mephitic odor
turkey buzzards got there first
death in cornfield
think it is murder
silly novice detective
wouldnt there be crows
Fall leaves tumble to their slipshod decay,
oozing from the crowns of tedious trees.
A mephitic scrunch with their latter sway,
as they are raked into wide whisking seas.
Coral-hued yew berries grace the yard's path,
late hollyhocks, and sunflowers shine bright.
Marigolds adorn door homes with gold lath,
thorn twigs in crimson holes dapple faxed sight.
As the bounty of nature sparks strange start,
saffron periwinkle countless bright shades.
Giving a boost to the Fall grandeur art;
the hues of oak trees fluctuate by glades.
Topaz leaves stuck in a sapphire whisk breeze;
fall reveals deep facts, a sprint ember squeeze.
Deciphered deceptions that the summer brings,
As the cathedrals crumble for the corona Kings…
Units ubiquitous unleashed with sweeping strings,
Infectious isolation internal as the contagious clings…
The wounded wander amongst the Hellion hordes,
Where the good battle evil with spiritual swords…
Incurable innocence isolated within their wards,
Inoculable irritations brought by the overlords…
Pestiferous pestilence penetrates through the veil,
Miasmatic megalomaniacs marauding their fail…
Incoherent illusions of their toxicant slaving scale,
For the mephitic wars will end and Love shall prevail.
...stay safe while spreading prayers, peace & love, not the Virus...
March.23.2020
What Matters Most To You
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Placed 1'st...Thank You
Let's SEE What's in the laundry hamper?
" One a soiled cloth diapers
a fierce icky stinkysocks
some noxious obnoxious unclean towels
horrid stinking under-shorts
unappetizing horrible awful grubby baby bibs
Oh, my some mephitic nauseating obscene panties.
Musty nauseating odious under shirts
soiled squalid uncleanly pants and jeans
awful dirty filthy blouses and dresses
guess I’d better presoak and presort some of this mess???
9/27/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
I feel you like a gaping wound,
A great fetid, gangrenous maw
That will never close.
I feel you eating me alive,
Your disease,
Penetrating brain and bone
Psyche and soul.
Leaving me twisted, broken
Decrepit and defiled.
Your love is vile.
You whisper promises
To spiders and flies
Of my stone-dead corpse
Rotting in silence
Amid decaying forgotten things.
Gladly,
I kissed your putrescent lips,
I tasted your sanguine affection,
Ingested your infection.
You have become my drug.
My life.
Loathsome,
Yet I love you still.
Lost in your mephitic grace,
Wasted.
I wait…
You are the shine that blinds
And distracts me from the pain
Of your ministrations,
Your manipulations.
You sing and caress
As your virus oozes through my veins,
Burning away all that I am.
You kiss and cajole me
Into believing that this is love.
Lust.
I feel your desperate hunger
As you burrow deeper inside me,
Hollowing my heart
For your carnal pleasure.
It feels like love.
Your emptiness feels like home.
So long now, drifting ... stumbling in dark nightmarish puddles of ire
This numb, walking-zombie existence, in-and-out of Hell like a spinning door
All for the sake of a misguided decision ... and the freedom from pain
A euphoric hunger, first ... complexities and pressures (falsely) gone
Thereafter traded for an ache and sickness and anxiety beyond comprehension
THIRTY years now ... far longer than most, (I shouldn't be here, that's given)
Heart stopping thrice, thanks to the poison that courses my marrow, cold
The infernal poison I would now die without (damned if you don't)
But I am claiming my life back, TEARING it up from its twisted, mephitic roots
Fighting like I never have ... twelve YEARS battling this monkey monster!
Oh, he still laughs ... mocks ... spits truth in my face by each and every hour
But I am CLOSE, I know it, see it, every day just a BIT nearer ... baby steps
I will slay this vile beast and lay the forsaken thing to rest ... in COLD ground ...
And I will welcome the newborn, breathing, FEELING me ... to LIFE!
Two hands spread out, firmly against a glass door,
Silently terrified in a sheer black shadow.
The room is frozen, it’s cold and asleep,
Through the window floats a shady grey rainbow.
His eyes weren’t there, they were black as a death,
As menacing as a wolf on the prowl.
And he eased into the dark, the deadly still dark,
And he began a guttural, mephitic growl.
She leapt, not thinking, through the glass door,
Shattering everything into millions of shards.
The house disintegrated behind, the wolf man shivered too,
As though it was a house made of cards.
This demon chooses to visit her, wherever she is,
Visits in the cold, dark space in her mind.
There’s nothing she can do, since first attacking her eyes,
She’s in the dark, forever made blind.
What malodorous substance do you use,
to cover the lies you tell?
Do you not even notice now,
the way it gives off a smell?
It corrupts everything you touch,
it poisons the very air.
Wilts away all the new life,
til only the old is there.
Friends once caught in conversation,
can now only hear burnt words.
Only falsely spoken cries from
fallen dying birds.
I want so badly to believe again,
that the words you say are true,
in this apocalyptic wasteland, though,
the most distorted thing is you.
far
from
a
flowering,
fluorescent,
flourishing,
&
pleasantly
fragrant
facsimile of
flora herself,
the
stapelia star &
the
s. pulchella,
the
s. hirsute &
no
one
can
forget
the
s. variegate
(that special
phosphorescent
“beauty’)---
all have
gained
the nickname
“the rotten-
egg plant”
for a reason.
avec a
coriaceous
constitution,
the stapelia
spits out a rancid
stench
reminding one of
rotten & decaying
animal flesh,
or decomposing fruit
left too long in the
sun---
mephitic & aesthetically
shite
to the close observer.
staring at you like a
zebra starfish
out for the
kill---
professed through
a
fantastically
fetid
fart---
the stapelia
remains one of
south africa’s
sparkling
&
sensational
crosses
to
bear---
boisterously blossoming
in the autumn &
summer months---
for our
“enjoyment.”
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