Best Larynx Poems

Metallic city howls like a wounded animal
scraped by nocturnal vigils
of grandchildren and elders
emaciated like tuberculosis lungs
gasping from chug-chugs of tobacco soot...
and the face of a night is hammered by
ripped moans like plucked strings in motel rooms;
pagan women opening limbs for a meal in silent fury.

This...

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Living on a planet, unsure if I belong 
Where only sand grains and fossils, seem to last long 
The instinct to breathe air, compelling me along 
And the miracle that’s water, strives to prolong 

Hear the wind blow 
bending the trees 
Feel the bones crack...

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There was once a king who decided that for him - beauty was silence. 

 He issued a decree that all sound was banished henceforth and that his land would forever more be as silent as snow.  To enforce this impossible law he sent...

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Midnight Email



Night burns both ends of the candle
Full bent upon those wilderness horses
Tearing in their stampede chains

As this scarlet sangria swallows its taste of regret
Heated on the words
Caught between my heart and throat
When the larynx wish for love
Do they cough their silence
With too many cigarettes

I...

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You ignite the 
romance of my dreams. 
I wish to encroach your 
lips with my 
tasty sandwich of perfected 
rosemary teat.
I'll make your brain 
immune to my soul
so you become out 
of breath when far
from your source. 
       ...

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Pounding at the resonant head 
of my chest—he of hunger 
latches his fangs just beneath my jaw—
not to sever silence, but to pummel poison.
Tissue parts with wet reluctance,
he with need more than malice
burrows into the larynx of what 
was once controlled, fearful sound.

Nameless, shapeless he...

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Life has become an amorphous mass,
Sans shape, sans structure.
And my mind is in total discombobulation.
I feel I am like a scrap yard.
My world has lost its tint and throb.
Defeated and decimated,
I long for an about-turn,
To reach back from whence I started
To get out of this...

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LOST FRIENDSHIPS (Satis Shroff)



When old friends

Go asunder,

What remains

Are memories,

Of moments

In tranquility.



When world tremble

And words shiver,

When lips vibrate

And nothing comes out

Of your larynx.



Just the uneasy

Breath from your nostrils.

The silence and solitude

That prevails,

When friendships

Have lost their meanings.



Encounters,

Wiedersehen,

Become embarassing.

And words become superfluous.

The old wounds bleed again,

Causing pain,

That come...

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They call them crushes because that's how you feel after the first "No". After they say that they don't feel the same way. And all of that after your entire world was minimized to encompass them, crushed down to the size of an atom with...

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A lady was kept in a bottle, a glass bottle, for being so beautiful.  She was kept for a long time as a prisoner because the witch did it to her.

  Anybody at the present time may not believe in witchcraft anymore. ...

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passing the city limits you can see how 
others (the poor) live and die; their scrabbling 
for rotten turnip, disturbs the fresh earth,  their smell 
pervades the air: passing the city limits brings home 
the effect of the third great war; disease,autocracy, poverty
and greed...

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Picasso painted me ugly.
Two lips slung over a rusted hanger.
One eyebrow burnt for attention's sake.
Let's tell Grandma how much fun we had today.
Picasso is still at work.

Monet swallowed your stupidity.
Five teeth missing and nary a barbed retort to bend.
One un-photographed smile was left behind.
Let's tell...

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a disinteresting air

another gaze
within a full length mirror

a persnickety grimace
bandaids 
the severed slices 
of crystal
sleeping 
within my 
larynx

excuse my idiotcy
not utilizing 
punctuation marks
cmon darling
please        please
warrant my arrest

dementia is not covered 
under my insurance policy 
but 
cough  ...

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'Tis well known that when medicating cats they can become rather crabby,
So, this free advice is provided when feeding pills to the family tabby.
As if holding a baby, cradle the cat in the crook of your left arm.
(Wrapping both arms with towels wouldn't do any...

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Every time I get happy
the Nana-Hex 
comes through.
A dog's canines 
change into chainsaws,
toothpicks turn into knives,
coral reefs diverge into dirty sponges,
a sandcastle into a mausoleum,
a soldier-ant burrows deeper
into my borrowed grave,
reveille trumpets tap 
a tip-toed timpani of
disenchanted malevolence;
all for the Nana-Song.

I am eleven.
I am naked.
I...

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