Rotten Meat.
There’s no feeling like feeling like rotten meat,
That every part of your body is rotting away,
No matter how many times you fix it, it just keeps rotting,
But no one can see it.
My mind is rotten, covered in mold,
The mold covers my right eye,
Fogging my vision of things that could have been,
Leaves me with the buzzing of flies in my head.
My bed has become like a coffin,
A forever resting place,
To live with the decay that surrounds me,
I shroud myself in total musty darkness.
I dream of my right eye falling out,
It getting up and walking away from me,
It would be salvation from an existence of rot,
I would no longer be rotten meat.
My innocent crimes transcend into sinful mistakes,
While yours roam in circles to stay the same,
Pangs of conscience rip my melting ventricles apart,
When metal-cold claws depart out of your mouth,
And my viscera learns to keep itself together,
When you say your metallic jaggedness was ‘as light as a feather’,
And now, the claw that mauled my heart,roams about my body,
Sometimes in my throat, otherwise in my eyes,
And changes their colour into a red gaudery,
Watery tears flush from my eyes,
While you only notice how fast they sublime,
And so, I wish my tears were of blood instead,
Just so you could see the guilt that relentlessly stabs my head,
But I know it’s of no use,
And I know my efforts are futile,
For my innocent crimes transcend into sinful mistakes,
While yours roam in circles to stay the same.
Hissing like the glide of silk
A python curls upon my throat
It’s not his fault that he was born to kill
The blueing of my skin makes me a ghost
It’s not his fault that he was made to kill
Why is it when I part my lips
A little bird is born and flies
The python wishes he was born with wings
He forced it out, now robs it of the sky
He wishes he was made to fly
It was my friend, the biting wind
Caressing, rosing up my face
Red apples in my cheeks like I’m a kid
A dying dog sits patiently and waits
Excited to be euthanized and skinned
A wound so fresh that it still bleeds
Three bony fingers dig inside
The carpet splattered scarlet red with beads
My gore’s a jewel I get to wear with pride
You take and take till it’s not longer mine
The passive, gray fruit of your eye
When it’s on me, it’s like it speaks
My fruits are green therefore they don’t reply
Your words are like a puzzle, missing piece
Should be a joke but sounds more like a lie
There’s something silly in it all
In stealing words from children
When you decide to put them in your art
My presence is in plain sight, hidden
But you will always know I played a part
Gouge the eyes from its sockets
Grate at the flesh
Chip at the bone
Scrape at the marrow
Churn out the intestines
Carve out the remains
Snip at the veins
Drain out the blood
Hack at the crown
Hollow the skull
What are you hiding beneath all of this?
Tearing, open up my chest
Pulling, tugging at my heart
Burning, burning, burning, burning
Ripping, pulling me apart
Let my insides spill out
See me falling here and there
Maybe we can put me together
Performing with no center snare
Arms and chest are open wide
Wounds agape for you to see
Someone help me wipe my tears
There is no one here but me
Last night together baby, pains my core.
One two three four, one two three four.
La la la la la, la life is gonna stop.
La la la la la, la husk is gonna rot.
Festering in my basement, shh baby face it.
If you run, oh it’ll get me mushy squishy and wet!
Plea I beg you sprint my furry little rodent,
When I catch I’ll shave you silky smooth,
Then go deeper rub my body crimson hue.
Hairsbreadth, velvet lips warm breath,
Don’t make this harder than it already is,
Stab drive kiss your cheek as my knife twists,
That’s it, let go, find your way to crepuscule.
Fall limp I wrench I grind I cleave and slice,
Slip the slick all moist in slit as I wear your body,
Hehe oh I have been naughty snip your buddy,
Beat behind your breast my breast in flesh.
It’s erotic alive thighs you might make me blush.
I found envy
in the windswept field
filled with bright buttercups
and pollen laced gusts.
Tall grass thrashed
where the angels flashed
and flaunted silver wings.
Made of faith,
exuding grace.
I found rage. Eyes
tied to weights, awake
lying next to carrion
a convulsing vulture ripped away
Her ivory dress, caked in gore
the bald bird always needed
more
I sat silent in the grass,
moping. Hoping it would pass.
Needing something to be the bolt
to shock some sense into me.
Lone atop the hill, it was
just my luck.
Lightning struck.
She struts along the bottom of the ocean floor
Taking her pet for a walk, his name is Gore.
Other fishes and kelp scurry out of the way.
They are not fooled by Gore, he does not play.
It’s a shark! A merman says with a smile too wide.
Find an underground cavern and try to hide!
He won’t eat you until she goes to sleep….
Calls a squid who knows from the depths of the deep.
Writing poems in the algorithmic sands
Washed away by rippling waves on unseen sands
hoping in my drowning one will save me
Or at least a kindly reader someday “fave” me.
John G. Lawless
©11/24/2022
Engines roar and planes soar
Across the beautiful sky's
Engines roar and SUV's tour
Across the fruited plain
Now some guy
Says to you and I
You must not drive and fly
But it's ok for me
To travel the world you see
I'm a special man
From a special clan
Who hails from Tennessee
Poem by: Ilori Mikhail Oluwatosin
Heart Gige.
I missed no soul as
my heart is full of
holes like Nigeria bad
roads full of portholes
I am left with no hope
I just have to let go
perimeter for love is
so low as days
in it has been wallowed
Seeking for time to
borrow I got more
bone marrow while
I thought way to get
it isn't narrow rather
I am living in my on
shadow
Its time to let go thy
carnage in thy heart
have to bow to stop
acting like clown as
tomorrow is brighter
than yellow.
©TheGentleInnocentSoul.
Max her thirsty axe accompanied her into every battle.
Enemies cut down, sliced up upon approach.
She fought for birthright, castle, subjects and cattle.
They could keep her mother’s silly wedding broach.
Her name was HyMcintha the Gore. Her game? Bloody war.
Reputation proceeded her and her mighty magic axe.
She would fly into a battle with her dragon Fire More.
Fire More would take the left plank along with her axe, Max.
Her fiery hair flaming, her cheeks steady, excited and true.
An admirable, formidable opponent, her enemies would flee.
When they saw her coming at them, they would turn terrified blue.
Gave them no mercy, was blood thirsty as a human could be.
Is she not a Goddess? Some asked, watching her fight.
With her blazing blue eyes and her tummy so happy and tight.
Some suspected her to be Mars daughter; she had such an inner light!
Whoever she was, she came swiftly out of the darkest dankest night.
HyMcintha the Gore would be talked about until the end of time.
This blood-thirsty woman who always got out of line.
I loved her to death. She was a favorite great aunt of mine.
She was marvelously gallant, a hero, strength personified and so fine!
OUR BODIES
Our bodies
are practically entrances
and exits
for the open-
ended drama of gore.
Even in the grave,
worms, white
as if practically all fat,
loot us dry.
Hushed Gore
The forest deep carries the biggest gunners
Those who do the most damage
That you remember the most and worst
The school bully who nobody could master
The boxer that no opponent beat
The soldier who loved to fight
The woman who stepped on men
These people carry the biggest guns
And walk thru the darkest glade
Enormous trees surround them
Here there is little or no sunlight
Even on the brightest days
They belong to that world and rule it
We are mere spectators and guests
Visiting them now and again
When their worlds collide with ours
Gaining a glimpse on how they work
And what they do in hushed gore
I jog on by unless gripped from behind
from
Gatoros and Crocos: Lower Case Murky Poems and Ditties Book 2
Nick Armbrister and other writers
Hushed Gore
The forest deep carries the biggest gunners
Those who do the most damage
That you remember the most and worst
The school bully who nobody could master
The boxer that no opponent beat
The soldier who loved to fight
The woman who stepped on men
These people carry the biggest guns
And walk thru the darkest glade
Enormous trees surround them
Here there is little or no sunlight
Even on the brightest days
They belong to that world and rule it
We are mere spectators and guests
Visiting them now and again
When their worlds collide with ours
Gaining a glimpse on how they work
And what they do in hushed gore
I jog on by unless gripped from behind
Then I ask how long?
Gatoros and Crocos: Lower Case Murky Poems and Ditties Book 2
Nick Armbrister and other writers
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