Thin Skinned Poems

Oh, What A Tangled Interweb We Weave

Don't like the look of what's going on
seems to you something's wrong
the smell of corruption in the air
look around it's everywhere
can't place the feel of what's happening here
could it be something to fear
the sound of conniving on the wind
a warning call for all thin-skinned
so round and round and round we go
where it stops no one knows
it takes two to tango or so they say
but that was then not today
ask a question and they hand you
the same old automated two-step quango
one foot forward two steps back
while standing in quicksand
pose a query they'll sidestep the issue
and the matter at hand
giving you the light fandango
they'll look you in the eye and deny
it's all a web within a web
behind a web of total lies

Knowing Angels

Angels are almost silent
Subtle 
treadbare steppers
subliminal stalkers 
determinedly quiet 
except at choir 
a pair of cherubic hums 
can equivalate 
to the drones 
of a billion bees. 

Can you separate 
the noises
of bouncing sparrows 
on wet sands,
from belly-down
thin-skinned slitherers 
roaming in beds of grass - 
obscenely dense, 
from burglarizing ants at a picnic party?

Angels are seen
since they come to visit. 
Unannounced,
but friendly faces 
beaconing
like lighthouses.
Their halogen coronets 
fulgurate and exorcise 
diabolical agency. 
                                                                  
Other angels may be noticed. 
An invasive host 
shod in threatening boots 
dangling peace and safety
but entangling angles
strangle. 
Hopes
course
in descension:
brambles
boulders 
ports of fire.

Show Love, Not Hate

Show Love, Not Hate 
Miracle Man
4/17/2024

Antisemitism grows worse,
and there’s no current answer.
Hatred is eating our lunch,
like a man eating cancer.
It’s disrupting other’s lives,
forcing many to live in fear.
Protesters burn our flag,
and “Death to America“ I hear.

The world is becoming,
a place that looks blighted.
Too many are thin skinned,
and always feel slighted.
Each dispute presents factions,
with another life test.
And the answer seems to be,
grab a sign and protest.

But how can one protest,
without a catchphrase to chant.
And without harming others,
well, they just simply can’t. 
The goal, keep it simple,
cause chaos if you’re able.
The thin skinned think this,
earns them room at the table.

Deep Diving

I'm way ahead of the darkness that cast shadows
& there's no looking back when moving with his light
I'm light years away so even if you're walking by
I'm still way too out of sight
Crystal clear blue sight sees the waves way before 
they reach gritty shores
I pulled anchors & set sail to see what this voyage
had in store
The answer for many of life's questions can be found
in deep waters you won't visit because it's cold
Too deep for the thin skinned but you must dive as 
fortune favors the soul that's bold
I'm sold on this fact based on experience not vicarious
stories told to win
The wages of going to war with yourself can't be counted
but you're paid handsomely for the win
Immerse yourself in the battle & lock in for this is the 
key to your elevation
I surmise that there's many counting themselves out
but this is a guess not summation
A hypothesis if you will as I don't know you, but the
joke is on you if you don't dive
Many hide behind masks of jest but the joke is on you
& your disguise

From the Gut

I had my father's face
his mouth and eyes
his thin skinned heart.
Though those features have melted
and are smeared by old age.
I sometimes wonder if he ever had my
genetically maimed gut.
He never knew me
nor I him,
but I carry my mother's pain
her long gut-aching loss,
but her loss and mine
were never the same.
You can't mend a loss
you cannot name
and she could not shed
her gut-wrenching death wish
until it came for her.

How Do You Feel

short circuited and
the fuse of purpose keeps tripping
high voltage boredom
on auto pilot in slow motion
the roundabout is not a funny circus
currents alternate 
directly challenge
polar opposition in contradiction of truth

‘it’s a beautiful day and you are in it’
thunder clouds bolt hail and torment
for no reason at all
five layers of clothes just to keep warm
a frosted swamp submerges reason
because it can and it will
webs of confusion crushes through ice
as if waiting for landslides and mud
so much is clear

lightening emboldens the scene
as water colours bleach the canvas
pierce through fabric dreams and anticipation
thin skinned the jester keeps smiling
an empty façade persona and mask
reaches out as a poet who writes
with frosted nib and inked consternation
lost for words founded in screamed silence

like her own meta-morphed metaphor
muck seems like a euphemism
warmed up in a microwave of sorrow

maybe she will walk to the beach today
watch breakers and tides 
gather a sea shell
listen to what can be heard
when all else is quiet

24th January 2023

Sincere Suggestions

I have wondered what Poetry Soup would be like
If poems submitted were subject to critical eyes
And contributors were free to critique the poems,
To say how they really feel about a poem, to analyze.

Of course, it cannot be, for we are a thin-skinned bunch
Often our feelings are hurt by the slightest correction
And, I am of the opinion having been here for a while
We all think we are so fantastic, we need no inspection.

Well, I, for one, realize my poetry would be much better
If I had the opinion of those who could read me critically
Not those who would merely wish to tear me down,
But who would help me become a better poet, literally.

I would welcome those kinds of sincere suggestions
Although, I must warn you, I don’t accept advice so well
So, be careful how you approach my best efforts,
I know my poems would improve if they laid aside a spell.

With this being said, let’s continue to be kind to each other
Appreciating each other’s comments and camaraderie,
But, if you see an obvious mistake in one of my offerings
Do not hesitate! Please, by all means, point it out to me. 

Written November 27, 2022

My Thoughts On Cancel Culture

My Thoughts On Cancel Culture
Written: by Miracle Man
November 1, 2021

Cancel culture is stealing our freedom of speech,
when we disagree, practitioners will impeach.
We can express an opinion only if it agrees,
but canceled out by our refusal to appease.

Someone’s always offended by something we say,
is it really the speech or socialist way?
Perhaps its a logo that has caused our affright,
disagreements, then become, social media fights.

Daily I'm offended by something in my sight,
but I quickly remember that they too have a right.
We appear set in our ways refusing to bend,
I think the main reason, is we're just too thin skinned.

We Diss Then Cancel

We Diss, Then Cancel
By: Miracle man
August 5, 2020

Do all run the risk of being canceled today,
Or is this an addition to millennial word play?
We take up a sign when thinking things offend,
we assassinate character and are too thin skinned.
Everything’s become racist in some person’s eye,
we think that protesting gets a slice of the pie.
Today some advocate, that past history, we delete,
curriculum without history is education incomplete.
Lacking veracity, we diss others when we can,
with hearts filled with hate for our fellow man.


Ecclesiastes 12:13
“Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.”

A Man Upset

A man upset

The world is getting thin-skinned
chief for a state department, a puffed-up one at that
was shouted at.
He cried and resigned.
Now he is suing the one that shouted at him, well
He will perhaps win the upper classes often do.
This proud man feels hurt and can’t sleep which
Is strange since he has sent many to their grave
Implementing policies that hurt many people.

He can dish it out, but can’t take being criticised
So, let him go with his big pension and tend the roses.

Outrage

Outrage
Written: by Miracle Man
12-9-2019

We’re living in a world of worthless outrage,
We innocently say things that fosters rampage.
Seems everything spoken bruises somebody’s shin,
We claim some word has caused our chagrin.

Today, it seems, that we’re too thin skinned,
Attacking others until their words they rescind.
We nit pick, and search, for a lame reason to whine,
While with others thinking we’re forced to align.

Her Hands

Her hands were small, wrinkled
Covered in brown age spots
Encouraging me to keep trying
Even when I was losing

Her hand’s nails needed trimming
She was nearly ninety 
And I had to trim them
So fearful of cutting her

Her hands were worn, tattered
By the many years of work
She toiled like no one I know of
Constantly going, on and on

Her hands grasped mine 
Feeling thin skinned and old
While at the same time they felt
Full of a love I’d always known

Her hands had done so much for me
Held me when I cried, spanked my behind
Bandaged a boo-boo and wisely 
Comforted my sleepless night with a touch

Her hands were filled with purpose
She worked and tried and assured us
That when time would come to an end for her
She had a friend named Jesus she’d go to

Her hands lay crossed across her breast
That evening when I saw her in her casket
Awaiting the burial that would leave me feeling
Like I would be missing her until I'd go with her

Some Things I Am Not

Sometimes I make embarrassing mistakes.
I own them all. Excuses aren’t my style.
I know I’m not as wise as I should be.
Close-to-perfection’s something I am not!

If I know I have wronged you, I will say
I’m sorry, and I won’t proceed with “but.”
You know that word negates apologies!
The one who feels she’s always right--I’m not.

I know the Bible means just what it says.
If it says I’ve done wrong, I surely have.
I know its tenets are NOT out-of-date.
Reviser of the Scriptures—I am not!

I often fail to see how blessed I am.
I may be blind sometimes to others’ needs.
I’m too thin-skinned; I need to toughen up.
A model Christian’s something I am not!

   ************************

I love my dairy—ice cream, milk, and cheese.
My steak tonight? Please grill it—medium.
Potatoes? Mashed, and add some butter, please.
A vegan’s something I will never be!


Date: July 31, 2019
Contest Title: Something I Am Not
Sponsor: Craig Cornish

Monsters

I spot your monsters lurking behind but,
I am too busy chasing my own away.

They encumber your every step
as planes boom by on death hooks -
your spirit lies flatly and is wailing
with its arms and legs in the air.
Imagine that!

The black sky empties your demons like
sour milk down the drain.
They happily haunt you
in your one dimensional nightmares
lacking light -
not even a small lit candle that
you would adore like an unexpected gift.

Your inescapable tsunami plagues your sight,
your mind, even the feeling 
in your thin-skinned hands.
You never weep.
No, all of this mayhem has settled deeply
into the marrow of your bones.

Thin Skinned

a small child
crouches
quiet
eyes taken
curious sight
brow creases
in question
 
it a new thing
these pink shapes
on earthy brown
face
fingers
backs of hands
throat
breasts
half covered
the same
familiar
patterned dress

she child
soft traces
them
on toes
tops of feet
calves
where flame's flowers
seared skin
pink thin

knees 
knelt down 
in plea
in prayer
kept brown

strange
new tattoos
alien
yet not unearthly

she
small
prods
lashless lids
pats
proud cheekbones
insistent
bows her head
dark hair 
falls forward
silk waterfalls
stir shadows'
flit 
over
sleeping face

eyes open
wide
fear drains
colour
then
warm
deep brown
they glow
for her
knowingly


Posted: 12-12-2018.
NOTE: No to Xenophobia.

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