Long Complexions Poems
Long Complexions Poems. Below are the most popular long Complexions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Complexions poems by poem length and keyword.
1/16/23
Still rejected
I already did mention
Much is in question
In the end most won't get the message
I'm tired of all this tension
Too much focus on others skin complexions
Never once has this path been effective
Do such fools need a punch or bullet to the midsection?
Meaning is the answer a fist or weapon?
For there to be change for the better it's no myth or legend
When necessary I went beastmode
Crap focused on and important matters vetoed
Can't just solve it with cheat codes
Meanwhile continually heat rose
People fighting each other sometimes using torpedoes
All of this continual s*** seems old
Like the same old stories all these priests told
So fast they reach for a couple tissues
Meanwhile the struggle continues
Still dealing with much more than just trust issues
Lady, don't play me I'm not the one
No need to be on the run
I wanted love
Yet have gotten none
From dawn to dusk
I've had rotten luck
They judge and talk too much
I'm going beyond such
Petty matters, yet can't always rely on a hunch
For far too long was caught and stuck
Still continual odd stuff
So easily people go on the hunt
Quick to cause a lot of funk
A lot assume
While holding a hostile view
Among all these molecules
I've got more trust in a dog then you
If you don't got a clue
There was much marijuana use
I'm an alcoholic who
Spent much time in solitude
Occasionally a brief rendezvous
Meanwhile global conflicts grew
Don't test me or there'll be a sonic boom
All of it being told from an honest view
Watch your moves
Toward danger it's chalked up to
Drying up or rivers ran
Nearly always the bigger man
Ambidextrous, either one is a trigger hand
They never once saw the whole picture damn
They expected it all to be spic and span
Life throwing curveballs, despite what is or isn't planned
I've got much to do, before I kick the can
Meanwhile time keeps ticking, quickly it can hit the fan
Masked maiden
In lacy black frills
Manacled, chained
Sensuous thrills
Birthday suit bare
Heavenly toned
Sweetened and ripe
In wanting groan
With her laced black fan
She lures with her scent
He slowly walks to her
As her eyes lament
She looks up to him
In hungering stare
As he looks down
Desiring her there
He offers his hand
His maiden in black
To rejoice their join
Passion attack
To a leather couch
He rests her down
His dark haired vixen
Lacy gowned
Hands encroach
In bodily roam
Synchronised
Heavenly home
In pleasurable touch
Their joys arise
In welcome slide
His pride inside
Rhythmic rhythm
Tantalising tongues
Hands homing
Sexually sung
Perpetual in motion
Writhing want
Cries of caressing
Her heavenly font
The mix of their motion
River of love
Quench of two
Eagle and dove
Rosy complexions
Flora flushed
Passions hushed
Pinked and blushed
Couched and cosy
Hunger appeased
Two covered in lace
In lovingly please
;-)
Gaping open raw war exhales vapors
In the frigid gray stillness excavating
My souls for the unseen harvest
Reflected in the leaves desiccating
Through walls of fogs pale faces stare
And disappear like a random shiver
Like a slick violin string vibrating sad
-ness like a portent of a sickness open
-ing shaking thoughts of unknown frontiers
Full of four-dimensional forests and coasts
Where skeletons recite rhapsodies ravenously
Waving flags of unjust defunct empires wildly
In the encrusted fear demons lend severed gospels
Like laughing children without love keeping records
Of my actions and their forgotten complexions
Waning in the humid cold touch of misgivings
But the voice warbles without ceasing warnings
Releasing doves bleeding as they fall asleep
Descending into a valley where darkness shines
Limbs of unrequited hope desperately lunge
For the throat emanating light salvation
Indiscriminately reaping and sowing dreams
Seeming real as wounds which never heal
As flies hatch treasonous larva in the gash
And a new century is born and scorned
Now and forever have arrived starved
Demanding blood on the altar of profusion
Crying in concrete homes hallowing illusion
Until the last angel breaks illumination...
Hands in hands and eyes
To eyes,heart to heart and
Verdicts upon verdicts...
The hearts have merged and
Nothing of asunder.
Ebony descendants.
Their loves powerful arms, like thunder,
Rigid insinuations yet
Like flower,
So they watch all night
To see it never wither.
Ebony descendants.
Ebony arrangements
Nature's love horns sparkling
Like silver.
Always together like
Lilies and valleys.
Walking shoulder high,Proudly
Brandishing ebony complexions
Like coco-butter or something
Like sweet chocolate.
Theirs is so pleasant.
These black descendants,
These ebony make ups
These elastic African sunsets ...
Yours is hugely elegant
Yours is truly excellent....
Thank God for your presence.
Form:
10/8/22
Never mind
There is no better time
One way to find out if I'll ever find
What's on the separate side
It took more than seven tries
To get it right, after eleven nights
In the midst of a hectic life
While there was red in the skies
Had to stay at it instead of waiting to be next in line
Take heed folks
Of these notes
Far too often we boast
Friction with each stroke
Eventually the machine broke
Behind all the weed smoke
And C-Notes
Perched beyond speed boats
Men in green coats
In the end, fate was decided by three votes
Nearby a pile of wood ash
Knowing I could crash
Trying my best to go down a good path
She always looks pass
Difficult at first was how I took that
I stood at
The crossroads then pushed back
Without exception
There is continual deception
It's 2022 yet areas still have no reception
Times of self-reflection
I've had hardly any connection
As well as zero affection
Without a question
People still obsessed with
Elections and skin complexions
This pitiful concept spreads like an infection
Such pettiness I pay no attention
While going in and out the dimension
Making sure to always have a sense of direction
I know we like to think our ourselves as the most advances species
but looking at some of the things we say and do…
sometimes I wonder if we’re as intelligent as we think…
sometimes I wonder…don’t you?
Look at beauty for instance; in a world overflowing with beauty
don’t you find it a little bizarre
that we humans are the only life form that needs to be told how beautiful we are.
The cardinal who comes to our feeder, or the blue bird or yellow gold finch
never imagine as they get a little older their face needs a lift or a pinch.
The trees that majestically stand up to the weather with no shelter day out and day in
never worry about losing their leaves in the fall or about the wrinkles that form on their skin.
The animals that swim in the ocean never dream of Botox injections
They don’t worry what the sun and salt water are doing to their soft and silky complexions.
The flowers that color the landscape don’t care if their sepals are tilting
They aren’t looking for some flower surgeon to keep their petals from wilting.
No, nature isn’t worried about bags under her eyes, or tummy tucks or frizz
because nature doesn’t need a mirror to know how beautiful she is.
If we start viewing everyone as we view nature
then beauty becomes a little more concrete
and before we know it we’re able to find beauty in everyone we meet.
We’ll find our natural beauty, we’ll find our distinctive appeal
when we realize beauty comes not form what we look like
but more from the way that we feel.
We’ll look past those little imperfections, those wrinkles,
those little bags and scars
and we’ll know we don’t need a mirror or TV
to tell us how beautiful we are.
Yes, sometimes I wonder if we’re the most advanced species…
then again when I give it some thought
I don’t need to wonder if we’re as intelligent as we think…
Because the beauty of it is..we are not.
Mighty flowers shake above the quake
Children run for cover under clouds of ash
Burnt down houses driven off by lava flow
The volcano makes a path
That other world we know
Sometimes survival is based on luck
Lightning bolts hardly audible
Crash anyway through the confusion
Hills stop there suddenly
Summoned up on rocky miles
Settle down exactly where they are
Once the ground calms down
To claim their own in style
By the shore before the sun forms giants
Shadows that emerge, cast on the ocean
In compliance with the winds and clouds
Pointed edges grow sharp towers on the morn
Outside where sound elements belong
Born on electric currents moving over waves
By horizons line as lightning strikes
Reflecting light lifts landscapes rolling gray
Covers Earth over on a parade with particles
Hectic red steadfast ejects metallic crimson rocks
Lays bare their soul on solemn waters edge
They sparkle red instead of living on their own
Blue oceans form complexions overhead
Far away far reaching desert sands
Can speak of dunes and sleeping suns
Too far away from clouds to touch them
Dried figs hang on the ancient trees
Suggestions of a life long gone forgotten
Lost in a deeper slumber
Summoned up, dawning on the past
While too much sand gets in the way of thought
Survivors at the waters edge ask questions
What's in the ocean but more sea
Why is the sky raining red and fire ash
Warning signals measure mysteries
In our Asian-cum-Eastern land
No one prefers or admires
the dark-skinned or tanned
Gosh, as if the fair-skinned alone
belonged to the so-called fairer sex
And here, 'black is beauty' a phrase unheard
All falling for the light skinned almost in reflex!
Bachelors on the hunt for a non-fictional Asian 'Snow-white'
Even an ugly heart will do if the skin is white, pale and light
For them lighter skin tis brighter and better at beauty
even if superficial and skin-deep
The dark-skinned maidens thereby left single to weep
But while the ebony dark- pigmented
go on applying whitening and lightening creams
The white Westerners frequented
the sunlit beaches for dark tans from sun beams!
So in westerners females wish to look browned and tanned
Thus the opposite is preferred
so to that end they may sun bathe for hours on beach sand
Ah and though from the point of view of my motherland
I am luckier that God chose
to model me from a peachy whiter lighter clay,
I still feel this tug-of-war between complexions
needn't really join the fray.
For when you and I glance at Naomi Campbell
we know beauty can be white, brown and black as well
Like love, beauty knows no colour, creed or race
As proved by this gorgeous black supermodel.
Besides, we all have come across
both dark-skinned angelic saints
and fair-skinned folks with sinner's taints
Ah, Black Beauty, or Fair and lovely
Beauty has never known any bounds
For God He distributed beauty rather equally
No argument can last on these grounds
Oh, a soulmate's inner beauty ought to be earnestly sought
Too bad lustful passions fall for those merely outwardly hot!
Tenebrous night steals autumn days,
Invading ink subtracts the breath of light,
With tarnished mingling edge,
With dusty dusk’s laments.
Tenebrous night of immutable grave,
Infiltrating melanin loots the golden glow,
Where criminal and crucifix sink,
Where dream and delirium drown.
We are merely complexions of being
With frivolous hearts,
Chalking pigment lines to cleave
The cloak of skin we all share,
Chasing the encasing that divides us.
Across the planet, lines of disparity,
Lines of uneven imparity,
Across the globe, lines of ruling class,
Lines of the toilers and indigent class.
We are merely complexions of being
Carving rich from poor,
Along lines of race and class.
We dread what may come to pass.
Tenebrous night our final gasp,
The tenuous squandered
Dwindling light we grasp.
Published in Dissident Voice: November 28th, 2021
We are complexions of being,
gradations of actualization.
Our nature coming to be or passing away,
Aristotle wrote.
Mere complexions of being,
gradations of ontology.
In every American thing we claim to know,
Pigment is the currency,
Our petty underlying divisor,
Our pixelated property.
The color line preserves white privilege.
We are complexions of being,
gradations of realization.
From The Age of Enlightenment
followed the epoch of enslavement,
Our white patriots traded in commodified skins,
Learning how an emboldened empire wins,
Learning how merchants on the take use race.
So their destiny was manifest,
Genocide was their bequest.
In their path, all traces of different races
Necessarily disappeared,
The indigenous people they feared.
Hunted, murdered, and jeered,
White entitlement forgot them all and moved on.
We are complexions of being,
gradations of sentience.
Quickly unraveling before breakfast,
Whites come alive, staggering like air dancers,
Inflated gas bags thrashing, and lurching,
At their dealerships, certain something sensational
Is happening somewhere.
The reasons never explicated,
The false complexion dichotomies
will never transfer power.
Until there is no white or black,
Until we are gradations of one,
Until we see our shades of immanence.
Published: Dissident Voice, October 2, 2022