"labial" poems
Mi alma de viento
mi cuerpo de papel.
mis manos arrugadas
mi piel blanca.
Soy de papel,
papel doblado,
papel de regalo,
mis labios coloreados
mis ojos café,
mi cuerpo tatuado
de versos ajenos
y otros privados.
Soy de papel
un poco desgastado.
Me han escrito en la espalda
mensajes que no logro ver,
me han cortado con tijeras
y me he arrugado con el tiempo.
Me han besado
y me han dejado las marcas del labial,
hay quienes leyeron mi alma descrita en prosa.
Pero se han ido, se han borrado
eso que con tanta pasión
un día nos unió.
Soy de papel,
papel de regalo,
papel de un cuaderno
olvidado.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 11:48 PM UTC
lovers are burning.] balsamic ****** gallops from shame
into the overwild wetness of labial volcanoes, caramelized in musk. by love's labor.
laid bare, their bodies origami inhibition...[ lovers are burning. ]
and surrender is victorious !
Eros is speechless. maidens howl into cumulus goose-down, chewing carnal haikus
with swayed backs.... hips wide and wanton. masculine wands plow oyster beds, unmade.
they joust pearls... and [ lovers are burning ]
.... a damp conflagration; tongue stoked and windswept, conspires.
monotony is slain !
puritan harps are plucked and thrummed ! lewd harmonies anoint the perfect pitch
and a chorus moans. the ghost of sylvia plath, straddles Apollo; and he earns his wreath
surging besotted. [ lovers are burning ] and laurels forgotten.
lotharios charge the seldom road; the starfish door to Saturn's parlor.
pumping unbridled, that glistening, cloven moon. her riding crop insists !
his urgency must do.
satyrs sup salaciously and summon staves to dip in brine. they grin and grind
their sutras, stripping karma gears with silk scarves. ankles to a post, well spread...
cushions crush. flowers press... stamen fed.
nymphs clutch their serpent stones
to drain what nectar slips the slit. they ***** and throat.
they peck and pinch their quivers; knock their arrows to the purpose, half spent.
[ lovers are burning ]
eyes ablaze. nostrils fetch randy fumes of consent. mouths seek.
a pouty swamp with Spanish moss.... finds a matador
and a bull, a china shop.
lovers are burning the rough sketch of a lost god
and their angels are voyeurs
with unclean thoughts
for gospels.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 3:14 PM UTC
Whispers of heavenly death, murmur’d I hear;
Labial gossip of night—sibilant chorals;
Footsteps gently ascending—mystical breezes, wafted soft and low;
Ripples of unseen rivers—tides of a current, flowing, forever flowing;
(Or is it the plashing of tears? the measureless waters of human tears?)
I see, just see, skyward, great cloud-masses;
Mournfully, slowly they roll, silently swelling and mixing;
With, at times, a half-dimm’d, sadden’d, far-off star,
Appearing and disappearing.
(Some parturition, rather—some solemn, immortal birth:
On the frontiers, to eyes impenetrable,
Some Soul is passing over.)
2.7k
lunar luminance lights his lucent lordly lair.
leaden legs languish lazily as he lay, laconic--
lexical loquaciousness long lost.
his latent lupine lust lignifies and lengthens,
longing lonesomely for his lovely limber lioness.
with lips of luxurious labial liquer,
and licks lapping like lashing lingual lightning,
liquifying his lavish lover, luscious lyrical lubrication.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
So, there's this fig
In my fruitbowl, almost purple,
Posing atop apples and a mango,
Just being beautiful
And begging to be touched.
It bursts with promise;
If I split it open - oh -
Unmistakably labial lusciousness
will spill out and I will have to ****
my sticky fingers like an infant
at the ****** tugging
oh so gently with an eager, warm, wet tongue,
Pursed lips pulsing
where the juicy flesh meets dewy, fragrant skin.
I bear witness to this fruit's fragile moment of sheer perfection,
And my honest, overwhelming lust
For tender flesh.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 4:23 PM UTC
yodelaugh bluebells
bugle the frenchorn debate;
youngheld punchropes
in freezing cordoba rain when the
silt hits the sand we’re all
****** into oblivion like
so much candyswirl
into the labial plains of
galaxyfrost are you in sentia where
the sun don’t rain and the sky don’t
glow grey beneath the hooded lambswool grain
there ain’t no gumption like
compunction like
eating sand to feed your ****** daughters overripe
mangoes hit the cement and explode in saffronochre gutspill
when else
does the world end
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 4:42 AM UTC
EL AGUA.
Alba circulatoria deposita en boca fresadora
incontroladas gotas trazándose en el radio corporal
y flores comestibles en acueducto curvo disparan
las aguas como fuente dividida a la desembocadura
de la boca
que sonora diamantada graba en caricias de regadío
y sumerge en hábitat de lago la reunión química que eres.
Desandada en los abrigos inunda
labial esqueje,
en el sol del secano, espiga cerrándose
que expande granada con el humo breve
en camino recortado ajardinado hasta observatorio umbilical.
Solar verde con fondo marítimo
y el sol crudo penetra
efectuando fotosíntesis de lupa en las gotas.
Cadena floral circunvala
el artificio de la leche protectora
y pule suavidad sentada.
En un hilo laberíntico se construye
flor de los algodones nuevos
y vuelve el agua al juego de los brillos
a flote,
a fondo anclada en peso emerge cerámica náutica
que removiendo visualiza celosía de la seda
y transparencia de ala delta ante el beso de diluvio
indudable.
*SafeCreative.org
Creative Commons Reconocimiento-NoComercial-SinObraDerivada 3.0
John Desde*
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 2:16 PM UTC
She is like...
A white lily
on a surface of
powder stone,
growing like a
golden limestone,
standing like a
statue of
of a beautiful
baby doll,
she is a light
that off my sight,
Having a smile
like sunny day,
She is a star 🌟
like beautiful
Twinkle star,
Her red labial
as a red rose
flower
from Longwood
garden,
her eye's beauty
is more than
beautiful eye
of mantis shrimp,
walking more
than a
Taylor Swift
on the ground
of fashion parade,
She breathes
sweetly,
talking nicely,
and
Lovely she is,
A beautiful
White Amina
Sep 1, 2020
Sep 1, 2020 at 12:22 PM UTC
seminal squirt didst sanctify
an anonymous boulder
when mercury dipped below
hashtag mark registering colder
than usual temperatures circa
winter of year 2000 in proximity
to the sacred chapel
at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania
(house zing carillon player)
rifling thru manilla folder
first inn search of apropos
mailer daemon ***** muse sic,
thence finely pitted secretly riddled with holes
encoded sheet threaded thru bell jar contrivance
sans, handy dandy mechanical holder
to accompany prurient powerful ******* pang
bubbling (like the **** kens), and didst smolder
especially, cuz a free ranging
NON GMO, **** in boots
hello kitty sauntered
(emanating pheromone heat
hand dill lee pronouncing feral passe faux foots),
dripping, seething with hormonal secretion
uttered via vow welled roots
gluten and monosodiumglutinate free *****
hapt tabby on the prowl ready
for par laid view ****** piqued Saint Peter
to enter heavenly labial shoots
rather than suffer frost bite
the above mew wing tigress attempted
to keep toasty warm
('thru minuscule tunnel
lacked add **** quit light)
prickly endowment fired
raging testosterone
with braggadocio, brio, bravura and might
owing pretentiously pusillanimous feline
fur reed black as night
hood hit attempt to cap cha moxie ********
thus ensuing a mutually satisfactory plight
until a park ranger back his utility truck
than gregarious, felicitous, erogenous
then quick as greased lightening
***** creatures disappeared out ta sight.
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 10:19 PM UTC
Arabic is my mouth
Hausa, my tongue
And, English my teeth
Chinese my ready food
French is my epiglottis
Persian, my soft drink
Hebrew, hidden palatal
Fulde is my labial
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 4:36 PM UTC
#Aguarnica es una pintura hecha por Picasso
durante una guerra civil en centroamérica
acerca de un pais mitológico
donde todo está al revés;
un pais que provee los ricos del mundo con
fragantes puros de calidad indigena.
La guerra Nica es otra cosa;
en la primera obra mencionada
se trata de robos y opresión y ataques no provocados
contra la ciudadanía de un país pobre...
Pero la guerra Nica es un cuadro bonito,
primitivista, lleno de lagos, volcanes,
pajaros tropicales y colores vivos.
En la pintura de Picasso se nota lideres corruptos,
bajo el mando de un burro ex-ladrón,
los cuales dan servicio labial a un ideología en bancarrota
mientras saquean los pocos recursos del país
para vender a extranjeros, enriqueciéndose en el proceso.
Sep 30, 2021
Sep 30, 2021 at 9:33 AM UTC