Best Rotting Poems
Certain moments make this all worthwhile
'Random' presets left but to defile
Blink your eyes to see the flash of white
Blink once more to gain a different sight
Milliseconds gazing at the stars
In which I understood you as you are
And in that time the notion came to me
A sigh of love bled out of honesty
The story of a bruised and rotting pear
That learned to dance on wind and open air
What good is my being when I cant be myself.
The only thing i am good at I cant deliver rap.
A virus shredded my skin and dwelled deep within.
And all am doing is rotting on my remains.
My throat can't empower my words
My mind cant think 'em
My eyes get blurry every single time i blink' em
Lying in my bed as a dying rotting carcass
I am choking my lungs on my own putrefaction
I rise each day picking my body's every fraction
But i cant seem to find even with floor any attraction
My head cant balance my body on floor
I fall on to grapple every nearing door
My feet dont agree to take me to door
It's not my throat anymore but stomach that roars
No matter how much i bathe no matter how much i scrub, rotting things can't get rid of their odour.
I feel like a zombie, bed is my grave and am rotting in my own living remains
I am rotting flesh. Ambivalent and obnoxious, but content with the irrational idea that I
am immortal. As I walk through the path of life, I hemorrhage thoughts. My naked body,
impregnated with ideals…exposes the divine truth of the defined sacredness of a goddess.
My womb has silently concealed its artsy life giving power. My breasts with scarcity
foster the image of the fountain of life. I rather find them amusing mortals. I curtail my
hips from collecting the souls of those who in their biological need try to disperse their
seed.
As I bare my bones for the people to see that an immortal like me cannot be part of the
"some" but instead part of the whole. I collect myself from the bloody path that disturbs
the ultimate truth.
My lungs collapse when I breathe arrogance and ignorance from the people that think that
they indeed know what reality is. I proceed to live anonymously, putrefying along the way.
The moon is low, so
I smile(d) at the
dark sky and the
stars that shine. I
speak to ones below.
I let my feet grab
the ground around
the rotten metal
pines. I move slow.
My drowning thoughts
catch wind of a fine
breeze, and are
brought to the
surface just in
time. Met by a dull
glow. And yet led
away to a spot
between two tall
trees. What was dark
is getting darker.
The cloud overhead
is a monstrosity, I
hope it don't
swallow me whole. My
hands, in fear, grab
whatever's near. And
the time begins to
tick quicker than I
thought was
possible. It was a
fallen stick of
pine, it was
something I could
yield if foes broke
(my) fence.
Something i could
use in a panicked
defense. But
feelings I felt soon
pass(ed) fast. So I
broke that pine
stick, and choose it
for shovel, not
sword. And I dig
myself a hole,
somewhere to sit my
(tired) spine. I
take a glance. The
moon pulls my inside
tides. Makes me
question what's
real, and even
what's not. So I
crawl(ed) inside my
head, 'cuz it's all
I got.
when the world falls,
will you be my figurehead queen?
dark regent, of my secret heart & broken-glass dreams
drip waterfall lies from full pink lips
& bleed out your truth(s) to me?
come silently in the night
over plush & supple fields of carpet
into the halls of my half-waking
& reach for me through the illusions
& shadows of my own doubt,
so strong, it wraps me up,
myself all contained & tainted,
tainting only myself.
be the beautiful & shining falsehood
that brings me back into a world of
the likewise
leaving the torn pieces of the true falsity, the true reality
hanging shreded in the doorway
rotting on the edge of
what was & what could be
be my perfected failure,
my self-less
& self-serving love
my heart is yours;
it never beats the same way twice
i will be your untold lie
your broken glass
your silent echo of dreams-waking
to search only for what was left
broken & bleeding,
in that long ago doorway
those shattered pieces
most define us
what we leave behind reminds us
what we've chosen
more than this - i will bleed silently
every truth i've ever held,
all for you
if only you have the ears to listen,
the heart to hear
"Dead leaves lay still until the wind takes them
here and there: even the last flower is withered:
yet there is a beauty in decay. "
Quote by _Constance La France
Desolate, weeping, she mourns the past
In silent tears – her memory decides
Hues, both beautiful and vibrant, trembling
With the melancholic thoughts – heartbroken
Feelings erasing the serenity, the sweet
With bitterness, defeat…
Inconsolable, her tears fall all over the autumn’s
Tenderness, fears breathing a sorrow through the darkness,
Distraught by the godless dread, the agonizing
Memories floating, dancing through the make believe
Fantasizing in weary stillness, quietly consoling
Mourning the moments when yesterday’s peace
Blazed through the heart, breathing grace wherever
It touched a thought…
Devastated by the urgency of a prayer, the harvest
Has come to those who remember – like life
This is the final promise stirring up gentle flames of regret,
Rotting, crumbling, dwindling away into a past,
Alive with colors – visions twisting through dark branches
Portraying a past who delights in remembering
Love, hope, forever…
With the heart perishing, the wind unsteady, robbing the
Dreams, nervous – shaking like the leaves who waltz
Through the intensity of a thought, a wobbly ache, truth
Displayed in melodies of remembrance, evoking
Memorials in the crisp air of an autumn light, fallishness
Vibrant with flames in crunchy snaps, leaves washing
Away all the melancholy with the urge to despair
Over the coming of this frozen wish defeating even
Memories, leaves decaying…
Over the spice of a question mark feeling,
The blending of yesterday’s sunset and tomorrow’s
Fleeting freedom from the onslaught of regret,
The making of a weariness that never restores the
Burning dejection of a past who portrays only the doubt,
The dismal ache that rides on wings of flaming
scarlet, tangerine and brilliant gold, buttery soft – leaves so stunning
Even the autumn’s darkest stories can’t paint them
Silent or downhearted!
Writing Challenge - D Quotes Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote Three
June 6, 2023
my rotting teeth
i wish
upon a star
tooth fairy saves my teeth
two browns said goodbye in past year
with rotten cousins looking to join them
a mask of sharp pain and bad breath
i hide behind gum, pills
dentist, star bright?
i wish
connie pachecho
2/23/17
what made you do it?
what was your drive
to take a perfect masterpiece
and paint it black on the inside
was it the rush
a momentary insanity
the pain is dry now
a permanent mark
while your monsters run free
this piece is on display
silently rotting away
you open up a door
you open up a mind
shut out all the shadows
shut out what you find
and pretend that its okay
and fake that you are near
you'll never get away
your never leaving here
so bottle up your motion
and lock it deep inside
keep monsters underneath it
tell the devil he must hide
they're not going to accept you
they're not going to care
they think that your a loser
they point and laugh and stare
but stand tall like that in the hallway
stand taller than you should
keep practicing the woodwork
like the monsters know you should
trying to forget all your reminders
This world can be rotten.
Maybe you have forgotten?
Humans can be so ignorant.
Most can be so belligerent.
So why keep it the same?
Stand up to make a change.
Why live in this disintegrating land?
Make a difference with your own hand.
I am rotting at your door
It's nothing you haven't seen before
I wish I could stand up and leave
It's a tapestry of tragedy I weave
I bring this unto myself
Put my emotions on a shelf
In a jar, they're there to rot
This all-consuming story plot
There is nothing I can do
I'm projected onto you
But if I try to end this scene
I'm afraid we won't reconvene
So I love you impossibly
And I'm stuck in frivolity
I love you so much it hurts
So I hope I stay in the dirt
I can't hurt you if I do
And you can't hurt me
I love you
Rot on me light, like murky cool damps,
That drip like some sweat in your sockets.
I look on green flesh, purple, bruised and unyearned,
Take it, take it, when it's all alright,
Like a fight that ended in closure.
Steal it from the smile, and take it.
They'd rape the roses anyways, so selfish,
Fine tuned to rot on me light. Rot on me.
Turn my skin darker and pale, steal my heat,
Steal my voice, steal my words, and purity.
The rotting of a socialist
I knew of a young man a rebel who wanted
his country to adopt the Scandinavian model of socialism.
He was elected to great acclaim by the people,
to do what he wanted taxes had to go up especially among
the wealthy and upper middle classes and they rebelled
by slurring him in the newspapers, lurid tales about sex orgies
and a luxury living, people turned against him he was not re-elected
After some years’ people found he was not a bad egg
and he was elected as president again.
Now he was a changed man didn`t care less about the Left
or the right, he just wanted to be president in his self- belief
gave tax relief to the rich prices went up, people
protested they wanted him to go.
He refuses to do so, many people are killed he doesn`t care
turned from a good man into a bloody dictator
who will keep his power at whatever cost and has to
be removed by whatever means.
Viva Nicaragua.