Short Flaying Poems

Snipping through the skin
vocal pain ripping my eardrums
Breathing in your blood 
as i wash my sins
in your devotion
Masicate my masterpiece
Notes scratched in her skin
Mangle my manuscript
Snapping my fingers as i draw them down your chalk board
With the final flaying chord
My bow berates your jugular
And my opus is undone
Silence drowns all noise...

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What comfort, lighthouse, in this automated age?
No welcoming glow from cottage windows,
no friendly keeper brewing tea,
just a cold white beam flaying the night.
    
Lighthouse, in deepest dark you stand a watch
as lonely as mine,
both turning vacant eyes to an uncompromising dawn,
both lonely daymarks for the dispossessed.

What comfort, lighthouse,
What comfort?...

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A sword…cutting, flaying, slaying
A candy…sugary, tantalizing, pleasing
A song…edifying, mesmerizing, bewitching
A dream…promising, comforting, exciting
A kiss….longing, exploring, claiming
An embrace…soothing, groping, desiring
An act…submitting, dominating, gratifying

What am I?

WORDS

Words...A world, a heaven, a moment, an eternity, 
A universe...

YOU!

Eileen Manassian Ghali...

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It was a dirty war 
of moat 
flaying the legs in emotional outburst.

No stings.
Only mandibles will do the job of chewing
on your dark fingers. 

Flat, the taste of milk: 
a synthetic formula to eat your entrails.
The plastic nose will smell the rose.

Unbuttoned,
message will bring the fishplates 
and birthmark of violence. 

Death has a cult of contusions. 
You bleed to bones
for illuminating the street. 



Satish Verma...

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like a grain of sand..


flied from the land..


settling in my eyes.


A lot of tears can,


remove you easily again,


then the pain will be removed.


What a wonderful band..


taking my little hand..


telling me to sway.


The Smell of the flowers..


is holding me for hours..


flaying into the sky.


What a wonderful feeling..


Freedom is always cleaning..


my heart and soul....

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A constant throbbing
Soreness often 
Stabbing two or three time a day
Acute anxiety 
I never know when it is coming
Like a searing spear slashing and flaying
I had never felt sorry for others who conjured up these symptoms
Thinking they were weak, liars 
Feeling that no one has constant pain
Because it is ridiculous
Now that I know better, I feel a tad bit sorry for them
But even more sorry for myself.
Rude awakening for sure!...

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Listen to poem:

Zippily, zippity, I slip down
the slippery dip slide.
Zippity-doo-dah, slippily-dippity-do!
Suddenly and nippily, tipping 
backwards to quicken the pace.
Snappily, I whippingly 
swish right off the end of the slide.
I launch into space,
Fly high in the air, arms wildly flaying
like a rocket man on steroids, screaming.
I land with an awfully 
painful jolt, snap and thump. 
Woefully my aplomb undone, 
not so spryly or lightly, 
right on my backside....

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My mouth almost opened 
But I quickly clamped it shut
Experience taught me not to try
To find my voice

Stifling myself is easy 
I have sixty-seven-years experience
It is my natural reaction
I fall into it quite naturally

So many opinions of others flaying about
Engraved in concrete attitudes
But I have bound my mouth 
With chains and locks, keeping my opinions safe.

It has boded well for me
Has kept me out of confrontations
I share my ideas with no one except poets....

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Surreal beauty fit to fly.
Pearly teeth, oozing lies.

Dark mane casts ethereal frame.
Deep blue views of sinister flames.

Transient bodice, eager flight.
Others upon, she bestows the sight.

Lying beauty unadorned.
Dark addiction, newly horned.

Gentle hand, cloying chest.
Upon hole, within loss rest.

Flaying flesh from bone.
A dying wish of an inherent crone.

Hole, which inner heart was bore.
Afore gaucherie did so gore.
Lying inert and naked on the floor.


-Any comments are appreciated....

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