Autopsy Poems - Poems about Autopsy

The autopsy of a black body

An autopsy of a black body
One who suffered greatly
The body pushed past its limits
To the point it had enough and quit

A scalpel to their chest
Slowly peeling the layers of flesh
Noticing the rot 
Hit by the stench of trauma

The body dissected 
The organs removed 
Leaving the body an empty shell 
Of a broken person
Beaten by an

Autopsy of our love

our love was a corpse
left to rot in the gutter
festered wounds seeping rot
the stench of our decay
clings to our skin

i am the undertaker
burying the bones of our love
the memories haunt me
like ghosts in the morgue

silence suffocates
a veil that wraps around
our necks, squeezing tight
the truth of our demise

in this darkness, we find
the art of our pain
a

Charles bukowskis Autopsy

they peel back my skin
like old wallpaper,
the stink rising
as the organs, bruised and bloated,
spill out like forgotten secrets.

the saw hums,
cutting through bone like butter,
the ribs cracking open
to a cold, fluorescent light
that never flinches.

the heart, heavy, useless now,
is weighed and tossed aside,
just another lump of meat
in a world that’s always hungry
for the next hollow thing.

looking down

Autopsy of a Bitter Heart

Autopsy of a Bitter Heart

My thoughts vomited upon the page. 
No rhyme, no reason, no beauty;
Raw, bare muscle and torn flesh.
No cute love hearts colored red and pink;
No, this is the heart of human anatomy. 
The heart bared with a “Y” incision on a stark,  cold, metal table.
The heart that glistens with swollen purple

Autopsy

You gotta let the blood out the body
You gotta let it all fade away
Once the blood is out the body
Then the body can reawake

You gotta walk the streets at night
Watch the victims shining bright
Waiting for dreams that never come true
Clinging to life nearly through

You gotta let the blood out the body
You gotta let it all

Autopsy of a Glass Girl

Staining the floor with her shards
and slicing the hands of the coroner
the broken doll rests in pieces.
Her etched face glances skywards
her beaded eyes trapped staring into the sun.
“Pushed too far,” the coroner says.
Porcelain women weep at the side of the autopsy table.
“Bury the fragments,” the coroner says, the coroner says.
His words move on
but the mourners

The End

If death is considered doubtful then postmortem should be done. 
If death is not doubtful but family is doubtful then for the satisfaction and removal of doubts autopsy should be done. 
If there is any criminal act involved then justice is right of anyone dead or alive.
4.If post mortem is not allowed by family then

The Day Her Body Went Mute'

& death swallowed my grandmother when i was twelve.

there are some memories that hunt you while asleep
& some spill goosebumps on the fabric of your skin.

i lost count of the nights i pour tears out my eyes, 
there were days i keep my fingers steady in the family gallery.

i listened to your voice breaking through

Autopsy

This is what happens when blade meets flesh?
When your insides breathe more air than you...
Lately I've lost muse to write, love to praise and words of hope,
Instead my pen is but a riotous menace,
Bringing nothing but sirens and horses,
With no compassion nor sentimence.....
So I've been reciting the nicene Creed every morning,
Hail Mary every evening
And holy

The Amourette Autopsy

The Amourette Autopsy 
 
In vesper’s curt caress there seems no bind 
To daylight’s brim or morning’s dire decree- 
Your vertigo embrace confounded vows, 
Within a steel wheeled cauldron we stirred swamps 
We hyperventilated hurricanes 
Cajoled embraces, arrogated from 
your groom and registry and welling eyes; 
Celestial bliss, we buzzed God's prayer vault. 
 
We

Fatally Poisoned

Imam Hassan.
Bruce lee.
Eva braun.
Georgi markov.
Theodore romzha.
Valterovich litvinenko.
Mahendra Tripathi.
Yogendra sony.
Steve clayton.
Mary yoder.
Stacy robinson.
Note. It is to be said that harshad mehta was Poisoned in jail.

Love Autopsy

Fomented cycles
address only lonely lips
kiss free denials

The Autopsy

"The Autopsy"
They wheeled his body into the room. 
Covered with a clean white sheet.
The doctors were methodical, 
yet at the same time quite discreet. 
They studied it in sections, one area at a time.
and although their search was thorough, 
there were a few things they could not find.
They couldn't find the memory of the one

Autopsy of Someone I Used To Know

Autopsy of someone I used to know 

Im staring at the figure of someone I have forgotten to know 
She wears her hair down
And her wide eyes stare at mine. 
She looks a lot like me, she has the same grimace, the same gaze. 
Even our facial expressions are the exact same. 
But there’s something

Autopsy

The Autopsy 

This is a good day cold but with sunshine
and hard soil which with a mechanical digger 
is easy to open for a newly dead
When a patient dies, he/she is sent down 
to the doctor in the basement who do the autopsy
he speaks into a mike takes pictures writes a report.
The doctor in question

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