Best Dismemberment Poems

It's summer, and sunlight's syrup pours sweet into afternoon.
We've come to the bungalow's cemetery
to pick over bones of bygone days;
touch time's tender skin, lay flowers on childhood's grave.

The lodge is razed to the ground. We raise
our eyes to sky and take each big breath of...

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I was:

        murdered
            in the
 bargain basement
              of a
     ...

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Does it not shimmer to the shine, the steel blade
Of dead reckonings ultimate design, cold is
Its fine edged point, a slicing masterpiece,
Of revolutionary engineering, behold deaths
Chopping silver anvil, the guillotine!
Polished by rags dipped crimson blood,
Washed by virgin waters of the fallen innocent,
From the martyr to...

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Even should a mother forget
but she cannot
but even if she could
God has sent His mother
to hold the bloodied limbs
in her arms
just as she held God’s humanity
in the folds of her dress
when all had been done.
Her altar of flesh
prepared His Body to rise.
She is there, too,
in...

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Running cracks of lead flaked paint, spiders across the front door like a grandfather's
forehead. 
Its hinges squeal from years of inattention and forgotten maintenance
Floor boards moan a song of dismemberment and forgotten age
While musty gloom thickens the air –  inhibiting, restricting, compressing breaths
 
Entrance...

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Today we have a list of seven best reasons
not to even think about talking gun control
after an automatic rifle out of control
critical event,
one for each day of the week.

Monday:
The automated guns might hear us,
and continue automatically firing themselves
into more innocent bystanders
despite the lack of any...

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You who sexless heard the pounding of the sex
     nerves    conditioned to the tune
            through all the slushy push of distending flesh
     ...

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I am going to write about violence
What is violence?
Is it when you invade on other people's rights
and cause harm?
Or is it when you do with such force
that could cause harm?
Whatever it is
It is good to know that we need to stay away from violence
Whether exposing...

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 [Poem read at Sekoto’s inhumation ceremony at the Neuilly-sur-Marne-93 Cemetery, near Paris. Channel 4 in London recorded the reading as they did the funeral rites in the presence of his close relatives come from afar for the nonce and based their documentary - as...

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Soldiers in uniforms
Crucifying their brothers
In order to establish
Justice for their colors
Why on earth is this
Even accepted
To kill and proclaim
Death by dismemberment
Killing all people
Our friends and relatives
Who's really our enemy
When your killing your family
To live by a cause
Diseased by corruption
No matter what faction
Your reason is false...

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The encumbrance of
life
Copious and
never-ending
A leaching
gangrenous wound
In need of
dismemberment
From his torpid soul

The medicinal
elixirs have raped
the mind
And replaced it with
a dense syrup 
That makes
cognition, onerous 
He cares for nothing
Feels nothing—is
nothing

A means to an end
Has him captivated
Fixated on the task
Relief is at hand
But he lacks the
strength and courage...

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Last night I dreamed.

I dream--

sometimes too athletically,
fertile regeneratively,
viral, positive and negatively 
and in-between sub-climax performing 
some wins and some perpetual losses 
more ambiguously back and forth, up and down, in and out,
and not nearly sensual enough--

every night,
Full through new moon great transitions
of climates black and...

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Poets Escape
         by Odin Roark

How willing
This heart and mind
Absorbing pain's daily prose
Global flagellation becoming
Best sellers
Top Box-office
Google's lifeblood

Whether Syria's dismemberment
Washington's absurdity
Or Hollywood's Grand Guignol Follies
Exhausted passions and intelligence
Clutter synaptic duty
Excused as collateral damage

Everyday wars of fear
Slowly accelerate
This self-destructive...

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I’m calling the Suicide Hotline, 
This sad Cowboy poetry is getting me down, 
I’m looking for a happy thought, 
But one just can’t be found. 

   I’ve got a case of Cowboy Melancholy, 
Depression of the deepest kind, 
A malady that causes Cowboy...

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The tiny old school, which was my first guide,
has become a museum of a distant age.
The playground--swings, bars, and slide,
still stand in mute dismemberment stage.

A fence around, a ticket to buy,
purchasing memories packed away.
Days so distant, unseen if you try;
Sharpened pencil scent, recalled today.

Inside, Grade...

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