Long Peel off Poems
Long Peel off Poems. Below are the most popular long Peel off by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Peel off poems by poem length and keyword.
Cordon
1
Wide Pine Corridors
Lined Up Soldiers
Green waving
Arms,
With the wind
Celebrate my
Coming.
Their Bowing Salutes
Returned With Snap.
2
Behind the Roiling
Files,
Soaring Black Wingmen
Peel Off In Spirals
Flaring Upon Flesh
…Warm Carrion.
Lumpy Low Clouds
Mist
Ore the Trumpeter’s
Blare.
3
Lush Green Carpets
Stretching To The
Sun
Lay Down At My
Approach.
Their Shiny Straight Blades
Glow White
Like the Stones
Lining My
Passage.
I dress with less for my body flouncing
My titties jiggle and my ass is bouncing
I prance around to ring your bell
And call myself an Instagram “model”
I make up my face and pout my lips
I put on the music and shake my hips
I do up my hair with lots of gel
Pretty me, your favorite Instagram “model”
I tease to milk men of their hard-earned money
You stroke yourself instead of me, honey
I’m here to make your life less dull
That’s the charm of an Instagram “model”
They call me an e-thot, fishing for a “like”
That Ho Over There all girlfriends dislike
‘Cuz I record these videos of my body to sell
Look at me, I am an Instagram “model”
Some women before me took to the street
They marched and protested, refusing defeat
They burned their bras with their rebel yell
Nevertheless, I became an Instagram “model”
Please hit “like” as a natural courtesy
The more I get brings me closer to surgery
So I can flaunt again, making my head swell
In excess for me, an Instagram “model”
Lonely boy, did I satisfy your desire?
If not, I can take off more attire
I’ll entice all of you so very well
For I am the ultimate Instagram “model”
This is what has become of me
Since my daddy paid no attention, you see
All he did was shout and yell
Propelling me to be an Instagram “model”
Your best relationship inevitably ends
When your girl saw your likes on “With Friends”
Social media’s suggestions often tell
That you adore me, an Instagram “model”
I’m blamed for all the love that you lost
My curves seduced you at a high cost
You lost your love and then hit the bottle
All because of me, an Instagram “model”
This is only a breeding ground for me
Up next on Only Fans is where I’ll be
Attention seeking as you cuddle your cell
‘Cuz you can’t touch an Instagram “model”
Deep down the many problems I face
Are hidden well in teddies and lace
But the emotions I hold are worse than hell
Since I am an insecure Instagram “model”
After you peel off all of the layers
And strip away all of the players
I’m just a little girl who desperately fell
Into the trap of being an Instagram “model”
'This or That, Vol 34' Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh 18/6/25
_________________________________________
"It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions,"
Quote by William Shakespeare
Watching his face carefully for nuance of expression.
My sweet boy had developed such intense depression.
Every night his screams of terror would fill the air.
A calm uneventful sleep for him, was my prayer.
As sleep befell him, his panic and terror would begin.
Wailing, face wet with tears, unnerved by a horror within.
Holding him tight wasn’t any help as he trembled in fear.
His tired eyes fixed on a demon that isn’t really here.
Aggressive yet scared, an abhorrence to be sleeping at night.
Despair, overtook normal living to find a cure for his fright.
A boy once filled with love and joy, now replaced by distress.
Doctor offers strong drugs for him, reluctantly I will acquiesce.
Handing me a box, and holding a ladder, a neighbor came to call.
Stating this is for Michael and you must be careful not to fall.
I was most perplexed so for an explanation I sought.
What was the reason for his visit, and the things he brought?
He explained that he had seen his father die as a child.
The experience had turned sleeping into a horror so wild.
The box was full of self-adhesive glow in the dark stars.
Included were a larger peel- off Saturn and Mars.
His family had placed some iridescent stickers over his ceiling.
This, he explained was the start of his healing.
He helped me to adhere every last bright star.
During the daylight it is impossible to see where they are.
That night they shone and twinkled like candles in the wind.
Taking advice from a stranger, I was chagrined.
Next morning he called quite concerned, he hadn't heard a peep.
"Shhh" I whispered, "Since eight pm last night, he is still asleep."
1.
they say everything here is
somewhere in the middle of the road
where names get bleached and keys forget about their doors
and there is something we should dig our coated nails into;
the layers of regret and anger
that our mothers tell us to peel off
2.
but the sun bakes us too hard and rancid
laying down on styrofoam mattresses
where someone pokes their thumbs through the plastic
watching nothing but empty bubbles reflecting
and life is faded, glossy pages of a magazine
with a worn bar stool with cigarette burns thrown in between
3.
and we all carry this restless, tormented beauty
that gets up and leaves
as soon as they say
it will settle down
© Gry W Christensen
Cutting deeper
to the core
words on
a chopping block
drawn in
by your pen
Extracting blood
from one's
deepest cavern
you drew the blade;
Inside I hear
sheets of rain
falling down
my walls
As you
dagger n’ pierce
my heart,
I run away clean
Duality ….
Is the deepest wound
Venom
In your mouth
black as poison
As you silently
twist and jeer
torturing slowly
without emotion
or feeling
My I love u’s disappear
in one act
It’s a cursed emotion;
Now take your bow
as the curtains
falls heavy,
Words of hate
leave an awful scar
The aftertaste
of deceit
Peel off that
Thespis mask
And leave
my stage
I stand on day's brink
beyond lullabies in dusk—
their echoes replaced
with budding flower questions
thriving in uncertainty
I pound the ground hard
fury rages in my chest—
why must I still wait
my voice shatters quiet skies
demanding I get replies
walls are barriers
denying my restless pleas
rules drawn, then erased—
I force doors that creak ajar
then slam shut to cage me in
I hear laughter sting
in cruel misconceptions
warmth turns into burns—
love does not embrace my reach
as my cries go unheeded
I peel off more skin
stepping into searing light—
trembling but aware
that the world out there won't bend
as it cuts and shapes my growth
the seed stirs in me
fierce, urgent, blazing, alive,
pushing through the soil—
each surge sculpts my core and frame
so I become who I am
"Poetry comes from the highest happiness or the deepest sorrow" -- AP J Abdul
Poetry in it pure gold medallion well refined is choice
Forced on individuals based on circumstances that paint emotional influence
Where its affluence set out the pale ink a voice
And with accurate battle with the mind troubled cent congruence
To bless thy grace that peel off the time's invoice
Poetry is the view that capture wonderful clash with flashlight
Its lyrics are girls' auto tunes that ease her plight
Of beckoned scenario captured for memory lingers on vital reference
Its referents pour out a layout well planned sketch preference
Poets reflect on its life's tempos when he had alight
The cruelty..the pain..the heartwrenching words,
The egotistical mocking in your unsettling world,
When i hear them i cringe..so saddened by your view,
Your eyes continuously focused on you,
I watch as you try endlessly night and day,
To see through the eyes of love but then go astray,
You allow the wind to whip your thoughts all around,
When the storm rages inside your heart hits the ground,
How many blows must you take before you realize?,
How long will it take before you open your eyes?,
I could walk away n have all peace,
No cause for the fight...i could make it all about me,
But then what good will that do me and what strength will i gain?,
I press into His love..i remember His pain,
He carried the cross of our burdens and fears,
He relentlessly gave until He bled tears,
Closer to my father than ever before,
The world sees from a distance but my heart is sure,
They believe that you stand farther away...
Because they watch you endure all this pain,
But i assure you its the opposite of what they see,
I am in Him and He is in me,
Standing at a crossroad..which path will you choose?,
Will you make it about me or will you make it about you?,
Will you selfishly walk away thinking your saving your soul?,
When you already belong to Him and you already know,
Will you allow fear to overtake you..and pain as its disquise?,
Or will you peel off the mask and stare into its eyes?,
Unmoving..unconditional..unwilling to leave,
That is how deep He feels towards me.....
Charon demands us to disrobe
Sell your layers for coins
Some with less have more to trade
Better than becoming chained ghosts
Our suits and dresses tie us down
Being nude again will be sobering
After a year of stripping down
Sobriety feels too brisk
I put on Italian wine’s garment
It tells me to pour layers on
It tells me to put on the full suit
I refuse to put on the regalia
Strut at home alone in my finery?
I never knew I was wearing wealth
I never knew my addictions were bank
Being naked is hard for addicts
The sober ones streak without a clue
No clue about pleasure and pain’s weight
My wine-soaked skin hidden is nice
Old garments repurposed again
Addiction feels like comforting cloth
For once I’m not self-conscious
I’m Adam before the Fall unashamed
He sold his snakeskin boots
Charon will strip us when it’s time
When we die, does it matter our attire?
We go with our makeup off
Better to peel off the layers now
Than gasping for one more breath
Holding onto our negligees or pj
We were born without clothes
Through the years layers are laid
We all strip off old selves
We layer on new selves
Addicts have the most coats on
The ones with the pearliest of skins
The sober ones freckled by the sun
We with crutches are most prized
When the ferryman asks for your coins
When Charon asks to lighten your load
Addicts can hock all their clothes
Strip down, turn burdens to gold
For a ticket to ride across
Finally free of attire
We can all retire
I have stood on every shoreline Earth could grow—
watched civilizations peel off like snakeskin,
hands red and raw, throwing words into the wind.
What was it, they asked, what was the answer?
This morning, I walked into a diner in Kansas,
found a cup of coffee that tasted like 1983,
and sipped the ghosts of a thousand endings.
People talk like birds now, high-pitched and fast,
forgetting their wings.
I remember sitting cross-legged in Greece,
listening to poets invent gods out of clay.
They believed the world was a fistful of stars
scattered by children before bedtime,
and that we were made to gather them.
This last time, I come unmasked—no silver suit,
no cryptic message carved in crop fields.
I leave no warnings of doom, no demands for change.
All I have is the echo that never leaves—
a glittering hope beneath the static.
The song that says:
There’s life, there’s life—up here, down there,
and somewhere between the lonely notes
of what could have been and what still waits.
I’ll take my place in the sky once more,
watch as you blink back, eyes wide,
and see what you’ve always been:
Starmen too.
Every one of you, already knowing the tune,
just trying to remember the words.