Long Epidermis Poems
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Caution taken (lathering
exposed epidermis with sun screen)
against harmful innocuous
rich (Times New Roman)
12 font ask tick sun yet sen sate)
refulgent radiant balm
unequivocal panacea medicinal luxuriant calm
on par with a old
sister wives tale remedy me late mom,
would magically construe
to alleviate home sickness qualm
post pledge initiation invocation befriending
Jason the Argonauts and Major Tom
dizzyingly zipping thru space
in search of the golden fleece,
(which acquisition
ranked as a no brainer)
which recollection, sans above exploit flashed
(at greased lightening speed) this peace
full May afternoon, a pitch perfect spring day,
one adequately oxygenated
air supply crowded house
legendary fete of the rising son momentarily
sol limb lee flared concluding with reverberating
(though decades elapsed
since fortuitous galactic heralded
world wide web panegyric
broadcast cosmos wide),
then with just as quick
memorialized recollection
prominently recalled,
said remembrance as things past
vis a vis denouement across Universe
with Poof! lifelong (black hole sun hopping)
capping achievement did surcease.
Ah...such blinding realistic provocation sparked
via pure imagination
upon one earthly terrestrial beast
Sunkist soaking raiment sequestered
within corner nook decreased
with onset of dusk, a mind bending
dreamy experience least
expected while nonchalantly fantasies take flight
basking (with robins)
in an angulated nook sky height
upon premises of Highland
Manor Apartment out of sight
from the buzzer (I may as well be
a million miles away),
thus poetic justice end trite.
The emptying was torture
Like a queen bee on the back porch
Easy to avoid, ignore
No need to go out those french doors
Another route to necessity
Eliminating the need of more
...then came the scrapping
You showed me the epidermis
Of my well
I was certain my water was sweet
Til I saw it
Shock shook the core of my soul
Then you went deeper
You broke the foundation
Of my cistern...broken pottery
Strewn on the open ground
The wide open ground
My eyes caught a shadow
A shape of doubt melded
With elements of matter
Grief, pressurized grief
Made a form
Walking under my well of HOPE
Breathing sorrow upon vision
Whispering...I'm aggrieved
...........does anyone care
Written by Trudy Schrader on 03-28-2024
we have to restitch
the skin of this planet
having gouged
and blown up
all that is good
we have dug at
her eyes
with no thought
for her
or ourselves
we have literally
ripped the epidermis
from her back
as she screamed for mercy
we have to bring
her edges together
and saying a million prayers
we need to give thanks
for all her glory
we have to leave her
to heal and rest,
as the farmer
repose’s the field
so does the jockey
rest the horse
she too must sleep
for what we have done
in a hundred years
she will take a thousand
in the healing
she is broken and bleeding
her gush stains the planet
her silent screams
are finally heard
but is it too little too late
her scars are seen from space
will she bleed out
and die taking us with her ?
its inevitable one day she will
Written: April 14, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
***********************
Inked impressions intricately
inscribed into the epidermis,
and a story evolves.
Splintered by the subtle stroke
From every exquisite edge,
echoes of experiences emerge.
Across the colossal swath
of humanity canvas
A chronology of events,
Love and death entwined.
Expungement—a sharp
razor cuts off relationships.
As boundaries are drawn closer,
the heart aches.
Home becomes far-off beaches,
but ink never changes.
Stories remain long,
after our bodies do not.
Dreams allow the tattoos
to tell their stories.
Utilizing a vibrant version of hues
or somber, shadowy silhouettes.
They discuss dynamic drive
on the fierce force of faded erasure.
Art reaching beyond barriers
Art advances across all arenas
and barbed wire lines.
their claim: my tattoo is gang-related
From a secretive sanctuary
to vivid memories,
every brush challenges
the grasp of forgetfulness
However, feet may stray
from well-known pathways.
As a bird confined in a cage
I felt helpless
until I induced myself
to suppress my madness.
The ink has its origins
In the depths of the soul's embrace.
The goal of banishment
is to obliterate all trace
of one's physical presence.
But individuality lives
in colors carefully chosen—
an everlasting monument
to the inability that
Any mandate can quell.
Rewriting Fear
That sudden unknown, so unrevealing,
it's the tell-tale trademark of the one in question
as it sets off nerves in every-which-way,
plainly creeping aimlessly neath the epidermis.
Shock-waves traipse, recruiting ghostly minions to crawl hither,
steeping the fleshy folds with squirming eels marinade,
forever slithering downward and chilling our brittle bones,
while simultaneously causing us to gnash our pearly whites.
Until we came upon the realization,
that what had truly manifested itself,
was self-induced and that it was so absorbing,
it had overwhelmed the mind in consuming anxiety,
losing dominance of all mental faculties,
proffering it free-will to buildup theoretical obsessions,
and alternate concessions.
2020 September 30
*2nd Place*
"The Unexplained"
~~Carolyn Devonshire
Rejected child of the Republic of Enlightenment,
In the land of human rights, my Africanness is a handicap.
In their eyes, I will always be the scapegoat for their failures.
I fled the tyranny of a banana republic chained to Françafrique.
Marianne still demands that I assimilate despite centuries of slavery and colonization.
Her negrophobia has become a silent bomb.
I am not allowed to complain at every police brutality.
The colonial pact dehumanized me on my native soil.
I discovered the face of racial hatred while crossing the Mediterranean.
I saw the West plunder the riches of my continent, traumatized by its democracy.
My sentence is to have skin overloaded with melanin.
I was born a Catholic Christian, like the children of slaves whipped in the slave plantations of the Caribbean.
My criminal record is as virgin as the womb of Christ’s mother.
But my humanity is demonized on the altar of capitalism.
Western supremacists do not want me to leaf through the black pages of their history.
Their racist hostility will never prevent me from being a good man.
They brandished the Bible to reduce my ancestors to slavery.
Today they brandish immigration to persecute me.
I did not choose to have black skin.
If I had had the choice, I would have asked the universal force to add even more melanin to my epidermis.
I am proud to wear the color of the Pharaohs when I spit on their prophets and their curses.
I have never walked with my head down, not even in the arms of promiscuity.
The cruelty of these racist supremacists has made me lucid and grim.
If every dark-skinned person had my character, my people would no longer carry the burdens of slavery and colonization.
Negrophobes would face men of extreme awareness.
I will never be the doormat trampled under the feet of supremacists.
I hate racists with all my heart and all my strength.
Welcome to this "risk"-taking game of "life."
Choose a blue companion peg, or snag a pink wife,
or ride "solitaire" through this "scrabble"d "mousetrap,"
or add so many kids that they stack on your lap.
Enjoy the terrible twos and the "crazy eights,"
for they go by faster when they're wearing skates.
For love and career there's no "perfect match,"
but when you find what works best, it's best to attach.
If you start "hearing things," ignore the "mad gab."
Speak only kindness, giving gossipers a silent jab.
If you have no "clue" what you want to do for a career,
I'll "connect 4" or more options and list them here:
You can file by "sequence" in your "Rubik's cube"-icle,
using the "5 second rule" if food lands on your shoe buckle.
It may "boggle" your "cranium" to crunch numbers all day.
Would you rather be an "operation"al doctor for the pay?
As a farmer you could "pick up stix" in the field,
and compare "apples to apples" for the ripest yield.
If you're a prosperous hunter or a taxidermist,
you can display your "rack-o" antlers, with furry epidermis.
The "trouble" is there are many options to choose.
In this game of "life," sometimes you tie --- a child's shoes.
That About A Face
Previously responsible concerning an adolescent resplendent facial hallmark,
Awarded to privileges and sanctioned embellishment favoring enhancement,
Over time, years chip away unnoticeably o'er worn breathless moments,
Taunt texture of an arduous youth evaporates in a whimsical hallucination,
Face delicately immersed in a penny-filled wishing well made full by an Irish spring,
Whereby, encroaching four-leaf clovers anticipate deviating hands to favor,
For a wealth of squishing palms to rub gently the verdurous lucky
chartreuse petals,
Against foretelling fluctuating skin with moisturizing balms that saturates the aged cavities,
Alas, rebellious slaves to periodical moons ebb the epidermis as once kept promises reneges,
Former fields of the dermis yield a harvest worthy of an ample supply of suppleness o'er a lifetime,
Where cherished glorious heyday occupied a magnificent proffered face for cameras to envy,
In the advance of time, I am content to gracefully tender the waning years for a fair measured distance as a camera poses for a closeup.
2019 December 22
Sisters seated by glows
Of white glistens of light
A spirit floated down
Painting the sky golden
They knew she'd never desert them
Gentle hands of ribbon
And once the ring was over
It burned through their retinas
Sober from countless memories
They let candle wax melt their epidermis
Only a picture nestled in draws
Yet flooded with reminders
The fingerprints and dusty cries
Spelt out the name of a mystery woman
Birthing two daughters, then fading
Into plains of trees which bear olives
Mists of the Adriatic Sea
Embracing her shuddering coffin
For she is but a young mother
Selling what she could for glory
To feast with lords of lustfulness
On fish from Portuguese waters
But even she was never saved
From wraths of bacterium
Tuberculosis stole her vitality
And reunited her with her offspring~
“Thick Skinned – What it Feels Like for a Girl”
When you speak
it’s as if stars cascade
out of your mouth
galaxies you produce
musical incantations
that I listen religiously to
I watch your lips
form glistening cupids’ bows
they spread wide open
like the subtle legs
of a forgotten nun
whispering vesper wishes
before priestly sermons
and John Donne
your hushed and salient
remonstrations, you now
plant me in your
sentence,
no, that this should
never have occurred at all
we are irreverent
in our choices
forming new begottens
you usher from the
pulpit of your world
eloquent reasons
to justify wrong from right
right from wrong
as if your internal fortitude
consists within a
mirror universe
deep and soulful
it promises
more than heaven
those curves
and waivers
contracts we signed
some time ago
souls sunk in a
bad marriage
and hushed assurances
of ‘til death do us part weatherin’
kissing the skin
against my throat
the very place
my comeback is primed
to be launched, yours
deliver that kind of
loose compensation
lathered in snake oil
and a clear path
to redemption
that tie my hands
make me mute
I was launched long ago
from safe harbour,
now
off sure
to lay down all my
naked vicious antigens
I have grown in
the petri dish of my
muddy life to fight your
viral love
like diamonds
your words
they sharpen and glisten
cut through
the thick tempered
glass of me,
through the epidermis
of a close-packed woman
you laser your refined tongue
eyes viscerally undressing
you address the wide open
tableau of me, knowing
you adroitly twist your points
penetrating through
to the now
all too familiar
subcutaneous
safe base chakra of me
within a short space of time
I am sold
into
your chicanery
wanting little of the
life that was before
the unfortunate
taming of me
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
"What it Feels Like for a Girl"/ Madonna , Paul Oakenfold (Remix)
https://youtu.be/tbtt0WTKqnQ
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/8-steps-that-explain-why-_b_9143360
http://www.hiddenhurt.co.uk/domestic_violence_poems_1.html#learned
https://songmeanings.com/songs/view/7940/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/What_It_Feels_Like_for_a_Girl