Disemboweled Poems | Examples

Psychedelic Reverie

The light show erupts with a fulgent blast.
Fractals zooming out clash fast, aghast!
Ears pulsating frog-marching to be in tune,
with lights blinding, flashing a sonic boom.
It's a psychedelic reverie, a kaleidoscope of screams!
My head hurts, my brain implodes with dreams
spued up from explosions in surround-sound streams.
I want it to stop, but I love the extraordinary
Way I'm stretched, spaced-out, ablaze and glary.
Reflecting the chaos on my face and body
that's contorted to a gaudy, bawdy, disemboweled anti-body.

As It Appears

It may appear
  that I've lost my writing edge,
  less poems expressed here
  on display opening my heart and tears;
but surely, you must know
  my words do flow
  along some journal lines
  releasing the feelings and emotions I find
harder to express and reveal
  along with the poetry soup's appeal
  incapable to openly portray
  the visionary images that slip away.
Oh, for lack of inspiration to sweep
  the cobwebs of old age as it creeps,
  nearing eighty now
  strength and enlightenment disemboweled,
if only, time was on my side
 this inner self
 might no longer hide
 in the spaces my soul denies,
as it appears.

Into the Darkness and Light

Betrayal seen and unseen.
Monstrous unapologetic motivations.
The Son of Man sought-after in the darkness is here among both friends and enemies alike.
A kiss exposes the silver coin villain within a seemingly non-ending yet brilliant silent garden curse night.


Tears of blood fell as great raindrops into a bitter cup of heartache and grief.
A beautiful garden stared backward in time revealing many moments of realistic clarity.
Hanging from a tree disemboweled will remain forever frozen in time.
What's done in the darkness will eventually be revealed into the light.






Copyright © Johnny Hadnot 3.13.2022
Into the darkness and light

The Amish Curse

A man wakes up with demons,
In his mind, he is conflicted with religion.
The Holy Bible and the Amish,
Have different views on,
Everlasting life in heaven.
He was paranoid.
He had mental illness,
He called the Bishop the Devil,
For telling lies about heaven.
All the Amish knew of his sickness,
Yet did nothing to help.
Finally taking him to the hospital,
Only to learn he was schizophrenic,
Yet was he??
No, it was later realized he had,
Chemical poisoning in his brain,
Caused by the cleaning engine fluid.
He was released with medication.
The next morning he killed his wife.
Removing her brain and disemboweled,
Her organs explaining that she didn't,
Understand that the Holy Bible was truth,
And the Amish was the curse.

This is a true story. The detective said,
It was the bloodiest and worse crime scene,
He ever witnessed. A man outside was,
Teaching him that praying will guarantee,
Him everlasting life.
The Amish only learn if they have,
Everlasting life when they die. 
The Amish man found it confusing 
And a curse.

Love Transcends

For I can not write
In this trance state of mind
Words die withering out of hand to pen
Like love’s lost bloom, wither to die

For I can not love
Grief’s strife, rips through my body 
Disemboweled love 
As the one heart I loved 
Hand in hand we walked
Forever no more

My sorrows are for myself, silent to all
Screams of pain, bellow outward 
I find myself silent and still
Caged in a violent loss

Love transcends

Fandazzo

Living life less razzle-dazzle
Trine binder you whine
Delamination determined separation
Zero settled for clarity
Woolly winder Dominion me
While you carry impunity!?
Sliced high and decidin’
Four more years Biden'
Swung hard disemboweled
Swamp slider social divider

The Talking Head

I have a green screen for Zoom meetings
If I wear a green shirt my body disappears, 
So it looks like I am a disemboweled head
I have worn my green shirt a lot lately
And will more on Halloween month
For my students’ benefit and delight

Waiting In the Box

A cow is goaded roughly, into a big steel box,
Eyes bulging from sockets, nose puffing snot,
Butcher pulls a lever, trapping its head tight,
Takes out big heavy pistol, aims it right,
Presses it BANG between, the beasts eyes,
A bolt shoots out, no time for cries,
Cow hits the ground, like sack of flour,
Blood pumps from its head, in a shower,
Pulls release handle, No messing about,
Immediately draws his knife, bleeding it out, 
Slicing throat open, draining blood of life,
Puts a long spring into head, fits just right,
Rams it up and down, to snap the spine,
Cow kicking like mad, until finally supine,
Body goes limp, puts shackle upon hoof,
Head is scalped, then decapitated aloof,
Hoisted up along, now ready for the rest,
Skinned and disemboweled, to request,
Already another one, waiting in the box,
Can see it’s fate, eyes bulging in shock.
 
By
David Kavanagh

Dracula Part 3: Spiked Secrets

SPIKED SECRETS

wings in spiked red sauce
...flappable supper
...disemboweled coffer

under linen cloth
secrets away its latches
and old silk lining

feet pressed against chest
ill at ease...Harker’s knocking
knees..banging back wine

5/2/2018

Bedtime Stories

My eyes screamed as the blinding yellow light latched itself modest self upon me.
Why?
It happened so fast—so unexpectedly.
At first, my mouth watered as the taste of peppermint fermented on my tongue and the scent of jasmine danced in my thoughts. I was so happy, and I am still so happy.
But why do I lie here on the ground, drawing a sweat as I have to consciously pump air in and out of my lungs! Why do I stare at the ceilings at night thinking of nothing but those tormenting demons who scream me lullabies at night! I am so happy!

The days are blinks, and the nights linger like the smell of a rotting opossum disemboweled on the turnpike. My bed encases me, and my sheets burn my wrists and ankles as they twist around my unwilling body.
“Help me, please!” I will silently scream. “Please.”
Hours go by and my eyes burn from the salty crust forming around them. Even blinking took too much strength, for the night devours my will, my hope, my time.
 
So here I am. Happy. I truly am happy. But I can’t explain why the nights love me so. Maybe it’s because I might not love myself as much as they love me.

Sealed Upon Lips By Kevin Mitchell Aka Kevin Guru

Sealed upon my lips 
Are the crimson stains
Of words and sins
Unravelling in my 
Soul
Are secrets pressed
Upon my lips
That only God
And I have known.

Too many confessions
For a priest to shoulder
Absolution mingling with
My prayer beads
Eating words that 
Form from the Gulf
Of my soul

With The unspoken word
The fear of utterance
I've become
The Embodiment
Of Sin's disemboweled
Fragments 
Hand in hand 
with death's cause.

Unless I dare
Speak my own
Hidden truth
From deep within
The recesses of mind
And Soul
I surrender my power
to defeat  and all
That Source has 
Promised to me
In my beginnings
Becomes void.

Source Declares
To
Speak Your Truth
Empowering All
That resides
Within the Human
D.N.A.
Spoken in time
Unraveling
144,000 
Truths
Aligned with
God and I
To become One...

11:11

Kevin Guru©2016
Speaking Parallel Truth.....

Paper Warrior

I fight inside myself
 but I am a paper warrior
 rock and scissors had their way with me
 cut up to shreds and pulverized to bits
 I fight inside myself
 but always hold the white flag
 crying as rockets fly around me in the night
 helpless and under-skilled
I run serpentine and aimless
 bullets in crossfire
 I fall into a hole
 mud sucks at my shoeless feet
 I scratch as I am climbing
the enemy surrounds me
 laughing at my plight
 I fight inside myself
 and always lose the battle
 defeating both sides
 in simultaneous seppuku
 laying on the ground
 swords of truth buried inside
 disemboweled with head hung in shame
 I lost at my own game
 I fight inside myself
 but I am a paper warrior
 rock and scissors had their way with me
 cut up to shreds and pulverized to bits

Imagine This

Imagine this.
I belong in a cage.
Imagine this. 
I’ve escaped.

Imagine this.
You’re to blame.
Imagine this.
I know your name.

Imagine this.
I live to kill you.
Imagine this.
I crave to still you.
To leave your body on the ground,
Bloody, destroyed, disemboweled.

Imagine this.
It will be slow.
Imagine this.
Blood will flow.

Imagine this.
If you can
Imagine this.
Your head in a pan.
Your organs, bones, fluids and glands,
You’re staring at them, in your hands.

Imagine this.
When your vision fades.
Imagine this.
The snick of my blades
When away from this world you bade,
Serrated, rusty, home-made.

Imagine this.
I belong in a cage.
Where what kept us alive
Was our fueling rage,
Where you died vision went hazy.
Wouldn’t you too go crazy?
With psychopaths, schizophrans, 
Where the taste of blood was like the back of your hand.
Where I happily stacked bodies in a circular henge.
Now imagine this.
I want my revenge.

Ideas Trapped In An Inactive Mind

Ideas Trapped By An Inactive Mind

Your mind is hidden in darkness
Thoughts trapped in deep crevasses
Their screams echoes through deathly shadows
Attacked and strangled at their every move
The struggle against invisible shackles
Drawing blood as they fight their captor
Demons search for ideas ripping them apart
Stripped skin strewn across an evil world
A world created from depression and mania
Leaving the ideas disemboweled in the frenzied heat
Blood, skin and guts boil under the demon’s breath
Screams of torture and pain fill the void left by random thoughts
Still alive they choke on the stale sulfuric air
Waiting to die while hoping to be saved
A quick mind lights the darkness
Giving new life to near dead ideas
The strongest fight while the weakest wither and die
The rise through the darkness
Rising into the light they look back
They see the lost ideas dying beneath them
They care about what was lost
What ideas will never see the light of day
And they grieve as they come to light
And they will be told and retold
For that is what ideas are meant to be
Shared by the entire world not killed 
Murdered by an inactive mind

Passing Lives

One breath;
 a collective intake like pieces of blank divinity.
There is a haunting in your eyes;
 a place no soul but yours can dwell.
The clatter of voices struggle
 to drown out one muted cry.
Life continues without you,
 and you hardly see what passed you by.
I'll share a secret with you, darling-
 if you really wish to hear.
That cross you wear cannot save you;
 you were damned at birth my child.
Born in the absence of innocence,
 in anger and reproach instead.
Like some hybrid species;
 a genetic anomoly in a uniform sea of green.
Dethroned or disemboweled-
 it is all the same to you.

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