Profiling...
the glasses are taken
and what you see is
just the face,
the eyes that look beyond
what the heart feels,
the skin with furrows
exposing all the years
the white locks of hair
expressing
those days of chaos
the mouth kept shut
hiding all those
words.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
White Skin Black Heart
Yeah, whatcha gonna do now, now that you started?
Whatcha gonna do now, now that its done?
The words got out there, they float around and are coming right back down.
You gonna leave us lying here
Dealing with the consequences of a bad sound
Of a bad sound.
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Whatcha gonna do now, that its spoken?
These words of a habit, have not faded away.
.................... it clear, conscious gets opened like a wound.
If you cant concieve a better line and better times,
Then let silence bury you, in the end.
When you feel it, when you feel it
Youre condemned.
You see, youve lost your strangle on the freedom road! you
Think ........................of something a long time ago! you
[spewed it out you were so] insecure! it was like ............. on
The toilet floor! youre a [nine seat] drunk, ............... and
You say you want something, .......... you heard the rednecks
Roaring for blood and then they wanted more! life was so small, you
Couldnt get enough. you made a start.
White skin black heart
Dripping,
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Drag your eyes from [aurora] black heart!
White skin black heart
Drag your leg, get outta here [my sight]!
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
You didnt have to start
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shut my Mouth
There are those whom wish
I would just shut my mouth.
For my words cut them to
the bone when I speak of
an abuse child. Or a person
drowning in the sea of his or
her own addiction. They real
wish I would shut my mouth when
I speak of equality for all. Also when
talk about suffrage one goes through
from AIDS, Cancer to Death. I done had my
words crumbled in thrown back in my face.
I have been given looks as if they want to shove
my words back down my throat until I choked on them.
But for all those who want me to shut my mouth I have
got three times as many who want me to speak.
So speak I will. As long as I got something to say I will speak.
And only when I don’t have anymore to say is when I will
Shut My Mouth.
Vision of an old Man
A cool breeze touched his white hair
While he was walking in the mystery street
Long life has made him to bend,
In front of the things those the history made
He was old, old enough to see the world for what it is
He was old, old enough to feels the death
He was old, old enough to think about the life that passes
He was old, old enough to see the real masses
White hair, as white as the teeth
Teeth those just moved for lots of times
Blue eyes…
Which were covered by glasses, Glasses of lies? !
Hands of times aren't cruel, it's their duty
We can't stop them of the work they are doing
BUT! A time, it's our turn...
To be old, and then burn...
The old man wanted nothing instead of a simple respect
Respect, the thing that is forgotten for these people
A day that old man was young and powerful, but so prideful
And now he is old like his father that was…but now he is none full
He just needs respect, a respect for his white hair
Respect for his long life that is passed
Respect for his respectful heart
That now is tears a part.
poem by Ellias Anderson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bloke Who Is Wearing Dark Glasses
The bloke who is wearing dark glasses his eyes from me hidden away
Yet the sun is not even shining it is quite an overcast day
In my direction he keeps staring and that sort of does bother me
Which to say the least feels quite perturbing since his hidden eyes I cannot see
To me he is a complete stranger one that I have not seen before
In my direction he keeps staring as he stands by the Super-store door
If I could see his eyes I'd feel happier I look on a face without eyes
On an overcast day his dark glasses the windows to his soul disguise
I feel uncomfortable in the presence of people wearing dark glasses why this should be I do wonder why
But their right for to wear the dark eyes shades one of them could never deny
But our eyes can tell us more about us than words of us ever can say
They can make you look kind and compassionate or cold hearted in a cold way
An unsmiling face wearing dark glasses from across the street stare at me
I do feel as one in discomfort when a face with hidden eyes I do see.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Her Wet Hair Feels Cool on My Skin
Her wet hair feels cool on my skin
As she came fresh from the shower.
She lies near me and rest begins.
Her whispers soft, a quiet wind
Caress my senses for an hour.
Her wet hair feels cool on my skin.
I’m at peace more than ever when
I lay down with her in her bower,
She lies near me and rest begins.
Now love’s sensations lie within
A subtle simple touch of power-
Her wet hair feels cool on my skin.
She holds my heart fast with a grin
Delicately, like a flower.
She lies near me and rest begins.
I say that now if this be sin
I don’t in fear of death cower.
Her wet hair feels cool on my skin:
She lies near me and rest begins.
2009
poem by William Mcgehee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Skin
This is someone elses story
Someone that I never knew
This is someone elses body
Am I getting through to you
If you peel away the armor is something underneath
If you look below for hidden treasure underneath another layer
Are you hiding underneath the skin
Chorus
If you peel away the skin is there anybody there
If you peel away the skin is there anybody there
If you peel away the armor is it too late to begin
Is there anybody hiding if you peel away the skin
Now a spark has passed between us now
A momentary recognition
Something lost and something gained
And something shared that feels strange
Something cold that will not go away
Theres a heart as cold as ice
In a vault thats made of stone
Over years the walls got higher
Over years the walls have grown
Is there anybody in there in this self inflicted tomb
If you peel away the layers is there someone in this room
If you peel away the skin, if you peel away the skin
This is someone elses story
Someone that I never knew
This is someone elses body
Am I getting through to you
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Hundred Years
It doesn't matter if we all die
Ambition in the back of a black car
In a high building there is so much to do
Going home time
A story on the radio
Something small falls out of your mouth
And we laugh
A prayer for something better
A prayer
For something better
Please love me
Meet my mother
But the fear takes hold
Creeping up the stairs in the dark
Waiting for the death blow
Waiting for the death blow
Waiting for the death blow
Stroking your hair as the patriots are shot
Fighting for freedom on the television
Sharing the world with slaughtered pigs
Have we got everything?
She struggles to get away . . .
The pain
And the creeping feeling
A little black haired girl
Waiting for saturday
The death of her father pushing her
Pushing her white face into the mirror
Aching inside me
And turn me round
Just like the old days
Just like the old days
Just like the old days
Just like the old days
Caressing an old man
And painting a lifeless face
Just a piece of new meat in a clean room
The soldiers close in under a yellow moon
All shadows and deliverance
Under a black flag
A hundred years of blood
Crimson
The ribbon tightens round my throat
I open my mouth
And my head bursts open
A sound like a tiger thrashing in the water
Thrashing in the water
Over and over
We die one after the other
Over and over
We die one after the other
One after the other
One after the other
One after the other
One after the other
It feels like a hundred years
A hundred years
A hundred years
A hundred years
A hundred years
One hundred years
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time And Its Daughter
Time and its Daughter
I love your face and your face loves itself
For its perfect nose, green eyes and rosy lips
And your fragrance has a Narcissistic allure.
The way you walk pavements adore you
rain shies away as not to make your hair wet
I love your face and your face loves itself.
When you cross the street car horn blears
All by themselves and white cars turn pink
And your fragrance has a Narcissistic allure
Sun doesn´t burn your skin, makes it golden.
Till, one day, the mirror tells of a wrinkle, and
you know years are ganging up on you.
You only enemy is time it waits in the wings.
As furrows settle on your forehead.
I love you face, your face doesn´t love itself
Car horn doesn´t blare anymore, get off
The road you lazy old woman, they honker
Your fragrance of youth has lost its allure
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Wore Dark Sun glasses
The sun it was not shining and dark gray were the skies
Yet he wore dark sun glasses for to conceal his eyes
From the gaze of other people what was he trying to hide
Since to the mirror of his soul daylight he had denied.
Or maybe his eyes are sensitive to light so dark glasses at all times he must wear
Since seeing one wearing dark glasses on a cloudy morning is quite rare
In sunny weather many wear dark glasses to save their eyes from the sun's glare
On bright and warm Summer days of the sun one must beware.
This morning in the wind and rain it did seem strange to me
A young man wearing dark sun glasses out walking I did see
On such an overcast day sunglasses did seem out of place
If you cannot see a person's eyes you cannot memorize their face.
He may have eyes sensitive to light and have to wear dark glasses every day
But when I said hello to him he had nothing to say
If you cannot see a person's eyes to you that person a stranger remain
And I would not recognize his face were I to see him again.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He calls me Honky.
My friend’s as black as ebony
and he delights in teasing me.
He says I am the coloured man
I can’t deny it no one can.
My hair is blond my eyes are blue.
His words are obviously true,
My facial skin is pink and white.
to anyone with normal sight
His eyes, his hair and skin are black
I cannot counter his attack
But he’s my mate so I don’t care
His banter isn’t hard to bear
We’re much the same bar for our skin.
What matters most must lie within.
Monday,16 November 2009
Http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Helen Wiped Her Glasses
Helen wiped
her thick lens glasses
with the hem
of her school dress
and you watched
her finger and thumb
move around the glass
in circular motion
Can you see much
without your glasses?
you asked
she looked up at you
and said
Not much
you for instance
are like a small tree
without leaves
with thin branches
hanging down
you smiled and saw
as she lifted the hem
a glimpse of thigh
white as one kept
out of sun and light
But what do I look like
with your glasses on?
you asked
looking at her face
and eyes that squinted
quite naked
without the specs
A boy who's cheeky
but often shy
especially around girls
and their blue eyes
and dark curls
and she giggled
and dropped
the hem of
her dress
and put her glasses on
and her eyes enlarged
and gazed at you
taking in
your unkempt hair
and school boy grin
and at that moment
as she stood stifling
her giggle with one
small hand
you sensed a love
you neither had before
nor could
in the light of day
and innocence of youth
quite understand.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Leave To Give You Sweet Memories
there is not enough time.
it fell out of me like some
water from my fingers from the faucet
that i want to wash my face
i get wet and rub my face with
a white towel
and open my eyes and see for once
myself, this man, abandoned by time
so quickly
like yesterday and today
and tomorrow
all mixed in a second
white locks of hair
bony cheeks, and
serious eyes, looking through
the mirror
wanting to find if there is yet
another me
that i can live with
for another more time
to be reborn
and use the youth
that i have wasted
without much thought.
i see, i am melting,
i see, i am air.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Four Woman
My skin is black
My arms are long
My hair is woolly
My back is strong
Strong enough to take the pain
inflicted again and again
What do they call me
My name is AUNT SARAH
My name is Aunt Sarah
My skin is yellow
My hair is long
Between two worlds
I do belong
My father was rich and white
He forced my mother late one night
What do they call me
My name is SAFFRONIA
My name is Saffronia
My skin is tan
My hair is fine
My hips invite you
my mouth like wine
Whose little girl am I?
Anyone who has money to buy
What do they call me
My name is SWEET THING
My name is Sweet Thing
My skin is brown
my manner is tough
I'll kill the first mother I see
my life has been too rough
I'm awfully bitter these days
because my parents were slaves
What do they call me
My name is PEACHES
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Hundered Years
It doesn't matter if we all die
Ambition in the back of a black car
In a high building there is so much to do
Going home time
A story on the radio...
Something small falls out of your mouth
And we laugh
A prayer for something better
A prayer
For something better
Please love me
Meet my mother...
But the fear takes hold
Creeping up the stairs in the dark
Waiting for the death blow
Stroking your hair as the patriots are shot
Fighting for freedom on the television
Sharing the world with slaughtered pigs
Have we got everything?
She struggles to get away...
The pain
And the creeping feeling
A little black haired girl
Waiting for Saturday
The death of her father pushing her
Pushing her white face into the mirror
Aching inside me
And turn me round
Just like the old days
Just like the old days
Caressing an old man
And painting a lifeless face
Just a piece of new meat in a clean room
The soldiers close in under a yellow moon
All shadows and deliverance
Under a black flag
A hundred years of blood
Crimson
The ribbon tightens round my throat
I open my mouth
And my head bursts open
A sound like a tiger thrashing in the water
Thrashing in the water
Over and over
We die one after the other
Over and over
We die one after the other after the other...
It feels like a hundred years
One hundred years
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Want More Hair?
I'd love
I think
more hair
more hair
like a big
old grizzly bear
more hair makes
you manly
more hair
makes you tough
more hair feels
like carpet
more hair keeps
you rough
more hair
for pretty ladies
to rub their faces on
more hair for
guys to jealous of
and more locks that can
be flung
I think more hair would be awesome
but I wouldn't wanna overdo it
because too much hair would make
me like a little furry blanket
and I couldn't cover both of us
just you and that ain't fair
more hair!
poem by John W. McEwers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Longer
Shut the lids to cover the eyes,
the eyes that stare at me.
No longer should I be stared at.
No longer should you see.
Silence the mouth to cover the words,
the words that affedted me.
No longer should I be spoken to.
The words don't belong to me.
Put on gloves to hide your hands,
the hands that found my face.
No longer should my face be felt,
too many tears to trace.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Long As Your Eyes Are Blue
'Will you love me, sweet, when my hair is grey
And my cheeks shall have lost their hue?
When the charms of youth shall have passed away
Will your love as of old prove true?
'For the looks may change, and the heart may range
And the love be no longer fond;
Will you love with truth in the years of youth
And away to the years beyond?'
Oh, I love you, sweet, for your locks of brown
And the blush on your cheek that lies,
But I love you most for the kindly heart
That I see in your sweet blue eyes.
For the eyes are the signs of the soul within,
Of the heart that is leal and true,
And, my own sweetheart, I shall love you still,
Just as long as your eyes are blue.
For the locks may bleach, and the cheeks of peach
May be reft of their golden hue;
But, my own sweetheart, I shall love you still,
Just as long as your eyes are blue.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Half my father
Half my father
Half my mother
My mother white as a ghost
My father black as coal
In my face the mixture glows
My skin is white
Still I am a black man
By the make of my nose
My hair is curly
My eyes are gray
Within me both if them lives
My mother’s race
Did enslave
My father’s race
Was never paid.
Still within I bare the two
Am O the new American?
My father is white
My mother is Korean
They met during the war
And I was born
Their only son
By my tone of skin
And by my eyes
You can tell
That there is a divide
And by my blonde hair
It is there for you to spy
Am I the new American?
My mother is German
My father polish
I learned three languages
As I grew older
Both of them
Did love me well
And of each country did tell
That I could draw
From each well
Am I the new American?
My father is Chinese
My mother Spanish
Both crossed over the Rio Grand
I am in the make of my father
But I have my mother’s brown skin
Am I the new American?
poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Roses On White Lace
I saw you in your wedding gown
The prettiest dress
I came into the room that night
And made such a mess
In my own way, I lovingly kiss the bride
With your ring in your hand
Your eyes and your mouth open wide
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
So dead upon the bed
You hurt me in the deepest way
I'm crippled inside
I took your evil skin away
It's all cut and dried
I saw you tonight and carefully took your hand
With some smears on my cheeks
I knew that you would understand
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
So dead upon the bed, still searching for your head
They're never gonna find your face
It's hidden away
I found a very special place where you used to play
In my own way, I lovingly kiss the bride
With your ring in your hand
Your eyes and your mouth open wide
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
Crimson and sweet, stained on the sheet
Roses on white lace, pretty in red, dripping and wet
Roses on white lace, spilled on the walls, dark in the hall
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pretty Lil' Princess
A pretty little princess danced before my eyes
Soon we shared these loving longing sighs
Skin so fair i feared it would shatter
If my hand were to touch it with just a soft patter
Long silky black hair bright rosy cheeks
I drempt of her each night for weeks and weeks
Skin so fair, such ebony hair
I longed to see her pose so i could sit and stare
Rosy red rosy cheeks
I hear a symphony when she speaks
Golden smile of pearly white teeth
A blossoming bloom just out of reach
My heart to hold my soul to teach
A blossoming bloom is not out of reach
At last I have held her and she did not melt
At last she knows what passion i've felt
So many days her radiant beauty shined
So many days on thoughts of her i've dined
A radiant beauty with ebony hair
I long to pose her and sit and stare
I long to kiss her skin so fair
This radiant beauty with ebony hair
Pretty little princess stands on her tiptoes
kissed my face and kissed my nose
Pretty little princess alights up off the ground
I know for a while i must have you around
poem by Beau Golden
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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