#mouths
the dropping stone dead
a universal known fact
understood to happen
when one least expects it.
Apr 15
Apr 15, 2026 at 10:50 AM UTC
Blood-soaked blue sky
Smell our vinaigrette of helplessness
The honey crying chords of a zillion golden cubs
Roots that won’t die
Bursting through us
Dark crimson walls high
Too shame our innards
Tear-drenched rain
Draining our conscience
Pulling us toward the marble migraine
Where blinded gerents continue the measured deterrent
Of life desperate
Keeping hearts from heads
And minds from mouths
Away from this marble pavement
High up top, in cobwebs of restitched tapestry
Skeleton beast, less beastly in breathlessness...
A surge of sun spurged light in clustered cusps
Blows into this lecher
To carry our vividness
Like pappus in great gusts...
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 7:42 PM UTC
clouds roiling blood blue
a day of mouths feeding mouths
i feel subpoenaed
furrows being turned in the earth
mouths feeding mouths
my thoughts stimulated
birds and their young
mouths feed mouths
nourishment
May 29, 2024
May 29, 2024 at 3:57 PM UTC
land of untold stories
where our half baked entanglement resides
there are no roses on its graveside
just poppies, remembrance in our minds
our muted mouths invisiblize those nights
Apr 23, 2023
Apr 23, 2023 at 11:22 AM UTC
Tears are a signature
Our mouths
Can’t quite sign
For goodbye lingers
In the corner of our eyes
Stumbling down our cheeks
Hands shake for words
To create in an embrace
That will swallow us whole
And for a moment
Feel full, overflowing
Healing
For seconds are fleeting
When goodbye has a home
Upon your tongue
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 7:15 PM UTC
Kingdoms more,
Kingdoms sore
Passing the guards—
Like busting bars
Riddles compact— From the numbers,— Etched in Hollow Blocks
The fact of goners—
Hit the doors,— and punch the backs— In hied, to navigate the tracks—
To boost out— Parts.
Steep lands embed this twisted wanderer—
Aches the leaves and humps— Pushing to slouch
As I beg the ground— Not to pound—
For the planes to switch rounds.
Offsprings declined the measures— of luxuriant wands
The caverns feed the infant's boredom
Does hold the dome—
For loitering dogs
An insatiable ****
That climbs for ripe fruits—
And wildly shouts— The beggar's principles
Here and there— Values— Then eats apples.
The weathering turned the rocks to dust
I must— crumple my tasks
Ah, the shallows..
On search for walloped hearts— Of shortened wage;— Of weak grips
Oh, I thirst for distance
Lay down barks! Lay down!
**** the shallows!
God, oh God,—
Is this the penalty for swindling clemency?—
Just crumbs..
Just crumbs..
For open mouths..
Oh, why they broke it?
Face down,— I crawl to this warmth
They fade..
So I kneel for a while— With curved points— To the unknown shore
What beauty relies from there?
I am bandaged by whipped words
Tell the pending men— Of my bare tense..
Sigh and sigh..
The sand and seaweeds
Caressing the voyager's rest
Refresh the bonds of East and West—
From the rise and fall— Of Sailors' flow
Collide the surfers— With tentacles of Immortality!
The commands of Tides—
Emerge a Hurricane— to blow its treasures— with the Strakes!
Alas, the whales jump—
Splashing with the crystals
I know now..
The vast,— This is my Wealth— My True Luxury
My Kingdom calls me..
I shall embrace my prize..
I swim the bottomless Abyss..
They landed on my spot—
With only slacks on sand—
And the surface reads—
"Hah, I'm Rich Now!"
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 3:16 AM UTC
We wander
through the sleeping town,
through its glory and its misery
The night is ours
and only she knows
the words of passion
that spill from our mouths
What a beautiful feeling
knowing that neither the moon
nor the stars
are going to tell on us
Because we belong in the night
and she belongs to us.
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 5:43 PM UTC
The fluidity of words
Consecrating more than
A simple idea
Has slipped away
And what’s left are
Empty hands and
Silent mouths
Void of sophistication
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 6:10 PM UTC
One of the hardest challenges with writing
is the honesty in it.
Our whole lives we are taught to filter our thoughts,
make them psss through our minds before our mouths.
With writing, the whole point is to allow the words to come out unfiltered and raw.
We must enable them to come from the heart without passing through too much of our minds.
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
Daybreak some mouths open to eat
And some open to host only flies.
Some mouths open to gossip or speak
Falsehood, vulgarity and evil or lies.
Some mouths open only to do both
Yet they accomplish nothing from it.
Some open to display a bad tooth
And emit an odor that smells like ****
Some mouths open but say nothing
Coherent and productive and actual,
Yet will go poking in nearly everything
Saying something that isn't factual.
Daybreak, some mouths stay closed
Opting to be neutral and say the truth.
These mouths may be mute and bored,
The price of gold these mouths are worth.
©IvanBrooksPoetry
3/9/2018
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 2:06 AM UTC
I was strolling down the aisle
We were shopping there in style
With my daughter sitting smiling in the cart,
I was stretching out my hand
For the Martinelli's brand
When the apple of my eye gave me a start.
With the bottle in my grasp
I saw, coming toward us fast,
A high heeled damsel, scarfed and towing her caddie
And she smirked as I, condemned,
Stood up to comprehend
The reason, as my child said "Whisky Daddy?"
There was nothing I could say,
To make it seem another way,
To vanquish the conviction so compelling
It was the color you could tell
And the shape she knew so well,
The question that my daughter asked was telling.
Neil Stewart McLeod
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 12:40 PM UTC
Dead names scarred onto the mouths of trees,
teenagers as stripped as the bark,
fenced by the flutter of the leaves.
I once loved a girl who loved
to remember the old me.
There's a storm, scurrying across the saffron.
You'd have to ask if this would always go on;
the broken hair, grape jaw, leaky gums.
An embrace, tortured knuckle,
all before the Sun, the bodies buckle.
Incurable beauty explained by the hunting game:
Is there a God who molds the fumes,
escaping from my brain?
I don't want to think, that all my thoughts
are all just the same.
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 8:37 PM UTC
The body of a woman's neutral fineness embraces the chords of my steel guitar; laughing about all the points that I've been chasing after. Or just running away- no more for today. Christ, you slipped but lied too many times before, and while you plunge your wrists into your knives, I thought we had a second chance. But that was before, you throw sticks and stones and store your anger in the three fingers of the drink that clinks against our first date when I bought you a 25¢ ring. It was a children's vending machine, that brought me three years of happy things.
I don't want to be fake with you anymore. So go and find your Milky Way. I'm staying dumb, Britni I'm in trouble. All the stakes are different when you are chasing yesterday's killing.
And even the sound of the gunshots don't overcome the voice of the human tongue, in violence and war and all that's abhorred, even the smallest vesper or prayer a whisper of three little words can always be heard, even the faintest whisper can always be heard, as long as the voice that says it is honest and pure.
I was too tight to drive with your hands over my eyes, even in Inverness valley and South Santa Cruz, the wheelbarrow of berries I brought home for supper, ingested in each little bite we cut in half, was the best of the worst time that we ever had. And always we were. In love. In parking lots, playgrounds, at concerts, on airplanes, in bedrooms, custodian closets, laundry mats, and carrying our nap sacks, while we attempted to sleep and hide all night in the Shedd Aquarium. I just should have known better, it'd wouldn't be easy, with you I'm always wrestling sharks with a mirror, your pink sugar perfume from the chains on my wrists tied up across the room. While you didn't trust me I was always at home. Trust isn't love unless it's enough, unless it's enough to quit drugs. It's symptoms are the same as that of great madnesses.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
Seems like
Words are failing
Maybe We should use our mouths
For other things
How about kissing?
Right there
On that part of my naval
As I brush your hair
Maybe I'll let out a little sigh
As you linger there for a while
Look up and smile
Pretty eyes got me gazing
Words may be failing but
There's other ways to speak
Your hands gently trailing
got my body feeling Weak
Self control startin to slip
Better watch my mouth
As I bite your lip
It stings
But not the way words do
No need for censorship
This mouths being used for other things
Maybe to let out a laugh,a little grin
As you make your move
To help me relax and
Leave your mark on my skin
Raising the heat
Got me craving!
Tongues may be wagging
In the morning
But ours are for tasting
So what do you say?
Mmm don't speak.
My hearts racing
Legs shaking
As you play your mouth piece
Sighhhh
And I
Might just have to pull you in tight
Might just have to have you all night
But don't worry
It's our lil secret, I won't say a thing
Words may have failed us
But mouths don't need words
To do wonderous things
;)
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
You told me when we talk its a risky conversation.
So I imagine
We had embers for mouths
And
We conversed with smoke signals.
Unable to control our spits
The bomb ignited
In which neither of us meant to have lit the fuse.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC
shapes of yr many most favorite possessions
people looming in the lintel browsing through the pockets
yr posthumous stare chisels down the bark
280 & Alpine
taking out the post
east alto, west alto
sandwiches and snickers bars
let there be pizza
where beds happily move
and there are no swing sets or cell phones
let there be pizza
eighteen year olds swinging from the rooftops to the pool
no music played to remember it by
yr handlers are too many now
lost in the green lasers and spotlights
there are only two hands to make this memory
the quiet dark does not take it, new mouths do not take it
old words tearing off the night
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 12:10 AM UTC
Weird, yet dangerous contraptions.
They produce words that can be sweet like honey
or deadly like a bullet from a machine gun.
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 7:36 PM UTC
Because I don't live in a vacuum
there is a black hole inside of me.
And it devours words from outside-
pulls them from their mouths
and into the depths of me.
Every line beckons internal anarchy.
Every syllable punctuates my doubt.
I
am
their I
thoughts. am
their
words.
And I would that within didn't come from without.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
These thoughts will forever be
A silent battle within my mind.
But I shall never let these words
Shoot fire from my lips
To create a war with your oblivious heart.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:07 PM UTC
False words fall out of wooden mouths
Mouths hungry As they breath soot, singing with flame
their want overpowers
The strings shift, pulling the limbs up and around
dastardly deeds done by devils
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC