Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Micheal Wolf Feb 2013
I didn't know her
In the coming hours and days I will
I will know of her travels her dreams
Her passions, her brother her, sisters
Her mother, her father and her best friend
Her boss her colleagues.
I will meet you all,
In turn

You see I don't know her
Though now I'm her only counsel
An honoury counsel if you will
A go between, an artist in some ways
I will paint her picture
I will paint it without compromise
It will be a "still" life not impressions
I will give it my all
I always do

We met only a few hrs ago
The bright sunlight in your flowing hair
Eyes fixed in a warm gaze
A smile, yes a smile
Perfect teeth and jaw
Lips the envy of any model
I never heard your voice
Just your last lost breath
Gone now

I don't know you
Yet now your laid bare before me
In the bright light it seems irreverent
You clothes gone your body cold
Why so young, why on a beautiful morning
Why at all

To work now
The attendant comments "You alone?" he is here
As the pathologist enters my colleague arrives
All here ready to go, and yet each of us I swear pauses
Is it respect for her or shock
So young

I know now
I mean I know the cause of death
I've scribbled dozens of post mortems
As has my exhibits officer, shes the best
The drink drivers, the druged the racers
The limbless the headless biker
All have a story, a reason when flesh divided
***** by ***** the answer presents
This time no different a ruptured aorta
Yet different

Ok done
My notes go to be transcribed
We wash, dress. Hungry? Yeah ok
The pathologist joins us for breakfast
He jokes about a fry up "it will be the death of us"
We eat on, it's dealing with it I guess
A last supper for them in a way
A black closure

The picture? Oh yes
Death by rapid declaration. Not a pretty one
One side perfection the other bones exposed
None of them will see that.
The attendant is a seamstress a consummate professional
They will see a friend a daughter a colleague
Not what we see or how we answer their questions
So many questions

I now know more
An amazing daughter, fabulous friend
And a lost lover who worked late
Partied early but didn't drink
Emotional after a romantic split
Fatigued tired out with colleagues
Tieing one on to forget. How then?
You drove home In the mornings sunlight
Radio on you went a little fast only forty two
Miles per hour that is.
At thirty you may have survived
But not today

Now goodbye
The coroner's verdict accidental death
Tired, fatigued you simply fell asleep
Drifted and weaved, you couldn't see his Uturn
You never saw anything again
It was your turn, my job is done
No other to blame all the canvas used
The full picture painted
I never knew you, yet think of you often
Some you simply don't forget
The needless
The good
The honest
Sleep now
Paul Hardwick Aug 2015
Many years ago in my youth
we are talking 60's man
a girl called Lil
told me so
saying peace has become a ***** word
I ask why so?
she said it used to be good
but now the politicians have taken it on
and have given it current misuse
and all the good things like   L OvE   have become maybe
if the   G O D   DAM!
thing fits maybe
before that it was all about LoVe
and your soul
so Lil pronounced peace
has become a ***** word
with so much misue
at that my druged mind exploded
all the rest was far out!
True story P@ul.   I   LoVe YE!
Von White Feb 2019
Imagine figures of sanitation.
Drenched in ammonia and urination.
Insane perceptions purge in disfiguration.
Imagine ***** beneath blisterd bloodied feet.
Rest on alter sharpend blades.
that cut flesh quaintly deep.  
Sick at sights of dreaded sheep.
Hahahahaha
In the woods once more to be disdained.
Pleasure be the self inflicted pain.
Druged up and floating far away.
**** everything.
Despair and anguish ****** up all things.
Rhyming words with words cause **** creativity.
Just pet the duck with that tweaked out sad lady.
It’s all just jokes that leaves even the ill laughing.
Yet once more reality and mockings become blurred in such confusion.
Living life laughing while crying in delusions.
Lyrics/poetry

— The End —