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[Crime-scene. Time ceases to exist for YOU,
the necrophile. YOU are on top of the corpse.]

YOU:
Cadaver, corpse, a body's just a body
and yes, I'm guilty, sleeping with the dead
it loves me, then it doesn't love me.
                                                             ­ [Beat]

The rosary you must! To rest in peace, so
transfigure me baby while warm on my bed.
Cadaver, corpse, a body's still a body.

Indulge me; martyr to your livid beads
please intercede for me, oh, please I beg
for it loves me, then it doesn't love me.
                                                             ­ [Beat]

Now shall I exorcise you; set you free, from
the purgatory found between my legs?
My body, yours a corpse, but still a body,


And when your sinews loosen, skin erased
by time who shows no mercy for the dead,
will you still love me then, or won't you?
                                                            ­  [Beat]

To resurrect is daunting, but you shall have
the body that my kiss declares undead.
Cadaver, corpse, a body's just a body,
which loves me, 'til it doesn't love me.
                                                             ­ [Exeunt]
Left Foot Poet Mar 2020
<>

she raw whispered, edginess deep in her throat,
combo of delighted annoyance coated in
wary weariness of she-wanted-wonder,
what he wants that I can keep/take?

my untold secrets he knows how?
needy aches unsatisfied uncovering,
his knowings creates unfamiliar needs,
accentuates secretions of secrets discovering

did not ask for revelations without no resolution,
how dare he tense me in private places hid,
my properties aren’t his, my neck, eyes,
tonguing my senses is crazy senseless

this schema, this tracing of a figurine,
braising my body in his, its own sauces,
while perfume of mine unrequested are mined,
taken away in railway cars to his treasure houses

left utterly gagging and gasping
to hell with him, unbounded gone,
to heaven by him, I went bounding up,
giving me that everything I never desired

but only knew him as the my-mysterious,
tales unwritten yet tensed in the familiar,
poems elucidating, all that I didn’t
write, knew,  but never uttered


now, now! all are freely spoke aloud,
outed, foundering, highlighted and now
decomposing me, I’m honestly betrayed by
what he calls the sense, the knowing of the unknown





Friday, March 6th, Twenty Twenty,
2:47am
Prossnip42 Jan 2020
Through the wars and strife, through the pain and blight
He watches
Through the sadness and regret, through the greed and dread
He watches
From the tallest mountains to the lowest fields
He watches
From humanity's ascension till humanity's fall
He watches
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
Novelty means new
A Poetic Novelty?
Explain this to me!
A Poetic Novelty? Can anyone explain what this mean?
Jennifer DeLong Sep 2019
People always find me such a mystery ..
It's how and who  , I am
I am always a bit hidden
I don't reveal it all
For that I leave it up to you
To ponder or guess
it's always interesting the things
that people come up with.
Some funny some so not me
It's not that I'm hiding
or crazy
It's just how , I am it's a bit of my witchy my spiritual self
I find it quite **** actually
So be what it is
I'm just a mystery but if you
really pay attention
You will see I'm not all that
mysterious but you must admit
you kinda like it
That I leave a bit for you to ponder
(C) Jennifer L Dlg 9/2019
A stolen fragment
Of me turns into
A whisper.

Black, envious, engulfing;
My texture too watery,
So I turn into mist.

Entwined by the moon,
a charming shadow
Soft to the touch.

The sorrow in me
Melts quickly
Into the dark.
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