Best Gangrenous Poems


If Shoelaces Sang Little Rich Town Blues

Not in tea leaves, in shoelaces tie existence--their harsh and meshing material
bound, tethered, undone with a gentle pull. 
 
The bunny ears
and clumsy fingers bouncing along the faux-marble
hallways: the future politicians and CEO's and poets
wiping caked mucus on the white-washed brick foundations--
babbling babbling babbling babbling.
A blood-stone bed surge of tidal maturation,
soon to be lost in the variant eddies of life;
the finger-painted puzzle-box open and unsolvable.
Their parents, for they are honorable, as
picket-fences are honorable, as
tracksuits are honorable, as
Zoloft is honorable, sit ajar
on school streets of vibrant myriad cars quietly dilapidating
behind Armor-All dashes. Old ladies waving dutifully
at lifeless lawn ornaments like lifeless lawn ornaments soon themselves in front of homes because
the youth only want something old when it's time to marry,
Googling what the heart feels for the occasion.
 
Smokestack color windows of depreciating souls searching drunken
down the glossy oak
bar through bent light of whiskey glasses and broken values
they blame on Nietzsche and the price of condoms,
finding a sad reflection seated at this world's dampened end to spread
like ashen snow
again and again and again on sweat-stained futons,
after the lurch toward the water, sloppy with kisses
and lace.
Church bells sound off one and two
O! clock tower
marching Heaven to Hell but got lost in Devil's Lake. They do not hear
the beaten shopping cart radio wobbling like a tripodal Dog, 
telling us Jesus stayed inside because White is translucent in the rain.
 
But,
the wander-footed waywards, leaden eyed, tranced in droning hums of small town streetlights--
or red red copper hangers
or lucid jaundice confessions
or gangrenous light-slivered closets--
break half-empty
beer bottles on familial-faced slogans plastered to an under-bellied bridge and sway
like ebbing wind on the unsure-step shore banks, drooping wasp legs
over the ever-rising precipice
to vein-rush Hellgrammite powder
with their one remaining shoelace
and leave their shoes behind.
© Collin Lam  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Shove It! (Adult Content)

The relativity of wealth and poverty
Amazing.
Einstein’s formulations pale
In juxtaposition to universal carnage.

Obese pigs of a glam, 
filled holes of cultural blacktop.
“Get your plump white asses off the necks 
of the weak!”
“Who the hell do you think you are anyway?”

The cyclic nature of problem and solution;
“Ahhhhhh,” Eldritch Cleaver where are you?

“Thump, thump, thump,” 
The arterial pulse of a puss infected
gangrenous limb
“YES,” whiteness

Raw, heedless, mercenary killers of diversity
Pristine sinks
Seek purity
GOD!

Bovine Ailments

Bovine ailments make cows sad
Diseases I have never had
Dreams that cannot be fulfilled
Stomachs, four, happiness, nil

Soured milk from rotting udders
Poorly calfs with fretting mothers
Coughing, wheezing as they plod
Where many a gangrenous hoof has trod

In pastures green you ruminate
Lamenting your uneven gait
Too weak to really go the distance
Requiring veterinary assistance

Perpetual clouds in bovine skies
Leave salty tears in Freisians’ eyes
Time may heal, but it can’t take back
The worms in your digestive tract

Killing time is half the battle
For disease inflicted cattle
In the wake of wooden tongue
And lumpy jaw, you stand undone

Bovine ailments make cows die
In peace at last, their carcasses lie
Let fate release its tedious vultures
To feast on victims of agriculture

From parasitic infection released
Now ambling in joy and peace
On to cow heaven, single file
Softly mooing, breaking a smile


Premium Member The Blood Moon's Killing Light

The forest has claimed the archer as its own child,
and named the fair and raven black of her, Cellibre.
She hides within the lair of lavender night bleeding,
wounded by the horrors of the blood moon's killing light. 

And named, the fair and raven black of her, Cellibre,
she fights the villains bold within the deeper dells,  
wounded by the horrors of the blood moon's killing light, 
her onyx points bring blackheart's gangrenous souls to hell.

She fights the villains bold within the deeper dells,  
stringing a mighty bow of oak and ash by Druids spelled.
Her onyx points bring blackheart's gangrenous souls to hell 
upon the backs of will-o-wisps evil is dispelled. 

Stringing a mighty bow of oak and ash by Druids spelled, 
she hides within the lair of lavender night bleeding. 
Her onyx points bring blackheart's gangrenous souls to hell.
The forest has claimed the archer as its own child.


Character: Cellibre

A Widower's Depression

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

Presidential Inauguration 2017 - Poetic Screed - Part3

pioneer esprit de corps front tier brisk.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *             
Open arms and clenched raised fists raise 
masquerade diametrically opposed to rodomontade sways
spewing threatening sacred constitution 
   expounding vaunted values déclassé 1968 degreed phase
Wharton alumni now on warpath to raze 
via his bull dozing wreaks havoc on coven daze
ruining complex edifice 
   usurped storied super power craze
thru humiliation, liquidation of dredging bays
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *         
and justification (viewed thru his warped vision) 
scotching inalienable rights reducing to rubble bedrock division
with remainder of flinty stones, 
   and unlovely bones a wasteland fission
absent without a trace any evidence of Halcyon days, 
   which abomination, decimation, and gangrenous lesion
joie de vivre, when martial law decree deep incision 
heil come rolled up (frightfully with egregious decision.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *             
the venomous, tenebrous, and rancorous white house 
Head honcho viz prez) inside checkered hookahs lighting 
one end per slow burn as hoary smoke emanates 
   in shape of Taj Mahal, then harmless as Mickey mouse 
he iz well singed, seared, and scalded like a cook grouse
(yet of course still alive) sent to further douse
him into initiation righting tis basic human coup laid louse.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *             
Acid test whereby he will be sold to Vladimir Putin for bunk
her hilled feather bedding rubles on the dollar, where clunk
key interim held up by cadre of well comb pence dunk
key Kong sated marionettes, which will carry fleshy lunk  
dirty deeds done dirt cheap of this unmentionable monk
key villainous uber trumpeter, scabrous, recalcitrant querulous punk!
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *            
keep your finger and toes crossed for the next four years
aware that such laughable ruse and superstitious scares
not one impish bot of fate, but more so gives false cheers.


Sepsis

I feel you like a gaping wound,
A great fetid, gangrenous maw
That will never close.
I feel  you eating me alive, 
Your disease,
Penetrating brain and bone
Psyche and soul.
Leaving me twisted, broken 
Decrepit and defiled. 
Your love is vile.
You  whisper promises
To spiders and flies 
Of my stone-dead corpse
Rotting in silence
Amid decaying forgotten things.
Gladly,
I kissed your putrescent lips,
I tasted your sanguine affection,
Ingested your infection.
You have become my drug.
My life.
Loathsome,
Yet I love you still.
Lost in your mephitic grace,
Wasted.
I wait…
You are the shine that blinds
And distracts me from the pain
Of your ministrations,
Your manipulations. 
You sing and caress
As your virus oozes through my veins,
Burning away all that I am.
You kiss and cajole me 
Into believing that this is love.
Lust.
I feel your desperate hunger
As you burrow deeper inside me,
Hollowing my heart
For your carnal pleasure. 
It feels like love.
Your emptiness feels like home.

Premium Member The Ghost Bar

THE GHOST BAR

gangrenous chains
rusted and burdensome
lambast the oak plank
etching ethereal gouges

the serpentine length drags
with warlike screams

ghoulish intensity
grabs each bony-disk
with heartlessness

the ice cold floor and
daggered eyes, seem
but a hallucination
to the drunken lot

but the barmaid sees!
she screams
as the breathless apparition
howls with wrathful laughter
she faints, fast and dreadful

the chains coil about his neck
in retribution for his act
yanking him about

the floor gives way like quicksand
and he plummets yet again
to certain death
covered by miles and miles of clanging chain

the barmaid’s brought about by salts
she tells the tale over and over again
until the legend of the ghost bar
becomes famous

detailed in rusty chains and eyes

...one peeks through

10/23/2017

Morning Meditation

Deep inhalation and exhalation
breaths initially activate
relaxation, attributed to stress,
tension, unconscious vectors 
woefully agglomerate
ache'n to gangrenous jackknifing noggin 

dichotomy to alleviate
cognitive clog analogous 
to emotional obstruction
that doth constipate
in an effort to allocate
opportune psychological uplifting

state of emergent euphoria amalgamate
ting in tandem with prescription
medication to leverage mental
quiescence holistically ameliorate
counterproductive suicidal waves

riding roughshod, which repeatedly
pulsate, oscillate, and nurse qua mantra
generate breakers animate
ting my state of consciousness
incessantly inundated with said

stormy sea re: brawl mailer
daemons intent to annihilate
stealthily, jarringly,
and devastatingly annunciate
without warning a tsunami

drowning spirited lifesource,
an undesirable nihilistic thought,
I unwittingly, hatefully,
and accurately anticipate
emotional tug of war

as better angels arbitrate
struggling successfully to arrogate,
and establish erstwhile equilibrium
lest body electric will self asphyxiate
such deep seated

respiration aims to attenuate
ninety nine point nine nine nine...percent
effortlessly injecting willpower,
and survival overpowering
strength modus operandi to dominate

self destructive negative feedback loop
constantly (i.e. daily)
vying to authenticate
practiced discipline, sans shut eye
transcendent mindset to calibrate

and stymie passivity to capitulate,
where resignation writ large checkmate
ting ability to experience and consummate
spiritual ecstasy, wherefore I contemplate
the simple practice the

benefits to coordinate
setting aside absolute
value able quiet time to cultivate
blockbuster, regarding crushing
beast within that doth debilitate!

Perditions Parade....

Glitter glue laced ticker tape....

Of colourful confetti covering such sight

More and more, their eyes dipped in tars

Infectious quills, beneath these softened feathers

Penetrating, their own fatalities cryptograms....

As they aimlessly blend a colludeds pretentious purpose?

Bending this times fading, unto its very own knees!

Within these, their poisoned spoiled schemes

Buried beneath such smiling lotus faces; cracked 

These mannequins dressed in their own dark blank black....

Messengers without a promises clue; not knowing whom they are?

Perditions offspring they seem; these, children of the sintarians star

Venin poised at the tip of their tongues!

Hidden, behind sacrilegious' ruby red lips

Drippings, of a partings depository decay?

Trying to spread their gangrenous green blood

Throughout my venous' veraciously pulsing veins

Like liquid streams of futility....

These pantomimes' grand charades

Parabolics, with hollowed fangs!

Puppets, upon their powdered strings

Amid the soul asylums sanctuary

Of the indeed, vanguards inane....

Colourless confetti, permeating my sight

This contributor, of the jet black pain

Spawned, by the principality of invectives, inverted cross 

The bleakest paramour amid the paralax of their unknowings 

Souls, thrice times dead....

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

Perditions Parade

The Propagation of Hate

Malignant gangrenous political cancer
     corrupts, festers, and poisons United States,
     thus opposition cannot wait,
especially since Gospel in accordance

     with feeble minded Donald Trump
     implemented wrought ugly trait,
particularly obliteration, sans progressive
     human rights legislation

     more or less pronounced positive
     in every L ionized Nittany or cotton bowl state
and ratiocination inherent within
     mine Democrat oriented mind doth rate

this forty fifth president (defect)
     with sawdust packing
     his noodle oven egotistical pate
trophy wife (spouse number three),

     a Slovenia mate
donning "I don't care anymore"
     t-shirt rousing media firestorm of late
essentially silently corroborating,

     fostering, and illuminating hate
mutely bolstering the Trump anthem,
     viz make America great
again, which pathless,

     pithless, and pointless aim
     roars like an earsplitting runaway freight
     train oblivious of wailing soul asylum,
     that no era meets said criteria

     backtracking time machine before
     rightful indigenous occupants of this land
     got decimated as one after another
     exploiter did inundate

(comprising a multitude
     of indigenous variety of village people
indignantly subjected to Genocide,
     when first "discoverer"

     of new land didst promulgate
activation wrought deliberate sealed fate
vis a vis capitulation, demolition,
     and extirpation, cuz

     a scathing rebuke aye attest,
     those murderers didst equate
worthlessness of
     so called "Indians" on 1492 date,

and still remnants of storied tribes,
     now attempt to create
historical documentation operate
ting with limited resources to adjudicate.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 
Food methinks doth buzzfeed drumbeat agog
at pyrotechnics July 4th, 2018 shared as blog
posts, a falsehood prevails which dog
gone “FAKE” brewed watered down grog
posits that the majority of Colonialists stay hog

tied to strict task masters, and mainly the scant 
upperclass experienced autonomy, 
     no matter the under class didst futilely rant
and rave with the occasional 
     uprisings over time did grant 
minimal appeasement to stifle violent kant!

Smitten

Smitten


He was smitten with love for her;
by that arrow deep and sure.
A gooey warmth between them;
filling the heart all within.

But, loves shaft, festered, stinking foul;
to gangrenous, aching howl.
Through steamy glass his love moaned;
as he stood outside alone.

Those barbs cannot be reversed;
holding fast in a soul feeling cursed.
 Longing for the lost one gone, 
to the breast of a different one.

Love hates separating pain;
so forgives again and again.

Annihilation Besieges Civilization

This generic creek king mortal mwm 
   (who generally river ears the bay sea gully feels ire ate 
asper propensity plundering positive human qualities 
   tested to the max), bait
ting virtue with rapacious opprobrious 
   malicious lugubriousness, and hatred create
head via the violent wickedness yawping zealously 
   oceans of tears that in un date
every nook and cranny of society, wrenching, 
   whip-sawing, and hammering extirpate
ting, the delicate nuances that anthropological fate
bequeathed to *****sapiens 
   species and genus undermining great
ness brought forth by artistic, democratic, 
   and graphic accomplishments with HATE
diluting the virtuous unification treatises 
   agonizingly tried to insulate
basic rights, whence erosion, corrosion, 
   and abrasion with goliath gangrenous monstrosities of late
subtract at frightful pace, the very survival of mankind and doth mate
absolute evil that percolates into the body electric, 
   where bloody fiendish genies prosper upending immunity 
   fostering broods that deign devious strategies in Nate
to destroy any salient sliver via BuzzFeed ding fifty shades of a gray pate
outwitting tentative grasp upon survival 
   barely fending off lashing off faux kings who e quate 
might with right, and bring out the big guns 
   which blitzkrieg magazines fire at greased lightening speed rate
this battle whereby competing credos, ethos, 
   and grand Poobah grinds by force state
mints that all most obey lest Das Capital life will not tolerate
nasty, short and brutish torture engendering wailing ululate 
diminish in a vain attempt to escape the maws of madness 
   where the grim reaper doth patiently wait.

Shadow Diorama

Even the ghosts have faded now,
splashes of gray like shadows
in a child's diorama.
They slip in and out of mortared cracks 
in my mind,
seeking a validation
I cannot besrow.
But they must remain in
their graves,
Wrapped in their gangrenous
shrouds, pursuing
redemption without me.

Oceans of Blood

A drowned Perpetua inhumane, whose dwellers art furthest from sane, 
where mortals had once sought to reign, now mindless husks subject to an eerie pain. 

And so, amidst boiling waves of a single flow, which so seek to sate hungers that blindly echo from beneath that gangrenous gore 
eclipsed in crimson too dark to ignore, 

Nearing if not therefore, beneath those vermillion dunes, chronicled from before, hidden nearer the ocean floor. 

Far beneath bore that which only fellow filth may grow to adore. 

So arose the disembowelled silhouettes of creatures eerily unfound, hidden beneath corpsed constellations that continue to astound. 

Ripe with rot, anywhere yet not  
upon thine festering flesh, betwixt sinews which crudely infest.

Alive by the necromancer's bequest, so welcoming thou as their unholy guest.

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