Long Necrosis Poems
Long Necrosis Poems. Below are the most popular long Necrosis by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Necrosis poems by poem length and keyword.
I scream, I scream, as I tremble in dread!
The death bells toll, and I hear their piercing knell.
The grave, the grave, where I lie as if dead;
like a corpse buried deep, deep in bipolar hell!
Darkness and gloom, woe and despair, I know.
Like sheep, my Joy is carried to the slaughter;
and torn out, her heart's eaten by the black crow,
as fresh blood spills, and mingles with water.
Pure Bliss, the stuff of Joy, is never mine.
Like meat for sacrifice, she is killed and bled:
her soft flesh, cooked with herbs, oil, and spiced wine,
is prayed over; then devoured till all are fed.
So, it is! This manic-depressive disease:
a malady, a curse, an evil psychosis,
a bane and blight of the sick and ill at ease,
a mental illness of persistent necrosis.
Hands tick in motion but I hear naught
of the onslaught of killing time depicted.
Minutes run past me in tarred darkness
as the visions in my brain are obscured.
Clocks eat away moments of my life.
I admit I'm nearly frightened to death
of those mimed hands whose strokes
stab me with each gasp of breath I take.
Round and around, silent warning given
in gross opposition to the beastly roar,
aped by masses of such foolish people,
oblivious that my plight is also their own.
Reticence gives no relief to assault. I see
my fate's demise, and frightened I shall be
until death's full tariff has set my soul free.
Rhythmic tickings makes no difference to me.
Silence staggers my soul to substantiality.
Blinded by fear of my imminent necrosis,
I cannot traverse those two roving needles,
hellbent on stinging me to my neon grave!
Passage of time is but a travesty of life
in which man has no occasion to amend.
In the end, death haunts us all in silent
whispers; echoes of cruel scheming hands.
==========================
17th of April, 2016
There is a bounty for our hearts Luv,
gold and fame for the flat riders who dare lower our flame
seeking to steal our fortune of raw carnal currency, our soul gold,
Love's law has decreed our passion a sedition against tradition,
a violation of virtue, a willful act of feral freedom, unauthorized love prize,
the old and ossified Judges are corrupt with dry eyes
the flesh upon which these laws are scribed suffers from necrosis,
they allege we are prisoners of passion
they say you are my **** of seduction
they assert I am your beast of brawn taboo
they know not that you are a rose of fire within my heart,
they fail to realize that I am your lion of lust and trust,
they squawk and hiss in their chambers of spoiled embers,
jealous and freezing from forgotten romance
what do they know of our embrace and fury,
When we cry for eachother, when we touch like none other,
when we come for one another, when we battle with scorching thunder
our love justice soars supreme, our only law, to love with rebel youth, to never surrender -
J.A.B.