Long Tattooed Poems
Long Tattooed Poems. Below are the most popular long Tattooed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tattooed poems by poem length and keyword.
"Escalating the Muse"
Written on the body
passive complacence
stretches sharp ink
etched pain in the soul
then real beauty
from the
Book of Truth,
a page moored
in transparent skin
;
Black,
tattooed ceremonially
on the tongue
speaks diaphonous
Freedom
Written on the body
stretches stories ripped
and tall, they are torn,
a small revolution
amongst the crowds of
alphabet coding
in a tight sealed tin
akin to a
Can of Campbell’s Soup
Escalates the
Muse
Written in the body
a work of art, beautiful,
pure and stubborn centred,
dirt muddied yet,
clean stripped,
balanced for the
Laymen betwixt
Papillon
folded Wings,
en stasis,
looks through the Chrysalis
towards the you in gilded story
the Higher requires analyses,
there She thinks,
writes the Muse
tattooed on the tongue
Words
projecting Muse to
Escalation
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
llb/gvlm
for my daughter,
Georgia
;
"LUX VITAE"
"Brûle-moi" / Jean-Louis Murat
https://youtu.be/M6l_sQQ8lS0
"Distractions" / Zero 7
https://youtu.be/6ng6IKp8uao
"What New York Couples Fight About" / Morcheeba
https://youtu.be/RUE0J2UvThM
"Golden Years" / Bowie
https://youtu.be/JUuRGRcY9O0
Battement de coeur dans
;
Battement de coeur vers l'extérieur
I heard types of rain as I lied with my eyes, open
I had long turned the lights off, as sleep flew miles from my eyes
Love is a wonderful dream, without you, love is a nightmare:
With the way I am tonight, I need you as I need love.
From the gentle, silent drizzle, mild showers, to small cats, and dogs.
Sometimes goodbye we say in most affectionate ways:
That day I held your soft palm in mine,
You said you would come back to love,
That just does not bring you here: that never eases the pain. No never
Your letter in my palm, you said you were fine:
That you were missing me too;
What a beautiful way of feeling something together:
I blew the candle down, babe, here I am at the break of day
Still lying awake.
All the breaks it made as it changed tempo:
Your pictures hanging on my wall, your image tattooed on my heart,
I lie here thinking so much of you as I lay, awake all through the night
Everything here reminds me of something, I really need. The only:
I lay here, light trickling through; morning came, I turned the lights off
A thousand years ago.
Would it not be better if I had not known of this sweetness
It is not a wish babe, no: just a lonely pained heart
Confused by the need to be loved.
Dreaming I could be walking with you,
Going through the motions of it all: passion changing with it:
By now love we would be muddy, soaking wet, having rolled on and around:
I heard types of rain,
Lying awake, all through the night.
Upon the vast expanse of blank parchment,
Unspoiled slabs of molding clay,
They lay unfolded before me,
As her earthly form once did sway.
The quintet of horizons,
Whirled in orbit around her soul,
As the globe revolves in homage,
To the radiant, golden sun's control.
Yet the air I once inhaled,
Now has veered a different course,
And all that I bestowed upon her,
Contained the essence of my life's discourse.
Oh, what wisdom I imparted,
She adorned as her attire,
Yet now my hands, embittered,
Rub against the clouds entire.
In the realm of what was everything,
Beneath the shadows, my hands do strive,
And the images once vivid,
Now drenched in hues of somber black arrive.
A stroll amidst the world outside,
Enveloped by the sounds of children's play,
Their laughter echoes in the air,
Yet my soul bears a searing dismay.
Twisted thoughts, they dance and twirl,
A carousel within my mind,
I'm spinning, spinning ceaselessly,
As the sun sinks, leaving me behind.
Now my hands, they gently cradle,
Fragments of shattered glass,
Of what was once my universe,
Now diminished, a fading mass.
The images, once vibrant,
Now painted in the darkest ink,
A tapestry of love gone awry,
Turned my world to shades of black, I think.
All that was, has now departed,
A canvas tattooed with despair,
Every glimpse, every aspect,
Marked with the echoes of a love that's rare.
In the tapestry of time,
A future where you'll shine,
A celestial being in another's sky,
But why, oh why, can't that sky be mine?
["The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough." - Ezra Pound]
I'm fragile
I'm transparent
Even though I act the opposite
I'm sorry
I know it doesn't mean much
But from the bottom of my heart, I wish I could have reached the top shelf for you
But I was only a boy trying to act like a man
Playing with your heart because I'm just trying to fill mine
Selfishness, sexual sin, just trying to fit in
I wanted comfort and got comfortable with you
Trust issues because I don't know how to be vulnerable
Not willing to open up but I will be selfish enough
To open up your flowers just to pick one
That floral print emotionally tattooed to my body
When all I needed was acceptance
Moving against what I know is right
Controlled by the devil's hand
Telling myself I'm the man
Under the influence but that's no excuse
I still choose to abuse the truth
I will never put my hands on a woman, but I still abused you
I'm broken
I'm weak
Even though I'm daily trying to work out the kinks
I'm sorry
I know this doesn't erase your tears that I watered
But I hope you can see that I'm doing better
Not just for me but for all men
I'm trying to leave a legacy
Women a man will show you his intentions
So, if you're fighting for his attention
That boy is still sitting in detention
Acting like the way he is living has tension
God is the only one that can change a heart
And he won't redirect himself until he attacks
His bad habits
You can see his potential but only he can grow
When a man decides to be a man, he moves different
His words hit different
His actions won't have you trying to figure out the next move
Boys play with toys and Men play with goals
Not to say a man can't be a big kid, the difference is his time is delegated
Yes, I am him who has messed up in ways that can't be forgiven
But we have a God who loves unconditionally
That's what he is giving
So, I can say today I'm a man moving behind God's hand and not my own pride
p.s. I'm dressing up my life for the grammys...
Captain Meridee was the ultimate pirate queen
She was confident, but not in any way mean.
We caught her relaxing in the fierce island sun.
She said she would give us an hour, but only one.
How did you get your reputation? Asked my photographer Lee.
She gave him a look that practically took him down on one knee.
I laughed at the exchange, it was clear he was smitten with her.
Her booty stuck out with the confidence of a tiger’s, a GRRRR.
Her hair was braided in thickness that reminded me of rope.
Her well-endowed breasts made me feel like a flat-chested dope.
She had a way about her that made us back off from her a bit.
Captain Meridee was beautiful, brainy, and quite readily fit.
So you sail the seven seas? I asked, wondering if she had walked a plank.
She gave me a condescending stare, and my meager mind went blank.
She is tattooed and tart, and I imagine she was drinking a flask of rum.
She was intimidating and beautiful, sitting on a hollowed out tree gum.
Our interview went nowhere, for she was clearly in charge.
In boot camp she would have readily stared down my serge.
Captain Meridee was the ultimate pirate queen
She was confident, but not in any way mean.
With Blades
I have drawn
In my restless sleep
I linger in the past
Were my souls
Dry husks of horrors
Are cast
Each one an image in time
The dead feelings have no life
Each blade cuts the dead life away
Like dried skin tattooed with history.
I have drawn sharp blades
in sleepless nights.
They are cast in the infernos
of my Tortured mind.
Furnaces of my damaged ego
I am damned
I pierce my skin
I suffer the pain
Each blade reminds me of what I am.
What I have done.
Piercing my fingers
as I slide them in.
With blades
I have forged
in my deepest infernal nightmares.
Each one has a name emblazoned upon
Each word of my horror
They cut eternal
Here in the dark
Here in my restless sleep
My deepest nightmare.
Here I remain.
Feeling the blades sliver sharp
Sliding into
My spine
Down
Deep…
sunday morning angel
blue wings and purple hair
fingers tattooed at the tip of her shoulder
if the sun vacates your skies it's over
children sing songs of burgundy rovers
I am your rent my lover
camel crushes
rated your sweet plushes
crowded voices
but no one hushes
the chaos is lovely
but it's the misery that touches
my sunday morning angel
arched smiles
a mother apart from her child
it's been a while since you last foul
you're just a number on speed dial
outside the cafe
a voice some what raspy
a favor indeed
if you choose to ask me
deflower before me
and life just may not last me
city towers
you and me minus the hours
in the neon lights
walk the stars that fail to touch the sky's
apartment 1210
where art thou twelve sinners
the cellos that failed everyday men
the displacements
only seen through a heavens lens
the saint of Orleans
bard windows
crucify your friends
i'll lend you a noose to tie your ends
and when it all ends
think of my sunday morning angel
she never warned you of danger
but she adored the insanity within your anger
my sunday morning angel
is like loving a widower
you never know
what's on the other side of the window
buildings that touch the sky
ceilings that never die
capsize the truth
baptize whatever you knew
there was a time it was just me and you
"songs in a book reflect vacancy"
The hills to the west were looking at me and whispering.
I moved out a little further and turned back to measure the trajectory and speed of their shadow.
The sun put her hand on my shoulder and said “Things have gotten a bit crazy, we’re going to have to reschedule”
A tattooed cloud took the sunglasses from my face and handed them to me, as more clouds stepped over me, “excuse me” and kept going.
I missed last call, and a stiff breeze was already sweeping up around her goosebumped skin. I tried filling her lungs with my beer laden exhaust but she just lay there motionless on a drenched and cold beach towel.
Through the chain link fence the school bus looked on at me with pity.
she stood on an empty bucket with a tight noose around her neck
when doubts crept in through a hole in the bottom of the rusty vat
naked she was twisted torn with defeat tattooed into a punctured heart
vacant echoes of darkness played a symphony in search a broken record
on desiccated skin she had painted all regrets in bright orange crayons
scratched it over with charcoal and waited for final accords of freedom
a mistuned guitar offered Nirvana but an accordion drew out suspense
screechy fiddles bowed to the drum beat calling for tranquil surrender
slit wrists oozed sorrowed blood on transition to redemption and closure
the kitchen smelled of gas as her match stick legs gathered last strength
she had not eaten for weeks and trusted liquor had been her only companion
if only she could overcome apathy and inhibition to pitch up her courage
but her arteries refused to relinquish blood for fatigue to settle for broke
the vessel stood rock solid on shaky grounds of a tiled kitchen floor and
she wondered whether the rope was a rubbery pendulum waiting to snap
and therefore she hesitated at the threshold between paradise and hell
well she pondered I’ve got that one out of the system I might as well live
off my list now I know how it feels like to hand over the conductor’s baton
if my inner audience hesitates to cast the final curtain the show must go on
when she refrained from muting an orchestra she faded for silence to grow
she almost tripped the fuse but severed the cord and rewired her feelings
to align with the desperate reason that life on the edge was better than death
13th November 2020
In Sixty nine, I was eight years old
With no idea, how life would unfold
That pretty young girl, who caught my eye
She had a peace sign, tattooed on her thigh
My parents place was called the Coffee Cup
She was their waitress, I was just a pup
I was intrigued, by her lovely blonde hair
With that Peace sign, I kept looking there
I couldn't get her picture, out of my head
I drew a big peace sign, over my bed
My peaceful dreaming, her lovely blue eyes
Hoping she'd choose me, above other guys
I found the courage, to express my love
She was more gentle, than a soft white dove
She said "Don't worry it will be okay,
you will find your true love, some future day."
When I see a peace sign, I have to smile
I picture that girl, with her lovely style
My very first crush, she awoke my heart
A special memory, a pretty good start
Kristen Bruni's "The Peace Sign Contest"