Best Fleshed Poems
Yes…feel me, temper my insanity,
hold my fleshed passion as I connect
with an audience to share how a night
devours monsters at the seams.
And yet, this refrain loses as the final poll
excludes my name. Why so? My lenses
run up and down the fourth time; my breath
skips : but the multitude of acclaim
from my readers inhabit my soul,
allowing me to shower my ink
with deeper hues as my inner congas
beat for another round of adventure;
this time more assured that by nourishing
my own desire to regard the heart's compass
first and foremost is what matters..
as always.
...............
Jerry T Curtis' Contest
12/30/2014
One tall and gaunt with hooded eyes
The other bearded, bent, time-worn and wise
They relished unfurling their intellectual sails
To seek secrets of wisdom on ancient gales
Two wizened old philosophers in a huddled conspiracy
They picked through the bones of archaic mythology
Pondered the tomes of scholars of yore
Then fleshed out the virtues of masters of lore
They sniffed out the dragons of hateful hypocrisy
Harangued and railed against heinous heresy
Decried the dogmatist's intolerant curse
Then like poets esteemed they trundled through verse
Their furrowed cheeks glowed as the whiskey flowed
Voices gravelled and slurred as their logic blurred
They fumbled and mumbled, weary and weaving
As the dying embers of day, dropped into evening
With their feverish fervour fully feted
They stumbled into the night, agreeably sated!
We have brought this upon ourselves:
This virus, this egregore:
This cult of individuality.
Our right to die and bring others with us!
Truly an inversion of full potentiality:
Others live so we may make right.
The Sun shines on all, says the Teacher,
And vanity blows among its rays.
Like a mask covering a face, so the individual masks their community:
The community devoted to the rite of self-absorption and absolute dismissal of the Absolute
that is the ground beneath us all.
In the guise of a serpent, pleading to be left alone,
like the man behind the curtain, pulling the strings of our poem,
like a talking donkey, kicking us down the road,
this power and principality wants us to become I and all to be you
so it may survive another day, sacrificing us at the anti-altar
of death and decay.
No blood will flow – no life to be seen -
growing and growing, spreading its seed:
From west to east,
by the forces of materiality
and powers that be.
There’s a certain irony to it all:
We must as individuals overcome our idiotic being -
rather, be captured by the wonder of the other -
and come to the altar fully experiencing
the body and blood of the Other
fleshed before us, drawing our eyes
toward the gaze of an other.
The silky searing touch of sappy loving blood is all too much,
Milky stars melting into my murky mind as my body's red mud burns to the touch.
Make my hole riddled skin into astronomy,
Chart something pretty into my mortal flesh that holds too much within to be.
I see stars so let me be them,
Pressure building up into collapse to be the divinity of the friend they saw in him.
Dying, this body knows it to be raspberry meshed true.
Lying, I smile and laugh about the filth fleshed hue.
I wish not to be he who slithers in spite,
I wish not to be he who stares empty at his ceiling fast through the night.
But alas these eyes already a canvass for worlds to build,
Shedding and molding my mucked intent to be suicidally willed.
Alas it at last hurts too much to see,
So rather I pray for you to let me be astronomy.
-end-
Community starts here
Under this tree of sprawling branches
With thighs pressed against sinuous gnarled roots,
Our heads nodding and shaking with whurring yellow leaves
Adorning our heads and fluttering off into the river beside us,
Only to stick to the dipping twigs of the tree in such cool August air,
Such a smoky light, community will start right here.
Community starts here
In this small over-crowded coffee shop,
with faces in late morning glow, as old friends reunite to
the clang of dishes and the sliding of porcelain
On faux-mahogany, elbow-elbow expressions brighten
from the whiteness of day: "I got a copy of my documentary on DVD
In my car that I can give you, if you like?"
"Oh really, well, okay..." This is the post-Sunday Mass air
Where light and love swirl as opportunity and re-emergence
And everything feels as natural as a breeze, with the fluttering of
Newsletters, roommates wanted ads, yoga lessons, and announcement
That a new spoken Word artist is arriving in town who's blind but has a dog and took the
bus from Ohio and reads his words like honey for angels,
This is where community starts.
Community starts here
On the playground of a hundred tumbling children
Screaming, tugging, jumping, laughing, crying, and dreaming.
Slow this time down and imagine them all 30-years-old with suits
And private thoughts and caged feelings and fully-fleshed with the
Citizen's kinetic energy to do right and wrong, good and bad,
Picture them as you, then picture how you're reflected in their eyes like
Revolving suns with times for dinner, and now flash back to the monkey bars,
Back to the open-souled shining young stars, here on their battleground,
in this galaxy of fun and terror our community finds it seedlings.
From the cafe to the riverbank,
From the playground to the People's Court of Whatever You Can Think Up,
Community starts everywhere,
Everywhere,
But my bathroom.
I roam through cactus and moonlight,
never knowing how old marrow can be fleshed
from pores sewn in blank lines of endings ~
and here I am among rows of a year’s diary;
these hands sanded by memorials
of famine and feast ; sometimes wrinkled
by the laundry of evenings’ regret.
At times, like a torn gypsy rose burned in coal,
I remember the faces of my family smelling
of tar and mint , knitting arms flamed
though midnight’s love, then doused
by autumn’s muddy rain ~ gone just like that.
12/28/2015
For the Contest Deep and Dark
Sponsor; Broken Wings
Cajole me in the right frame of mind
For I'm vexed not because of
Personal issues but because of the
Morbid, abstract canvas of life
I'm subjected to witness, where
Groups of so-called righteous men
Drop indiscriminate bombs
On fellow humans ripping
Homes and families apart
Shedding the blood of the innocent
Then simply labeling it
Collateral damage -
Collateral damage of War
Shelling babies... collateral
Damage of war!
Then pluck out thine eyes
With two bold fingers
For I cannot bear witness
To the dislodging of families
Fleeing wildly wherever
The cold wind blows
Crossing rough seas
None with the ability of
Jesus to walk on water
Nor faith to part it like Moses
Water ...swilling with red blood
And saline stinging tears
Mothers wailing bearing
The agony in suffering
Petrified twisted faces pressed
To their wet bosoms
Fathers gnashing teeth,
Raging, panting, feeling
Like a poltroon
Powerless. Gray skies depicts
No rainbow, no promise.
Strike me down
I refuse to bear witness
Beseeching before I meet my demise,
Obliterate borders, these
Man made borders
Us with our Jingoistic attitude
Jingoistic ... flag waving
Entitlement ... displaying
Utmost xenophobia
The mantra mocking
Go home, go home, go
Home - face your fate
On your homeland soil
Drenched and soaked in blood.
I shiver terrifically in my skin
What if it was me ... you
In those weathered skin
Under the moon and stars
Branded a refugee, worthless
Vulnerable, famished, weak
Motivated by hope to
Overcome barriers and borders
And when pruned fleshed
Feet imprint the coarse sand
There's no child in hand
Swallowed up by the gluttonous sea
Let hell's bells drone on
When dastardly Superpowers drop
Nasty bombs on the innocent
Butchering, maiming ... moribund
Then labeling it collateral damage
Cajole me in the right frame of mind
For I will go stark raving mad.
© 2015 Denise Morgan
Haunted House was built on cemetery grounds
Completed at a time before the aliens in white arrived
Cold fleshed, green teethed, in gray seasons grip
Beneath the rocks in molded soil hidden
Bones lifted in a dig disfigured
More dead than alive, lost souls vacated
The spade laid down for a seconds spell
With crusted man along the dirty rock
To take a breath and gaze into the void
Sweat serene, glistening, dripping from the brow
Elongated fractured skulls rest settled
Reveal nothing to the nothing new
A grave robbers truth comes with uninvited guests
Moved in unannounced uncounted under haunted house
Under a blood drained moon anemic to the touch
Giant trees shrouded, doomed, draped in black
Fog hides dark sins, cast dim images, shed in mystery
Surmise a death spiral rising from the grave
Comes calling along the last crusted leaves revealed
Dried, turned brown, died, dead on the boughs
Hung over the inevitable advance of age
Blown hollow now on Winters wind deceased
Clouds gather at the ripe time harvested
Watch gouged out eyes inflicted by angry aliens
Nails sharp, metallic claws, ripping at the throat
Scratching at the vacant skies half maddening
Exposing a complex skeletal system poisoned
A cobwebbed network of limp branched bones
That fill in the nightmares shared by strangers
Fall collapsed, civilization followed, laughed
Cemetery house claims an ugly infestation
Aliens, lost souls, elongated skulls remain
Quiet, serene, for the time being
Visitors tongues are silenced
Cut out with a smile, glistening white
Poem created on 9/28/2016 for "Scare Me Good" Poetry Contest
MY GARDEN
It’s only rose rains, no reins.
in my garden redolent
of you preened and green.
brainwashed by balance sheets ,
soul-washed by sour names,
what remains as mine.
remnants ? residue? Desiccation?, no!
a sanguine touch, solitude?, yes!
wanted or bonded
flushed or fleshed,
secretive or secreting
dry like a silver skyline
or wet like winter sweat
its contours solemn-countering ,
confines groping in green, serene ..
come on in..
By S.Jagathsimhan Nair, 13th feb 14
For: Giorgio's Impress me-4
Motif: Romantic
For Giorgio's 'Impress me-5'
(In Memorium:
For Modern Singapore's
Founding Father,
Mr Lee Kuan Yew, RIP)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
See that body politic
In visionary brave tact;
See that action dynamic
In lovely outcome life facts.
A man of vision lived here
With a fierce, bold loyalty;
A man of passion most dear
Who forged purpose profoundly.
Once in a hundred years we
Are lucky to witness grand;
Once in a vital way see
A soul who fleshed our good ends.
The Singapore way today
Was crafted by bold daring;
The modern city state pays
A tribute to great forging.
Our once upon a time here
Is lived through the humble man;
The life we live now endears
All races to a clear trend.
As a mark of gratitude,
We the people honour you;
For forging faith attitude:
"Thank you Mister Lee Kuan Yew."
Your days upon this good earth
Are over now -- Rest In Peace;
We mourn yet feel a warm mirth:
Your Singapore blooms kind ease.
Leon Enriquez
23 March 2015
Singapore
Mushroom soft bed hears lines we read aloud
Shapely verse rhythms arc like trailing waves
Goose-fleshed words uttered, pillow talk endowed
Teasing us closer, haze of misbehave
Silver dark night, perishable, shapes love
Rhythmic movement, a glow in your round eyes
A furtive look of courtship, passion's dove
Beguiling smile, pulled harp string of loose sighs
Arms like branches wrap 'round our oasis
To set free the bending tree bark, lonely
Whispered covert charm that shifts our basis
Desire's loyal touch that smites us slowly
To kiss skin cupped about in furrows
Till summer's dawn shakes us on the 'morrow
Sonnet composed: May 19, 2021
JAR OF LIFE....??
Like the thighs of a fresh virgin
The softness of your lips embraced my origin
You contralto voice like the echoes of the Moon filled the room to the brim
Each thrust into your thirty-two made my heart sound gbim! Gbim!! Gbim!!!
The awesomeness of your salivary gland
Like the pool of a wet nurse baptized my origin
Blessed is the angel that carved thy cheeks
More blessed is he that carved thy firm-fleshed riped fruits
In them my soul is buried
It is the sight of them that motivates my inner man
Watching you rise like the mother of dragons
Sent a wave of pleasure down the tails of my drogon
At that point did I say to myself...
If I perish, I perish
Indeed deep within your warmness truly I perished
The welcoming and opening ceremony of your sleekness
Succulence of your inner estate
Your solemn contralto voice of many notes
All worked together for the good of my adventure
In the business of your satisfaction
I was busy making profits till I felt the last drop of my last seed
Into your JAR OF LIFE...
©ABSOL
????????
green as foliage’s in the sun;
Beauties are forever.
resplendent as the constellation
of stars,
Sunshine's are gems, rare;
of creatures divinely clayed.
hues of gold,
scents of tulips.
the charm, of a river nymph
fleshed-up in the graces of
heaven - Sublime.
angels are known and felt before
the tick of one second;
You are one,
a flower with the big heart
and though few the times together,
your peacocks are largely pronounced as the
fascination of your name – NGOZI
Glow.
Rise.
And twice the span of
four decades and five,
Fly in wings swifter than the eagles
for your stars have a thousand lights.
* Ngozi is an Igbo name that means "blessing".
(In praise of 'Ngozi Ochei; a beauty at 45, and still counting)
Copyright©2019
IGIRI Victor
I am perfectly content lying in your arms
The look in your eyes has been revealed
Tender affection I'm always able to glean
Love's reflection has never been concealed
My heart was once fragile and broken
but no longer is it blemished with fears
It was chipped like a delicate porcelain cup
but you mended it when you dried my tears
I'm not a flawless diamond or a lustrous pearl
I've dulled from heartache, wounded long ago
but when held within the strength of your arms
I feel as though I've been polished until I glow
When we are together, lying side by side,
bare fleshed, our bodies yearning and heated
your touch becomes a spark, a burning flame
ignited when the words, "I love you," are repeated
We will forever be committed to our spoken vows
Your gentle warmth blooms my budding flower
Our love is incarnate, not a mere fantasy
Beside you I will linger, hour after hour
Night has fallen. I'll light the scented candles
climb back into bed where beside you I'll sigh,
"Hold me in your arms until break of dawn.
This love we share, I could never deny."
~ September 18th, 2017 ~
Hold me in your arms contest
Hosted by: Julie Rodeheaver
A night of astral castle building
This illusionist skin became sag
Dropped fleshed , Sharpe human
Abhorrently mirror transfixed
Naked in her bathroom,
The nectar calling
Dreamed spiritually with a mouth
Remembering last nights sleep
Mother made with love
Daisies in Jell-O, militia told to eat
Sickening me with pedal-taste