Best Flesh Poems
Introducing: Casarah Nance & Poet Destroyer
Scars of empty promises are darkened by your kiss.
Torturous touches are meant to soothe my pain.
It is without gain, without pleasure, beyond measure,
You are the puppet master, strung on dark days, a haze.
Specter of solitude, you confine me with your magnitude,
What purpose do I serve, is slavery what I deserve?
Tell me your intention, sate me with your perfection.
Shed a light into this soul starved sanctuary,
Come, whisper your words in my ear, complete me…
A sweet surrender to your call, a will of solitude
I lead the way, cutting strings attached to the light
Touching every breathing strand stressing yesterday
Giving you room to fall into my designated despair,
Adding, to your creeping gloom, I give and lend pouring pain,
the kind of pain, that begs for blades
Abhorring the taste of life, your flesh empowers my darkness
My intentions are nothing more, than a shadow bearing strength,
Smiling at your tears, caressing your lips,
Taking from the closure your soul seeks tonight
Blind! You will become to the misery, in this barren place
The pain of rigor mortise will blend against your pale skin
A slave without shackles,
I concur with pleasure to feed the hunger, you give
Forever, I am DARKNESS
~A Poet Destroyer collaboration~
I want to place my final prayer
upon your plush velvet neck
murmuring my needs warmly
on that expressway where the crossroads of love and lust unite
focusing the steam of my soul there
confessing wholeheartedly
that my heart cannot move without you,
with my thick, steady hand rotating around your priceless grail
feeling the communion of our desire come to life
as your mouth becomes the chalice that holds my heartbeat
in this moment that confirms our sanctity -
J.A.B.
"Marionette of Flesh in a Borrowed Dress"
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
The hourglass,
a skeletal jester
mocks in the tomb's chill
Each falling grain an emaciated sigh,
"Soon you'll cease to be."
The mirror's cold reflection,
a Gorgon's ghastly guise
A marionette of flesh with vacant...
hollow...
colorless eyes.
The worms, like pallid mourners
watch me shrink
A marionette of organs,
cold and pale, pink.
This flesh, a borrowed dress
once sprightly
Now stained and thin
Holds tight the secrets only
death can win.
This borrowed dress,
a shroud where my story's writ
In laughter's faded stitch
and tear's accusing slit.
A map of life etched deep
with scars that mar the grain.
A raven of fleeting triumphs
a pendulum of ceaseless pain.
In the shadowed hollows
where sorrow resides
I languish.
marionettes of fate's cruel designs!
Each scratch and cut a lament.
each tear a bitter sea!
Bound by the chains of my...
limited mortality.
In this borrowed dress,
I mourn what could have been...
Lost in the convulsion of my own... sin.
I am transformed
but not redeemed.
I am drifting into the void
My spirits are shattered
and my dreams destroyed.
So in the silence of eternity
I find my rest
Lost in this body of my own...
detest.
And though this shell
a chrysalis
soon withers
and decays
I cast aside the shroud
no longer bound or worn.
Accept the endless night,
where a new self-forlorn is bourne.
Transformed
a residual relic
through the void
I fly
Suture with stardust catgut,
a worn scroll in the sky.
All men will…
Will leave a legacy
After life’s journey comes to an end
This is something to think about
In these times of uncertainties
We weave intrinsically, our “eternity”
Man is more than flesh and blood
Our spirit never dies
Daily, we choose
Whether consciously or not
Moment by moment
A word uttered can not die
Cannot become void
But rides a wind into forever
Awaiting accountability
Man is more than flesh and blood
Our spirit never dies
Daily, we choose
I Am Mortal Man, Made Of Mere Flesh And Bone
Sad and lost soul walked in his old worn shoes,
dark clouds covered his bowed and forlorn head.
Life had beat him hard, made him pay heavy dues,
cast jagged stones into his every night's bed.
He looking back at all his dear family now gone,
his broken soul cried- God release me please.
I am mortal man, made of mere flesh and bone,
my every path hard, nothing comes with gentle ease
Yet the spirit was strong and his heart held dreams,
hope that another day would great blessings bring.
Each night's prayer he found new flowing streams,
such that morn's new light made his joy sing
As each day brought its bricks and falling stones,
Hope, his greatest shield, prevented any broken bones.
Robert J. Lindley, 4-15-2016
Dedicated to all my friends here that give me hope each day.
Hope that life will give future blessings and my family will
be well and safe when I am gone.
Musee
See where it burns in Titian's brush
subsides along the cool Aegean stone,
or twists in the fist-faces of Rome,
our only mystery--flesh.
There, uncertainty ends, or does it merely pause?
The surgeon's knife reveals a shadow
no surface contains, our laws
are not what we do or vow.
Yet surface is all, and scars--
the scuttled pains that heal.
Observe how memory collects in flaws
placed where they are most real.
Or how, as flowers, the persistent leaf
bears the color of its grief.
The glass chatters, clanks, and shatters
As it hits the ground
But makes no sound
The only thing heard is the
Screams of pain
As I get hit into the glass
Blood everywhere
Pain unbearable
The ripping of flesh
Cracking of bones
Screams of pain
Yet no one hears the screams
No one to save me
From this nightmare
From that thing
Evil and putrid
Bragging of his virtue
But he’s hurting me
Ripping my skin
Breaking my bones
No one can hear my screams of pain
Why can’t they hear me?
Does virtue truly block others from seeing the torment before them?
Does it make its followers so blind they cant see the bruises?
Does it make its followers so deaf they can’t hear me begging for mercy?
As sun smiled a last few moments
on our warm, trembling rock,
and I sat behind you in the breeze,
your skin visibly welcomed
touch of sunset, touch of air
and touch of worshipful hands.
I'd have ravished you there
but for the uncertainty of the day.
Your breasts grew urgent
under my audacious touch,
and your skin threatened
to burst into a myriad rays
of warmly chilled daylight.
I was not quite sure
whether your luxurious flesh
surrendered to the touch
of that flirtatious summer breeze
or surrendered to the touch
of my infatuated hands.
It satisfied me then, there,
to think that it might be both.
30th June 2020
Would you crusade to remote regions
in search of that timeless tomb, the one made of seasalt & sandstone,
to towns tempered by the terror of war, windswept with worry,
Do prayer calls of the Jihadist singe the comfort breathing in your books of traditions,
could the Koran summon an instinct of journey in the feet of your hopes,
perhaps the Bardo Thadol a simmering shout from the monastery of one's monsters
suppressed in cells of selfless sorrow, daring repressed in reminiscence of rectitude,
in the Old Testament do you find aged allergies or fertile figments of prophets' pennies,
saviors in the center of gravity cinching the flinching surfacing in proverbs proofing
along the borders of the desserts chilling in the kitchen of your cares,
Maybe in front of the Wailing Wall you'd find dust entreating you to become a martyr
for the charm of morning, on your knees amid the Caaba perhaps sand jinies will jest,
in the midst of the tree grip of Angkor Watt the tongue of first life might muse of miracles
sewn into the sackcloth of parents' aspirations, conceptions wrought from the wanted,
take it to the sky, take it to the soil, take it to the core, let saints keep score,
take it 'till there is no more -
J.A.B. %
Infinite hearts of infinite loves
Sent to earth on wings of diligent doves
Infinite wisdom with infinite smiles
Sent to earth for her turbulent trials
Infinite eyes through infinite stars
Sent to earth to look at her scars
Let your heart of stone crumble in His presence
That we may abide in love within our penance
Let Him give you a true heart of flesh
That we may melt our sins and refresh
It has been said that a heart of stone
Shall never wander but stand alone
It has been said that a heart of flesh
Shall willingly wander and always mesh
Let Him come inside your hurting heart
That we may have joy and a fresh new start.
Dec.11.2017
The Good Samaritan
Sponsored by: Craig Hawkins
Do not be diabolically deceived by this entity called ‘Love’, and the Blue Jewell we call Earth. For both of them work in unison to capture their prey, like a Venus Fly Trap. Some will die a thousand deaths, before a pound of flesh must be given to escape their succulent snare. As we are being dissected by vultures beneath a brilliant blue sky. Holding hands in the park before the unforeseen quenching quicksand, as it hungers in the distance. Fallaciously fornicating…to release more life, a pound of flesh must be served. There are many piercing pleasantries that excite the exotic eye, each to allure its victim, as we watch the clouds caress the mountainous view. To whom the bells toll, a pound of Flesh for your soul…
why does love exist?
for only to meet its death
under the blue sky
April.27.2019
Pick A Title, Vol 4
Haibun Poetry
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
4.) Pound of Flesh
Placed 1'st...Thank You
The pricking sun starts to hide
when the stars unfurl their cloaks
The darkness starts to creep this evening
Oh I can feel my spirit rising
I stayed at the corner
And concealed by the dim
As I waited for them
With a see through dress
it reveals my fresh taut breast
and flaunt my crescent hips
Prowling, peering, peeping
like the voyeur moon
Scanning these passerby men
with a filthy eye
Ops, I spotted one!
"Pssst, pssst, pssst"
is an enchanting invitation
from this lovely siren
And I receive a glance
With a wink of an eye
he give in to mine
In my bed I prepared
sheets of smooth linens,
rose spattered floors
like a shattered virgin,
Sets of burning candles
weep my husband's leave
but their lights celebrate
my burning desires
He perfumed me with his breath
He oiled my body with kisses
fluids dripping in my flesh
Giving and receiving
Warm bodies colliding
Flesh against flesh
as this fire we unleash
Riding to pleasure
till we reach hell's depth
I'm a flesh huntress
who craves for flesh
I sling sweet talk
and bait my body
I need not snare
for that is man's desire
Don't dare to escape
As I cast sin's net
This poem is inspired by proverb's immoral woman...I am not pointing to a woman in
general...this is just a particular woman whom I also know....the point of view here is
shifting...
FLESH!
Distain for the comfort of others.
Blasphemy riddled lips.
Persecuted by the blood of another.
Convicted, wounded and ripped.
An errant thief that haunts this feeble mind.
Surrounding the haunting memories of distant past.
“Who art though,” I ask? Are you here to judge me?
The light of comfort wilts and never lasts.
Huddled amongst the inner illness.
Envision your way through a shattered mental maze of darkness and dismay.
A path obscured by the pitfalls and endless traps.
Only to invoke a demon that lurks in the shadows feeding on my emotions until I collapse.
Ask the question of, who am I?
Reach out and touch the empty seed.
Besieged by the darkness enclaved in its grasp.
Its chokes the essence of my soul as I beg and plead.
In terror I ask forgiveness and make amends.
Deep in my heart I reach out to the light. I beseech thee.
Wipe away the tears of pain and discontent.
Please hear my cry, my request, and my plea.
Does God really exist?
The demon replies, "Your soul is the flesh which I desire."
Flesh!
Dripping blood wet flesh.
It is my motivation.
It is my hunger.
To taste its savory raw tissue is almost as enjoyable as the kill of the
Prey from which I plucked the ripe morsel
Flesh!
As I, Their Weak And Soft Human Flesh, Sat To Eat
I have seen stars blown to dust, red moons rising steep
lives taken by the billions where death is a must.
Candles burnt out , before their red moon falls to sleep,
great empires destroyed, their monuments turned to rust.
I have walked blood-soaked alleys with neck bone in hand
bleached white bones crushing under my stomping feet.
Seen millions die making futile heroic last stands
as I, their soft and weak human flesh, sat to eat.
My name is Power- greed , pride, lust are my black game,
cherishing each hour my evil desires are met.
Men have called me many great and dastardly names
paid that heavy price as death wins my every bet.
So few can resist my alluring and dark charms
As my temptations brings lost souls into my arms.
R.J. Lindley,
July 25th 1977
Syllables Per Line:
12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
Total # Syllables: 169
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:
Total # Words: 134
(edited today before posting to meet uniform 12 syllable verse count)
Old Note- From my private journal 7-25-1977...
Wrote a dark one tonight as bad blood raced through my veins
wicked the fleeting midnight hour and its agonizing flow.
In my mind, deep hatred calls for dark and bloody stains'
never will she the dark demon, this my mad urge ever know..
New Note--
A very bad time in my young life (age 23 years old, 4 months and 20 days), whiskey seemed to put me in a rare mood.
(Intro)
Psyche watched from behind blue eyes
as Flesh stared at the mirror,
the look upon the face was grim,
the heart was filled with fear.
(Psyche)
Please tell me what is wrong my friend
and why that bitter smile,
let's see if we can cheer you up,
converse with me awhile.
(Flesh)
Psyche dear, what can I say,
I'm not the man I was.
Life is catching up with me,
you know the way it does.
My hair is gray as you can see,
my teeth are falling out,
it's getting harder every day
for me to move about.
These eyes are growing dimmer,
I fear I have no hope.
The earth is calling me to rest,
I'm not sure if I can cope.
(Psyche)
I know your woes are many
from the cradle to the grave,
you've put your faith in science
that your body it may save
(Flesh)
Psyche dear, my sophic friend,
on you I can rely,
please impart to me some speech
to save me lest I die.
(Psyche)
What can I say, companion dear,
that will stem the rising tide,
I've always thought of you a friend
and to you I've never lied.
You're at the point where life's downhill,
the ride will be quite fast,
but I'll be with you till the end
when they come for you at last.
On that day I'll mourn for you
and I will feel much sorrow.
You'll return to mother earth
but I will live to see tomorrow.
It was for me that you were born
to carry me on my way,
you are for me a vehicle,
one molded from the clay.
I will not say that life is fair,
it is ordained of God.
Yes, I shall see the glory,
but you shall press the sod.
Let's end this talk my fretful friend
and chase away these blues.
Look, the sun is shining bright,
the day breaks fresh and new.
We both know the day will come,
I'll hold your hand till then.
So do not fear, but persevere,
my very special friend.