There was no rancour in the brain, or canker,
no legions, in fact this brain could be re-used,
the heart had been torn apart but looked perfect,
what had caused this terrible damage - what do you expect?
Had it received a constant battering from others,
by having palpitations and too many lovers?
just a red pump indeed, without blood delivery
to the brain, none of the organs would survive.
He placed the heart to one side, the right -
it had spent it's life on the left, so bereft,
how could it be punctured with no mark,
and lived a life, a dead cert for being hurt.
Did you hear about the Greek necrophiliac?
George Fucacarcous, might have been infectious.
Categories:
necrophiliac, death, heartbreak, life,
Form: Prose
“Hi, my name is Dave, the local zombie,
I don’t see you around here often.
Would you like to go out for a drink,
Or would you like to come back to my coffin.”
Hmm, she ran, she couldn’t leave fast enough,
Maybe it was my brand of after shave.
Or maybe it’s this dark end of the cemetery,
Just maybe I need a new grave.
You see, I find it hard to meet new women,
A chaotic woman, preferably a haemophiliac.
I’ve now joined an internet dating site with,
“Shy, lonely zombie seeks beautiful necrophiliac ".
Zany poem contest
Categories:
necrophiliac, humor,
Form: Quatrain