift
to us.
We will love, care for, and honor you...
A blessed and very celestial friend to us!
Panagiota Romios
3/29/2019
( Nb- I can assure the reader that this is in no way autobiographical- absolutely impossible)
Excuse me, madam, you're too fat
and Lady, you're too thin.
Your hair's not blonde cascading curls
you've dull and spotty skin.
An hourglass figure is out of reach
for somebody like you
you look like you are pregnant and
your butt needs toning, too.
Foundation and some blusher could
improve you, for a start
then work on your eyeliner, though
you'll find that's quite an art.
Try these techniques, be careful though,
you won't know when to stop
then one day you will look like me-
product of Photoshop.
Now as i weave my poetry, he says to me
"You look good beautiful
From the tips of your fingers to the ends of your nails"
I smile back and continue to my second stanza
I'll give you my beauty for free, i think painfully
If you can erase all my hurt
All my brokeness
For beyond my shellac
There is a tarmac road full of potholes and cracks
And i wish you could see that
I wish you see me that way because am not fully put together
The foundation hides, that which i wish you could love
The eyeliner drives, that which is not there
Read my poems
Read me
Read my pain and then love me
we're here again
you in denim skirt
shrinking against long legs
I in (imaging) nothing
sheen & glisten in moonlight
interior car lamp light
tan
crimped high hair & bangs
blue eyeliner
mascara
easy to manuever
baggy sweater
boots both pleasant
left
on or off
coco chanel palpable
down the smooth of the neck
wet full
shut eyed wine cooler passion
tongue on tongue
w/ hint of marlboro kiss
synchrotizing deep breaths
hands searching instictively
sharing talents without even looking
yes ma'am
not too many fails for a blind man
to hop that curb
when he got his reed straight
what a telecommute you give to
adolescent lust with reaquianting
idioms of San Joaquin Valley dreams
your laugh reaches out
to pat me on the head
how to knit the nights into one
without the rising of the sun
I would never go home again
(out all night)
you see, I've thought of the impossible before
me and you
before Mexico
before mentioning retiring at 50
and living off interest
off the coast
with maids & gardeners
your smile fulfilling as you dig
your grace teaching as you fold
your hand moving from the top of my head
to slap my face
All you asked for was a diamond ring
All you asked for was that I be impractical
All you asked for was that I live the SLO life
I don't want to be beautiful if it means putting on make-up for 3 hours a day.
I don't want to be beautiful if it hurts.
I don't want to be beautiful if I will never be enough.
I don't want to be beautiful if it means staring at a stranger in the mirror.
I don't want to be beautiful if my best friend becomes eyeliner.
If beauty is pain
If beauty is time
If beauty is plastic
If beauty is stress
If beauty is money
If beauty is everything
Than thank God i'm ugly
I try to push away
she said
As I lit my cigarette in hand
The gleam from the fire made my eyes squint
and gave me a sub version of her face.
All I glimpsed was red bitten lips and black stained skin
that trailed from her eyes; I guess from that mascara or eyeliner
whatever the hell you women wear.
Push away..?
From what?
I thought
Hmmm
I'm really not interested.
I just wanted to smoke and watch some hopeless girls dance.
That's right, hopeless;
Men don't come here to watch a seven
find a way to grab some dollar bills without her hands.
We get to see that there is someone out there that make us feel better,
cause we got dealt the better hand,
they just happen to have a sweet face and nice pair...sometimes...
So could I have one?
she said to me
I was so gone and dazed that I forgot she had spoken to me before.
Have what I said
She stared at the lit white duke in my hand.
I lingered there with eyes glossed from my buddies
Jim, Jack, Johnny and Jose;
Those boys sure like to ride those horses...
Are you even old eno- ah what do I care.
I hand her a one out of ten cancer stick,
her cracked lips pucker as she holds and looks to me for a light.
The fire waves hello and goodbye quickly
and we're back in the musk of things.
Not much for caring are you honey?
she seem to mumbled with a disdained smile
Without a beat I told her:
I'm not your savior baby
You've been watching your own time
And God only knows when that hand is going to stop at five
I'm not your lover darling
That hand's only clinging wine
And no man likes a sober woman, but no drunk woman be mine
I'm not your father lady
It's seems that guidance has gone and kept you lost
But it seems your mothers words you've tuned out or have shaped them boxed
And with that I took a lost drag and started walking out the door,
and as I looked back at her she sat there still not knowing,
not knowing what she's living for...
Eye contact at a bar,
Laughter mixes pheromones,
Irises dilate as dark euphoria sets
Two unavoidable actions in motion.
His double action Adams apple pumping
As her lips glisten after a tongue bath.
Lightning cracks inside, deafening logical rhythm,
Channeling energy into porcelain-like
Vessels of desire.
Muscle tightens under skin, defining
Halted passion, sensual urges, and plasma thirst.
Blood pumps into veins, temperature is in flux,
Perceptions re-imagined, recollecting interests.
She sees his primal fierce eyes, sculpted body
Under a new light. A canvas to etch her
Screams in with red polish. Painful,
Pleasurable thoughts invade, creating
Memory before action.
He smells her fragrance, he feels her breaking
Resolve submitting to him. The chemistry of his
Anatomy pulling, swimming, clawing at each
Fiber of her being. Her skin’s cold and moist,
His, warm banana nut bread.
First embraces, friction, resistance, motions
In oceans of soaked sheets. Powerful
Contractions, condensation on windows,
Perspiration dripping beads over
Limbs. Forcing self upon self is
Maddening, to conceive, to imagine
Hard sounding drums pounding
Soft harmonic beats into one
Human melody.
Exhaustion, the wasteland of battle,
Blood and lipstick swirling eyeliner into
War paint. Carcasses lay strewn, scars
Ridden across back and thigh.
Tears fall down cheeks out of pure
Joy and affirmation of lust.
May I buy you another?
The best choice of words
Made a dream come true
For whom?
Track marks of
Eyeliner run
Away from
Retinas and
Stained cheeks.
“Buy me a scarf” she said and curled her toes through snow to demonstrate the color of
numbness..
“Buy me a scarf and I'll wrap our memories around my neck, you can watch me smile in
storms as I contemplate warmth and look at you beneath the sky.”
I wrote promises on windows with fingers that touched shadows and counted snowflakes
crystals as I destroyed their patterns in a feeble attempt to claim love...
There, in the house that spoke one thousand tears, I thought about the secrets we
whispered when the year turned and purple was fantastic on the other side of frozen lakes
despite the voices that named us something unspeakable.
Rings and silver and I wore one on my toe, polished perfectly, my feet felt summer and I
laughed in lilts of June and breaths of lilac bushes that lined my backyard, but I kept my
closet door shut, winter stitches on shelves so January's voice would never be heard...
I boxed up photographs and letters that quoted songs we had sang together, I covered up
her haircut and placed her eyeliner in an envelope but I knew, beneath the ground where
lilac bushes rooted themselves...
she wore the ring I had placed upon her finger on her fourteenth birthday, on the day
August spoke up and we listened intently, mocking
January
and bedposts that wrote her name...
and I sat, cleaning prints off of windows, erasing promises and eluding love, wondering,
if I had learned how to knit, would sidewalks have been so convincing?
I listened to memories and bought myself a scarf, wrapped stitches of January around my
neck and heard her, in laughter, as she whispered through the wind that numbed the fingers
that broke promises...
“Lend me your scarf, and I'll see you, I'll hold your hand when August knocks you down.”