Reading Lips

Reading Lips

A Poem by Saint No-One
"

An exploration of why we need music, why we need noise, and why some nights a moshpit is just as important as a tight hug.

"

The silence screams,

like a mother holding a letter and a flag.

Like the wailing of a newborn child,

primal and pure.


A sonic emanation,

devoid of depth and emotion,

empty as air around me.

The silence says 1000 words,

tells 1000 stories,


they rise up through my flesh,

memories, of times without silence.

When our eyes, ears and mouths,

were crushed in by walls of sound.


When the world around us,

became a hurricane

of flesh and blood and cloth and metal.


Memories of blood drunk nights,

risen blue, purple and black,

up through our flesh.

A legacy of lost nights,

when we were deafened by noise,

not silence.


When we longed to be held,

but palms, heels, elbows and fists sufficed.

When we found companionship,

in hallways, basements and livingrooms,

found solace on burned out sofas,

in back yards, surrounded by bottles.


These memories are risen through flesh,

to be poked and proded,

by those who do not understand.

Who cannot understand,

why the black eye, the bloody lip,

the cuts and bruises and scrapes,

make us feel free.


They will never understand,

what it is to live within the storm.

Reading lips for words lost in translation,

when skin and bone do all the talking.


The same people who call,

tattoos and piercings,

self mutilation.

They will never get it.

Why do we do this to ourselves,


are we ill?

Broken somewhere in our heads,

or our hearts?

Are we just bored?


No, we are just alone,

reaching out in the only way we know.

Fists and fingertips,

screams and heartbeats.


It is beautiful,

reading lips,

when sound blots out thought,

like an eclipse blots out the sun.


When the noise goes away,

you realize how quiet the world truly is,

and just how much you need the noise.


- Torrin A. Greathouse


© 2013 Saint No-One



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Reviews

Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. I absolutely love this poem. I love every stanza, every line, every thought behind these words. Stunning. I'm shelving this one, haha, well done. Brilliant piece. Again, I loved it. :)

Posted 2 Years Ago


I like some of the powerful imagery here, especially the first image of the first stanza. I think you have a strong idea going, but it might have gotten away from you a little bit at times - try to tighten down on the thoughts compressed in each stanza so none of it sounds repetitive or vague - you want every word to be like a punch in the gut or a slap in the face. The repetition of "reading lips" is great - see if you can incorporate it into more of the text.

I'm a bit of a nerd for poetic forms, and I know not everyone likes them, but if as you rework this piece you try to incorporate more iambic meter into your lines, it will probably help them feel more rhythmic, like music!

Posted 2 Years Ago


this is beautiful...... It hits you where it counts.

Posted 3 Years Ago


"It is beautiful,

reading lips,

when sound blots out thought,

like an eclipse blots out the sun.




When the noise goes away,

you realize how quiet the world truly is,

and just how much you need the noise."





Posted 3 Years Ago


noise is indeed needed.. I really liked it, thanks so much for sharing this wonderful write :)

Posted 4 Years Ago


Dude you just described my entire life of going to gigs!!!!! hahaha well done, perfection!!! I'm still doing it!!!!

Posted 4 Years Ago


I loved this poem, really. My favourite stanza was "are we ill? Broken somewhere in our heads, or our hearts? Are we just bored?" it was just a fantastic read. The relevance to modern society is astounding and just perfect. I look forward to your next poem :)

Posted 4 Years Ago



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Stats

429 Views
8 Reviews
Rating
Shelved in 2 Libraries
Added on March 16, 2013
Last Updated on March 16, 2013
Tags: mosh, noise, rage, love, connection, silence, solidarity

Author

Saint No-One
Saint No-One

Madera, CA



About
I am an artist, but my mind doesn't work the way I want it to. One day I'll be, washing myself with handsoap in a public bathroom, thinking how did I get here? Where the hell am I? more..

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