Best Corpses Poems


Corpses Are Awake

corpses are awake
their graves overturning
collapsing in the quake.

hear! hear! the growl

the roar. The moan.


listen! listen! catch your heart.
listen! listen! hold your breathe.
smell! smell! the disgust of their cursed death!

smell! smell! the arrival of the unfed-

corpses are awake!
the church overturned
lapsing in its stealth.

fear! fear! the mole
the sow

the groan

for they move in every shape.

hasten! hasten! from the blight
hasten! hasten! else you foam.

trust not the wind nor the creak
 distrust your shadow be it meek

        for          
         our corpses are awake.
© NGT NGT  Create an image from this poem.

Babies's Corpses

To drowned refugees 
Babies' corpses
on them - waves 
of indifference.

From Seven Shattered Corpses

I was adopted . . . 
one morning in the mists of yesteryear
when the sun glimpsed over the pallid shone house 
next to the abode of my mother and my father 
on came a harbinger of desolation. . . 
I died that day though I knew it not, 
nor was I to understand, 
comprehend 
this death for many winters past and fallen to the way side. 

I was five summers new, 
five winters older . . .

I was born Patrick  . . . 
I was to have my name usurped 
by those wretched things called Free and land 
and this is all I have to say about them . . . 

Therein lies the beginnings of my cursed life as it was to become, 
and thereto 
you have the birth of my coined out naming of Mishiimin (apple). 
I was raised by whites, 
in a white town, 
had white friends, white schooling, 
white church propaganda indoctrination, 
and there under the unseen 
but felt 
fist of white society 
was I to be remade into . . 
apple. 

My dreams were white, 
my legends white, 
my desires always for white, 
my voice spoke and bled white, 
my body was red, 
my face red, 
my hair red, 
my past long forgotten, 
lost, 
ripped, 
shredded, 
. . .
torn from my heart, 
my mind, 
and thus eviscerated from my soul was red 
and long thereafter 
did this one Miskó Ki'zis (Red Sun) bleed and bleed 
until 
this screaming throat was heard no more, 
nay 
not even from my own lips,
my own ears 
my screaming was silent. . . 
And gone one morning did the red from my people slip away,
slip away till all was vanished leaving all this shell behind. . . 
one barely breathed two legged apple. 

So it was in hell,
I found my shattered soul,
splintered mind and ravaged heart 
and there in the bells tolling of sorrows raked across all there I did see, found I,
of all things,
in hell, 
that abyssal helix of despair dredged was . . . 
this one sighted a glimmering whisper of hope . . . 

It was in hell I learned to breathe, 
it was in hell I learned to live,
it was in hell that I was remade into all that I am now, 
will be, 
ever aspire. . . 
and never once did I dream. . . 

In the city of desolation 

I became one 
all over once more as I was born to be 
many empty nights of winter past; 
from seven shattered corpses 
I found 
my way back into the whole of one . . .


Premium Member Unrequited

My mind mainly meanders where I yearn –
A universe where I cannot return,
To lament my life’s unchangeable truth
And exhume choicest corpses of my youth.
Maundering 'midst marshmallow memories
Seeking past life to savor and restore.

Dully shuffling worn cards of yesterday,
To deal winning hands I can never play.
Marshmallow memories circling as pi,
Swirling with desires destined not to die.
Memory's garden does not need my care,
Mowing spring lawns that are no longer there.
4/10/2023

....Walking Corpses....

The sun bearing down, taking aim

Taking, with its hot scorching flame

Walking corpses, looking for shade ~

A life for a Soul, soon they'll trade

A Soul for a life....

The beginning of their pain!?

Choking on ashes, upon invisible plates

Porcelain castles, with a storm on the way ~

On the way to their ashes, the end of their daze

The Sun bearing down....

And taking aim; taking, the turning

Of their turning away; away?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

....“Walking Corpses” ~

The Corpses, We'Re Still Counting

We look for responses when we should find an answer
People aren’t healing, just left with a scar
We are divided when we could stand together
Our freedom’s a trap that leads us so far

They all speak of good future
Well said, by a liar
That’s all just a rumor
The earth is on fire

Riches, greedy; shadows a’lurking
Millions of children 
Forcefully working
The world, our home, it’s drowning
The corpses, we’re still counting

National disasters, murder forecasters
The earth could be better without us

We are our own barrier
Those without hope
The disease of death’s carrier
Do all we can to cope

National famine, a crop-barren floor 
Not a single flower
Left any more
© Avril Hyde  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Whispering Corpses



    These feelings, thought long forgotten, awoke and raised their ugly heads.
Whispering your words and seeing into my consciousness; this vacant glare of the dead. 

Pain cups it's gnarled hands, corpse breath hot and dry against my ear,
Reminding me of promises longed for but now I'm loath to hear.

I've done the tedious, hateful work, that's taken so long;
To forget about you, about us, and move on…

Yet…
…Once again I reluctantly see, with the 20/20 vision of my minds eye, 
that time long ago when only secrets smothered our sighs. 

No eternity but our surrender,
No Divinity we haven't sought,
No Heaven but this love,
No Hell but this want.

My heart didn't break, it was destroyed by you.
It didn't shatter on its own, no, you tore my heart in two.

You're a murderer, a cannibal, you are Dr.Jekyll and you are Hyde…
No, my Heart didn't just break …, you consumed it, beating and alive. 

God created my soul but you thought yourself a better god…
You'd made yourself a mask and no one knew you were a fraud. 

Then you molded me like clay and made me exactly what you wanted me to be.
You bowed my head on my shoulders only able to look up to nod, and agree. 

You got to me early, before time had time to harden or dry it out.
Keeping the clay moist with vows of forever and never even carving a mouth. 

But it was my heart you played with…how'd you make me love you with all my soul?
Wearing your mask of charisma, a star shining bright with light you stole. 

You became my everything and so the sin seemed nothing to compare.
And your position of power as my spiritual guide striped me completely bare…

Striped away my will, 
         my voice, my choices, 
               Then you disappeared, 
                                     leaving only
                                         bitter truth and these 
                                                    whispering corpses.

Motley Crew of Corpses

One Summer night, just around dawn
A Motley Crew came to town
But there was something that filled with dread
They were all very dead.

The folk scattered to all sides
Escaping dead of all kinds
Skeletons and Zombies too
Some jokingly howling "Booo".

And so madness has begun
"Scaring people is so fun!"
"We will get you very soon!"
Roared the monsters to the tune
Of screams and chaos all around
This small and usually tranquil town.

With each bite their numbers grew
That's recruitment for this Crew
People hid, where they could
Be it house or shack of wood

Makeshift weapons were made in haste
No deadly object thrown to waste
Every owner of a gun
Got a chance of crazy fun

Those that were too scared to fight
Begged the others with all might
"Someone call an exorcist!"
"No, an army! I insist!"

But the army wasn't worried
The town just had to be buried
So they sent their pilot ace
Who flew over and bombed the place.
© Pim Fool  Create an image from this poem.

The Sound of Silence Part Two

Hello Darkness, my old friend,
I'm afraid we have to start again,
The visions planted in my head,
Fake nutrition we've been fed,
An agenda thats just for one,
Evil's son,
Within the sound of silence,

In a web, I walked with masses,
Many held the toast of glasses,
A shot rang out with a miss,
Fist rose in a state of bliss,
Victory by defeat that was the cure,
Or just a lure,
That touched the sound of slience,

Hidden meanings consume the law,
Out of the deep, corpses crawl,
People led by a faint light,
Riots charged with no fight,
Like cows led to a greener pasture,
Fed by one master,
Lord of the sound of silence,

Still you do not know,
Silence like a cancer grows,
Words, i hope that might reach you,
Praying for Heaven's clue,
Surpassed by silent's wool,
Drug to the void of silence,

And the people bowed and prayed,
To the righteous gods they made,
Angels flying overhead,
Not a holy figurehead,
The prophetic book has said "The end is near",
With much to fear,
From the Sound of Silence.

Corpses

It won’t be long before
everyone begins to strip themselves
of their own humanity.

It will begin with the hair.
Cutting it down to the follicles 
until it is almost non-existent.

Then it will move to the nails.
Plucking and cutting and biting 
until our fleshy fingers bleed and our toes rot.

Next, it will be the skin.
Peeling ever so tenderly and folding off our bones 
until we’re nothing but internal organs.  

Now, bring death to our nerves. 
Ever so carefully, we string out the nerves from our insides
steadily taking away our ability to feel anything at all.

Soon, it shall become the organs.
Eyes being scraped out with spoons as
our stomachs quiver from being held in our stinging hands.

After that, it moves to the muscles.
Pulling them from our bones
until we are no more than mere skeletons of what life once was.

We lay there,
lifeless piles of bones and teeth
as our flesh and organs decay beside us,

All for the hope that eventually,
others would see us for our merit
instead of what they perceive from our surface.

Corpses May Stay Long At Mortuary

Can’t a rich corpse remain in a fridge
While the bereaved have gaps to still bridge?
The outrage that descends on faces
Varies with minds, background and races,
Deferment of interment a choice;
On the subject it can’t be one voice...

God had carried it out with Moses:
St. Jude Verse 9 of the matter closes,
Satan with Michael contesting corpse
Not perturbed by what from challenge drops
Until he got “The Lord Rebuke thee!
And he just had enough time to flee…

Corpse may stay long in mortuary,
Paid printers to hold obituary;
We aren’t the thing tormenting with ice:
Just buying time for guests’ meat-filled rice…

Relishing Corpses

We see them in old movies,
aged sitcoms –
black and white
or fading color.

We hear ancient languages—
dead voices on sound tracks,
buried giggles, awkward squawks
of unexpected laughter.

We relish corpses—
old friends,
remembered relatives
stiff in brown photographs.

Reels creak, VHS tapes moan,
DVDs hum silently 
with sprocket holes, 
white scratches in sky,
burnt nitrate edges of night.

We relish corpses.

They are us.
© Glen Enloe  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member A DECREPIT JELLYFISH DREAMER

Many mountains, seas, women, and dollars made
But for you only was each moment played
As an aged wine flask, your decrepit skin cracks
As flaccid muscles bend your creaking back
Hard hammer toes hamper your stiff walking style
Toilet king, bilious bombard of bile
Fog obscures your mind, only to rise again
Wishing for many things which might have been
Stung as by tzetse flies you cannot forget
Fantasies won’t revive corpses of regret
Too late, with dreams drooling down your hoary chin
Awaken to the state you are now in -
A dream without legs, with all hope beyond reach - 
A jellyfish sunbathing on a beach.

Sleeping With Corpses

In abandonment and shadow
I throw myself away
And to guess on what could happen
I will bury myself today

In nostalgic disrepair
My words become my shrine
In loneliness and passion
My life becomes my crime

In fear and wilting essence
I turn myself to dust
But in my vain and ghostly presence
I am the spirit of my lust

In rain and heavy winds
My mind is a chaotic race
Insane for an early winter
My heart begins to give me a taste

In my lack of sentence
I become everything I hate
In my prison lie unpunished feelings
It is my consciousness I must sedate

And I swear that I can still taste her
I swear that I can still see
But I swear that I’d only kill you
If I never take it out on me
© Ian Petch  Create an image from this poem.

Awakened Corpses

Oh they say the corpses have awakened
From the remains of the very ashes burned
Its time they say for humanity’s end
Warriors of darkness, they have sent

Burned and bruised for thousands of years 
Hated by the living, loved with fears
Long they were here, but only memory remain
Leaving behind the world full of tears sorrow and pain

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