Long Corpses Poems
Long Corpses Poems. Below are the most popular long Corpses by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Corpses poems by poem length and keyword.
Eternal friendship
(A walk in a cemetery)
Realm of the dead, cemetery, everyone here is the same, one.
I look at the dates, years, and names on the tablets of stones
This is the place where centuries meet, friends are here, and lost souls are.
Realm of the Living When I walk through the cemetery, I feel
I feel I feel the souls, the hearts beating underground.
I feel the buried lives, all of them, together and with me, although
This place is the Walking Dead. I'm dead too. I will not give up, never soon
That's why I won't give up. After all, who and what can be done against a dead person?
... unapprehen...
Although some people kick the corpses, they squirm with joy,
... the furnace is death to them also
I walk in the realm of the dead and their common life, it's already my world.
My world, that's why I have no death after death, already has arrived in my new world.
This is eternal friendship here, the dance of the dead surrounds me, and frozen hands hug me...
... I'm alive again...
... on the new old world
"There is no outlet for words from a freedom that lets ink flow.
The blood of my pen is imprisoned in the cells of insomnia.
And the tears of awareness of perceptions dissolve the concepts.
Knives of greatness slaughter my sensory nerves,
And kill motion in the rhythm of continuity."
"Eyes feed on fragments from the sting of a memory of ecstasy.
The scene of the idea is a link between time and gravity.
And the positioning of the moon suppresses the age of my watery senses.
The places suffocate, they sweat, and the dates burn.
There is no stranglehold on meanings from the slavery that freezes war."
And whenever that barefoot voice was narrowed,
It swallowed gulps of old music,
And cast the shreds of its deformed thoughts into a dump.
And stanched the bleeding of its heart with a knife.
It roamed the emptiness of the hollow city,
The muddy alley of the neighborhood, and drew its lungs as a chimney,
And kept gathering the smell of corpses of its words,
And piled them in a soak.
It is after noon at night and at dawn.
If he obeys and comes, he will soon approach sunset,
And the darkness will extinguish.
But if he refuses, the bleeding of my mind will continue,
And the flowing of words from me prolonged,
And silence will keep striking my hearing and tearing it apart.
Fires will be burned in my soul and ice frozen in my heart.
Then the stone slides into the river of our garden,
Breaking the water, shattering the air,
And trespassing on the laws of physics,
Where butterflies sprout and blossom,
And roses swim in our sky, from butterfly to butterfly.
There we listen to the calm chirping of branches.
On the wings of the birds of repentance,
we watch from beneath the mountain’s summit
The stars of our earth, how they fade while shining,
And the darkness will not extinguish.
In this world of ours, armies practice love instead of war.
They exchange showers of perfume and bullets of kisses.
And when they attack, they dance, and win without fail,
To rejoice in drinking music by night,
And consuming books by morning.
THE GATE OF DEATH
I will shut my gate; and no man can open it.
And if I open it; all men shall come in once because of hunger in their world.
The bodies that entered me daily is unbearable.
The entrance of my gate has been battered.
Come with your money; ye affluence that desire my beautiful gate.
The weeping voices , blood stain of the innocents and the curses that follow some death into my gates; Scared me.
I am only an entrance for your journey and not comforter of the bereaved.
I lift up my gates, for evil souls to enter without security check on them, yet they refused to enter.
They are waiting to snoop –on my gate; in my gate no detective enters and return.
The imagination of hell kept many souls from dying,
The gate of death where only the dead in Christ dances for eternity.
My entrance is a sepulcher of peace for those that come in full age and lived rightly.
Gate of death where entrance is optional.
The faces of sepulchral, gloomy and somber tone voices of farewell never seize.
Foot prints of the dead has broken my gate.
But the architectural splendor of my gate which split personalities;
Whenever they come in contact,
I will shut my gate against unhappy faces; and corpses will walk freely with the living until the time appointed.
Written by
Pastor Emmanuel Brown Omojevwe
Within the stand where armies hide
with little but sticks and stones
come forces too large to abide
who’ve traveled far from home.
Armed to the teeth with planes and tanks
they’re here to garner wealth
for when the rebels meet their end
they’ll be little need for thanks
and certainly none for stealth
and little left but corpses to attend.
Civil war bring the vultures out in men
the mercenaries who fight for gold
the corporate war mongers rush to attend
The starving do as they’re told
for why not fight for mother land
and die for those left behind
a bullets death is easier than wasting
and is what man’s honor demands
If only, if only, man was less unkind
less prone too warring and debasing.
It was an altar of prayer
but God didn't rise
evil entered the house in a noble disguise.
Bullets were strewn
sanity was killed
bodies fell as corpses
blood did spill.
And hatred had the victory
on that grisly day, it seemed.
It was pain, agony and cry
they felt in their mind and hearts, they were the kin
of the happy churchgoers.
"I forgive you" those words they uttered
time and time
the evil stood in silence and just smiled.
People made a human chain
and prayed
and it was not revenge that struck the deal
but forgiveness that prevailed.
Love had its last smile
and it triumphed at the end.
When I lift my eyes, the sky offers no stars,
only missiles parading with arrogance.
Before me, mountains of corpses rise,
my pupils dilated by human savagery.
Humanity has been consuming itself for millennia,
and I bear the guilt of all those cowards
who watch peoples fade away
behind screens, instructing the purveyors of war.
I arrived in this macabre dimension
like so many innocents cut down by bombs.
The Earth groans under the assaults of unbalanced men,
who plunder its entrails,
who sow hatred, death, and chaos
since time immemorial.
The oceans vomit waves of cadavers,
the hurricanes carry the scent of desolation and fear.
Nations crumble beneath the laughter of tyrants,
and children, bare-handed, learn to count
the bodies falling into the mud of oblivion.
I walk amidst these ruins,
listening to the groaning of stones,
a powerless witness to the unchained pride of men.
Crushed hearts weep for their torn roots,
death swallows secrets that no one tells,
and the sky has become nothing but a theater of fire and iron.
In this open-air junkyard,
the sparks of love persist, stubbornly burning,
like a breath even death cannot smother.
He slips the noose around her slender neck
Cloaked and masked with heavy breath
He can't help but be obsessed
All the dolls hangin' around - pretty little lies that make not a sound
The poison of passion is imagined as they are undressed.
The dead in their eyes is magnificent
Ivory skin - chill to win
Realm of the dark, lips apart, he just has to do it - again and again
The equinox of evil with the essence of sin
Is it vanity or insanity - his dressing up to lure them in
Disquiet Devilry and a sip of gin and the perplexity of the evil twin.
The morbid beauty of death and dying
The lovelies I have twirling in the twilight
Death has changed my life - the quiet peace holds the ladies and - I tight
The divinity of debauchery - death is not treachery
It's like an estuary of decadent innocence.
Dainty damsels dangling Breathless but fabulous
Envisioning slitting their throats as if they were flowers
Heinous and horrific the macabre abounds
A carousel of corpses, a ballet of cadavers, a symphony of death
Dazzling
The eloquence of the end-of-life - exquisite and eternal
His masterpiece just hang'in around.....
Burning bodies, staring eyes.
Smoking chimneys, human cries.
Gas chambers for Jews to die.
Frozen corpses piled up high.
Electric wires inflicting pain.
Mass starvation, inhumane.
Old aged people, mental cases
Skin and bone with human faces.
Amputations, detrimental.
Unethical, experimental.
Too weak to stand, debilitated.
Left to die, emaciated.
Open graves deceased or not
Decomposing humans left to rot.
Undignified but freedoms there.
The stench of death was everywhere
Dentists practicing extractions
Gold fillings became distractions.
Unfed, unclothed, discrimination.
The master plan, extermination.
Eradication of a race.
Genocide, mankinds disgrace.
The Nazi party pursued their aim.
As the world averted eyes in shame.
10 / 15 / 2016.
No longer stuck in nightfall
I drove the road that led me
To a place of hope
A realm of memories and fascination
Under the light of a cloudy sun
No longer dark and shining
I see it for what it truly
Represents in this world
A tiny town that's left forgotten
Hiding from sight
No longer imprisoned with you
I can finally light a match and
Burn a purer thought
Cover over all the tattoos
That you scored in my gray matter
Drowning on a metal beach
Universes away, I'm safe and
Changing it all to
An uncanny town that time's forgotten
And left to float away with all the corpses
No longer stuck in twilight
Or stringing memories to you
This quiet country road
Can breathe again without my ghost now
An oppressive specter that left me searching eastward
"You go to sleep," I said
"And I will be there when you wake up."
Lady moon dressed in black
with star children in your lap
are you mourning for the dead
bled and left to earth distress
by barbarous treacherous hands
hunting beasts in hiding dark
leaving blood and body parts
in the secret when you' re veiled
silent dove of weeping night
is it shame for lustful beds
cradled in your mantle nest
secret lovers present past
that your whiteness turns to red
blushing redder than sunset
blood reflecting from the earth
omen it will be poured back
tinting soil and corpses red
just reward for just blood shed.
Then by little and little undress
folding widow mantle back
to reveal an onion smile
filling to a pregnant round
like the soul that wanes and wonders
from the path and step by step
climbs the ladder back to light
past the dove moonlight watch
and the farthest lantern star
to the splendor of God’s Heart
joy of joy song of songs
everlasting spouse of love.
First Place Winner: Brian Strand- All Yours-9/8/20