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Zywa Apr 3
Corpses in the street

look like humans, but fake ones --


more like broken dolls.
Novel "Fury" (2001, Salman Rushdie), chapter 6

Collection "Low gear"
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Privilege
by Michael R. Burch

This poem is dedicated to Harvey Stanbrough, an ex-marine who has written eloquently about the horror and absurdity of war in "Lessons for a Barren Population."

No, I will never know
what you saw or what you felt,
****** into the maw of Eternity,

watching the mortars nightly
greedily making their rounds,
hearing the soft damp hiss

of men’s souls like helium escaping
their collapsing torn bodies,
or lying alone, feeling the great roar

of your own heart.
But I know:
there is a bitter knowledge

of death I have not achieved,
and in thankful ignorance,
and especially for my son

and for all who benefit so easily
at so unthinkable a price,
I thank you.

Published by Romantics Quarterly, Poetic Reflections and Poetry SuperHighway. Keywords/Tags: Vietnam War, maw, mortars, rounds, souls, escaping, bodies, corpses, death, heart, roar, bitter, knowledge, thanks, thank you, service, honor, duty, courage, bravery, heroism, patriotism
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Completing the Pattern
by Michael R. Burch

Walk with me now, among the transfixed dead
who kept life’s compact and who thus endure
harsh sentence here—among pink-petaled beds
and manicured green lawns. The sky’s azure,
pale blue once like their eyes, will gleam blood-red
at last when sunset staggers to the door
of each white mausoleum, to inquire—
"What use, O things of erstwhile loveliness?"

Keywords/Tags: death, sentence, dead, cemetery, graveyard, mausoleum, corpses, manicured, lawn, flowers, pink, petals, blue, sky, red, sunset
Anastasia Jun 2019
in an old
old house
there are corpses in the cradles
and an old
delusional woman.
it's reeks of flesh
and baby powder
piled with blood-stained clothes
a "husband" lies
cold in bed
with parts
from "almost-perfect" men
the floor sags
and the stairs creek
the walls echo
with the cooing
cracking
voice
of an old
delusional
woman.
Jose Valle Jun 2019
I sit on the couch staring at my window
Like a camera lens set at a very low aperture
The neighbor’s house across looks blurred
There on the rails of the aluminum frame
I find spiderwebs that I once thought of cleaning
And a few corpses of dead flies in the process of turning into dust
I am told they will resurrect too someday

Above this rail I see a mosquito net panel
Each square centimeter holds a thin layer of dirt
Not the pride of my living room
But to the photographer in me
A collection of micro art now

As a car enters my driveway
I put away the duster from my hand
And open the door for my old man

I forget once again
To clean those spiderwebs and corpses.

-Jose Valle
Amanda Kay Burke Oct 2018
I placed myself second
Because I placed you first
Unconditional lasting love for you
My beautiful perpetual curse

I do not like who I was with you
Used to believe each lie you told
Put up with **** near anything
Long as I had your hand to hold

Staying by your side through Heaven and Hell
We struggled with your disease
Swear my pain was even greater than your own
Begged you to stop down on my knees

I asked how I could help you up
Held me and said "I don't know"
Promised with my hand on your chest
To never give up or let go

I won't let you know how deep it cut
To break the vow I strained to keep
How could I stay and watch us **** ourselves?
When I woke up and you were still asleep?

Sacrificed so much for you
Begging one time you'd realize
I CHOSE to walk behind your shapeless shadow
Knowing destination was destined to be my demise

I wish I had not of trusted you
The one that was not supposed to harm
Wish I could trap naivete
Before you held my foolish dreams in your arms

I long for joy I felt when we were new
As our corpses deteriorate
I am now aware of the hazard loving is
Your heart hangs on my happiness, a very heavy weight
I know you have a heavy heart, I can feel it when we kiss.
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