Corpses Poems - Poems about Corpses

Hello Darkness, my old friend, I'm afraid we have to start again, The visions planted in my head, Fake nutrition we've been fed, An agenda thats just for one, Evil's son, Within the sound of silence, In a web, I walked with masses, Many held the toast of glasses, A shot rang out with a miss, Fist rose in a state of bliss, Victory by defeat...

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These feelings, thought long forgotten, awoke and raised their ugly heads. Whispering your words and seeing into my consciousness; this vacant glare of the dead. Pain cups it's gnarled hands, corpse breath hot and dry against my ear, Reminding me of promises longed for but now I'm loath to hear. I've done the tedious,...

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One Summer night, just around dawn A Motley Crew came to town But there was something that filled with dread They were all very dead. The folk scattered to all sides Escaping dead of all kinds Skeletons and Zombies too Some jokingly howling "Booo". And so madness has begun "Scaring people is so fun!" "We will get you very soon!" Roared the monsters to the tune Of...

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My mind mainly meanders where I yearn – A universe where I cannot return, To lament my life’s unchangeable truth And exhume choicest corpses of my youth. Maundering 'midst marshmallow memories Seeking past life to savor and restore. Dully shuffling worn cards of yesterday, To deal winning hands I can never play. Marshmallow memories circling as pi, Swirling with desires destined not to die. Memory's...

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Can’t a rich corpse remain in a fridge While the bereaved have gaps to still bridge? The outrage that descends on faces Varies with minds, background and races, Deferment of interment a choice; On the subject it can’t be one voice... God had carried it out with Moses: St. Jude Verse 9 of the matter closes, Satan with Michael contesting corpse Not perturbed by...

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It won’t be long before everyone begins to strip themselves of their own humanity. It will begin with the hair. Cutting it down to the follicles until it is almost non-existent. Then it will move to the nails. Plucking and cutting and biting until our fleshy fingers bleed and our toes rot. Next, it will be the skin. Peeling ever so tenderly and...

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We look for responses when we should find an answer People aren’t healing, just left with a scar We are divided when we could stand together Our freedom’s a trap that leads us so far They all speak of good future Well said, by a liar That’s all just a rumor The earth is on fire Riches, greedy; shadows a’lurking Millions of children Forcefully...

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To drowned refugees Babies' corpses on them - waves of indifference....

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I was adopted . . . one morning in the mists of yesteryear when the sun glimpsed over the pallid shone house next to the abode of my mother and my father on came a harbinger of desolation. . . I died that day though I knew it not, nor was I to understand, comprehend this...

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corpses are awake their graves overturning collapsing in the quake. hear! hear! the growl the roar. The moan. listen! listen! catch your heart. listen! listen! hold your breathe. smell! smell! the disgust of their cursed death! smell! smell! the arrival of the unfed- corpses are awake! the church overturned lapsing in its stealth. fear! fear! the mole the sow the groan for they move in every shape. hasten! hasten! from the...

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The sun bearing down, taking aim Taking, with its hot scorching flame Walking corpses, looking for shade ~ A life for a Soul, soon they'll trade A Soul for a life.... The beginning of their pain!? Choking on ashes, upon invisible plates Porcelain castles, with a storm on the way ~ On the way to their ashes, the end of their daze The Sun...

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Oh they say the corpses have awakened From the remains of the very ashes burned Its time they say for humanity’s end Warriors of darkness, they have sent Burned and bruised for thousands of years Hated by the living, loved with fears Long they were here, but only memory remain Leaving behind the world full of tears sorrow and pain...

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In abandonment and shadow I throw myself away And to guess on what could happen I will bury myself today In nostalgic disrepair My words become my shrine In loneliness and passion My life becomes my crime In fear and wilting essence I turn myself to dust But in my vain and ghostly presence I am the spirit of my lust In rain and heavy winds My mind...

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We see them in old movies, aged sitcoms – black and white or fading color. We hear ancient languages— dead voices on sound tracks, buried giggles, awkward squawks of unexpected laughter. We relish corpses— old friends, remembered relatives stiff in brown photographs. Reels creak, VHS tapes moan, DVDs hum silently with sprocket holes, white scratches in sky, burnt nitrate edges of night. We relish corpses. They are us....

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