Best Necrosis Poems
There is a bounty for our hearts Luv,
gold and fame for the flat riders who dare lower our flame
seeking to steal our fortune of raw carnal currency, our soul gold,
Love's law has decreed our passion a sedition against tradition,
a violation of virtue, a willful act of feral freedom, unauthorized love prize,
the old and ossified Judges are corrupt with dry eyes
the flesh upon which these laws are scribed suffers from necrosis,
they allege we are prisoners of passion
they say you are my **** of seduction
they assert I am your beast of brawn taboo
they know not that you are a rose of fire within my heart,
they fail to realize that I am your lion of lust and trust,
they squawk and hiss in their chambers of spoiled embers,
jealous and freezing from forgotten romance
what do they know of our embrace and fury,
When we cry for eachother, when we touch like none other,
when we come for one another, when we battle with scorching thunder
our love justice soars supreme, our only law, to love with rebel youth, to never surrender -
J.A.B.
In Nursing School
In nursing school they have us learn all the proper medical words,
Because in Greek and Latin we defecate, but we never make turds,
And what's worse than learning about all these dreadful diseases
Is forgetting my English to replace it with obfuscating medicaleses,
Lest we forget that great chemical known as adenosine triphosphate
Which is the powerhouse of the cells, or did she say an exudate?
And though I've been to India and seen the river Ganges,
I never knew my fingers were really called phalanges,
And we must learn about colitis, encephalitis and diverticulitis,
But I hope these germs don't decide to get up and bite us.
You can't find out a lot about someone by palpating the patella,
Not even if the patient is female, or if he is a fella.
And we must distinguish anemia, diarrhea and gonorrhea
From the almost identical condition known as leukemia.
Sex is one thing, I think, not one of us has time for,
For after school it's off to work until you're blind or
Wishing you had never heard of cellular necrosis,
Not to mention the hundred kinds of psychoses and neuroses.
And then there's that other major hurdle called getting adequate funding,
And if you can't get a loan or a grant they'll have you do the plumbing.
It seems the clinical locations are never really near ya,
In fact most of them are deep inside Siberia,
And if out in the Sun recall that your skin can get tumorous,
For the study of medicine is serous – very, and hardly ever humerus.
Your medical books will have you believe you've every disease known
From autophobia to an ecchymosis to cerumen on the bone.
But at least there are no bullies insisting we are all big wimps,
For studying things like urine, saliva, bile, blood and lymph;
And if there's one more part with the outlandish name of buccinator,
I think I'll lose it all and become a hallucinator.
Hands tick in motion but I hear naught
of the onslaught of killing time depicted.
Minutes run past me in tarred darkness
as the visions in my brain are obscured.
Clocks eat away moments of my life.
I admit I'm nearly frightened to death
of those mimed hands whose strokes
stab me with each gasp of breath I take.
Round and around, silent warning given
in gross opposition to the beastly roar,
aped by masses of such foolish people,
oblivious that my plight is also their own.
Reticence gives no relief to assault. I see
my fate's demise, and frightened I shall be
until death's full tariff has set my soul free.
Rhythmic tickings makes no difference to me.
Silence staggers my soul to substantiality.
Blinded by fear of my imminent necrosis,
I cannot traverse those two roving needles,
hellbent on stinging me to my neon grave!
Passage of time is but a travesty of life
in which man has no occasion to amend.
In the end, death haunts us all in silent
whispers; echoes of cruel scheming hands.
==========================
17th of April, 2016
I shall not weep, for him, nor for his crime
Since while he killed he murdered noble lives
And on that angered day, he muted the chime
He jabbed them hard, with few sharp knives.
He was death, the necrosis of time
I shall not weep, for him as my angst thrives.
He shall not bring back joy, and all pride lost
For he has smeared them all, each cherished heart
Mums' pains in their hearts, for each cry tossed,
Dads enraged frown, for each smile falls apart
Their memories, their thoughts, revenge at any cost
He cries, for he is bad and they have to restart.
We shall not weep, but if perchance we do
It’s for the victims, for all the world to see
For future events, we must begin a life anew
Hope renewed, laws applied, lets all agree.
No to stabbings, for we are angered by you
Can I weep too? For anger cannot set us free.
I shall not weep, for you, nor for your crimes
I cry with joy, for them, and laugh sometimes.
NOTES:- 7:46 a.m. April 10, 2013
A student DYLAN QUICK - stabbed at least 14 people at Lone Star College, a Houston-area community college. The attacks occurred in the Heath Science Center and possibly other buildings.
Nehpets Gnik - written in Iambic Pentameter Wednesday 01/21/2015
The river is at autumnal peace
The spring runoff months long past.
The sun has mellowed, shrinking shadows.
Birds that once graced this glade
Have assayed the air and arched the horizon.
There is a gentleness in grass and tree—
A gentleness that reminds me of me.
My life’s season too is settling up,
Signed by silent, sober resignation.
What I once was, I am no more
My river has slowed to a feeble flow.
Legs that once fit me to jump and leap
Now struggle my balance to keep.
I see in nature’s changing trappings
Reflections of what is afoot for this form.
All of God's living things signal a cycle
Of orderly, ordained necrosis and renewal.
The river and sun and grass and tree
Are of the nature that is a part of me.
Sleep-needful eyes too heavy one day
Will tearlessly close in all being’s way.
I do not abhor the closing of the door.
My angel Mother whispered "there is more."
When a schoolteacher’s got halitosis
What his pupils fear most when he’s close is
That the smell of his breath
It could choke them to death
And bring about chronic necrosis
Continuously phantasmagoric is its vitality,
Crystallizing within the depths of my spirituality,
Sanctuary against the maleficent reality,
Encompassing past the fortification of mentality,
Dependency upon its draught of lethality,
Praying for the verisimilitude of immortality,
Enlightened after necrosis, for entwinement in universality
I feel
the encroaching
necrosis settling in,
as the shadows finger their way
toward the growing twilight, etching my mind,
endless scratching with no escape!
It’s closing in on me,
this demon heart
I feel!
10/31/2017
The most precious of me.
The womanly comforts.
The 'lift you up'.
The birthing.
The healing.
The trying.
The love.
The loyalty.
The heat and honour.
These are what you used
To warm yourself.
Now you wonder why I run cold?
Do you even realise
That you spat your ego on me
In my darkest hour?
That you used the most vulnerable parts
of me
To wipe your muddy beliefs
As you turned away?
You took a gamble that I was complete in
sickness.
And you left me to die in pain
I survived for my children......
But for you....I am gone.
They are forever among us, the diaphanous spirits
Seeking the elan vital of the cycling centuries
Running from necrosis, paying a mortuary tribute
To the killing fields of a nearby Roman Spring
Living in a somnolence stupor,melting and passing
An unpleasant drug experience, leaving me balanced and barmy
Rambling and reasonable, a maddened muss
Euphoric, almost transported, putting the cold petals to my lips
I have let the water rise again, swimming alone, except for my tea set
Along the hookah, amongst the mermaids and the kelpie
Can I stay? Stay here away from the lusus naturae, upsetting the gossamer webbing?
Stay low and quiet, don't breathe, don't ..... breathe
Who's there? Possibly Diablo Dybukk, oh, nervousness and dissatisfactions
Ah, beautiful malaise, venom frosts my skin like and angel in the ashes
Loopy loops and swirly swirls, pink and blue buttons attend my young heart
Kadydids scream through the air of forgetfulness and nymphs
The Land of Nod awaits my finis release, something better than death
No more rickety bridges ready to collapse
Take stock in this newfangled Kingdom Come
The muck of my yesterdays I have relinquished to the waterfall south of Jupiter
I scream, I scream, as I tremble in dread!
The death bells toll, and I hear their piercing knell.
The grave, the grave, where I lie as if dead;
like a corpse buried deep, deep in bipolar hell!
Darkness and gloom, woe and despair, I know.
Like sheep, my Joy is carried to the slaughter;
and torn out, her heart's eaten by the black crow,
as fresh blood spills, and mingles with water.
Pure Bliss, the stuff of Joy, is never mine.
Like meat for sacrifice, she is killed and bled:
her soft flesh, cooked with herbs, oil, and spiced wine,
is prayed over; then devoured till all are fed.
So, it is! This manic-depressive disease:
a malady, a curse, an evil psychosis,
a bane and blight of the sick and ill at ease,
a mental illness of persistent necrosis.
Our words will never change.
Rewind the arguments and keep the frame.
We've found a hidden vein.
I'm sick of mining these messes we've made.
We will not compromise.
This is exactly how it came to life.
I've said so many times,
The more we twist it, the better the knife.
This situation's stench,
reeks of a gangrenous relationship.
This mental necrosis,
kills off memories we're wanting to live.
Maybe I'll amputate,
so that we have a chance to not decay.
We'll have our better days.
At least one of us has to make a change.
Razed garden hung
Icicle vines crept mortar
Fingers of the dead
And the sun died
Cataract eyed sinking
This limitless implosion
Craven mustard then spread
Barbed
Waspish sting and evisceration
Slinking down the brick
I felt incorrigible
Violence
The lone oranges dangle
The only fruit
Are clockwork
My black heart suppurated
Necrosis
Nerve gas sought
Release to silence
The screaming
Myelin
In necrosis star does not die
On the contrary it shines brighter against midnight sky
Towards it great celestial eagle will fly
Of celestial necromicron it is the founding dye
The force where time is just a beginning
Of the celestial power beaming
As in abyss of otherworldly force is swimming
Force that death itself finds baffling
When connected to the base of the immortal soul
The celestial clock master will reach his goal
To put transcendent necromicron under spirits control
Creating the base for theory of all
It's day one.
But not really, because its actually been two years
And my Body is starting to eat itself
As each year passes, another part of me is consumed.
A leg, a finger, a part of my brain
I stumble through the day with my one leg, and half
A brain, attempting, trying to function
Oh! My eye is gone, I can no longer see -
How will I get to work?
Day two, but not really, since we’re going on
Year Four
And my skin has started to rot, and peel
Onlookers cover their nose at the stench
Of my rotting corpse, dragging itself down the street
Father ignores the necrosis
Although he has learned, somehow
To cover his nose
And look away from the maggots nestled
Comfortably in my flesh
But Sister claws at my cannibalistic Body
In anger and fights,
Desperately trying
To stop Her from eating me
But last night, She took my heart.
The one thing I had, she took -
Unexpectedly.
Its shrieks of pain pierced the cold night air
As it was slowly and mercilessly
torn apart, tortured for hours,
Till the screams subsided and turned
Into a deafening silence.
So now, I move with no heart
No brain
No fingers or feet
Just a torso, an arm and
An empty half-a-head
Dragging itself down the street.
I can no longer think, feel, breathe or remember
It takes me at least
Forty five minutes, to remember where I put my keys
Or my shoes
I smile at people with half my lips, laugh
With half a stomach, come home
Lie in bed and stare at the ceiling
With half an eye
My Body and I are no longer one,
She operates completely on her own and
Has become my enemy.
She spends every day
Taking more from me, determined
To make sure I do not see the next
But I cannot blame her one bit, for you see,
Her Owner is despicable.
She laid in silence, watching as I
Hurt those She loved, destroyed a future She built
Discarded the ones She cared for
And damaged Her beyond repair
She deserves Her revenge
I will not fight Her for it
Soon the day will come
When the last of Her and I
is consumed, when the both of us will
be taken away
Into the abyss, our fear and regret disappearing
Into the unknown, finally free, blissfully free
from the pain we both endured.