Best Unspeakably Poems
Let Us Paint Stars in the Heavens
But first, you must come and carry me in your arms.
For human utterances, nothing to me, do they convey,
Simpy, the raw, bare, nakedness of us, sets me aflame!
Reflecting our stunning sexuality in that flowered pool,
next to Mount Olympus.
Where Pan, happily, his flute doth gayly, play.
In our Grecian land, where we have so many times have lain.
On God's verdant carpet of grass, Grecian gardenia mixed
with your manly scent.
May my last breath be only a swooming sea!
That is the very human scent of only desirable you and the
ever most wanton me.
How shy was I, that very first time, swept away by the site
of your haunting rippling flesh!
Embarrassed, oh yes, I wanted to look away!
But swooned at your virile manhood, nonetheless.
Captured was I, a total, forever, a prisoner of you!
Nothing innocent about us shall ever be written.
And yes, I wish it just to be exactly so!
For we are blessed to be passions' slaves in full glory.
We paint the stars in heaven without shame and no
faux romantic story!
A tale of us, most rare and divine, unspeakably delirious.
Where I can always feel your eternal hands, traversing
my naked spine.
I, your slave, till that final cloud takes me forever home.
To exist in the heavens, in our Orpheus star, never more lost,
eternally....
Within you, my eternal, celestial home, no more to roam.
July 29, 2020
Entered in Silent One's Sensuality Contest
And who knows for sure when reality fades into fantasy
What begins the sylvan slide, something so beautiful
you question the state of being true.
Everything is brighter, bolder more perfect
or,
on the darker side. things are unspeakably grotesque
evilly creepy, clawed with frightening wings that flap
across your dreams to haunt you.
Nature itself is fantasy, its breathtaking flowers
stars, shells, magnificent trees and yet it also has
the most ugly lizards, snakes spiders and insects to terrify
Because we need fantasy to understand our true selves.
My future happiness depended upon school,
They’re understanding of religious older parents,
Them constraining them with supervision,
So that I could have autonomy in my garments.
I mean, my parents let me wear what I liked,
But were unspeakably forceful poignantly,
Regarding who was going to dress and shower me:
Women, not men who could interact with me perfectly.
I wasn’t asking for all male carers,
Just one or two out of maybe five,
And I even offered to employ male nurses,
Rather than just anybody alive.
But my mum was disgusted at my suggestion,
Said it turned her stomach and made her ill,
Posited that I was not in my right mind,
Said that I made her queasy and gave her a chill.
The school’s social services seemed traditional,
Just like their toilet facilities, old and outdated;
The social worker had white, permed curly hair,
And so for parent disputes you could be slated.
So I never got the help I required and needed,
For my first care package at Glasgow University,
So I suffered from rejection, shortness and selfishness,
From my carers who were supposed to offer identity.
The wardens made it better for me every day,
Reprimanded them for disrespect and impoliteness,
But I never even imagined that voluntary carers,
Could suffice for my own future astuteness.
It upset my whole life, the schools neglect and indifference,
When I think that living success could have been sorted out,
My personal dignity and freedom could have been secured,
With a bit of determination and secular, atheistic liberal clout.
School is really just about your future,
It claims it by its very definition,
And the whole child should be taken and loved,
Not just his or her abilities with cognition.
As the old proverb prevails, " love comes unexpectedly"
hyperthetically speaking,exactly what happened to me
hurting decieving initially, then having to lay my cards
ending an eight year relationship,unspeakably so hard.
A feeling of selfishness,that i needed to explain
to make her see true love i found,obviously causing pain
i didn`t jump in to this,with my blinkers on
knowing that the pain inflicted, was definately wrong
But looking back in hindsight,i wouldn`t change a thing
the love,happiness and caring is what my Skinbob brings
i didn`t really get a chance, to put across the full tail
i had to explain the full issue over in an e mail.
I have no regrets at all,i did find my soulmate
we`ll be together forever,with memories to create
inseperable together,our siblings flown the nest
now i will do my utmost, to give my love the best.
Frank Herrera`s
Contest Name The CrossRoads of your Life
are you with me, you drowsy pen?…this world is a
freakin’ distorted place. we are scribbling
like mites in pillow fights: dirty nails we have become ,
contagious as micro germs trying to make
sense of all the fake reality clinging to sleek fuzz,
pizzaz and all that jazz… ‘cmon, we are all fragile.
we’re all gonna die. so why be drugged by
penning a Lindsay Lohan kind of intoxication?
look at you, ink! swiveling like whims of tipsy lines.
far too many blots on your made-up tip…
geez, those pop culture digs scanning cosmo hours
with whisky gulps of idle entertainment, you know,
the scratch of feeble hands sucking materialistic
greed. do you think you’re rotten smart in hurried
thoughts of instant gratification? this is for real, for real.
and listen up: have you written about the will of
a spirit for true love of self, of flowers and others?
nope, not the kind you feel when intoxicated phrases
are riddled with booze shots… life goes on, every second,
every written word. there's something
unspeakably beautiful about it all...if only you and i
can share the flow of some kind of wonder without greed.
you’re wasted! pik-bam-boom, take my alcoholic
breaths to the top; see that there is no before or after.
just one rare, pure “ now” moment: damn it’s for real, for real…
our lives are a good freakin’ thing, isn’t it? hey, you’re dozing off !
©
by nette onclaud
for Elliott Bowe’s Drink Drunken Pen
Somewhere in the dungeon of my soul
was a memory I supressed,
and a song, a scent
reignited the place and time long forgot.
And I remember leaving the cocoon we called home
I remember moving to city estate
A communist Block of dingey brick hopelessness
Four stories of balconied flats
Assaulting the horizon with their oppressive ugliness.
I remember unwrapping cotton striped sheets
Claiming a new bed and a corner
In one of four bedrooms
Floors concrete with grey linoleum
the coldness hurt my feet
I remember the pink woolen blankets and the hard grey blankets from council.
Upon opening an obtuse door,
a boxy toilet with an exterior exhaust spinning,
and chain hanging down behind the toilet bowl
The room was always unspeakably cold,
always had to strain to use it.
A kitchen with two windows onto balcony
And a meter for adding coins to buy gas, for bath and cooking
I remember the bathroom separate from toilet
a rectangle room with a bath tub and face basin.
With a noisey point of use gas furnace for hot water. From any part of the miserable flat you can hear the flames heating up water,
And also always unspeakably cold.
I remember the massive parifin heaters that burned all through the night, the soot and the glare
Only the living room had central heating, a one buyer gas grate that heated the living room
I shed many tears on the concrete balcony staring at countless hapless pensioners and dolers alike
Faces stamped on hard with one expresion, hopeless resolve.
Our flat was on the third floor
Past ground, one was fine, two thighs burning,
three, always the stench of stale piss in puddles
Not on the wall like men do,
No these depositors stooped to render their rank fluids on the middle bank of the flight of steps,
a little privacy there.
I would never call this place home
Like a prison I would merely bide my time and fly away.
In 1492 a beast named Columbus sailed the seas,
Arrived in America to spread Christianity and deadly disease.
Skilled sailor and a monstrous crusader,
Talented navigator but a heartless invader.
When he sailed the ocean blue with his crew he didn’t have a clue,
Claimed earth was pear shaped, yes that fact is true.
What about his bloody reign of terror, a legacy so unspeakably cruel,
They need to teach that to all the children in school.
History heavily edited, kids fed false information,
The truth is that gold was Chris’s motivation.
Learn real history about how slaves were taken back to Spain,
Hispanics are not Spanish, do I really need to explain?
His crimes are chilling, how can anybody admire this villain?
And celebrating Columbus Day mystifies me, it just glorifies killing.
Honouring the father of the transatlantic slave trade and his barbaric crusade,
Costing the tax payers millions of dollars each year for a silly parade.
The first American terrorist, a criminal racist, what more can I say?
Stop glorifying this monster, abolish Columbus Day.
I am so tired and so unspeakably old
I have been bearing about me for centuries, this grief, this disappointment
Your covetousness, vanity, ambitions
Blurred the glow of the sun, the moon,
Your selfishness, greed
Stop the divine flight of birds
You don`t see the fawn`s bashfulness and loveliness
You don`t feel the sweet scent of lime trees in June
Have you ever admired grass weaving, flowers
And asked yourself what they want to say to you
While you were watching their modesty and beauty
Have you ever thought that hills and valleys hold something of your own in them
And sometimes, when your eyes drink in a sky of stars,
Do you see the compassion of my friends,
Because I am loaded with factories, garbage,
And shrouded in smoke, while my sea is boiling and weeping
I can`t condone your wickedness
My dreams are shattered
But I am here, because of the poets
Thousands and thousands of poets are singing about me
They are saying::- Fear no more
Fear no more, we are here!-
And while they are repeating these comforting words,
They are giving all my sorrows to the universe,
Which cries for this huge burden,
Renews, makes a fresh start
Forgives and forgets
But I am still here, because of the poets
fear
Meeting by a charmfull seduction, the ignition as a spark to an engine.
Happiness flourished, blending to a family orientation.
Seeing my Cousin,Shaun in a position i never collectively envisaged.
The meeting of Eileen a pivital point, nevertheless needed taming by her.
Two daughters, single mum took to Shaun as a father, he not been in that parental position in his past, caused uncondtional love. I`m not going to sugar coat or lay pillows for the wrong doings, myself was involved amongst burning the candle at both ends.
However, you could say God sent down only something he had for the right path. Involved in an incident of which Shaun is incarcerated, also deeply regrets. A period of self explanitation, knitting the family bond like strength of a lion. It`s almost comical how good can come from bad, if you can see what i can.
Love is the utmost importance of all. Eileen, no medal could succomb you. The time is almost nigh for the gates to open, a debt of gratitude owed. Although a stunning blow the passing of your Father, unspeakably wrenching. I know that love lives amongst your family, that`ll do me.
A world without light
devoid of sight
A world pitch dark
teeming with fright
What resides in men’s minds
unspeakably cruel, so unkind
A Lamplighter needed
to remove all the blinds
A black hole
floats in space.....
.....it slowly melts
unspeakably spinning
into a shining star~
Within ones spirit
floating in space
ones poor image melts
couragously changing
into a glimmering soul
which in turn is...
OUT OF THIS WORLD~
~ Before you throw in the towel ~
Your pen is full of ink
The paper on which you think
as fresh as a mountain stream
All that remains is to dream
of a subject, a theme, a raison d'etre
with built-in rhyme, rhythm and 'metra'
This shouldn't be so unspeakably hard
yet I suppose every minor and major-league bard
has moments when he's ready to throw in the towel
or just glare at the moon, and begin to howl...
That's it! Go out there and howl at the moon
Surely then you'll sing a different tune
'Coz when push comes to shove, it's all about mood
and though it sounds trite, a good attitude...
So, write your heart out, my friend
Let all your hair hang way down
Your poems will be the toast of the town
One moment he was alive; the next he was dead
Gunned down midst a gang war, a bullet in his head
No motive whatsoever, nor rhyme nor reason at all
Only alienation and desperation casting their dark pall
Over an act so unspeakably wanton and cruel
It incinerated once and forever all Laws and Rules---
Society's fabric pierced, penetrated, shattered and rent
As mourners paid clumsy tributes, broke down and went
Home to a future that now felt so grim and so bleak
A Future of ambulances clanging and sirens' shrieks
A Future here Now on countless sidewalks of slums
Where murder's a hero, law and order a bum
Fake smiles everyday when I'm away now that you're not here.
Life feels so listless, so dim.
The candle that you lit has faded as it's meant to,
But it also struck a match to light in another's heart.
We cry, we sigh, we mourn, but we live.
We will always live on, just as I promise you that you always will.
You've let yourself go, but i can't let you go, and I know he'll never let you go.
Sometimes, in times like these, I'll curse this gift,
Perfectly carved and wrapped so sweetly by the fingertips of a master.
It lies in my soul, floating in thin air,
Carried swiftly by the breath of an angel meant to do good, do no harm,
And yet it harms me.
The source of almost all my pain,
It's like the very software that was programmed in me,
Meant for me to do a world of wonders for my people,
Short circuits,
Shocks my kindred spirit.
I feel too much.
There are deep gnashes in my veins from the inside where I couldn't even reach because it isn't I that's doing it.
My capillaries are thinning, thinning, scraped away to almost nothing because I feel too much.
The weight of a universe's wrongdoings are placed on my back making me a mule whose spine is about to burst in two.
You've worked me too hard. I'm draining.
Can't I cut off the life source in my inner self that makes me me?
Can I?
Or will you all miss me?
I do it for my little world, in my tiny hometown, in my humble household.
I absorb the feelings of the world, both good and bad, loving and hateful, utterly blissful and unspeakably gut wrenching, to bring about relief to mankind,
To relate to those who are attacked with thoughts that say no one understands.
I bottle up my powers though, until I'm too full of myself and it all upchucks out in a frenzy in times like these.
Then I rearrange it on a table as a holiday cornucopia for you all to relieve a bit of yourselves in.
I keep myself here for all of you to lean on,
And I promise you I won't ever leave.
So far away are you.
How can i ever get to you
when my heart is weary
from searching in the
darkest corner for you.
Even the brightness of
the firmament could not
reveal your hiding place.
Open your heart
so i can know it.
I want to know it.
Though it is deep,
unfathomable,
unfamiliar,
and unspeakably confusing.
I will die trying to
know and understand it.
Know that however hardened
your heart seems to be,
the fire of love from
my heart will melt it.
Look deeply into my eyes,
you'll see the reflection of
my yearning soul calling out to you.
Hold my hand let's walk together
for destiny is calling.
I'm the only one who
knows your heart.
You knew that i know.
What is keeping you.
What is holding you back.
This fear will overwhelm you.
This thoughts of the unknown
will destroy your faith.
Allow me now to give to you
that strength lovers use against
any forces that threatens their happiness.
Let's not mind if we reach the shore or not.
Come beloved, destiny calls.