Long Dead meat Poems
Long Dead meat Poems. Below are the most popular long Dead meat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dead meat poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh fly my insect friend
I love you above all things
No one ever really understood why
They took your wings off one at a time
It is hard to get about without them
Walking is difficult too
When they remove some of your legs
Leaving only two to make you look more human
Promising they would never hurt you
Too good to ever hurt a fly
Oh fly, looks aren't everything
No one hugs you or tucks you in at night
But I will love my fly and bring dead carcasses
Spring showers are just the thing to purify
To caress the wingless creatures crawl
Stay away from people with swatters and sprays
To live another day
Please don't die before you eat dead meat
That would defeat the purpose of true love
My bug.... My one and only insect buddy
Because I have a possum for a pet, people think I'm weird.
They're trying to ship me off to the funny farm like my family has feared.
People say that I should have a cat, a dog or maybe a rabbit.
Making pets out of wild animals is my thing, it's a bad habit.
I walk around my town with my possum on my shoulder.
A woman made a big mistake when she asked to hold her.
As she held my possum, she bit off a chunk of that woman's nose.
The woman became angry and violent and she and I came to blows.
I tried to win the fight but she was an expert at judo.
Everybody in my town says that my possum has to go.
It was embarrassing when she beat me up on the street.
I fought like a six year old and I wound up being dead meat.
When that woman put me to the street, it sure wasn't awesome.
Maybe people are right, maybe it's time to get rid of my possum.
In the zodiac of poets with furrowed brows, born from the shadow of the world devouring the moment,
I am tired of narrow verses, of word sculptures without soul and echo.
Poems that whisper, halt - they fear their own sneeze,
Now is the time for Big Poems,
that grow from slime and mud, defiantly snatching themselves from heaps of disdain.
It's the time when the verse rummages through the dark stomach of existence,
To bring forth heavy, bloodstained poems, born of vomit,
Poems that pull out the carving knife, that let their feather fall into nightmare.
It's the time of these titanic works, poems caught in steel chains,
Verses without truth are naught but dead meat on the skeleton of time.
Hungry souls demand big poems, to fill their empty canvases,
That roar, moan, and crackle, not those that quiver under a brittle twig.
It’s the time for poems like raging rivers in the heart of forests, that battle with the rock,
That grapple with conflicts, not those that retreat at the first attempt to fall.
Now is the time for poems with bones, with hearts beating in rhythm with untrodden centuries,
With blood and pitch, with wounds that give no peace, that ask no forgiveness,
That sprout from the cold earth, dismantle templates and birth revolutions.
It's the time, for giant poems, that burst from the cracks of the soul,
Make us hold our breath, to feel as the heart breaks and rises, big and Majestic.
Hollow eyes of a skull shrouded by a heavy mist
People suffer condemning others within foul hate
Hateful stares piercing through the back of their skulls soul domain
Raping hearts violently shred inner purity
Inside deep council weeping in ugly visions hurt
Tainted with nightshades unforgiving it creates wars
Ugly bitterness seeping into their spines chilling
Nobility breaking chains in bondage heart aching
Blood sucking leeches drain life from the living temple
Greedy vultures picking dead meat from the bones altar
Twisted talons, judgment overpowers emotions
Merciless machines killing without love and conscience
Turns upside down human virtue inside this world's wrath
We all know our hearts plea for justice's sake writhes in lies
Devoured by parasites, greed is the choice of weapon
Yet ignorance plays its role turning blindly the eyes
Rolling down crocodile tears, colorless emotions
Tears bleed bathing inside heartache's shameful reminder
Raindrops of deep hurt remains within salted old wounds
Holding love as the most precious and purest gift pearl
Undying beauty fading ashes dust blowing
Over memories stored in a yellowish photo
In what is right and what is wrong we cannot deny
Rainbow remnants pull on a thread of thought sewn deeply
A Collaborated Poem by Liam Mc Daid and Angeline lim
This poem is written in the Unheavenly style that we created. It's written in 6 lines of 13 syllables.
I tried to be strong, tried to be good
But staggering through hell
I’ve seen things that nobody should
I see the evil radiate and warm many souls
I turned my heart to stone
Thinking it was enough to keep me pure
But evil creeps, hunts me out, I’m sure
Happy and carefree I use to be
Love in my heart, overflowing for all to see
Hateful world, despair is all I now see
Putrefying piece of cold dead meat
Joy there was, now becoming obsolete
We should each keep to our own
I say to those, who turn on me
The pain and hurt you unleashed on me
Keep it afar do not further infect me
Or wrath unknown, you will set me free
You will experience fury like no other
The deepest depths of my inhumanity
Will drive you into infinite insanity
I will have nothing to lose
Retribution to gain
Blackness will be my soul
I will let darkness rain...
(another dark one :-) ...)
What the Dickens! Santa ain't wearing knickers
well his pants got caught inside the chimney
now here's the kicker...
Little Joe woke up in the middle of the night
and gave Santa such a jolly fright
now here's the kicker...
It was drafty there wasn't any gas nor heat
Mrs. Chump snored upstairs like dead meat
now here's the kicker...
Mr. C was 5 feet tall and wasn't a Clause at all
he didn't know how to rob Peter to pay Paul
now here's the kicker...
The real Ms. C owned a solar panel, Oh what fun
gave it to Ming Ming who flew like a Son Of A Gun!
now here's the kicker... Eh !
He burned Santa's pants then laughed, giggled, scoffed
but as Santa danced around the sun poured in the loft
now here's the real kicker...
Christmas was a blast now little Joe C could finally be,
toasty as a glow worm in a house built for three.
Merry Christmas Everyone !
Love,
From Santa's Girl :)
She was only a whore they said
Just a druggie on the game
Most of the papers couldn’t be
Bothered to correctly spell her name.
Just an illegal immigrant tart,
Part of one of those foreign mobs
Over here to claim our benefits
Ot take over all of our jobs.
Not one of your high class call girls
Who service the Commons and Lords
Free of the general approbation
Such elevated status affords.
Not your enthusiastic amateur
Who put it about for free
Or one of those who’ve made it
By appearing on reality TV.
Not your free loving aristocrat
Hopping gaily from bed to bed
No, just a common street walker
Who unfortunately ended up dead.
Having so dehumanised her as
Just another lump of dead meat
Who earned herself a living by
Selling cheap sex on the street
This allegedly Christian nation
Doesn’t really bother anymore,
Just turns to the sports page
For the latest footie score,
Or, the very wealthy
With no real material cares,
To financial pages to check
Returns on stocks and shares.
Some mother, father or child
Who won’t see her anymore
Are suffused with pain and grief
Even though she was only a whore.
I walk a lonely road as a ghetto pitbull/
With pride and honor, I'll always have a fistfull/
I don't take no bull from anyone or any spirit/
I never had no one to feed me, I eat off the land/
Back against the wall, paws on the concrete/
Living life fast with my mask, trick or treat/
My life isn't sweet, it's really dead meat/
Trying to make ends meet with my books and music/
My friends come and go, they come as they please/
It seems they only come when it's time to eat/
And always off my plate, and as a platoon/
So I feed everyone, with a long handle spoon/
They call me a goon but I really howl at the moon/
I'm a ghetto pitbull coming to your hood soon/
So before you try to judge me from what I do/
Take a look at my past and see what I been through/
I'm a ghetto pitbull so just give a dog a bone/
Where I lay my hat is my home, I'm a rolling stone/
I seem to always roam in the worst gutters/
And all my dogs are the baddest of the bad/
They never believed me and probably never will/
Even with the skills that I posses, I outshine them all/
With these skills, they still don't believe me/
Any microphone, any instrument, any rhyme, any riddle/
Any opponent, I outshine them all like Johnny Fiddle/
Betting against me is the wrong predictions/
It should be a crime and I'm handing down convictions/
I'm the metal God, pitbull of the Gods, go ahead, crucify me/
I'm a sacrificial lamb, I was sent here on a mission/
Sometimes my life gets hectic but I love it that way/
Because the thrill keeps me going, see I'm different, ok/
I was raised in a place that nobody came to visit me/
I've seen all walks of life, I've seen the craziest of the crazy/
In the ghetto as a ghetto pitbull, get my gist/
Now they see me coming back, I know they're shaken/
Smile now cry later has always been my motto/
Sleeping on the pitbull is a hard pill to swallow/
Panning in frigid water for a nugget called freedom.
The seed of the dream sprouts in the mind.
Deserts are brimming with icy coyote eyes
The mountains, though lovely, grow higher.
Barely alive, the hopeful lies battered
Dust devil dreamers - roses tossed into the fire.
The worthwhile journey never has an ending.
Tough miles gather like sparrows on broken fences.
Cartels and sex barons thin out the flanks.
Hope waning-wailing-chalk hearts in the rain.
For the worthy, lady liberty patiently awaits.
Those with clean nails and fine fancy homes.
Shove barbed wire agendas down blue-collar throats.
Buzzards hover above, dreaming only of dead meat.
Anarchists and pretend patriots bloody the streets.
Front page nuggets whittled down to fine print.
Only rattlers and God know where dead dreamers lie.
The masses become immune to imminent death.
Dust devil dreamers and roses tossed into the fire.
Mein Kampf...Self Imprisoned Gulag
Onset of conception wrought significant
destructive quantum sized genetic quark
invisible, fissile, and congenital skull,
sans crossbones deathmark
scythe kill logical metastatic
psychic path head shrinking Reichsmark
financial reparation taxed this human bark
at peril of ark
covenant fomenting incruent
lacerating psychological ordeal
triggering mythological hound fierce bark
king Cerberus from Hades
bajillion times more
ferocious than a shark
oppressive teeth gnashing
jawbreaking, human prey stark
dead meat, bleak fin de siecle lifespan
razor sharp teeth trademark
death sentence worse
than totalitarian regime,
emasculating, defeating, crushing any spark
to muster livingsocial jackknifing
sole ambition waiting, Clark
Kent (alias superman) powerless,
thus letting me die non staining watermark
as permanent solution
freeing relentless gravestone mark
piercing, sundering, and vitiating
against nemesis, sans panic attacks
exacerbated by infiltrated FARC
militia firearms at the ready,
where soul will peacefully park
amidst cognoscenti immune to snark!