Mort Poems - Poems about Mort

We had a prophet in our trailer court His sign said “the Amazing, Seer, Mort” He told fortunes all day long Some predictions were decidedly strong A few naysayers tried to chase him away But the rest of us mobbed up and insisted he stay I will be a queen in my next reincarnated life The woebegone neighbor will soon be rid...

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Y66 Mort means Fred Hampton day in spite your subtle threats I am in no way able to obey any mafia threat during election time I am reminded of the bribes payoffs and dead bodies piling up you must know I cannot agree to provide medical coverage for a Mexican undocumented illegal immigrant my prayers are...

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March hare rides a bike to twinkle town court The rest of the bunnies are a bit jealous of Mort. He thinks he’s all that, and I guess maybe he is. Said a caramel-eating rabbit named Oldie McGizz. Mort hears the chatter, and smiles deep and wide. He has self-confidence, which means he likes himself inside. He keeps pedaling, all the...

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We both got drunk, in briefness of wine of pleasure... We die for an instant in the succinct...

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reality in space representations of perspectives perceived exposures of idiosyncratic questions without answers intent...

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Straight to the cares of sweetest pleasure, souls flying from hence to dopamine treasure. Honey fragrance silver sensation well, weaken consciousness loss of mind to tell. Post inferior nervous spasm fainting episode, the cultural link between coitus and death. Anger management at the intimate edge, Champagne sipping la petite mort alleged. Glorious salvation by Shakespeare intentions, the laughing crowd entertained by symbolic intervention. “For she...

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I love your naked body A canvas for my claws In the midst of pain and pleasure Your bound to do it all From the ripping of the flesh, La petite mort You feel the little death Only one rose knows your name But the thorns are why you came....

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Una or Death, Life: 43, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel's Una ou la mort, la vie: 43 by T. Wignesan As they used to say and keep saying still Nobody ever takes poetry seriously They would like to say that after a long life You have provided us always with verse so pretty Others laugh in the deep of their...

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Una or Death, Life : 42, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Una ou la mort, la vie : 42 by T. Wignesan To love words is to love life itself As early as when he could speak, he understood this Each vowel took on the form of a fruit And he a little peasant from his days at school What he...

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Una or Death, Life : 1, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Una ou la mort, la vie by T. Wignesan Sometimes he wonders what good a poem can be Of course in his case doubting is blasphemy An absurd benumbing of life In truth, what good can a poem serve Where all the overpopulated deaf people despite noises Make believe that they...

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The Passing of the Lord, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s La Mort du Seigneur by T. Wignesan Lord ! I’m unable to think of your passing without crying I count the flogging blows I rain upon you And despair at being exhausted trying I re-open and again open the mortal wound In order that I become the wound inflicted upon you Here’s...

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The Wedding Ceremony of the Dead, Part One, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Les Noces de la Mort by T. Wignesan Orgy of stone ! I drank hate in your inferior parts And bathed during a wild summer our green sepulchres O ! death and my animal mouth became distorted on those decomposed lips which long ago turned strange Stricken by god for having...

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The Triumph of Love over Death My heart, my mind, the two have worked together, Each of them elemented and fostered my spirit. Some day, a stranger stepped in seeking decent weather; The guest waited for the host to meet and gain the merit. Whose turn is this? Whose undertaking? Such was the blather; My heart greeting, my mind retreating, such...

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A number of centuries ago In 1692, in a place called Glencoe Where a massacre took place And the Clan Campbell lost face When neighbours were sometimes your foe http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-4.php...

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Death has a blood-laced eye, Bleary from watching the world. By Christ he is blinded from brightness on high: Lasers of light at Death’s eyes have been hurled....

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