Long Unclothed Poems
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Functions
to Form
Include economic
and communication Functions
to political ReForm
Are like Relationships
between autonomous Things
Like interactive Verbs
to otherwise isolated Nouns
Round notes
between harmonic lines
Like Waves of ecosystemic interaction
are also Atoms of unchanging egocenters
Like exterior Dynamic
to interior Static
Like Time for becoming
and Space for timeless being.
Cooperative win/win Functions
to sustainable
robust democratic Forms
Like resonant Minds
to resilient Bodies
Spirits
to Nature
Light
to Power
RightBrain Enlightenment
to LeftBrain Empowerment
Interdependent Individuation
to autonomous Identity
Unitarian
to Universal
Synergy
to Positive/Negative Energy
Unclothed Integrity Functions
to contained Ergodic Form
Flowing Systems
to strong static Sets
Yintegral Time
to Yang Place
Sacred Organisms
to secularizing Mechanisms
Becoming Revolution
to Being NonEvolution
THE ART NUDE REALITY
Stained with the acrilic and emotive,
Pour us a drip of creativity,
Paint us colors of the rainbow
But still less appreciated
By the prioritizing inordinate ambitious
and flesh-conscious world.
Purchased with hard-earned money,
the brush, the pen and crayons.
Sketch us our hopes and dreams,
Paint us our now and future
And erase our rough past on canvases.
Even though your art states purpose,
style, size, color, character, and effect,
Our yawning yields lust, nude-addiction,
naked-body, physique & attention-seeking.
The world isn't on the same page with you;
Flip yours while we swipe ours
after our eyes has been well fed.
What's the fuss about this whole weird thing
associated with being unclothed?
Stripped images gets our muscles ripped up
as if we don't strip down for complete naked shower.
Why spend so much time idolising bodies,
divestment of draped attire?
Why's fragility hidden behind pointless social constructions
about what sells and drives society crazy,
about these lack of raiment vogues
conniving with carnal voices in our heads?
Why so much tempting and complete exhibitions
meant to be the private trek of someone else,
now openly played out in public square,
without remorse, except to honor certitude.
Social media empowers those who flaunt physique
imbued by deity, by desperate willingness to express,
the expression of beauty's form.
We term blessing by the display of skin's gamut.
So then I inquire of you: who is blessed?
The artist or the nudist???
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© 5th November, 2021
A troubled man held a dark guarded secret
Deep in a closet of his mind for years on end
No one knew this hidden in his anxious soul
Expect a long-trusted confidant and close friend
But secrets are difficult to put under lock and key
It’s like putting a leash on the strongest hurricane
Secrets can break out as one who seeks to be free
Yet, constantly pursued and divined by the suspicious
A great fear lingers in a troubled fortified mind
Especially that of a guarded holder of the hidden
Will the secret ultimately break free and thusly find
Itching ears that belong to the malicious and evil kind
It’s sad when the secret is stripped of shelter and cover
By a confidant and friend who proves guilty of vile abuse
For whom else could make one’s soul cringe and shudder
When by a trusted one the secret is unclothed and laid bare
Secrets are vulnerable to one’s inner weaknesses
And the ambitions of those of devious minds and nefarious goals
Those who desire to be spotlighted on the world’s stage
Boldly telling the secrets of a friend sworn to be untold
Gains from such misuse of relational trust can offer fame
May grease the palms of those who develop such evil schemes
But the yields are hard to justify or condone what’s been done
When the curtain of life comes down on an exposed and destroyed soul
Who coined this term?
Who decided to limit one’s spirit?
Who decided to deprecate those qualities that remain hidden?
Out of my league…
What is the measure?
Who created the scale?
Is it beauty????
There is an inner splendor that defies the term
Is it grace????
There is the graceful movement of the soul that
moves beyond the boundaries of description
Is it shapeliness???
The shapes and forms of the mind, the curves and lines
Are unclothed in words and unseen by eyes
Is it sexual dynamism???
The body may be painted by an artist, but it has no power to satisfy
desire unless it succumbs to the promptings of a sensual mind
Is it wisdom???
There is the wisdom verified by degrees and the wisdom of the world
which is broader and at times deeper than the few letters at the end of a name
Is it wealth???
The wealth of the world does not even begin to tip the scale
In comparison to the wealth of human character…integrity, loyalty, mercy, and love
What is it???
What is that illusive quality
That demands the stamp of
“Out of my league?”
I defy it
I renounce it
No one can label me…
Yet...I am in a league of my own
Beautiful
Sensual
Shaplely
Wise
Wealthy
Dynamic
A dynamism that a label cannot hold
A wealth that cannot be weighed
A wisdom that guides inner spheres of life
A shapeliness that flaunts the norm
A sensuality that inflames thought and movement
A beauty that shines in its own right
Yes! I am in a league of my own
If you are turned away
By outer appearances
By lack of wealth
And the trappings of prestige
You are missing the treasure
The sheer enigma
Of a mind that is deep, unbound, free
In this league that I live and breath in
This league of....ME!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
they seem to be here
they seem to be there
they seem to be everywhere.
`
they're playing with my mind
they're playing with my time
it seems to me, they're way out of line
their sarcasm wriggles and creep
cutting into my soul, all so deep
inside tears fall, again i cry and weep.
wearing their knowledge like a cape
to part and share they won't let it escape.
as i continue, living inside this cage-
with unintended ignorance, as my wage.
standing outside looking at the group
thirsting for knowledge to lift the mood
instead i`m sitting here unclothed and nude
so to gain total respect, i will pursue.
down upon bended knee. i plea
undo this cage. set my spirit free
and life can be all hopes and dreams
instead of drowning in this, dark sea.
How Does a Soul Enter Heaven?
How does a soul enter Heaven?
Suddenly. Often quietly. Whole and Complete.
Stepping through the flimsy membrane of time
On scented leaves of healing for the nations
Born from earth’s womb into once blinding glory
Lead along in a mysterious path of crossroads
Detours and mystical coincidence
A struggling bud bursting into full bloom
Beholding for the first time the Anointed face
No longer veiled in holy incense from eye bound eyes.
How does the soul enter Eternity?
Knowing its need for God in finality’s answer
All deliriums answered
In a charismatic kiss
Prodigal rags of empty pits,
Valleys of compassion left homeless
And piercing arrows of shattered words
Fall away
No Eden’s shame for the unclothed soul
Shining alabaster in luminescent pearls.
How does a soul enter Paradise?
Turmoil – forgotten; Temptation – overcome;
Rejection – forgiven;
Psalms of sweet arias sing reveries
Of prayers prayed, cloaks shared –
A simple cup of water –
The way made straight in a pledged troth
The bridegroom’s betrothal consummated
Eternal sigh beneath trees by the crystal fountain
In the open arms of pure grace.
How does a soul enter Heaven?
To words of welcome – good and faithful servant.
2-4-23
I recount the nights of faint, distant glows —
the dimmed party lights of summer —
of silenced streaks of fleeing light, tassels of clouds
adorned in fleeting whites,
on the broad balcony of the west, when the
incidents on the large vestibule of the sun sum up
their lives and times on seasons’ palimpsests.
The wild party closes by the stretch of the twenty-first hour.
Darkness, frightened, creeps in with the stealth of a departing thief,
the coyness and diffidence of an undocumented harlot.
Twilight aids the shut eyes of young irreverent bats;
drunk with summer's furiously spouting liquors,
like the denizens of an unclothed city, they fly low,
with gambolling wings, propelled by unseen strands of evening gales,
shadowing briefly the glints of pimping stars eager to witness the next day’s
orgy.
I met them once — in Silence —
They whispered — all at once —
A Choir — of Temptations —
With Souls — in Abundance —
Pride — wore a Crown of Nothing —
And I gazed — upon the Air —
I thought — he owned the Heaven —
That never noticed — there —
Envy — leaned on Lilies —
And counted — greener Blades —
His Eyes — were two small Thieves —
That robbed the Light — he made —
Wrath — was but a Furnace —
Fed — by his own Breath —
He thought — he burned the Others —
But only warmed — his Death —
Sloth — reclined in Petals —
And dreamed — he’d crossed the Mile —
But still — his Foot lay waiting —
Upon the starting — Style —
Greed — built a golden Prison —
And locked himself — inside —
The Key — was made of Hunger —
That would never be denied —
Gluttony — kissed the Chalice —
Till even Taste — grew numb —
His Feast — became his Coffin —
His Mouth — his Kingdom — come —
And Lust — in Scarlet Garden —
Unclothed — the Soul — of Skin —
he promised Love’s Forever —
But left — the Grave — within —
I left them — by the Twilight —
Their Shadows — in the Grain —
And whispered — “We are kindred —
In Virtue — and in Pain.” —
F Fall leaves turn red, yellow, orange and brown
A around October’s normal change of heat.
L Long nights cause chlorophyll to dwindle down.
L like children, leaves are playing trick or treat.
D Disguised by color, autumn trees do strut
E enclothed in costumes, showing off their leaves.
E Expect the evergreens’ surprise jump cut,
P parading forth as Lady Love - Greensleeves.
I I purchased saplings colored for the fall,
N not picking pines - advice from greenhouse clerks.
T Two maples planted promise to enthrall
O or not, since Mother Nature has her quirks.
A Attraction wanes with winter's soon approach;
U unclothed, bare trees lose fascinating draw.
T Thrust deep into autumnal chill, I broach
U unvoiced debate regarding Murphy’s Law.
M Most maple trees resist the coldest storm;
N no notion why mine died when winds turned warm.
Date Written: October 4, 2020
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title: Fall Deep Into Autumn
Contest: Pick-A-Title, Vol 23 - Seasonal Acrostic - Poetry Contest
A true character
Who replenishes all of our needs
That holds us best and picks you up
Even at your weakest moments
So that we do not go hungry
Or sleep unclothed
He who gives us the ability to find strength
When setbacks are apart of life
I was taught to value myself
And the solid lessons in limitations that this journey would bring
He believes the depth in his being
This creation would never be broken
Because an emphasis on fathering would never be absent
I am a creation in the making
To measure up to something
Which he molded me
Until I know all he knows
He is exactly what he is needed to be
A father, who will die to protect
A man with nothing to lose
One with no words
That speaks so much volume
And a smile in trouble
Who gathers strength from distress
To place his family as the most important thing in his life
He is cautious with the actions and decisions
He makes so he won't have to be responsible for their pain
He is all