She must have been kicked unseen or brushed by a car.
Too young to know much, she was beginning to learn
To use the newspapers spread on the kitchen floor
And to win, wetting there, the words, "Good dog! Good dog!"

We thought her shy malaise was a shot reaction.
The autopsy disclosed a rupture in her liver.
As we teased her with play, blood was filling her skin
And her heart was learning to lie down forever.

Monday morning, as the children were noisily fed
And sent to school, she crawled beneath the youngest's bed.
We found her twisted and limp but still alive.
In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried

To bite my hand and died. I stroked her warm fur
And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears.
Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her,
Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared.

Back home, we found that in the night her frame,
Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame
Of diarrhoea and had dragged across the floor
To a newspaper carelessly left there.  Good dog.
if I should sleep with a lady called death
get another man with firmer lips
to take your new mouth in his teeth
(hips pumping pleasure into hips).

Seeing how the limp huddling string
of your smile over his body squirms
kissingly, I will bring you  every spring
handfuls of little normal worms.

Dress deftly your flesh in stupid stuffs,
phrase the immense weapon of your hair.
Understanding why his eye laughs,
I will bring you every year

something which is worth the whole,
an inch of nothing for your soul.
I saw forever in your eyes. . .


                Then you closed them.
Wrote this when I found out my husband was in love with another woman.
Sara Jones May 2015
If you ask my friends what I've become
They'll start singing song lyrics
"Tried to find you t the bottom of a bottle, laying down on the bathroom floor"
"You're gone and she's gotta stay high, all the time, to keep you off her mind"
And by God they wouldn't be wrong.
I've taken up these habits and made them my own
Creating my own personal bubble that's headed straight for hell
I'm not saying what I've become is all your fault
But you certainly contributed to my status.
My chain smoking, my drug use, my increased alcohol consumption
My need to drive dangerously fast, stepping into traffic, my laying on blacktops
To everyone I know, it's as if I'm certainly flirting with Death
And I guess its true
And I'm not taking 100% of the blame
Some of it is on you.
Bo Burnham Mar 2015
Cremate me, please
and sprinkle my ashes,

                    pinch by pinch
.                               on strippers' eyelashes.
death wants more death, and its webs are full:
I remember my father's garage, how child-like
I would brush the corpses of flies
from the windows they thought were escape-
their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies
shouting like dumb crazy dogs against the glass
only to spin and flit
in that second larger than hell or heaven
onto the edge of the ledge,
and then the spider from his dank hole
nervous and exposed
the puff of body swelling
hanging there
not really quite knowing,
and then knowing-
something sending it down its string,
the wet web,
toward the weak shield of buzzing,
the pulsing;
a last desperate moving hair-leg
there against the glass
there alive in the sun,
spun in white;
and almost like love:
the closing over,
the first hushed spider-sucking:
filling its sack
upon this thing that lived;
crouching there upon its back
drawing its certain blood
as the world goes by outside
and my temples scream
and I hurl the broom against them:
the spider dull with spider-anger
still thinking of its prey
and waving an amazed broken leg;
the fly very still,
a dirty speck stranded to straw;
I shake the killer loose
and he walks lame and peeved
towards some dark corner
but I intercept his dawdling
his crawling like some broken hero,
and the straws smash his legs
now waving
above his head
and looking
looking for the enemy
and somewhat valiant,
dying without apparent pain
simply crawling backward
piece by piece
leaving nothing there
until at last the red gut sack
splashes
its secrets,
and I run child-like
with God's anger a step behind,
back to simple sunlight,
wondering
as the world goes by
with curled smile
if anyone else
saw or sensed my crime
Ominous Nov 2014
I’ll make you feel the heat of my blood,
but only when I feel yours
in my tongue.
Bo Burnham Mar 2015
I want to beat you to death with a blunt object.

I want to grab one of those high-end fashion mannequins by the ankles and bash your ribcage in.

I want to sharpen fifty pencils, bind them with a rubber band, stick the lead ends in your mouth, and punch the erasers.

I want to strap you to a bed of nails and then strap that bed of nails to the hood of my car so I can watch you suffer as we drive over speed bumps in a mall parking lot during an earthquake.

I want to burn your dog in front of you, mix his ashes with gunpowder, melt his bone-shaped name tag into a small metal ball, load it all into a musket, and shoot you in the face with him.

I want you to somehow survive a terrible car crash and then somehow not survive a small fender bender on the way back from the hospital.
Sarah Oct 2014
Justice is not equality
Freedom is not fairness

It’s better to admit you don’t understand
than to torture the hopeless

Waiting for peace on earth,
you dare to hold your breath

So I’ll let you suffocate;
We are equal in death
Joann Apr 2015
Society: You're so ugly
Girl: But I'm happy
Society: You're too fat
Girl: But I'm happy
Society; You're not pretty enough
Girl: But I'm hap-
Society: Stop trying nobody likes you
Girl: But I'm h-
Society: Nobody cares about you
Girl: But-
Society: Go away why are you talking to me? Loser
Society: Wait where did you go?
Society: Come back!
Society: Why would she kill herself?
Society: She was so pretty and nice and everybody liked her why would she go?!
Society: We will miss you
It hurts people
Sarah Spang Aug 2015
Sometimes beneath close eyelids
I quest to bring you back
As if you were driftwood floating
Downstream on your back.
I dip my hands beneath the veil
And dry away the death
And from my parting, weeping lips
I give you back your breath-
Just like the rising sunset burning
In the summer sky
Paints and saints the mountaintops
And casts their colors bright.



Unrhymed Notes:

Sometimes I dream I can bring you back
Just as simply as dipping my hands into the water
To retrieve a floating piece of driftwood;
Dry the death from your skin
And breath life back into you
The way the sunrise reanimates
The Dark Mountains
Each and every day.

I see your Ocean eyes open
Embrace you like I'm trying to
Fold you into my skin
Where I can keep you always
And feel your summer peach warm flesh
Tangible against my permafrost fingers.

If the dead could talk
Nothing profound would leave your lips
They'd only quirk into a Cheshire smile
And you'd tell me to let go
Relinquish
Move along and stop standing still
Life is for the Living
Death is for the dead
And dreams are for the foolish.


"You dumbass."
Heart in embraces of a platonic love is the most highest form of
affection we share with another person.
It is because one will jump into the fire for his love,
knowing that the only kiss he'll get may be a kiss of death.
For all the friendzoned people in the world. You are awesome!
ellie Dec 2014
Nan,
I wrote this poem for you to keep
As you lie peacefully asleep
To share the stories you once told
Sat in your chair growing peacefully old

I will always remember those days
When I sat up to the table studying the maze
Of thousands of puzzle pieces in my gaze
However I was never fazed
Because you were always there to guide the way.

I will always remember your trips out and about
Although never adventurous I felt,
McDonald's and M&s; without doubt,
Were you favourite places to walkabout

I will always remember your creative flare,
Your knitting needles and you cross-stitch squares,
how you could sit and chat, yet knit with care
Always seemed so unfair  

But most of all, I wrote this poem to say thankyou
Not just from me but from all the family too
For the wisdom and knowledge you once shared
For showing you loved us and that you cared

I wrote this poem to say goodbye
As you watch us from up high
I remember all the fun times we had
As my friend and as my Nan
And I miss you more than words can say

I hope we can meet again someday
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