Short Flayed Poems

Do you know a fellow named Bernie
Who was indicted by our Grand Jury
The Ponzie scheme that he played
And all those people he flayed
He is now on a long Prison Journey...

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His Cheatin' Heart

We meet
  so sweet

First kiss
  pure bliss

Red rose
  propose

Vows said
  he's dead

He strayed
  I flayed


#____#____#____#
 October 24th, 2016
  A Footles Contest
    by: Jan Allison...

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Egg shell pieces
       joined by gossamer membrane        
provided cheat sheet for 3D jigsaw puzzle
       to unscramble Humpty Dumpty.
            Women did it, when men
                 and horses failed,
	           with ten thumbs
		       and hooves
                           flayed....

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Bear your soul
Leave it open
In a stark and naked world
Where to do so
Leaves you vulnerable 
To attack from others

And when they come
To injure you
It is difficult then
To trust these ones
Who stab and claw
As the flesh is flayed 
From your back
And the wounds made
Never heal again.

© Paul Warren Poetry...

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When I look in the bathroom mirror
what I see causes me much fear.

My reflection is not my own
but rather of a wicked crone.

She is trying to take my life
So I must quickly end this strife.

To the kitchen to get a blade
this evil skin will soon be flayed.

I take aim at the mocking face
and thrust the blade with rapid p...

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The cello has a tender singing voice
Allows the feelings which we cannot say.
Among composers,  Bach would  be my choice
The cello sings   rich lyrics  with her voice.
Rostropovich , Prague ; he wept of course.
Soviet armies  marched, the Czechs  were  flayed.
The cello has a sorrowing truthful voice;
Speaks our feelings when we cannot pray....

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The witch was waiting for me, waiting up high
She smiled, a crooked smile, with a cool wink
She’s a wryly young witch one you can’t deny
She swooped down on me, quicker than you might think
I was in fear of her awesome, great power
Right in the corner I would go and cower
There before me I’m face to face with her eyes
She flayed me with evil, direct from the skies

Russell Sivey...

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The boy, he lied, would not say why,
nor did he shed a tear or cry,
when flayed; across his father’s knee.
He’s not what they want him to be.

He’ll work the mine; that was unsaid.
Every day, he was instead
caught spending time with poetry.
He’s not what they want him to be.

“He needs to mix with real men.”
And so it came to be; he, when
fifteen, became an enlistee.
He’s not what they want him to be....

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Distant breathing freezes winter in my bones and dredges my soul for the sowing of rotten seeds,

Foul flowers on trees infested by festering fruit emerge tangled from the ichor churning mud that bare their infected roots,

Wounded and flayed, my morals splash about in their pus and dismay

Pray, I do, for my sense of self and my distant…

I cannot complete that line of thought…

I am lost among the flowers....

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How many places on a person’s skin
can people find to place a pin?
Another tattoo, “woman on pole,”
colorful inks next to pinhole;
tongues a-pierced and skin a-flayed,
one’s body now a creative arcade.
Earlobes stretched to amazing size,
though I wonder, “Is that wise?”
There’s scenes of beauty, I will admit,
but some don’t know just when to quit.
So when friends suggest I get one done,
I turn around and quickly run....

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The pen is my friend
I bleed and he eases the pain
When the sieve is full
he pours it out-
Enough to fill
An empty space
or a spotless white parchment.
The rain comes to my mind
and he makes sense out of it.
Madness fills the air
But he makes symphony on
The cacophony of noises.
Now I swirl in pain
and hopelessness flung flayed
But with my pen, my dearest pen
There's peace.
And here I truly exist
as I would wish to exist
and more -...

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Amidst your youth, these suited truths
tailored to suit you well
only a few, but none too new
set fire to all your tells
inside your tailored hell

A fiery shroud, has wrapped around
your doubt, set you alight
amongst a crowd, of timid shouts
from the darkness of your night
delight, a dark too bright

Enrwapt in flames, a mind is flayed
a cage to lead you home
upon display, your naked stage
was left to bare your bones
by the fire you set alone....

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Calling you up
on the phone
all 1600 of us
are on the line

between the hours of two and 4 am
free falling
75 miles an hour
shattered me like glass

struggling we go to the edge
a procession for the king
the subjugated called
bringing news 
speaking in tongues
flayed

l learn to shut up, listen while
hopelessness, plagues, drought and suffering
escape 

leaving only this skin hanging on the branches
withdrawn and awake 
in the new nowhere...

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Flayed inside his shadow box.

A permanent collection.

Years lost under glass.

History anchors hate and trinket.

He crafted this cabinet.

Polished the locks.

The tours are all guided.

And he leads every step.

To the left: heart on shelf.

To the right: fist just in case.

His exhibitions never open.

His artefacts are never viewed.

A relic in love’s wreckage.

Sorry, forever sorry.

Read the sign: Stand behind the line.

Don’t touch the display....

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Ostentatious pirate was known as Jade.
On Seven Seas her reputation made.
Feet of her crew were flimsy and clayed.
Order of day was a fresh escapade.

Men were smitten. Plans were swiftly laid.
Noble men arrived with dog and maid.
Women overboard in Everglade.
Enthused their excitement took months to fade.

Jade’s leadership skills were truly well-played.
Rule violators were quartered and flayed.
Rewards were given to those who stayed.
 Ruthless but giving was our Captain Jade....

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Broken glass world
pithed with black flags
madmen and misfits.
Where is our god in all this fantastic muck? 
Atop an out of touch mountain top...
Salving wounds of savant sons?

Far below all the rest flayed and salted. 
mostly forgotten
Our collective-depressive monkey minds fleeing to
origami boats. 
Drifting upon shark finned ponds.
Flaming arrows line the shores.
Ribbed strays and one-legged orphans
turning tricks for milk and crumbs 
and the rustic prosthetic called 
love....

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