Birthday Suit

This competition is in celebration of DU Poetry's 6th birthday today*.

If you're unsure what a birthday suit is you can check here:
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/birthday_suit

Or if you're of an appropriate age (or your parents aren't looking) you could do a google image search

The feminist in me would especially love to hear from some females who are confident/accepting of themselves.

Only one entry per person.

Winner will be determined by vote after the closing date.

* The original Deep Underground Poetry website was around in 1999, but Deep Underground Poetry as we know it now was born in 2009.

DUP is a Leo ... like me, no wonder we connect lol ...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Happy Birthday DU...from a fellow Leo.... :-)

A wonderful website that has brought me great pleasure congratulations and a happy birthday to you.

i slept through my birthday yesterday.
Didn't think it'd be that great anyhow.
You know it always increases my anxiety,
to know I'm getting older
in this funny.fake world.

So I says to my friend
when we lose weight
we can walk down Main Street
with bikinis on, and she agreed

Then we lost touch
When we got slim
we forgot and quickly got fat again
and left our plan to be what it was, a thought on a whim

I was going to get a
white crochet number
with tassels on the sides
and add bon jovi side buckled boots for effect

And she was going full on black leather
barefoot, with a joint in her hand and a mug of gin
That was our plan, we would show everyone
that we were just as beautiful outside as in

We weren't actually in our birthday suits
but to us, it seemed like the ultimate dream
We wanted to make every girl jealous
and make every man cream

It was 1976, and we were hip
my big-eyed Native Indian friend from the hills
and me, an Italian French babe from the city
we like to drink and do all sorts of pills

As we walked down the street
the day we made that pact
we both weighed in at 225 pounds
she was five foot two and I was five foot ten

We each had dark hair parted in the middle
down to our waists, which we ironed straight
and we liked to go to the bar
we got stoned first and usually left home after eight

Call it a premonition
or whatever you want
but we both knew we would become slim
we just didn't know it would be so brief and never happen again

When her summer came along,
she got down to one hundred and thirty
With her giant boobs and dimples
she sure did look purdy

I found out that she was being
hypnotized
by some guy named Ace
He got her shitfaced and then held a medallion in front of her face

Then he would have his way with her
while she was in a blackout
and take pictures
night after night, and sell them; spread them about

My summer came and went just as fast
I met an ex-con named Gary whose friend brought him around
straight out of the joint; I knew it wouldn't last
we had lots of sex, and I did lose sixty pounds

I don't remember eating anything that summer
He liked to get high, ate yogurt, and bought and sold dope
I had a bag of hot chips with a bottle of wine now and then
He liked girls around seventeen, and I was jealous and eventually gave up hope

Those were our summers of love
We screwed around, drank, and got high
and we lost weight, it was like heaven sent from above
but I wouldn't recommend that diet and don't recommend you try it

Birthday Suit


My birthday suit is made of skin
I've had it all my life
But to expose it to the world
Can cause a lot of strife

My birthday suit would like to be
Unclothed all the day
Gamboling in the sunshine
Life the nudist's way

My birthday suit has served me well
Holding me together
It keeps me hale and hearty
Regardless of the weather

My birthday suit's at its best
When I'm with a lover
The sensuousness of skin to skin
Is a feeling like no other

My birthday suit is older now
Showing signs of wrinkles
Covered with tufts of hair
With occasional dimples

To A Man, A Woman Is Super Natural

women do not study what is natural
and what is present
they are familiar with the factual
but unfamiliar with the gift of perfection

to a man,
a woman is super natural
she is a telegram
from the mystical and the magical
she is the lesson
he is eager to learn
she teaches him to quest on
the questions that burn

when a man looks on a woman
he does not see imperfections
when a man looks at a woman
he perfectly gets the message

My Birthday Suit

My Birthday Suit
is paper thin and rather soft,
with words written on my heart
and all over my face.

My Birthday Suit
is fashionable, zany, serious, smart, casual, and deep
with threads suited to every need
and of every colour and creed.

My Birthday Suit
is woven from dreams and ideas
with constructive criticism alterations
and quite a few likes and loves.

My Birthday Suit
is as long as years
with endless scrolls of scrolling
and made by many artisans and amateurs.

My Birthday Suit
is all thanks to you, and you, and you
with thanks also to the Webmistress and the Mods
and thanks from me,
                                 DU.

The Fair Suit

There is a story that comes to mind
and it reminds me of a card game with quickly increasing bets despite the knowledge there was a clear winner and loser.
I laid spread, nude, a sinner to match his wickedness and there was that burning, burdening equal wickedness in my eye,
in the spare bedroom - because he was no longer entitled to enter my boudoir.
There I made him enter me
after I learnt that he had entered her.
I accused him of not wanting to make it up to me,
and I watched him squirm above, and the power lapped at my breast, and I heard his self-contempt like a film reel clicking. I switched his face off, locked my body onto his, ignored my own reasonable judgement.
The future was black and convulsing  
in an awfully still, magnolia space.
My skin was scaly, scarred, scrapped
lit with hate and visions of her young flesh, her hair, her Birthday suit.
I thought about how much it took me to disrobe
and how little it took her,
I thought about how many walls I had to pull down to entrust my cells with anyone
and how little it took her.
I let myself down easy,
became at peace,
one with the furniture.
I let him stay the night but didn't let him hold me.
The sheets were stripped in the morning.

The Skin I’m In


My birthday suit is getting old,
full of scars from surgical-holes

and some that I put there, myself,
from younger days when life was hell,

but with each hell, I did survive
the wounds that show and ones, inside.

Wizened, though life gears up for more—
I’m 48 and still size 4

and that is how I’ll keep myself
when I trade marriage for emotional health.

Then I’ll walk a brand new path,
molted, for life’s second half,

and with the rising sun each day
Yeshua wipes more dust away,

peeling layers of my skin
blown away on changing winds,

the parts, I need not, anymore
reveal the golden, molten core

from desert dryness, testing, training—
restoration rains are raining.

And though the Lord is my first love,
perhaps He has a plan above

to give me back what I’ve been missing—
a lover’s touch and kiss—I’m wishing….

for those in older birthday suits,
deserve it just as much as youth.

Then when my flesh has no more time,
I hope to say “my world was mine”

and regained lost and stolen years
before I learned to dry my tears,

but no matter what shall come to pass,
I’m living in my skin, at last.

soft
plush
stubbled
no reason
to be troubled
with a blade

firm
plump
dimpled
sporadically
pimpled
rarely displayed

perfectly
imperfect
unique
pear-shaped
physique
this is how I'm made

          A Lifer


Fallen through a crack
tethered
by a life line
grasps
gasps
in infitile scream

Pudge soft
post of pearl
lain
eight of weigh
stretching faith, love
and mother's smile

After all this while...

" lines form on my face and hands"

'Pon the pallor
slides etchings in-depth
cut (s)
along a path
resistence
life's raft

(Carried away)
I am
Don of the silver -age
leafing through memory
only yesterday's
broken, mended, a thousand sighs

Run body run
pumping  fear
losing deft
coughing nails
Ten times the sweat
....oh my neck

Slows, another evening

Rifling through drawers
for sands I've hid inside
tastes just like
twenty-five
(wile I )
prop that pillow behind my back

Slowly sinking down
to steal some grain
from lids
languishing
in drift
among the seen

(Thankfully)
Morning comes
yet I stretch
to overcome
what snaps,  what pinches
yes that's it.... deliverance

naked



he arrives
we stand talking
kissing, hugging

he removes my clothing
as I stand in the kitchen

naked before him
everything on show

my size
my scars
my ageing body

I’m not some 20 year old
in front of him

I see beyond my physical appearance
will he?

for a nanosecond
I panic

then he holds me
kisses me
takes my hand

I stride
as he leads me to the bedroom
where the real fun begins

Mrs President


the windows of vulnerability are open
like a featherless bird
or hairless cat
leaving stains
from freedoms
of outfits worn at birth
just cleaner
less bloody
less wrinkled
but not smoother
nor softer
just worn
scared
and
nearly considered porn

If I had the good old fashioned go
the balls and guts
I'd assume
the foetal position
sing the song
just like
Marilyn Monroe


-x-