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Poems On / About HAIR  4/28/2015 10:56:18 AM
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A Thought, Deception

my master spoke of one component of the self to be recognized in the other self. in me is an inch of you and in you is an inch of myself of the entire spectrem. equality resides beneath us yet we cannot see it becasue we are physcially above it. in all of us is the multitude of the universes emotions waving back and forth as the ocean of space continues to expand our feelings are sometimes comets and sometimes flashing shooting stars and even asteriods at other times yet we all lie in this ever expanding universe perhaps the multiverse is not far from our eye. though i am in neither space nor in the heavens.i am neither god nor angel not a rank or certain level here but certainly the spaces dreams are in my thoughts and heaven is duely within my heart. the ranks and levels of this mysterious mankind is influenced by a simple spark of our minds of the sky. you are neither above or below me nor am i unto you. we wear these masked thick clothes and dangling jewlry that radiates our appearances and those who wear them. your tongue lies and your hair decieves them your eyes manipulate them like technology consumes their attention. but truly your core is frozen as the ice bergs that the heat warms yet is hidden in glaciers not yet melted. it is in awe of how i see your cavern within it is a beastial monster that breathes an odorles gass in whihc you cannot see becasue he hides deeply in your cavernand slowly his gas poisons you internally and as you age your eye begins to fade pale. your hair is no longer a protcetive deception for it has fallen and split from your follicles. nay no more are your clothes for thery have burnt by his breathe and your jewlry is no longer hanging by your bodies but it is round your neck hanging to choke your soul and vocals now you may never speak another lie and soon your heart will color black hides over your body within and only you shall be blamed, you wrought the monster in the cavern deep in your soul
Daegonius Bonapartea

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Fur Mites After Ogden Nash - The Termite And Harry Graham Ruthless Rhymes

Some fur mites hop from hair to hair,
we seek them here, there, everywhere,
that's why we might flee from this day
flea-ridden wraps men trap as prey.
Jonathan ROBIN

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One night in his sleep, a man had a vision of two kings. The first king, to his left, appeared not heavy, yet not thin. Seated at his throne and in a souls expression. He had a full head of dark hair with a neatly trimmed mustache and beard, touched with streaks of gray. His eyelids were heavy and his stare was not able to come and meet another's eyes. He wore a dark satin shirt, a leather vest studded with silver and gems, and a crown of gold with large jewels. He sat not so relaxed, his head pitched just a minute forward. At his feet an open treasure chest. It was filled and pouring over with gold coins, gems, deeds and more. The second king, to his right, appeared slightly heavier, older and wiser. Seated back, content and self assured. Wrapped in a pale soft cotton robe. He had longer slightly thinning gray and white hair, a flowing beard and mustache all freely expressed. His head leaned ever so slightly back, his eyes gleamed as they seemed to see all and at once,. On his head, shoulders, lap, and all around his feet and chair were animals of all sorts in harmony and snuggling to him. When the man awakened that morning, in recollection, hugging his family, he realized that he always had at hand, all that is true, all that is alive, and all that matters.
Michael J. Rogers

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Read more: hair poems, family poems, dark poems, silver poems, sleep poems, night poems, animal poems



Good Hair

Hey, Indian boy, why (why!) did you slice off your braids?
Do you grieve their loss? Have you thought twice about your braids?

With that long, black hair, you looked overtly Indian.
If vanity equals vice, then does vice equal braids?

Are you warrior-pretend? Are you horseback-never?
Was your drum-less, drum-less life disguised by your braids?

Hey, Indian boy, why (why!) did you slice off your braids?
You have school-age kids, so did head lice invade your braids?

Were the scissors impulsive or inevitable?
Did you arrive home and say, "Surprise, I cut my braids"?

Do you miss the strange women who loved to touch your hair?
Do you miss being eroticized because of your braids?

Hey, Indian boy, why (why!) did you slice off your braids?
Did you weep or laugh when you said goodbye to your braids?

Did you donate your hair for somebody's chemo wig?
Is there a cancer kid who thrives because of your braids?

Did you, peace chief, give your hair to an orphaned sparrow?
Is there a bald eagle that flies because of your braids?

Hey, Indian boy, why (why!) did you slice off your braids?
Was it worth it? Did you profit? What's the price of braids?

Did you cut your hair after your sister's funeral?
Was it self-flagellation? Did you chastise your braids?

Has your tribe and clan cut-hair-mourned since their creation?
Did you, ceremony-dumb, improvise with your braids?

Hey, Indian boy, why (why!) did you slice off your braids?
Was it a violent act? Did you despise your braids?

Did you cut your hair after booze murdered your father?
When he was buried, did you baptize him with your braids?

Did you weave your hair with your siblings' and mother's hair,
And pray that your father grave-awakes and climbs your braids?
Sherman Alexie

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Poems On / About HAIR