Wearers Poems | Examples

In the Mouth of Desire

in the mouth of desire, inverted spires
lean toward the grots of Hell.
tongues forked, skewered with sapphires
in the mouth of desire, inverted spires.
Adam's apple burning cores, as moths for martyrdom's fires.
on the path to perdition: many had attended well. 
in the mouth of desire, manipulation stirs.
the crone fanning her cauldron 
a hot vat of ruin, Wiccan shrieks and whirs.
in the mouth of desire, manipulation stirs - 
a warlock's cherished heart of burrs,
tears of crocodiles, his every gentleness abandoned.
in the mouth of desire, sirens sweet, curses 
lure purple wearers and weavers, beasts with saints,
low_down to the broad gates, gilt black, swinging purses.
in the mouth of desire, sirens' sweet curses 
but wisdom's rare jewels, bereft in their verses.
for want of wisdom, man's sovereign will faints.

When Evil Hides Among Their Smiles

She whispered to me, "I hope you suffer well."
God heard her words, and he smiled,
for if suffering is what she wanted for me,
her hopes would soon be smothered in hell.

To give my best to those I loved,
It meant walking away to save a life,
when an evil person who wore a mask,
threatened to me to take their lives.

This very thing it happened to me,
no one knew or could they see,
their lives would be threatened If I told,
about the evil things that I saw unfold.

I made a choice and told it all,
a mask wearer amongst them still walks,
I'm happy to say I will never regret,
In an eight by ten room is where it rots.

The day will soon come when I've gone,
the mask wearers mask will slip with smiles,
but it'll be too late for I will tell,
though I'll never hope for all to "suffer well."

Evilness can hide inside those we know,
they hide it well with lies they tell,
they claim their the victim by tears they show,
whilst scheming with a devil who sleeps in a cell.

Sperm Whales

Sperm Whales

From this Tuesday until I 
die sperm whales will 
no longer secrete
the waxy stuff used in 
producing make-up. That’s why all the 
make-up wearers are
no longer talking to 
sperm whales.

In the depths of a world breathing beneath the vast and silent sky

In the depths of a world breathing beneath the vast and silent sky,
Where shadows are memories of days that were never ours,
Someone, an architect of dreams and fear, stretches their invisible fingers,
Gently caressing the fragile threads of minds that believe they are free,
Woven from illusions, we, mask-wearers, lost in this dance
Of imposed thoughts, a silent waltz of an invisible government,
Floating above us like a storm cloud that never dissipates,
Led by the echoes of voices we have never heard,
Yet that shape our dreams and fears, tastes and desires,
Every evening, when shadows stretch across the sidewalks,
We wonder if we are merely puppets in a theater without a curtain,
And if we will ever feel that we truly are,
More than silhouettes moving to the rhythm of an incomprehensible song,
In a world where truth is a rare guest and silence
Is the lullaby of sleeping souls,
Awaiting the light to awaken us from the collective dream.

The Moth

What is mist in my demeanour,
makes me fray when I am touched,
the thread is just a little leaner,
when the rug is pulled too much.

Adjust the light, 
reduce the glare,
the eyes will compensate the glow
with just the right influx of air,
the breath will gently ease its flow.

Call from the candle,
the patterned handle,
generates the heat of light, 
and when it’s bare without a sandal
the iron brands you in the night.

Aware of the feast,
release the craving, 
the best will save it in a jar,
wearers might warn us by waving,
when our engraving made its mark.

A stark reality to territory,
we covert the dark to rest,
the part that sparks our own clarity,
and every fight is but a test.

Caressed the stretched out wing and body,
the rack and ruin of a maiden flight, 
the pressed at best now torn and shoddy,
unless the pest drifts to new heights. 

Despite the knit of what was woven,
the proven cloth still dares to shred, 
the holes return to join the stolen,
fitting to nourish on what was said.

Who Should Wear a Scarf

Male wearers it makes women by half,
Even the man with a bulky calf;
In my office won’t be excused staff
Save female ones, “You save me your scarf!”

Quickly change their sex some men can,
Wise debates on what one should wear ban;
No more hunger to answer A Man:
Gender-blind has been a Dick Dan!

But does Dan need this decoration
That does affect male restoration,
Kick-starting female adoration:
Dan’s great speech: a female oration…

To masculinity a scar
And Dick Dan has with it gone quite far:
Lots of Scarf in his scarf-tired car;
Round his neck one with a wench like star.

Blood

So far, the reddest river
But does not flow forever:
A coursing through enclosures
Vessels furnishing closures…

For journeys should Heart Pump thank:
They would cease, if The Heart Sank
To be left a congealed mass
While owners eyes ‘doomed shut glass…’

Lots of information stores,
Not the same a saint’s and a whore’s;
Medics who checked the river
Could pick out one with fever…

Many things run in the blood,
Some of them unleashed ‘foul flood’
The Best from this Red Fluid ‘Gift’
Which from parents did lift…

On robes Automatic Stain -
Their wearers always in pain:
Means they should face the way home
And for  replacement dress comb.

While dealing with blood: gloves,
For even he that one loves.

Tight Miniskirt

A fiercely tight as light garment
You won't spare cruel comment;
To put it on a self torment,
To take it off: you shall lament.

Garment's troubles wearers foment
And the needless pains augment,
Sooner on your waist liniment:
A sweet fashion–imposed ailment
"Just,you watch Laura's face,ferment 
You'd think she's from dad's interment"

Laura's thigh had yelled in the skirt,
Her helpless pelvis rudely hurt
By a skirt like a reply curt
And like The Biggest Sin a dirt...

"I see Laura's Mum's hate cement
Tight miniskirt not a raiment".

Feelings Carefully Disguised

Scrambled emotions masquerade among ourselves
Greed pretends to be concern for others
Sadness wears a well-placed anger mask
Feelings disguised cannot be used against us, right?
We insist upon our little charades, thinking we are fooling you.
Believing our true emotions are hidden, 
Because we are not sure who to trust
And we have been betrayed by other mask-wearers
We let very few people into our mindset, maybe one
To peer behind our façade is a rare honor

Shedanger of the Klinedyke

SheDanger of the North Sea and Klinedyke  will cut your heart out 
Feed it to the body wearers, and give you a blood curling shout. 
She was raised by the most fierce king who ever existed on the earth.
She does not take prisoners, she kills and I mean with mirth.

Her mother died when she was two or three, leaving an empty throne.
She was raised by King Glockenschimidt, one whose temper is well known. 
He taught her to hate her enemies, and cut out hearts without feeling bad.
She apparently has used battles and war to hide feelings she ever had.

The North Sea and Klinedyke have obtained lands and horses in a daily way.
Because SheDanger likes to battle. Her lust for blood is satisfied every day.
The troops stay behind this fierce warrior, for she always takes the lead. 
She wears a skull and a scalp. A dead raven decorates her mighty steed.

SheDanger is coming, the winds blow into a town a day or two ahead.
Villagers attempt to run for the hills, for she will leave every one of them dead.
As ferocious as a body wearer, but a lass well-known for her beauty.
I run to warn my unsuspecting clan, for it is my sacred calling and duty.

My Serial Killer Name

.....might have been the Did not see the other identical twin
it..............................the  other one.
no love would have this heart
Always thought i would make a good
wait good is that right word anyway
good serial killer
you know
unusual m.o.
not the skin boiling in a pan one
or the skin wearers
Have a point to the murders
you know somehow part of the bigger
Picture my darkest thought
Just stop and think about it
what to do when the pain is so
Number and number
pick an number between three
Reality slit my throat
on my blood it chokes
skeptic of my septic
Nature burns and drops
Nations are forgot
The end is nigh
wonder if God gets a serial killer
Hi sorry sometimes i wander
So serial killer name Freddys been done
Jason somewhat over i don;t think he knows it
Bundy, Dhalmer, The green lantern
Jack even his name has softened
on ripping satin
I'd go with a classic
Like Prince
I quite like Shadows touch
Would would yours be?

If Soap Could Talk Today

If soap could talk today
   What would it say

If masks had eyes instead of holes
   What would they see to extol

If plastic gloves weren't hot and sweaty
   Would wearers still act so petty

If it weren't for this COVID pandemic
   Such speculation would be academic

A Zest For Life

I spent all day shopping for a ruby,
it's my wife's birthstone; nothing else will do.
And I wish to find a true paragon, 
though flawless rubies are scarce and few.

I'm hoping for a pigeon-blood red gem
that is as rare and unblemished as she.
And I checked each jewelry shop in town,
but that perfect jewel eluded me.

I was almost ready to give up, when
I spied a cabochon that caught my eye.
A magnificent, resplendent gemstone,
so exquisite, I couldn't pass it by.

Flickering fiery flames frozen in time,
rubies symbolize passionate feelings.
And imbue wearers with a zest for life, 
granting favors in romantic dealings.

When I gave my wife the ruby, she wept
tears of joy and wrapped her arms around me.
And culminating with the sweetest kiss
fantasy morphed into reality.


(Quatrain)


07/06/2020

Books Are Passe

Books are passé’, Grandma!
No one uses them anymore
Let’s burn them all.
It was one of the hood wearers.
The older woman was shocked to her core.
She had never gotten used to the I-pads, I-pods or I-phones.

Let me show you what we do with them, 
The Hood Wearer said.
He lit one on fire 
Holding it up so she could see how he felt about it.
But what if the Internet goes down? The older woman asked.
She was not even a grandma, never having had children.

The Hood Wearer let out a loud laugh
Dropping the book at her feet.
She threw water on it and saved what she could
Because she had been taught to save everything
She watched him throwing other people’s books on the fire
And was amazed at how easy others had been to persuade.

And Now For Something Completely Different

In Kelly Clarkson’s latest video,
she sings a lovely song as groups of
assorted people “show” themselves
like happy burka wearers.
In one scene, two lovers
come together for
a tender kiss -
lips untouched
behind
masks.

May 21, 2020

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