Long Under the skin Poems
Long Under the skin Poems. Below are the most popular long Under the skin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Under the skin poems by poem length and keyword.
“Love”
Hearts,
like dice, rolled
across a cold table
into the dark of Chance.
Love,
is a risky business.
A sudden plummet from Grace,
standing on the stable shore of all things,
only to be taken by the undertow of slippery Time,
“farewell to the past of all lost things”, whispers the id
holding firm onto its Pleasure Principle,
sucked in by the tide of the ocean that is Life.
Bare emotions ride pale wild horses far out into the deep;
where control is lost, the Sun kisses the soul naked every day,
golden highs are strummed and plucked like strings.
Love,
saves the lows,
for other lessons, to deliver better things.
Crowded thoughts like credits, rolled,
and the jazz joint smoked, Palo santo, Rosemary
and Juniper, smudge sharp corners phantasmagorically,
to eradicate sad stalking ghosts and tired voiceless dybbuks,
where the Sage-blue curls find their way around the room
fed to those far removed, yet present soundless poets,
like an addiction slipping under the skin.
Love,
rolls role calls, unannounced.
Like a beautiful thief in the night,
hungry for more than less,
it wants much higher things –
reaching ever upwards for its infinite twin.
Love,
like a grand maestro,
will always have its own way,
with what it takes,
and eventually brings,
with the cards it deals, and the keys it plays.
Love,
like an ancient mystic,
will always have its final say.
Love,
in one way or another, remains
haunting -
Sovereign,
Love rules, each
and every day.
Candide Diderot. ‘26
“When I'm feeling high or I'm feeling low
Or there is no change
Somehow days keep melting into the night
And there's always light on the cosmic range
I am always high I am always low
There is always change…
Hear the strings are bending in harmony
Not so far from the breaking on the cosmic range…
In my life the piano sings
Brings me words that are not the strength of strings
Fiery rain and ruby's cooling sun
Now I see that my world has only just begun
Notes that roll on winds with swirling wings
Brings me words that are not the strength of strings…”
(excerpt lyrics, “Strength of Strings”, Gene Clark)
7
Day after day
Moments dragging by
Looking for a promise
That has left me dry
...and wanting
Doubt seeps in
Maybe understanding is dim
Sorrows and suffering
Make life dull and grim
...even in the LIGHT
Rhythm is warped
Music has no dance
Movement is sludge
I can't seem to advance
...in the fight
I have accepted habit
My eyes set on what is
My fire is smoldering
In what I can't fix
...in me
Voices announce failure
My heart hangs by a thread
I will hope in you my LOVE
And never give in to dread
...that looms like a cloud
What? My spirit is bruised
Like blood running under the skin
Seal up my vessel, oh lord
Help me to dream again
...with fresh innocence
Written by Trudy Schrader on 01/15/2022
Useless little words
Why do you mean so much?
Why did you tear so many fragile hearts?
With the pull of your lines…
With the light YANK of your unfinished sentences…
Why did you do this to me, useless little word?
Did you really want to make me cry a thousand tears?
And make me look like a fool?
A monster?
Useless little words,
Why are you so unfeeling?
Why has my heart been torn by your subtle existence on a page…
Or a text, or a message… or a simple ink blot…
Fighting with all your little ways
To get right under the skin…
Why do you tear open my very veins?
My very soul?
Useless little words,
There’s a fire waiting to be quenched,
But someone is always putting in the ammunition
So quick a spurt
SO QUICK A SPURT
That the tongue has its own cruel cold stoned heart
Waiting for the moment I shatter and fall apart
Why are you so fickle?
As deadly emotions trickle
Useless little words,
I’m on my way to silence again
Because you fool me every time
With your cruel, hell-laced intentions
Why do I even bother?
To let them bounce off my body…
They always remain
Useless little words,
Have drilled a hole straight through
Words never spoken
But always…always used…
Less and less spoken
Less and less kind
Useless little words,
I only wanted them to matter
I only wanted you to understand
That you can drill in me tonight
But tomorrow, when the day shines
You’ll leave
But only for a little while
And then you’ll be back again
Beautiful little words!
How I can always depend on you!
To return
Unlike…
I was born in a banana republic,
Between the carnivorous chains of Françafrique,
In an open-air dumpster,
Where tyranny, barbarity, and savagery speak with arrogance.
I am perfumed with all the nauseating scents of misery.
I grew up under the honeyed speeches of necktied oppressors,
Their swollen pockets vomiting development aid.
They painted the walls of despair UN blue,
While our starving bellies served as ballot boxes.
My tongue is a battlefield
It was cut, stitched back, trained to sing the masters’ symphonies.
I speak French like a trauma articulated,
With the pain of my color since the first slave trades.
My struggle, a reminder of the invasion, an inheritance of batons from the Caribbean plantations.
I saw dictators blessed by chancelleries,
Oil traded for diplomatic silence,
Mines bled dry by hands gloved in elegance,
And mass graves hidden beneath bilateral agreements.
I am what they call human resource,
Exportable, exploitable, erasable at will.
I was born where dignity is sold by the kilo,
And where the future fits in a punctured boat at dawn on the Mediterranean.
I was born where the future fits in a punctured boat at dawn on the Mediterranean.
Where a passport is a burden, not a key.
Where one sells their skin to organ merchants
To buy a pixelated mirage of Europe.
I saw my mother weep silently over deportation slips,
My father break his back in open-pit mines of the cradle of humanity,
I learned to read in the pamphlets of the defiant,
To count on my fingers the promises unkept.
School, a factory of stillborn dreams.
Healthcare, a market where cancer is sold in tainted doses.
Justice, a rumor, an insult whispered
Between two power cuts and three police blunders.
I am the child of fake independences,
Of tailor-made constitutions stitched for insatiable gluttons.
I was born without inheritance, save for
This rage accumulating like sand under the skin.
They called me delinquent, migrant, underdeveloped,
But I am the living archive of their beautified crimes.
I am the raw product of their refined markets,
The shattered mirror they flee, for fear of seeing their own barbarity within.
Flirting With Death, Gods And Devils
Blonde, blue eyes, tall and slim
Pretty as a picture without the wings
They go by the old names; “Lucifer’s minions”
Fellow demons on the Earth
Flirting with the boys and girls
Today, in black suits, they pray in church
Prey afterwards on lost souls
Found in corporations
They win the hearts of everyone with a wink
Gentlemen under the skin with hidden sin
As the gods they are
Never have to go too far from heaven
Gods and devils are the same
They simply operate under assumed names
We are their armies in training
Flirting with death
Is a dangerous undertaking
Created on 1/19/15 for - “Gods and Devils” – Poetry Contest
The peace they display is a ripe fruit from thousands of battles,
They walk among us, in a silence that intrigues and soothes,
We think they have always been this way, under a benevolent star,
But this peace vibrates like metal hammered a thousand times,
It resonates with the memory of blows and raw wounds.
A hundred years of inner war means demons faced,
The fear of not being enough, doubt like a splinter under the skin,
Anger burning inside, more than any enemy,
It's a hundred years of learning: forgiveness frees oneself,
That falling matters less than refusing to rise.
Their peace is a silent victory, a fortress without walls, light,
It's not forgetfulness, but a comforted memory, inhabiting the cracks,
It does not fear the storm, knowing that at the end the sky is washed clean,
And when their eyes meet yours, you feel the humility,
Of those who have walked through fire and found themselves undefeated.
Demons.
Are demons here.
Do you believe in fallen angels
Do you believe demons are real.
Would you really know of one if it sat by your side.
Could you even love one if in plain sight the real face it could hide.
What if they are real
What if you or me are of them
Do we feel like they feel
Do we destroy the beauty of love
The checks and balances of our lives
People die and people live
Do you remember any past time
Do you remember any past sins
If life is just this in this time in a universe of billions of stars. Take money and power out of this sum. Strip it back to just you, just you under the skin.
Would you, could you survive.
Do you sometimes feel so wild, like you want to burn through the sun.
Some people know everything and they seem to know it from day one.
Others start with a clean screen.
Which one were you,
which one.
Look underneath the skin first and for most please? Try it just once,.just to pounce before you judge, we all are here to one dam reason, to live in the country of the free, it brings tears to my eyes, that people are so dam shallow that you look under your dam glasses on your nose that is stuck in your ass because your white, and rich and don't have any faults, congrats to you now get the he'll away from me, I don't want to be with someone who thinks they are God, I want to be with people who are full of heart, compassion, faith.
Villainous Rescue Center is the best program in the whole dam world, Tia Torres cares about everyone, she leads with her heart not her judgements, I would love to meet her and her staff, She knows that people make mistakes, but she is the best person to have on your back!! I AM SO HAPPY TO HAVE HER BACK!!
Life is hard, life isn't guaranteed to anyone, you have to suck up and move on, but next time you see someone who isn't perfectly clean cut, look underneath the skin please? Because you never know who you might see under the skin, let's join hands and become one!! :-) :-)
Haphazardly, yet dastardly
Chaotic but organized, that bastard, he
With vengeance unjust and supersized
In an earthquake, he is the aftershock
You think it’s done, but wait! SURPRISE!
World’s rocked and socks knocked off
You can’t ditch this itch, what a crock!
Some may mock, but he is an iceberg
What you see seems just the average jerk
When underneath is all berserk!
A quirky perk to fool hapless foes
Off guard he throws, keep on your toes
For your weakness he already knows
So goes the life of the thorn in a rose
To impose strife and scorn I suppose
Being born so forlorn your only purpose here
Is to STRIKE FEAR AND MAKE THEM PUCKER
I mean… really just a pesky little bloodsucker
That’s besides the point though.
Since he’s the BEST of the pests in this jest
And will NEVER REST for his quest
He is OBCESSED and full of zest
I can attest since I can hear him buzzing
Because when it comes to push and shoving
This nasty little good for nothing
Will not be content and will not relent
Until he gets under the skin that holds the scent
He will torment! And when he gets the win,
Oh you’ll be sorry as he flies away in VICTORY
Then his epic story will be ….. SMACK.
Hmm… perhaps not so all powerful foe.
Damn mosquito.
Culicidae (Scientific name for mosquito,
and super sneaky secret villain name in this case!)
Azure hearts turn red when oxygen hits
Yellow mood today, submarine, Beatles, sunshine.
Gypsies, tramps and thieves.
Cher in my mind, song ends, rewinds, repeats.
Her Indian outfit by Bob Mackie, pure wow.
How you dressed Cher and Carol Bob. Pure Diva.
As if we could have loved either of them anymore.
And yet we did.
Thanks to your clothes.
Green eyes. Only seven percent of the world
Reportedly has them. Hazel? Maybe. Green? Unsure.
But mine have gold flecks. Multi-colored.
No one’s eyes are exactly the same.
Mine are fading a bit, not the same as yesterday
Or maybe even two hours ago.
Tula Rula Rula. Azure hearts turning red.
But blue under the skin.
You can see that when you look at your wrist vein, right?
Dendrites are on fire today,
Free-basing, not needing any input from me
As they do not have to deal with oxygen or
Reality or anything else.
Rapidly spinning into a red and blue mood.
Patriotic feeling, in spite of things.