Atlas Hands
I look at my atlas hands.
They make my skin a fleshy map
Divided by a blue tangling of veins.
Blood flows through them—
In almost symmetrical estuaries
That flood my palms with a red warmth.
I notice it for the first time
As I take my fingers and spread them out to sea.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Two Divided By Zero
(two divided by zero, zero)
(two divided by zero, zero, zero)
Lets not go home, well catch the late train
Ive got enough money to pay all the way
When the postman calls, hell deliver the letter
Ive explained everything; its better that way
(divided by, divided by) I think they heard a rumour
(divided by, divided by) or someone tipped them off
(divided by, divided by) its better to go sooner
(divided by, divided by) than call it all off
Well catch a plane to new york, and a cab going down
Cross the bridges and tunnels, straight into town
Tomorrow morning well be miles away
On another continent and another day
(divided by, divided by) lets not go home
(divided by, divided by) or call it a day
(divided by, divided by) you wont be alone
(divided by, divided by) lets run away
(two divided by zero, zero)
(two divided by zero, zero, zero)
(d...d...d...d...d...divided by)
(divided by, divided by)
(z...z...z...z...z...zero, zero)
(divided by)
(turn of that noise...)
(divided by, divided by) someone spread a rumour
(divided by, divided by zero, zero)
(divided by, divided by) better to go sooner
(divided by, divided by) lets run away
So why hang around for the deed to be done
You can give it all up for a place in the sun
When the postman calls well be miles away
On a plane to new york and another day
(divided by, divided by) I think they heard a rumour
(divided by, divided by) or someone tipped them off
(divided by, divided by) better to go sooner
(divided by, divided by) than call it all off
(divided by, divided by) someone spread a rumour
(divided by, divided by) and someone has to pay
(divided by, divided by) lets not go home
(divided by, divided by) lets run away
(divided by, divided by) lets not go home
(divided by, divided by) lets run away
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Carnivore
So much space can fit in a side
More than words can say
Im left here with my hands all awkward
Trying to mend space
I used to know you
But not anymore
Your substance has been subtracted
Word by word
Silence in my ears
Where once you offered your conviction
Your promises are dried beats
Theyre cracked with nostalgia
But thats all right
Thats okay
Had no business
Giving myself to you anyway
Be careful next time for sure
And ill
Ill never trust my pink fleshy heart
Ill never trust my pink fleshy heart
To a carnivore
Carnivore
Your soul is an ink stain
Your perfection is amend
Youre as fragile as your thoughtlessness
As strong as you can bend
You could only believe in embryos
Held all your high hopes through a telescope
Lavender haunted you
So I could own your life in yellow
You have a fire down in genius, subtlety
And you slip through the fingers of ambiguity
Well, thats all right
Thats okay
Had no business
Giving myself to you anyway
Be careful next time for sure
And ill
Ill never trust my pink fleshy heart
Ill never trust my pink fleshy heart
To a carnivore
Well I didnt know
But I wont do it again
This time Ill be my own best friend
And Ill take back my song and my poetry
This time I wont be so easy to read
And Ill never trust my pink fleshy heart
And Ill never trust my pink fleshy heart
And Ill never trust my pink fleshy heart
To a carnivore
To a carnivore
To a carnivore
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Called to spread love
called to spread love
branch the palms of hands
into a lightning through the dimness clouds
into the cracks of a dried out earth
into the cracks of unwritten walls
into the veins arteries ropes
climbing the heaven of love spread calls
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Johnny Be Good
johnny be good
don't be easy prey,
steer clear from the deep waters,
sharks can smell the blood in your wounds.
johnny be good
don't go back to the ball and chain,
it has said enough
now it is time for you to speak up.
johnny be good
don't bring the world down,
spread the good news
the lost will be found.
johnny be good
don't make the heavens weep,
it has a party waiting
if you just make it through.
don't let them eyes roll back
don't let that skin glow blue
don't let those lips gain purple hue
if you could just leave
those veins intact.
poem by Chris Jelens
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The hot hot sun
The hot hot sun
bakes
my skin skin skin
irksome infants
make
a din din din
could get under
my skin skin skin.
No
take a breath
a deep belly breath
let your diaphragm do the work
vorsprung durch inhallation
the oxygen bubbles into my blood
the heat touches my
bones
my mind absorbs those mutual benefits
slows, calms, immersed a gentle euphoria
and the warmth of the breeze embraces
I feel the joy joy joy
of the sun sun sun
on my skin skin skin
on this hot hot day!
poem by Robin Pratt
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What I Have Not Ever Seen
what i have never seen
does not bother me, it is felt
and it gives me all the comfort
the stillness
and stability, it is like the hand
that holds my hand and gives me
warmth
during the harshness
of the rains
i have never seen the fingers
and the palms and the veins
but i have felt
the heat in the coldness of my
winter
sometimes there are those unseen
yet more real than what is visible
to the naked eye
i do nothing. i just believe.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blue Blood
Spurn not the nobly born
With love affected,
Nor treat with virtuous scorn
The well connected.
High rank involves no shame -
We boast an equal claim
With him of humble name
To be respected!
Blue blood! Blue blood!
When virtuous love is sought,
Thy power is naught,
Though dating from the Flood,
Blue blood!
Spare us the bitter pain
Of stern denials,
Nor with low-born disdain
Augment our trials.
Hearts just as pure and fair
May beat in Belgrave Square
As in the lowly air
Of Seven Dials!
Blue blood! Blue blood!
Of what avail art thou
To serve me now?
Though dating from the Flood,
Blue blood!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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The Art
From my wrinkling hands
the effulgence surges
into the blue veins
and to the tips of my fingers
it sublimates esoterically
Sometimes, it drew lines
and the latticework
becomes the ensnare
of the mad tarantula
that is my hands
Sometimes, like a butterfly
blooming from its chrysalis
it spread its wings for the wind
and its colours glide in search
for its own cradle of petals
Sometimes, its brown molt
folds like an origami and
becomes a moth inveigled
by sputtering tongues of flames
soon shall it burn and fade
Sometimes, it deflects
the words that cannot be said
or the poems that remain unread
into dithering silhouettes
that will remain unsculpted
And these shadows
born by fluid motions
and metamorphosing palettes
are the sprouts - veins crawling
from the unfathomable pit
of suppressed inkblots.
poem by Norman Santos
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Glory Be
Waters flowing though my veins
Nothing ever stays the same
Waters flowing down my side
Turn the water into wine
Wheres the courage I once had
Wheres the strength I once possessed
To stand up tall and face the music
Laughing in the face of death
Heres a boy whose hands are bleeding
Though hes never had a scratch
Glory come and glory be
Waters flowing now at last
Chorus
Like a bad dream I once had where
Everyone but me knew something
Walking blind through the burning fields
The dead brigade is on my heels
They follow me--they follow me
Waters flowing though my veins
Nothing ever stays the same
Flows outside for all to see
Water flows through you and me
Nothing ever stays the same
Water turns to wine again
Drink the wine & eat the wafer
Lash the skin & scream together
Chorus
Bridge
Waters flowing through me
Cut me open--let me bleed
Silence is golden
(but) shout it out--shout it out--shout
Waters flowing through my veins
Nothing ever stays the same
Through eyes that once were blind with passion
Everything looks soft and grey
Without color or rough edges
Without fire to burn the skin
Without pride and without reason
Water turns to wine again
Waters flowing through my veins
Tell me now its all the same
Tell me that it doesnt matter
Tell me everythings alright
Chorus
Waters flowing through my veins
Nothing ever stays the same
Glory come and glory be
Glory come to you and me
Waters flowing through my veins . . .
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Handshake Or Hug (Love Poem)
Hands held
Fingers touch
Eyes smile
Happy glow
Warmth flows
Air charged
Hug hungry
Bodies close
Hearts beat
Happy rhythm
Lips kiss
Time stops
poem by Ian Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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End of Abuse
To far away
To be reached
You're to far
To hear me speak
Headed down
Annihilation
Completely ignoring self-preservation
Black and blue bruises
Divided by distraction
Attracted to the intensity
The razor blade
Brings them satisfaction
Their blood is dripping
Carrying away years of pain
They giggle to themselves
The've found revenge
Falling down
They curse those who care
Screw you, screw you, screw you
Blood soaks through the air
Just go away
Let me leave in peace
You weren't there
The times I was hit
Burned, raped or cut
His loving words
Began and ended with
you freaking slut
Go hit yourself
see how you bruise
Burn your own skin
Smell the flesh
Cut your wrist
Till blood flows free
Or rape yourself
Soon it's respect you'll lack
I have the last word
I'm dead now
And not coming back
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There is blood between us
I
There’s blood between us
that flows very strong
and that red
bind us to each other
with genes and ancestors
and you will forever be my brother.
II
There’s blood between us
and our hands
are full of it
and it’s blood of enemies
that had to flow
for us to stay alive
and that blood ties
you and me
in a own companionship
and you are my best comrade.
III
There’s blood between us
that binds you to me
and maybe a child
will appear out of us both
as sign of how sincere
our love is
and that blood
ties you my love
to me
as the one that I adore.
IV
There’s blood between us
that flows on a cross
where the Son of God
suffered for me
and that blood
wash all my sins away
and tie me
to become a child
of the Almighty Father.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Near Yet So Far Away
you are just a breath
away from my
face. My fingers want
to jump off
my hands to
run over you
and indulge
in the lust of touch
and caress
my tongue wants
to run away
with your lips
my thigh
trembles beside
your hands
you are so near
yet
something holds
me away from you
(how can i
ever explain it?)
as i take
a glance, for the last
time at you
beside the glass window
of the car
i finally look down
and wish that
i kiss your feet
(i am in a
quandary between
shame and
satiation)
so near and
yet so far, i close
my eyes
and travel
inside my veins
my blood pumps
up and says
be good
take care as i leave
you are so
far now,
at the end,
at a certain edge
even the hands of my dreams
shy away
to hold and kiss
your shadow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mean People
They stick like glue
Although what they say isn't true
You believe it and it sticks
It hurts
Like a thorn
And the skin that is hurt
Is the skin of your emotions
The blood that trickles are your tears
Your happiness flows away
And anger rushes in
You try to hold back the tears
You sit and think if what they said was true
If your glasses really make you a nerd
Or just because you don't like the sight of blood makes you a wuss
But remember this
Don't believe it
Don't think about it
And most certainly
Don't cry about it
poem by Andres Hernandez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Music Flows Through Me
Music flows through me
its in my blood
it courses through my veins
all the way to my toes
they tap the beat
the music makes its way to my fingers
they itch to play my music
they move on their own accord
and suddenly from my cello
springs the music that is my life source
poem by Lilinoe Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fresh Blood
All the neighbours never see me
But they wonder why I walk around at night
He gets hungry - I go hunting
In the moonlit streets
For somebody that's right
Fresh blood, a sanguinary feast Is all he's living for
And he craves it more and more
Showgirls, businessmen in suits in the midnight rain
If they walk alone are never seen again
In the paper, seems a florist
Found in Lincoln Park, died of some anemia
No one raped her, poor Doloris
Just detained her and drained her on the spot
Fresh blood, a sanguinary feast
Is all he's living for
And he craves it more and more
Old men, ladies of the night walking in the rain
If they walk alone are never seen again
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
No one calls and no one visits
We're like a couplet out of Desolation Row
We don't want them to want to know us
'Cause when they do, they get a little bit too close
Fresh blood, a sanguinary feast is all I'm living for
And I crave it more and more
Bad girls, cops on the beat in the midnight rain
If they're out alone, are never seen again
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me, cry to me
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fresh blood (Lyrics)
All the neighbours never see me
But they wonder why I walk around at night
he gets hungry - I go hunting
In the moonlit streets
For somebody that's right
Fresh blood, a sanguinary feast
Is all he's living for
And he craves it more and more
Showgirls, businessmen in suits in the midnight rain
If they walk alone are never seen again
In the paper, seems a florist
Found in Lincoln Park, died of some anemia
No one raped her, poor Doloris,
Just detained her and drained her on the spot
Fresh blood, a sanguinary feast
Is all he's living for
And he craves it more and more
Old men, ladies of the night walking in the rain
If they walk alone are never seen again
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
No one calls and no one visits
We're like a couplet out of Desolation Row
We don't want them to want to know us
'Cause when they do, they get a little bit too close
Fresh blood, a sanguinary feast is all I'm living for
and I crave it more and more
Bad girls, cops on the beat in the midnight rain
If they're out alone, are never seen again
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me, cry to me
poem by Satan's Sibling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Obsession (revised)
to believe that there are heights to my own glory
is no longer possible.
On that day in that room, where they wear
all their thick glasses, their hands have already done
what should not have been done.
I was weak, and my mouth did not open.
They kill every poem i had in my palms.
They were doves.
They said they were bats.
Black bats.
No, i said they are the whitest doves i have.
They are even angels.
They were laughing.
Some giggled.
And they
said, 'Crucify him, crucify him! '
IT was an obsession.
That i have butterflies on my hair.
That there were
red roses in my fingers.
There were none, in fact.
What i had are mere words.
Syllables of my survival.
When i left that room, i did not admit that it was my mistake.
Far from that,
i look again at my hands in the mirror,
and i saw
vines, fragile tendrils, and they are so alive, like
dragonflies.
One understands somehow, that we write, not because we want
to have a brand, a name, a tattoo
a heart, a rose, an arrow, blood dripping
NO. That is not so. We write because we are here and our fingers
are always incomplete.
We press our palms on our chest and we say
Look i love myself, and this all i got.
Let me write and let it all be about me.Not for those thick glasses
Inside that room.Their rules are not mine.
I have mine only to give.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just For A Moment
I want to come home and find you sleeping
Slipping under the cover
Feeling the cool cotton sheets on my skin
I hear your breathing
Then you notice my presence
Just for a moment
Molding my body to your back
Carefully not to disturb you
Skin on skin - your skin on my skin
Your warmth is invading my senses
My hand trailing lightly along your arm
Just for a moment
Setting my heart by your heartbeat
You are the one I come home to
My fingers slightly brushing the hair on your thigh
Resting on your hip
I kiss your shoulder Good Night
Just for a moment
Turning around
I feel your movement
Now you - molding your body against mine
Skin on skin
Your hand trailing lightly along my arm
Just for a moment
Intoxicated by your touch I feel you
We awake together
Letting go of our weariness
Collide, struggle, unfold, explode, release
Breathe, laugh, wind down
Until we fall to sleep - holding each other
Just for a moment
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Colors
There was a black man
There was a blue man
They hated each other
For the color of the skin
They both believed the other
To be the offspring of some great sin...
One dark day
They got into a helluva fight
Each believing to be in the right
They beat upon each other
Through and through
They beat each other black and blue,
Until finally
They both did come to see
How much alike
They'd come to be.
Now there is a black man
There is a blue man
Together they stand
Once divided by the color of the skin
Never more shall they
Be blinded that way again...
Black or white
Yellow or red
The color of the skin
Is truly all inside the head,
And the colors in the head
Come out in the words
That are said,
And the words
That are said
Can leave the heart so alive,
Or, utterly dead.
It's a choice to make:
Either for the image of the soul
Or, for the color of the skins sake;
The darkness of night
Or, the beauty from
The colors of the
Light.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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