Best Lipless Poems
THE STILL STANDING STONE
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I stopped, then stared
As its waters dropped
Descending delicately
As a fountain's flood
If parched from thirst
Would have timelessly
Tasted the drink
Sipping slowly the drops
Dripping from the sink
The swift and steady slips
Dipped into a circular creek
As a faucet would fill
The rounded ring of a tub
OH!!! How sedate the rock sat
Gushing clear/crystal streams
Who loudly called me though lipless
With the sweetest of sounds
Ironic how once a man
With rod tapped a boulder
Bursting open a blast
Of rivers rushing over
Not a carnal claim
To coincide or exclaim
How a resting reef
Could rise the recollection
To relish revelation through
The streaming sounds
Swift and steadily sliding
From a sloping stone
That the royal rock
Who rinsed three million mouths
Could remind me so rapidly
It reigns to revive
Still it stands as I sawest it
Wading well and alive
~Poetra Jah~
they say that there's a dance hall
right beneath this lake of sawdust
where underwater towns
have gone astray
and I can hear the harpies
the bagpipes
and I can smell
the burning petals
after we set the house ablaze
the blissful ignorance
of ghosts and revolvers
is pure nonsene
– as coup d'état of yours
still smiling distantly
but one day your goodness
will make you lipless, my dear
and then I will lull you by
the misty weather
verdant
fragrant
lucidly mystical
dazzling as a bell jar glance
existence matters – ad interim
and as the old gatekeeper
uses his trembling gestures
to swing the pendulum
tell me, my plain-hearted one:
ruby red or beryl blue?
does it really matter to you?
with all your childish devotion
please release
the drones
'cause thou art lost
and love is the law
love under will
On a warm Thursday morning
my mouth leaped off my sleepy face and eluded
my messy apartment.
It went absent for years.
All the “missing” signs with $100 dollar rewards
did not pay off.
So I had to cope with people’s kind aid.
They ate off my food bite by bite,
verbalized what was on my mind,
and smiled instead of me.
It was awful being lipless.
The joys that came with my mouth were suddenly omitted, like:
Leaving smooches on people’s cheeks.
Laughing, (when I wanted to.)
Centering pouts to my foes.
Smiling to strangers.
Until one day, while reading the morning paper
the headlines said that a mouth had been found
lost.
So I went to the center where they said my mouth was
being taken care of.
When I got there I was flabbergasted with
what the Dentist had told me.
“Your mouth needed a leash,
that voiced tongue and
intimidating full set of teeth.
So we plucked out some of its fangs.
Oh, and its Wise teeth too.
You know all the commotion genius could do…”
I frowned.
“And that vindictive tongue! Would
not keep silent. It screamed poems
about licking society-inflicted wounds,
self-righteousness, individuality,
and those crazy things. So we chopped that
off too, until it could no longer sing.”
he spoke with a hiss in his
voice.
“I am proud to say that this is our
greatest work so far.
Maya, you are finally healed.
This mouth was going to get you into a lot of trouble, young lady.
Now, would you like your mouth back?”
I shook my head with disapproval,
gushed into tears and stormed home.
I let my mouth go and set it free.
What use would a speechless mouth
have been to me?
Science improves things, so they say,
can't prove it by me, take the clock
once it swung, and cockco's played
now it's silent, no tick or tock.
Old clocks clucked each tick and each tock
tongue to roof, they made a clapping.
Once they had arms and hands and locks
now they don't even aid napping.
Mum's the word with digital clock
zipped are those lips, no face, no brow
no sinister tock from Hook's Croc
no moon shaped face, no leaping cow.
Flashing red numbers, fanned peacocks
neon in trancers, with tin man hearts
lipless automatons in stock
toss them all from your K-mart cart!
Live I say get a grandfather clock
one with a face, two arms and heart
with a pendulum swinging tick tock
tick off the sleepers screw K-Mart.
Wain moon waits
Silver cloud
Pillowed head,
Dreams, dreamed,
The sun awakes
Silent mind listens
Lipless whistles,
Dance leaves dance,
Crayon rainbow
Melting pot spilt,
Burnt sugar in Maple flavor,
Dipped in morning dew
Fingers linger
Warm rays caress
Mid-day,
Lost twilight mage
Magic glitter drips
Lengthened shadows, smell of earth
Time stream,
Flows
Eve of tomorrow
Purple fire
Darkness awaits
Cyclops sky
Where he hides
The mind’s eye
Face of the moon,
Blinks indifference
02/01/2018
beaming bleached grins of ivory predation
touching the tip of the steel heart severing love
eyeless lipless and formless feeling all life
forms wrinkled impulses warring like sexes
seeking paradise in the white exhalation of death
expanding minutes into eons of shadows feeding
cells populating the flesh of living loaves rising
being passed from mouth to grave nourishing reflections
deforming the scroll of experience scrawling live evil
…the wedded heretic
…time makes the law tick
…twitches of revolution stagnate
…in bacteria infested charters
seek the door—wider than the sky—hallowed candles sing darkened dreams…
Greek fornicators plunder Christ’s scream
within the gray clouds of Golgotha
sail the trembling ghosts…
In the town of dust and fog, the bartenders are demigods.
In the town of dust and fog, there is a drink they call the rising sun. Why they call
this drink the rising sun, I do not know. The men who have imbibed this drink, they say it
glitters like gold in the belly. But the men who have imbibed this drink, they sweat and
spit and pick the lint from their bellybuttons as their tired, tired eyes fight and fight
and fight against the darkness of the corner in the bar where they waste away their days,
hearing the same songs of the same black-vested piano-man night after night after night
after night.
Their wives will tell you that they are mad, and their wives have given up on them.
If you look carefully enough, you might see the gold-minted coins that glint from
their breast-pockets, and each day they decrease their numbers. If you look carefully
enough, you might see the pupils of the husbands of the rising sun shrink, shrivel, and
eventually be lost in the wide, wide white of their eyes.
The husbands of the rising sun come and go, and always their drink is the same, and
always and everywhere they live and live and live and live until their eyes burst in a
black rainbow of blood and iris. There is no noise. There is no death. Always, they are
still. Always, they are the same and their drink is the same.
If you are wary, by night you might see the eyeless men, who crouch by threes in the
dust of the bar's doorway, and three always will pass between themselves the single, last
gold-minted coin. In that dusty shuffle, the lipless, nocturnal interchange from soul to
soul, you may see the holder of the coin, and you may see his lip-pursed grin, like a
single tooth biting its way across a blood-burned crescent moon.
The men of the rising sun never smile. The men of the rising sun never change. They
drink by night, and by night the bartenders of the town of dust and fog are demigods, and
their single, shining eye is a pearl that pierces the darkness, and they are the servants
of all and they serve for all. And by night the men of the rising sun are masters of all
things and they do not dream. They never sleep. They say that they will never die.
Turn not deaf to the stern clamor,
Frozen upon my mourner’s lip;
Whose cry has weakened the desire in me,
Desire to rest in the arms of slumber;
Greeting my open eyes, tired,
For an infinite slumber!
That shall transcend the limits of serenity,
And whisper to me the music of eternity;
Turn not blind to that covetous bosom ,
Holding haplessly to a mocked heart;
And a deluge of despair
Down his pale cheek streaming,
For who shall dry his abrasive skin?
With tears, filling one lipless grin!
And I lay muted in my hallowed bier,
While the fists of oblivion upon my wreath,
Get me acquainted with this calamity in spare
Following the era of my departure;
But to my mourner, I ask
To mourn me not with an apparel of black;
To lament me not with such brooding contrition;
And shed not tears upon my bed;
And chant not of my departure;
Rather look for my closure
Most poets who on death obsess
See white of bone through pale thin skin
Aware men cold below sod wear
A skinless face with lipless grin.
Dark sockets deep instead of eyes
Where daisy bulb instead of ball
Replaces organs used for sight;
While waiting on sweet rain to fall.
Those poets know, in fact rely,
On mysteries surrounding death;
Inspired by it yet still possessed
Until their final rale of breath.
I
RELAPSE
Waiting for she who will bring me my heart
I lay on my sofa
Arms outstretched
Reaching for my heart far astride.
I try hard sweeping a cursory look round my enclave
My neck stiff; life is full of pain.
My eyes clueless, what I see
The cobwebs and the dust of yesterday’s misery
My teeth frosty in the silhouette
A life is at stake.
A heart is meant to be soft, subtle
But when I feel my chest, all I feel is a stone,
A large formless stone
Every feel, every sense, every thought
Seems worthless, meaningless
For my heart has been sucked dry
Off the last vestiges of emotions
The window blinds high up,
Stealing momentary flashes at the world that lies
Beyond the windows,
What I see is a cruel world, a world full of scavengers
A world of greed and avarice
I pull at my ears, I feel nothing
It seems I have lost touch with sound,
All I feel, all I hear, all I see is silence.
Am I alive?
I keep asking myself
But within these same walls I smiled, I laughed, I danced
And she sat on this same sofa with me
We even drank from the same glass of wine
What must have gone wrong?
Life is full of changes
That I know, but I never envisaged this type of change.
II
RECOVERY
My eyes up, focused on the ceiling
Then some words begin to form…
With my lipless mouth, I form out the words
“Hope is what keeps you going even when all hope is lost,
So never you lose hope on hope, hope will one day take you to
The place of your dreams”
…from a distance I hear the chirping of the birds and
The sounds of a tom tom singing the song of a new day.
Backward word exceptions for me
from mothers cold lipless tongue drips lies,
White and stagnation
void of a life.-
Is nothing sacred mother?
My mother?
Is nothing pure?
Even babies defecate and are never clean anymore.
I fail--as she fell.
But two eyes are better than three
and doesn’t allow such and such’s brain to bleed.
She had her head on the floor but she had her eye on me.
Lips soft as a kiss and open for guests but no feelings
there was no life there
nothing intermission to flatten the flowers and lost.
Further expeditions into my fragile fragmented psyche
leads one to a temporary understanding of life
through the perspective of one afraid of conformity
yet change
yet being identified as a same
the same-ness is a blow to the ego center
bordering on ego death
but only by a completely Egotistico way
you and you and you and me I you and we
our seasons the moment we are zero: a free radical
In pinnate physicals, the thing,
moves like a stark terror
savagely. A primal fear
takes over, because dead don’t
speak. The bullet had passed
through chest. Mutiny of dumb
dandelions, lipless voices in the
sea of madness. Search for a missing
truth begins. The mass grave
contains the dried bones of renegades.
You remember the promise ? Who said
we will end the war ?
Listen, he bows his head, before
the trespassing starts to kidnap the
bed. Jealousy kills the snakes.
SATISH VERMA
Between she and he
and sexuality swoops a gender
patenting a word, as it is,
at the birth’s door pretending to
be a kiss of radical thought.
Mediocrity always has an intentionality
with colored plumage, a passionate
dance before the final plunge of
a true love. Black or white, somebody
is etching a dangerous scar on the skin
of a maimed girl. Myalgia of a
nation like a lipless epic on the
while book which cannot be completed.
I wanted to believe in never tomorrow.
SATISH VERMA
Smirk of deceit upon your face
No use, cannot keep up at your pace
My toe's stuck in the drain of the past
Such an insalubrious amount of speed
Impossible to meet the future going that fast
Insane, but what's the need
We'll never meet eye to eye
Your's look to the sky
And mine lay dry & lifeless on the ground
Blood on your hands, see what you really found
Fingers--tipless
Eyes cry, confusion, lipless
You're not making any sense
Ears fall off, just can't hear it anymore
Hair falling out, blame me, stressed & tense
I'll not be in your way any longer, you'll find me face down by the shore
lover’s lane
empty
lonely
lipless
leveled by texts
not policed