Best Metastasizing Poems
There is Nothing to Say About It
There is nothing to say about it
No words to describe it at all
There are no words at all to describe
the mass slaughter of innocents,
the relentless malignant progressions of
the evil black-moving cloud of terminations,
the toxic metastasizing ooze of outright annihilations,
the blood-gurgling regurgitations, and
the blood-spurting decapitations.
There is nothing to say about it.
Nothing to say at all.
No words to describe
the hopeless piercing cries of the infidels
the whimpering terrified pleadings of the condemned
the silent gasping inhalations of the dying
There is nothing to say about it.
No words to describe it at all!
My heart at 62 years has not seen anything like this at all!
Never anything like this at all!
I have not seen this outrageous slaughter before at all!
There is nothing to say, except…
These are the days!
The days of this unkind hour;
the days before the great onslaught!
Before this massive earthly descent to the lowest places,
the smelly dank places,
the rotting miasma of the dead places.
There are no words to describe it!
There is nothing to say at all!
Categories:
metastasizing, war,
Form:
Free verse
The Rough Slouching Beast
has been born
in Washington.
Upon its birthing
what bastard sunrise
were we promised
to relinquish our souls?
What white dawn
in darkness
was actually
immune cells
rallying
to fight
a growing cancer?
Now that it has begun
metastasizing
upon our national flesh,
tell me,
O toothless sages
of our faith,
what is your plan
to restore
our birthright
of azure, blush mornings
while we can still live
to see them?
Categories:
metastasizing, color, future, hope, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
In Hades, flows the chthonic Styx, a river
of woe and pain (a channel thoroughfare;
where Charon ferries the dead, who despair)
which unnerves our damned souls till we quiver.
The Styx! It's like cirrhosis which kills the liver,
metastasizing there; but does not care;
and tortures us beyond what we can bear!
Because we are thrice-damned, we now shiver
with the peals of the Stygian death-knell;
while Heaven appears like a hope long dead
(as if we’re ten-thousand feet deep in hell!),
here, where the redeemed dare not walk or tread,
we are but ghosts, like shades without a shell:
yet, hell can we brave; but, the Styx we dread.
Categories:
metastasizing, dark, death, fear, metaphor,
Form:
Sonnet
He's a seasoned outdoorsman; a lover
and explorer of nature who frequently
goes camping, on occasion, hunting; even fly-fishing.
He's equally at home in the wild as he is in civilization.
He's usually accompanied by his wife, or dog.
Hiking alone in the woods one fateful day,
he never anticipated the misfortune
that befell him. He built a makeshift shelter
deep into the vast wilderness
with palm fronds chopped off of a coconut tree.
Reposing nigh twilight, a rattlesnake crawled
into his shelter and bit him on the right foot.
Suddenly, it becomes a race against time
to get to a hospital, a race he's bound to lose.
The nearest hospital is fifteen miles away, by car.
The poison injected into him is spreading
from his foot up; akin to a metastasizing cancer.
He's confronted with two choices,
do the unthinkable or watch his life slowly
and painfully slip away before his eyes.
Paralyzed with fear and unable to rush himself to
the hospital as quick movements would accelerate
the spread of poison, he chose the unthinkable.
He tied a tourniquet below his right knee and began
chopping off his leg with a machete to save his life.
Will To Survive Poetry Contest (Winner: 2nd Place)
Sponsored by Silent One
Date written: 10/14/2020
Categories:
metastasizing, adventure, dark, horror, imagery,
Form:
Narrative
Or Woman, Or Child, Or...
The following elucidated
conjecture actually can
(reed best) be taken with a grain
of salt, and no re ban
nah nah split 'ope ya 'ere me
cloud and lear, cuz (Oh my...
heavens to Betsy), ennui
got pulled by Evan -
Jewel Lean, who handed this long fellow
(wads worth to you)
speculation with fan
see prestidigitation legerdemain - tan
ta mount to cheap tricks
re: out of thin air
by this half
fast hue man,
Hill Billy Willy Wonka Nilly,
who blithely doth asseverate
apothegm (poem title) equally applicable
Century21 today Aswan
damn maxim initially
bespoke, when collective
primates begat enfant terrible
foo fighting predetermining anon
metastasizing debacle Yeti
bedeviling civilization
a bajillion years in the future with
Matthew Scott Harris deadpan
words worth less his way
before even an odd iota
of dire straight sultan
of swing didst merely span
spottily scattered amidst
pristine Earth, where
unchanging arboreal
beastie boys to oman,
and flock of sea gulls
continuity elapsed – Ivan
hunch, albeit un
recorded disc contented sow
sow hogtied pan
dum mo' nee ham, or
blessed historical events,
kept (stay'n) alive,
courtesy"FAKE" Trump
petting Dapper Dan,
where he knit pattern,
qua oral tradition, sans clan
destine scattered hot pockets
of sparse *****sapiens,
i.e. humanity LESS preponderant,
primary, and/or prolific,
where superstitions parlayed
(voodoo with no Fran Schwa),
and whirling dervishes fed elan,
which earliest recorded (doctored,
digitized, and demented
oh yea), not
tomb mitt to dimly mentioned
asper "time and tide
wait for no man"
purportedly by one
Saint Marher, circa:
1225 anno domini.
Categories:
metastasizing, 11th grade, 7th grade,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
they say (whoever the **** “they”
are) that “honesty is the best policy” &
presumably, one assumes (though
we should never assume, so sayeth
the 7th grade math teachers of the world
---because “assuming makes an ass out
of you & me”) that when speaking in
such a manner, the talk is of personal
relationships---something we value,
something we feel we take part in on a
daily basis, something in which we feel
we have some sort of control over
&
hell, that big ol’ work of fiction proclaims
emphatically “thou shall not lie,”
presumably casting a negative light on any
lil’ fib or any embellishment which may seem
a bit too extravagant to hold any
truth at all---thus making the greatest
storytellers of all time, liars & for that fact,
depending on how down-to-the-nitty-gritty
you get, this makes each & every one of us
with out 100% recall when it comes to the
memory dept., liars as well,
pure & simple.
with that in mind, one not need to listen to
Billy Joel drone on, instead we all live as
hypocrites, saying one thing & doing another,
expecting the one we shown the most
compassion to, to return the favor,
while hoping that the more powerful entities
of the world will do the same---
but before the monstrous piles upon piles of
libel manufactured in the world over
can come to a hilt, that first little web is
spun.
it comes when one convinces themselves that
to reveal a certain truth to said loved one
would actually do more harm than “good” &
the convincing may take hours, it may take
days, but in the end, the outcome is the same---
a lie is made.
and every time a lie is made, it gets easier---
though the lies all get filed under the same
heading,
“things that would have done more harm than
‘good’,”
it is the ease of the lying which develops like a
cancer,
slowly metastasizing until it has spread
throughout the body,
laying the groundwork for the
eventual
certain
death
of said relationship.
Categories:
metastasizing, life, world, may, ,
Form:
Free verse
You spun your spindly web of lies
In the silken strands waxed family ties
You coddled your young then muffled her cries
You buried her carcass 'neath the availing skies
Beneath your black veil lay a predatory disguise
With your guile, you craftily disarmed all of the bleary eyes
A bleeding shroud in your stolid carriage did rise
A new, more sinister plan you did devise
You desecrated the shroud and drained the feeding flies
Intrigue turned to folly as your friends, family reconnoitered with
spies
In your cleansed web lay a portentous prize
From the fowl smell of putrid flesh, a merciless kill they did
surmise
You quickly returned to your spinning mill a more flexible yarn to
reprise
You calmly intimidated that the innocent prey accidentally entered
your vize
With mercy and pardon you greeted its pitiful sighs
After you released your caring grip, it fell through narrow gap, due
to smaller size
Landing in a squalid pool of water, with its plight did sympathize
Drowning in your own cup of drained blood, could not immediately
empathize
When the hoary sun dried its bowl of tears, your twined fates did
realize
Hearts painfully severed, buried the corpse death's sting to
tranquilize
Burying your grief in the earth, your emotive grounds did
subsequently anesthetize
Oh stealthy predator time did your lethal venom into salt crystalize
Your slithery prints the corroded carcass doth no longer advertize
But from heaven's door a saintly angel yet lives your evil deed to
immortalize
Categories:
metastasizing, allegory, death, family, motherfamily,
Form:
Rhyme
Too ponderous of a weight
To carry on one's shoulders
Slowly metastasizing
Cancer on one's soul
Submitted for May Premier 8 Any 4 Or 5 Line Form,On Any Theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
04/18/2019
Categories:
metastasizing, emotions, perspective,
Form:
Dodoitsu
They heard a murmur in your chest,
a whisper:
tiny fish lips bulging the surface.
A bubble, a b u r s t,
a blurp of sound
innocent as baby-lung collapses (expansions)
-- a gurgle in the night: taciturn.
You had to swallow a tube
and I know you hated that.
You hated the taste of dependency:
machinery air -- filtered, rancid,
thick like plant water.
You said your throat rasped, your lungs opened
with a sound like a suction cup,
and the machinery h i s s e d, licking its lips for alcohol and cancer.
They took pictures with sound waves,
rebounding them off your reverberating heart
and filling in the dark spaces with oscillating light.
And the whole time your chest continued its phthisic monologue,
whispering in stil.ted rib-cage morse code
-universal SOS, lighthouse wail-
leaving braille on the underside of your sternum
that not even I could
touch.
They said your heart had thickened beyond weakening,
churning your blood like milk into butter,
and I went into the bathroom and screamed myself h o a r s e
water running, hands over ears.
Later you would ask me why I splintered the mirror,
why I placed my palm and pushed
until spider webs spun themselves under my fingers
and bits snapped and sunk like thinthin ice beneath tiny children.
Why I stood in the road on a snowy evening,
arms outstretched,
waiting for the white of winter to consume me.
Why I cried as the shower beat down on me,
fingers searching for life beneath layers of skin:
tiny oval seeds g r o w i n g,
little black masses with tendrils sprouting,
roots delving.
A lump in one breast,
transfigured ellipsoid:
multiplying, metastasizing.
--milky white matter with blue veins extending.
Why?
Because you found a way to die: beautifully, tragically, easily, undoubtedly
and we both know it was me
who wanted to breathe through tubes,
no more heart
murmuring.
Categories:
metastasizing, death, depression, health, life,
Form:
Free verse
Malignant Avarice
by Odin Roark
How pernicious
This featureless monster
Lurking in shadows of cravings
Knowing well its metastasizing power
The child in man squints
Observing the ghost like presence
Segueing centuries past
Where both kings and peasants
Priests and flocks
Bankers and customers
Toyed with the infectious apparition
Ignorant of its ravenous nature
Time continues its partner
Tiptoeing surreptitiously
From party ice cream
Through adolescent hormonal voracity
Into awakened narcissism
Clever its disguise
Masquerading upwards through corporate
Domestic
Spiritual safe havens
Where waning immunities
Await ready infection
Long ago
The child giggled
Birthday cake and gifts
So innocent
Gluttony and greed remained
Unknown enemies
Until...
Categories:
metastasizing, addiction,
Form:
Free verse
Ants and Roaches
How often the question
How often the ignoring
How often the reality
That as a species
We live lives
According to someone else’s purpose
Perhaps
Too many move through life
Embracing factotum
Embracing servile doctrine
Pushing religion
Obsessing scholastic attainment
Conquering career lures
While forgetting
Fulfillment eludes man-made designs
Reliant instead on discovery
The inner being transparent
Many hold
We ignore our divine destiny
To Be
Such a quandary
This idea of Being
Thinking we know what we want
What we need
Who we truly are
Yet
Few choose to seek “their truth”
Opting instead to crawl through endless trenches
Of waste and human rubble
Enduring razor-like suffering
Only to remain a stranger to one’s self
Sadly
These scars of self-mutilation subtly spread
Metastasizing into bondage of heart and mind
Leading to perhaps one last question
Will our species ultimately become
But alien anthropological studies
Proving our existence as a dot under the cosmic microscope
But an ironic exercise
For revealing who we ultimately
Were not?
Or
Might the oldest instinct of the planet
Finally kick in?
Ants and roaches
Know survival
We should know more
Do we?
Categories:
metastasizing, nature, planet,
Form:
Free verse
It’s been a week - things have been happening - I’m going through it. I’ve become nostalgic for two weeks ago. I got screamed at, I lost my AirPods case, and I cracked my iPhone screen, so I’m several levels worse - I’m a sad human. I’m writing this at the Apple Store while a friendly Apple person renders me whole.
The Ukraine situation has everyone unnerved. Draw a card - Pandemic or WWIII? Please, protect my peace. So there’s a level of “scr3w-it” now.
Friday night, I’m in a bad mood and when someone says “Come-on let's go clubbing!”
I’m - “Let’s GET THIS.” Later, we’re at a club, and it’s INSANELY crowded, like a moshpit. It was ABBA night. It did not escape me that this is exactly the type of milieu I’ve been avoiding for years. Did I mention the WWIII level of “scr3w-it”?
Ok, moshpit, You could hardly move, you definitely couldn’t hear, and Anna dropped her phone - we were sure that it was gone forever but 30 minutes later a hole opens up and there it is - like it’s just been sitting there waiting - so, there ARE miracles.
The list of life’s demands grow by the moment - reading, homework, laundry, dinner, upcoming midterms. I had a rock solid plan for a Saturday night of fun but assignments and necessities destroyed its integrity.
After a heroic effort and completing everything, I felt a fast-metastasizing boredom, so I wandered outside my room, hoping for company and distraction - it was 00:30 AM - and for once - no one else was there! Where was everyone? Hello zombie apocalypse.
So, I did what anyone would do in that beat - I cued-up ”Miraculous,” because Ladybug’s always there for me.
Categories:
metastasizing, dance, school, student, teen,
Form:
Free verse
A frothy mist shrouds the ground
A cool breeze drifts all around
A frosty chill doth surround
Solar rays no longer resound.
A plethora of colored foliage aboveground
A web of tangled, rotting roots underground
Chelones, Mums, and Golden Rod abound
In gardens bright, colored gourds propound.
Ragweed pollens and mushroom spores confound
Leaves metastasizing with brighter hues redound
Stealthy Evergreens emerge into the foreground
Maple taps their sweet syrup doth expound.
Migrating birds skirting cooler air are southbound
Doting Wasp Queens from dying nest bound
Honey bees cradle in warm, colony compound
Squirrels Summer store will carefully impound.
Categories:
metastasizing,
Form:
Chilling tides turn the leaves of my soul
For Summer's balmy days I pine and troll
Residual reams of light o'er slighted heart scroll
Scourging winds erode my wavering, intellectual pole
Truant feelings flood my sensory console
Alternating, rancid dreams my psyche patrol
Molting mind is making my wit drab, droll
Burrowing through lengthening nights; entrenched mole
Color blind, as metastasizing changes o'er my body roll
Twining memories strand my spirit on life's, rocky shoal
Categories:
metastasizing, life
Form:
Rhyme
Those migratory storks,
will not come
this year.
The lake was burning.
The secret kill
of the wringer
was metastasizing.
Make the tether-
small for the macabre
end. I am not yet
frozen. The stalker
will not leave the
flame. Outside a tribute
was ready for
an uprooted tree.
My shadow moves ahead
to catch a cage bird,
in the parrot green sky.
Satish Verma
Categories:
metastasizing, art,
Form:
ABC