"disembowelled" poems
Picture God rocking on his chair, tired and fatigued
by this constant perpetual cycle of this vanity fair
where Man proclaim themselves deity
and have unconsciously agreed to be disembowelled of their spiritual piety, in exchange for the reimbursement of this physical tangy
they call Reality.
What a kiss of life!!
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 6:53 AM UTC
i am lost in the wisp of your faltering
the fluttering of concrete entrenched
into stoic rigmarole
to reach out layer by layer
peeling unearthing
a catatonic subdivision of disjoint subdivisions
a limit ordinal
between touch and feeling
where we kiss on the cusp of that silent ocean on the edge of sound
drowned in the nebulous familiarity of
a distant melody
a tired resolve
re solve the old puzzle muscle memory's misted amnesia
half the pieces falling out the warn tinderbox
inarticulate drowned severed isomorphisms over
brea(d)thless infinities
self adjoint matted topologies
nestled snugly in the amniotic absolution
of form before being
hands of matted ice
contorted into perfection
by the sculpting propensities
of undulations of estrangement,
where we touch in the cusp of self reflections thousand mirrors inverted propensities
infinite infinitesimals
nestled meromorphic partitions
hidden corners in the brevity of dusk
multiplicities fragmenting behind empty veils
( to be seen is to be made discrete
to be discrete is to flicker
and disappear
(inevitably invariable
inevitable invariability))
we
stand in a waterfall of gravel
and drown our voices in the choke of our cellophane hearts
caked
into fillets of aphasic tundra
where we whisper our nothings in the desert on the boundary of silence
our words
escape us
like rats from shipwreck
we are
disembowelled catharsis
intentional and fatuous
retching upon itself
severed
and free
and dead
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC
A silence of mind
and vinegar wine,
the shopping precinct
a disembowelled mine.
Bombs stain the mountains
to build a hotel,
for tourists to buy
a wish from the well.
A wish for comfort
and one for new love,
in marital bliss
and skyscapes above.
Escape from their God
of tablets and time,
of substitute taste
for tonic and lime.
Escape from their want
of waistlines and faith,
relief from the haunt
of some childhood wraith.
Travel sets its price
to find your own face,
to find there's no cost,
in finding your place.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
And did those sorry feet bleed as you left.
Walking slowly.
Charismatic in their wake.
As oblivion so obvious calls.
Cherished dream of kindness died.
Not sorry nor sad.
A special kind.
Door closed locked tight.
Charitable ways disembowelled.
As vultures chew flesh from beautiful bones.
Discarded in sorrow's wake.
Pray not become forsaken.
For she shall not.
She will not wallow in lost dreams.
Woman will create anew.
Adam's apple choked him.
Drowned in saliva.
One long acidic flow.
Tongue twisted.
Virtually removed.
She wants no whisky nor no wine.
To live no more a silly lie.
Believing in nothing more or less.
Than wait and see.
When at seventy I reflect upon the love we felt.
The tragic wasted hands were dealt.
Without regret.
Be it alone or as one of two.
Poet man I shan't forget you!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 5:31 AM UTC
a well-starved leech on my
mind. An ore beating
through the tumultuous sea of
my stomach. I struggle to reach
reach out
and
lift
lift myself
to
freedom, upon that boat -
oh, almost so… tangible;
oh, almost a light at the end…
The boat pushes faster,
h
harder,
the waves licking desperately at
it’s splintered hull for just
just one
one taste
one salt-splaying,
spliced
taste
…at the end of this disembowelled
sewage pipe called love.
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 9:08 AM UTC
Yes, you have some parts of me
And yes, I know it’s true
That every single part you have
Belongs only to you.
I gave up my identity
And did away with pride.
I let myself be disembowelled
By waves from your loves tide.
But even when the storms hit
Or blue sky turns to black,
I’d sooner crawl home incomplete
Than take my pieces back.
Yes, you have some parts of me
And yes, I know it’s true
That every single part I gave
Will now fit only you.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 9:12 PM UTC
oh don't get me wrong, i loved Midnight in Paris,
but with this latest movie i realised
the technique he was using, like someone reading
from a book in a bookshop -
and with every film i ever saw by Woody Allen
i just had one plot line running through my head:
a Jew looking for Auschwitz -
i bet there's a whole bunch of them feeling they missed
out on something grand like paying the gas bill,
and true to the word, the ones who have will
be stoic and silent, while the ones who haven't will
start a queue of mouthing everyone off;
is that short for ceramic marionettes or snowflakes
or something? you ain't made from sugar, go
run in the rain, you ain't gonna melt;
now, is that short of a straitjacket? i was gambling on
banking in my air miles by now - if i was born
on an aeroplane in the 1980s i'd have a U.N. passport;
citizen transcendental, ethnicity: helium.
i preferred the Woody Allan choke though, about
how each of his films have the plot: a Jew looking for
Auschwitz; i should really write a petition to the Polish
parliament about shifting that dung-heap of bricks to
Germany or Israel or something, i don't mind
the Malbork castle, that shit-pile can stay -
but can these chimneys be moved elsewhere, i'm getting
this itchy cockroach feeling Poland will have it
hard on advertising tourism if it's only Jews that come
here to only one place, and nowhere else,
on memorial day...
i mean, Czechs have Prague, the Hungarians have the Danube...
it seems the only fascinating thing about Poland is
the former capital of Israel, Auschwitz - well thank
**** we have the Dead Sea and the scrolls or i'd
never imagine why i'd pity Jesus and not Isiah prior -
disembowelled, cut in half... hello?!
- and that great Tel Aviv chandelier sprout -
or that thing in the desert we call the shopping mall -
Dubai, that's the one - get a camels' teeth necklace
all year round - and a free ****** massage by another
set of camels, free of charge - ooh gucci gucci goo,
look at those fluffy lips... can imagine just dunking a
leprechaun right in there for a *** of pearls.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 3:49 PM UTC
Driving along then a heard a murmur and the
hairs on my neck crept up,
I looked behind.....
Seeing myself in the back seat, "Don't turn around,
I reacted in fright, I angled my view to see
nothing before my eyes?
Swinging back, I saw lights eclipsing in my sight,
then the impact. I awoke up in the back seat, the force
had severed me from my seat, I was disembowelled.
As my life bled out I looked in the rear view mirror
seeing myself
I said
"Don't turn around,
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 10:52 PM UTC
Thunder roars through the empty halls
Lost, forbidden, in the dreams of the dead
Desolation descends to answer the call
Of petulance, compunction and dread
The horror of the night, haunts the moon
As it shines on the blackness of life
Earth disembowelled by all it consumes
Distorting truth, fouling Gods paradise
Death reigns hard, as love is defiled
His cloak bleeds a bleakness entire
The light of the world, left broken, beguiled
Transformed to filth, desperation, to fire
Jun 11, 2021
Jun 11, 2021 at 5:07 PM UTC
Weakness is there to be exploited.
You learned fast, you saw the siege grow.
Abandoned, alone, countries disembowelled;
You scheme on which way to go.
Once home you rise as the shadow that can –
Fierce loyalty has benefits to come.
Quietly, the wolf, in your sheepskin coat
Plans to undo all that’s been done.
Leningrad’s voice became Yeltsin’s debt
Their safe passage guaranteed your gain.
Control reaches out - your life long advent -
As you tighten that belt from Baskov Lane.
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 11:56 AM UTC
Weaknesses are to be taken advantage of.
You learned fast, you saw the siege grow.
Abandoned, alone, countries disembowelled;
You scheme on which way to go.
Once home you rise as the shadow that can –
Fierce loyalty has benefits to come.
Quietly, the wolf, in your sheepskin coat
You plan to undo all that’s been done.
Leningrad’s voice became Yeltsin’s debt
Their safe passage guaranteed your gain.
Control reaches out - your life long lament -
As you tighten that belt from Baskov Lane
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vladimir_Putin
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 9:31 PM UTC
If there were a bounty on your liver I would have you disembowelled.
I would read the future from your entrails and cry the answer to the crowd.
I would share the prediction with your children to see the look upon their face.
I cannot wait to get started.
I have never had so much interest in the outcome of your fate.
Dec 19, 2021
Dec 19, 2021 at 9:52 PM UTC