"cadaveric" poems
hip bones under hips, hips to lips, lisping lips, sheer lace slips, butterfly clips,
heated hips to heated hips
bruised hips under bleeding lips, the pink slip, slow dance dips, managing on meager tips, frisky nips,
tired hip to tired hip
sad lips under comatose lips, archaic fingertips, tightening grips, worn baking mits, lips to head/soul to stars
cadaveric hips to a bleeding heart
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
Bewildered in my own dissolution
Never thought It would come to this
As I stare down the barrel of the past 22 years
I can’t seem to find myself to be missed
For so long I have laid
Scattered like a sheet
Like a ghost throughout the hallways
No eyes to ever meet
How much my soul has lust after
She who is not mine
A friend to call upon
In the darkest of my nights
For there is no escape in this entrapment
Which binds me to the bed
Forced to sit and watch others enjoy their pleasantries
While alone in this room I have bled
As I hold out for what may not appear
Gripping on to the edge for I feel it so near
I wait for the sweet caress of the morning to come
Only to arrive at blackening of my very soul
What I begin to lack in empathy
I make up for in shame
So much this has taken out of me
There’s so much I wish to say
As I sit alone in misery
Watching my youth slowly fade
What he gives
He in turn takes away
For the world has been so callus
Never is anything free
What it rips from your hands
It only replaces with its vile deceit
Nothing more do I want from it
For so long it has remained the same
Take me away from it all
Release me from this state
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
there is a vastness here
where a small breeze,
the size of a decaying sorrow
wakes the cold again
which may be all that’s left of me.
where a diamond pale haze of stars goes on eternal
like sound that has found a final silent shape
on a black sky where it means everything
It cannot speak off.
it’s empty out here, and cold.
cold enough to reconcile
the frozen cries, the kidnapped voices
and the silences that move
with certain cadaveric contractions
along the frozen emptiness
and In the morning when I look out
the previous evening remains
in its blank, cold, unforgiveness
even though I sang for them in
the eternal extensiveness of
the freezing cold, the stones
still cry with mouths opened wide
while the small icy wind and unsympathetic
moon subdue the apricot flowers,
Now the piercing cold day Is no longer enough
For all comprehension escapes me
suddenly jumps with fury hurling terrible hostilities to the sky,
as wandering ice spirits without homeland
begin to groan with a vast and vacant voice.
And frozen hearses, with muffled drums
and tragic music, slowly pass in my being
conquered, weeping, freezing
this atrocious iced and despotic place
plants its black flag in my soul
Now I do confess through boreal breath
I don’t think I will ever see the
Red Tulips again
Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 3:36 PM UTC
I lost the sincerity in my eyes.
A long time.
I spat the fire out,
Replaced with a fjord.
A glacier cut mountain hole.
Shake and fake trembling.
I killed a little boy in my head
Using logic as a razor to cut his throat and sever his spine till all the jelly in it spill.
Replace with a steel core.
Unmoving.
Brittle, albeit,
Courser skin.
Less heart,
And more dead.
Cadaveric,
No love inside.
Only abhorrence,
For every single existent existence.
But I got girls.
What's that helped me.
Continuation of cycles of self-deprecation.
Grew roots,
Spread limbs,
But cut the phloem out.
Bleed the ******* sap.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC
Dancing and jiving to the sound of the heart monitor in the back
Your seizing like a seizure and im beating like a heart attack
Grandma's dead
Dad shot her in the head and we’re
Drinkin and dancin tonight
I feel FINE
And we can slide through the slick halls
Flirtin with the white walls
and sign that everythings always alrigh
****** all up in her feeding tube,
Take a shot of anesthesia every time she makes a Cadaveric move
Yeah grandmas livin it up tonight
Now we’ll moonwalk into a birthing center just to step to those jarring screams
You've got syringe glass in your hair. I'm sitting in the doctor's chair. Yeah, I'm dancing with the girl of my fever dreams!!!
spike the ceyline bags with laughing gas, its so funny. not knee slapping funny just so funny.
We’ll have a disco party in the medicare
Weave some new bath towel from fallen cancer hair
Yeah this ***** getting crazy and i'm with you
**** who are you?
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 12:04 AM UTC
I look around at the truly decimated world, beyond a mysterious veil of benightedness.
The trees are cadaveric with shriveled appendages hanging on by simple stitching.
A heavy mist stretches over the streets of vacant homes like webs of great spiders.
Then the sky…
The sky remains grey like the eye of a winter’s storm,
Calm.
Ashes from the wings of burnt angels list slowly to the ground like snow.
Then the angels fall with a sudden fleshy thump of an ending.
Their screams as they fall are the only sound resonating besides the wind in my ear,
Whispering.
“You killed them.”
“Do you hear them screaming?”
“Are you deaf?”
I swear,
I hear them but can do nothing.
Burning innocence is simply – the nature of man.
Who am I to douse these flames?
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 12:37 AM UTC