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Rajinder Sep 2018
You, the ashen alyssum
homing in on dark bushes
breeding maggots
feeding on flesh.  

You the fetid parasite  
carrion, the rotten stink
a toxin laced tongue
devouring pith.

You, the stench of
malignant blossoms
a venomous creeper, you
had to attract snakes.

You live among the graves
the poison pollinator,
a corpse floret
of foul odour.

You the venin
cloaked in smirk
a shrew, spiked with malice
must be crushed,
must die.
Rileigh Shanks Aug 2018
The river stretched out before me,
elven and expanseless.
I faced my opponent without fear or trembling,
my enthusiasm to succeed a far cry beyond healthy trepidation.
I dove headlong into the icy, brackish waters,
brazen and breathless,
determined to reach the far shore before first light.
I did not consider the confusion that would ensue.
The air was forced from my lungs, leaving me hollow,
hagridden and hapless.
I could feel my panic mounting as I pressed onward,
its thin fingers winding around my heart and clawing up my throat.
My vision began to dim, the world around me growing dark,
laden and lightless.
My teeth chattered, my muscles seized.
I could feel my flesh begin to convulse
as I was suddenly watching myself from above.
“Heartbroken and helpless,”
were the only words I could muster as I watched my struggle.
I was taking in too much water but could do nothing about it.
I’d strayed too far from shore and found myself stranded.
Misbegotten and meaningless.
That is what my death would be,
its story going unuttered and avoided,
the lips of my loved ones never being tainted by its recounting.
Panic-stricken and powerless,
I didn’t have the strength to keep swimming.
My arms and legs and chest burned with exhaustion.
I could no longer even see the far shore glittering in the distance.
Even and emotionless,
I allowed my limbs to go limp and my lungs to languish.
I slipped below the waves and let the weight begin to crush me.
I did this to myself.
Laden and lifeless;
I’d breathed my last, my cause of death an uncalculated gumption.
I took the leap with uninhibited lust for the journey ahead,
failing to count the cost or acknowledge the danger.
Misshapen and motionless,
my corpse danced beneath the surface, bobbing and swaying with the current,
cursed to float downstream for an endless eternity.
I’d done this to myself.
War-ridden and wordless,
my spirit writhed in agony.
If only I’d fought a little harder, been a little smarter, held on a little longer…
Maybe it wouldn’t have ended like this.  Maybe then I would have made it to shore.









A bend in the river gently curved before me.
Craven and colorless,
my corpse glided silently along the glassy surface of the water,
a sojourner doomed to serve the current as my unforgiving master,
drifting outside the realm of season and time.
Ashen and aimless,
the waves lapped insistently against my face and arms,
bidding my lifeless form to arise,
reminding me that I did not control them, for they owned me.
Oaken and offenseless,
I heard a voice whisper through the trees and along the river’s surface,
breaking the deafening silence of death
and causing the forest to thrum in tense anticipation.
Beholden and boundless
the motion of the river suddenly broke,
releasing my limp body from its eternal clutches,
expelling me from its unquestionable cycle.
Frozen and futureless,
my corpse moved toward the shore as if propelled by some unseen force,
my hair and clothes being tugged at by the low-hanging arms of willow trees,
drawing me closer to my destination.
Sudden and seamless
the still small voice came again,
beckoning me by name to breathe,
to return to the land of the living and carry on undaunted.
Awe-stricken and angstless,
I gasped as air was ****** into my lungs, a spear of Life driven into my chest.
I trembled as my hands gripped the earth,
feeling it move through my pallid fingers for the first time.
Golden and groundless,
I heard the voice once again,
inviting me into abundance and life,
promising me everything I’d died without knowing.
Forgiven and fearless
I stood up, the last vestiges of my grave dripping from my clothes.
I felt the world solid beneath my feet as I followed the voice of my Master.
My deathbed behind me, I did not look back.
Cerasium Aug 2018
The heart bleeds
A crimson red
Destruction and Mayhem
On the bend

Lifeless corpses
Maggots and flies
Clean the once living bodies
That now cling to the floor

Death and his horse
Have so much work
They enlist the help
Of the fates at work

Plagues rise
From hollowed graves
Killing everything in sight
Leaving nothing but decay

Souls arise
The sorrow of mankind
Death follows swiftly
As a helping guide

Pointing to their once warm home
Now but a cold and lifeless feast
Acknowledging self pity
The soul does weep

Crying out for salvation
Of their once beautiful temple
Leaving so suddenly
They take flight

Life seems pointless
In the aftermath of plague
Souls scream out
In hopes of something safe
neth jones Aug 2018
With a raffling breath
I sate death neatly
I am now in trust
Dead
And being played into new life
There's a swelling of new strifes
and wavings from within
Heats of organisms
Worlds accelerating
Pulsion
Gases waste and gases invitations
take place where I have been
A celebration
A bedding
If only The Humans would leave
the 'Dead Body' be
Just when I am finally achieved
They make a bother
I'll make out a doner card
No, a placard
"No Preservation Upon Death !
Corpse Rights Remain !"
Kevin Castro Apr 2018
rested, sealed in a cloud.
through the panes of my reflection,
she lay still. preserved,
at a point in time.

carefully, it was made
a heaven for her,
black, against the snow,
a delicate frame.

freedom, hers was sought
in a vain attempt,
too easily, given up,
it left a desperate mark.

made to cut her loose

unnoticed, beneath her.
her eyes looked forward,
unrelenting, yet absent.
my gift remains pristine.

faded, her elytra
are pale and sickening.
yellowed, they conceal
many writhing guests.

unmoving, she remains,
but a stranger to life.
a gift, she is,
rotting from the inside.
here, i'm trying to project an effect or emotion through the use of imagery. if it's too hard to get what the thing im describing is, i'm not sure who's at fault .

bump pls critque me. also!! a hundred virtual (worthless) points to whoever can guess the exact thing im describing
Rajinder Apr 2018
Her tender skin sprouts
green shoots
a wreath,
at the foot of tree
she was buried.

On the trunk
her face appeared, a
morphed stump.

The bark, her coffin
split, where demons clawed.

A number, worms out
indelible scars, 452.

Frozen chambers of mortuary
await the next,
a child, a girl, a dalit, a musalman.
A cattle herder.
Or, the silent you, you and you.
To the 8 year old Kathua girl, durgged, ***** and murdered.
empty seas Apr 2018
I’ve always joked
that I’m a corpse
with my skeleton hands
always too cold
for comfort
I’ve become
more undead recently
more willing to let myself
waste away
I eat junk
and don’t work out
even though I know
I might as well be killing myself
with how I treat my life
and I think that’s the point
I’ve grown to hate myself
and I deserve to be
a living corpse
Zha Zhap Mar 2018
A sparrow, tweets.
A still creature somewhere in a yellow vacant tweets.
An open-hearted orphan, tweets.
Gloomy buds! They want to be flowers.
Blood drifts through the head and whiplashes me for your affection.
Emotionally choked by a memento-to-be makes me a burnt wood.

Beheaded bodies collapsing;
Time floods the corpses;
****** heads stick everywhere, as memories do.

A dagger stabbed in flesh tears it away;
Dripping blood, trumbling tissue;
The progeny are all already slaughtered.
A face is sprinkled by a loved one reddish gore, autopsying the memories.

Unjust? Carnivore brutality?

Celebrate the night when sun shines;
Hear out the thunderous waterfall noise;
Roll over on green to reach the orange warmth.
Kiss, literally;
Love, figuratively.
Maya Mar 2018
my mind is asleep;
even though i am moving
i am still a corpse.
i can't remember how to be anything else most of the time
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