Poem from 2019 collection "Paradox Locked" - grappling with modern society, a sordid relationship, and the futility of existence vs. the power of eternal love. Outlast (Lips) is part of a trilogy of poems including Outpour (Magic), and Outcry (Clusterfuck). These three poems inspired the playlist "Clusterfuck Magik Lips"
Outlast (Lips)
I knew as soon as the lips said “quickie”
That it was going to be a long night-
The electric contraption trappings trap me
For a while, but just as soon,
Cold steel tapping buttons attract
My withering finger muscles
And waste more time letting the soul run
Through the wild words
For naught-
For no one in particular-
With no real purpose, come to think of it
Other than to satisfy a manic-depressive state
Of electrocuted consciousness,
The lips will be pissed if a bullet breaks
The windowpane and strikes the meat,
Never forgetting the asteroid collision
Of unlikely universes, it’s nonsense,
I come to think of it, release a little bit
Of confusion into the wind,
Preposterous egotistical excuses for humanity
Dance; death-
The jokesters,
The tricksters,
Jesters and clowns,
Paint the circus tents with Jesus Christ to herd
The spiraling carnage further into madness,
Stir the waking hatred alive,
The fire which led to wisdom
Was the same flame to burn wisdom down-
I am not myself, come to think of it,
I perhaps am something else
And whatever organic chemistry twirls
Like magic into happenstance,
The eternal omnipresent substance lingers on
Like Dracula in casket,
Reincarnated atop some forsaken blue rock,
Hopeless specks of stardust,
We drift along,
Weights of imagined significance suggest
Brief attachments
Before the fruit goes rotten, spoiled,
The suffering from desire, bitten.
Swallowed slow and roughly down,
The horrible taste of radiated fluid rages within
Across irises of long lost eons,
Rhythmic currents of gravitational dismay,
A technicolor dreamlike intoxication
Lasting decades at a time-
Momentarily lost, caught
In a whirlwind of reciprocal realms, piousness,
The meek earn their blasphemous wasteland
Inheritance, a welcomed apocalypse.
The lips utter statements like “sure thing,”
And “you know it-“
Fuck that.
Fuck certainty-
Come bathe with me in seas of doubt;
The emotional oceanic overload supreme-
Come swim with me, you’ll see,
This universe is not what the lips claim it to be,
It’s beyond anything imaginable, far away
From the impending clichés,
Disregard your whining ego pleading
To devour the world-
Suffocate in gruesome deepthroat displays
Of gratuitous bodily fluids,
The liquids of existence spilling across
The bruised thigh of lusting hearts,
Unwilling to cope with the meaninglessness,
The dreary mundane heartbreak of it all,
The awful alarm clock economic blindfold
Forcing smiles on tired masks,
“How are you?” Fine-
“How’s it going?” Good-
“What’s up?” Nothing-
It curdles the blood sometimes,
Madness spurs listless bursts of nothing at all,
A weekday sigh leaking into the atmosphere,
Out further-
Away along beyond Saturn,
Fried up by a holy cosmic gas giant,
I wish you knew to what vestal extent
I love you,
I wish I could wrap Earth in the love
Like a blanket
And bring earthquakes and tidal waves
For you to see how much I love you,
This love outlasts all;
The reaper eases every soul to sleep eventually, But lives on,
I love you-
All the ugly ignorance
And aimless aggression will shed,
You’ll molt and slither away
And finally you’ll be beautiful again-
Silence will surround bliss,
And the lips slip by unheard,
And together again,
Reignited holy union ignition,
We’ll embrace the everlasting substance,
I love you-
Temporal chaos sheds off
Like winter fur,
I’m sorry,
Attachment to the hapless,
Reckless abandon dies.
Cumulative humanity pulsations
Echo throughout
Countless sighs,
Fleeing off from
The horrible wreckage below,
Returns sweet amber energy
To the middle of the galaxy-
And then, sweet Vishnu, let me sleep...
Please let these divine bones rest
For more than but a moment,
Give me more than a breath,
I’m desperate,
And come to think of it,
It’s been a pretty long night...
Outlast (Lips) - poem by BW Derge