"evisceration" poems
While tufts of gloom engulfing the sky,
With no space and time between
Us, you and I,
soak ourselves in the stationary delight.
Like a hypersensitive scheme,
Yet an irreconcilable vibe,
You smoke, and I sigh.
While others argue to be or not to be,
You and I, standing in front of Robert Frost’s fork
—to smoke or sigh
Without hesitation,
You choose to hold a cigar in hand,
I choose to release an unknown in mind,
And sigh.
We then, ask each other why
You say, if you ever woke up in evisceration,
You would quit smoking
I say, if I ever woke up in nonentity,
I would stop sighing
Basking in the glow of flickers,
Inhaling the essence of meteoric laughters,
We look into each other’s assuring eyes
—I respect your choice,
as much as you respect mine.
Palpably, we’ve educed a compromise
It’s neither you smoke, nor I sigh.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:11 AM UTC
There is no avenue for escape
Forever dreams now will cease
For hiding in the dark
With ravenous glistening eyes
Is a viscous snarling beast
Cannibalistic
Is its insanity of imagination
Conjuring up visions of
Emotional disembowelment
The soul's evisceration
This immortal predator of the time
An avid consumer of synonyms and rhyme
For it comes to satisfy its appetite
Savoring its prey
Baring broken worn teeth
Blackness will swallow the shimmering day
Peer round the corner
Pools of thought
Cool translucent eyes
Hear the echoes of coming destiny
It is the satisfaction of the blood hunt
The breath of a warm sigh
Venture past the gift of madness
Deep into the shadowed heart
Barely Interlaced edges
The snarling beasts lie waiting
Lurking in the dark
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby Jan. 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
You're an unhealthy fixation
Your dark obsessed heart
Should be an evisceration
Your stupidity stored away
Should be stored away,
Completely.
You're an unhealthy fixation
Those bold words after inhalation
Make me ***** with blood
Let those words bleed on the page,
Completely.
And then you will know entirely
That you are uncouth and stupid
You're an unhealthy fixation
Fixated on her, selfishly,
Completely.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC
Think you can walk on me?
Think you can walk away?
Think you can take me?
I know your darkness, honey.
I know your corners full of cobwebs and shadows,
The places within you.
Think I'm innocent and pure?
Sure.
I have not torn lace and tasted flesh,
Or sharped my fingernails on the ridges of a spine,
But I have been to hell, sweetness.
Been dragged below a grave,
Gouged wet dirt with mine,
Desperate hands scrabbling to pull me back
To rainy bitter nights.
I have lain bare and ****** on the cold stone floors, stained blue and black,
Burned beyond a breath, beyond thinking,
Beyond hope.
I've been brutalized and torn apart inside.
To compare evisceration to the blooming of a rose,
To say I've had the far away gentler time.
To think I am naive as you suppose,
That I couldn't possibly know the foreign lands
Traveled by your mute experienced hands.
Think because I ask for you I need you?
It is my nature to give, but not to take.
Not to take love when I am not offered it,
But also not to take any more ****
If you look into my eyes, do you see fear?
Of anything, in their depths?
Keep looking, search away-
You'll not find it here.
You'll see my rise and fall, my grand absurdity,
But you'll not see my obeisance
To someone who will not match me
Mile for mile,
Straight down.
I have seen hell, you see.
Gazed long and hard and deep.
Purred savage in its velvet caress-
The way you have unzipped a dress,
I have unzipped my skin
And stepped out.
So look on, look lust, look IN-
I am no white snowflake, glittering
Fragile and quick to melt and meld.
No sniveling child begging weakly to be held.
I am a rainstorm drumming on my own back,
A rhythm and reminder of the tenderness I lack,
I am a lightning strike,
Sudden focused and intense, the white
Hot touch of the phantasm immense.
I am the song of suffering and of love,
I need no substance to loose my demons,
No dizzy fiery nectar to lose my mind.
I am complete unaltered, and sublime.
I have known centuries beneath my skin,
If no one's touch,
And words of every meaning through my wanting veins
For wanting such.
And you, girl, are not worth my time.
Push her blushing into bed, raise her pulse to reeling heights,
For I have pushed the world beneath my kneading hands, and pulled the sun to night.
Ravage rashly through the silly schoolgirls that you find.
The way into a woman's soul
Is the seducing of her mind.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 7:15 PM UTC
A Beast that knows of no boundaries
An Alpha Wolf with Razor Sharp teeth and a Million red Claws
Machine responsible for the Evisceration of the Masses throughout the Generations
Deaths most sinister creation
A Ferocious Fiery Filled Fury
The Aborted child of Mother Merry
Natures Cold-hearted Killer
King of Manipulative mind games
An immoveable object
An unshakeable feeling
Corrupts a being of all Good reason
A form of Natures cruelest Treason
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 11:24 PM UTC
I can smell it now. The smell of thick dripping sap -
bitter ****** dirt that rots at the corners of humanity
at our fingertips,
in our news headlines...
The smell of **** stifling the air, like the stench of death -
like burning pine needles -
It pervades, and never moves with the wind,
Heavy in the clouds, soot on our faces and inside our lungs
Don't inhale.
A piece of paper is nothing when it rots away in the dirt in an alley
It's words crumble and disappear in days
A letter does nothing when thrown at the wind
A letter does not begin to explain the complete destruction of a somebody,
The evisceration of a person.
The silent decay of someone's body -
Words can't explain the slow, bleeding out of America.
Hemorrhage is swept away from the streets but if you look in the gutters
In the corners, behind the bins you'll find gore,
guts, viscera that rots away and feeds the dirt.
It will only end when we hunt it down,
dig it out, scrape it out from underneath our skin like cancer -
Burn out anguish and pestilence and scorch the earth
these men walk on
Is that the cure?
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC
I want to hold you
You stared into my eyes and said it with such conviction.
That's mine
You said it to me like you were admitting it to yourself as much as you were admitting it to me.
Please don't change
you whispered into my ear like it was a secret, your hands wrapped around mine.
Your hands wrapped around mine. So simple yet so foreign to me.
I've never felt so exposed by someone's unrelenting gaze.
Not even completely naked have I felt so bared.
Its like you have reached into my chest and swatted away my defenses like a giant man marching through a sea of toy soldiers with tiny plastic swords.
Reached in and grabbed onto something inside of me and it is jarring my very soul.
You have just been like an earthquake shaking up my foundations and shifting the bricks and mortar to expose what is behind the wall to the light.
The look in your eyes says
Don't write me off just yet.
And its almost like a siren song. I just keep following the path you are blazing.
Its almost like you crack me open, tear through me like a tornado in a forest and all I can do is give in to it.
Look back at the great oaks fallen in a forced clearing and wonder how this all happened.
Just when I think I am untouchable, you come out of nowhere and put me in my place.
Where that would incite a riot within me all I am left with now is resignation.
The echo of your voice rings in my ears and I am powerless to stop you.
As I sit silent and listen to you put me in my place I am torn between being angry or even scared.
The inherent need to flee the scene of this evisceration rises from the pit of my stomach.
But I cannot deny wanting to fall into your arms.
Even as you cut into me, I want you to hold me tightly.
Hold me together as you tear me apart.
It is so conflicting to me. It is confusing.
The more it hurts, the closer I want to be.
Some days I feel like a bird flying too close to the sun.
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 6:11 PM UTC
Before you spun the translucent filaments around your body
To seal your scars, so that they may stay fresh
You opened your mouth with your fingers across the signals
And sent me a packet of code that said: Stay.Away.From.Me.
I withered and died, completely slain
A corpse that can still weep
Every ******* day—
Like a road that leads into a wall
Like a snake eating its own face.
And I threw myself around
Into frivolous hours, empty words I choked on spite to say
Strange faces culled from a few stupid lines
Things wanted, terrible with the meaningless
Hopeful wolves, perfectly politely slavering
But the bare harlotry of my mourning is mute and blind
Perfectly politely proof and void
Perfectly.fucking.ruined.
All you had to do was drop One Word and I could have stopped
I would have died happy, but No—
With the cheering of a sadistic crowd at my back
I grip the filthy saddle between my knees
Unable to even express my disgust
The evisceration of my eloquence, complete.
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 8:37 PM UTC
Shards of jagged words remain in my heart
A serrated reminder of my former love
For you consider crushing souls an art
Deceit punctuated by how often you cheat
Let’s touch cheek to cheek like we used to do
Arm swaddled in a parasitic embrace
I missed the way your blade felt in my lungs
A pleasured look on that pretty face
Don’t stop the evisceration just yet
Go ahead darling, watch the scarlet river gush
There’s no reason for me to fret
I’ve already been slaughtered once
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
Step up on stage
And undress for a second
As I exsanguinate your flesh
Just to let you know that you're rejected
Then I'll bend you over
Slit you open
And let your entrails leave
Like a funfetti stream
That you try to chase
But just can't reach
The only problem that I've got with you
Is that you're not dead
When I've beaten the side
Of your head with this hammer
Until it turned red (you know)
From all the bloodshed
Shattered your skull to open a hole
So wide you could reach inside
With chopsticks like a ramen bowl
Removed all the lies like Pinnochio's nose Then I got my real vice
You could call it the main course
As you slumped over
And heard my footsteps retreating
I'd be more focused on checking
If your heart's still beating
It's not deceiving
That you were begging for your life
But you knew I had a surprise in store
When you opted for the knife
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 8:58 PM UTC
1
The art of growing up is teaching your skin to become a mask factory
All the orifices stuffed with paper , tainted with ****** poetry
My transgression is to pretend a part of me is still innocent
calling back to my own instinct , be as dead as a statue
2
Some nights, I am left in moods
I thought I have left behind ,
guilty feelings over my wife
mopping up the mess
of my self-evisceration
I remember as a child I would feel
bad for standing outside
obstructing sunlight from
a boy shaped patch of grass
now, in my mid-thirties,
a part of me still has not
grown secure,
wanting to stay quiet
about wounds, who
still sometimes
feels the echoes
of being told
how worthless I am ,
at nine after
harvesting a whole
onion field by hand,
or the times younger
left with the responsibilities
of alleged adults,
the ********* who hated
his life and fatherhood ,
or the mentally ill woman
who would’t get off the couch
to do anything except ****
my pets in front of me
when I was behind on chores
they are the ones who called
themselves farmers
and they have left seeds
which I have tried pulling
out of my bones,
but you always look insane
when trying to circumvent
your own skin
sometimes at night,
I can feel a bumper crop
coming on
3
Because I love to be not loved
they will ask me what my damage is
and I will say impiety is a comfort
when one was raised with grace used as a weapon
my future is a success if others fail to make sense of me
4
I learned what innocence is,
birth throws us into a world
gentle and illiterate ,
we age, hording weaponry
our skin turns to armor
by reading sharp edges,
this is a world of broken glass streets
every human soul a bottle ready
to fall off its shelf
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 12:30 PM UTC
no longer sheathed by the living skin of the land
ancients of the deep shriek in unholy abhorrence
as they make their rapturous ascent to the heavens,
seeking not salvation that they’ve forsaken,
but the evisceration of a former home.
it is malice not earthly tar that stains
bulging scleras and hissing pulses
placated only by wine tastes of sin.
these apparatuses remain ever silent
to eternally bask in the presence of Her.
Her who invokes the name of salvation.
Her, melichrous.
Her, scintillant.
composed of polished crystal embellishments
must have the creature once relinquished
the bipedal form to humanity in exchange
for spherical inconvenience.
renounced and disdained
by the possessors of illusory superiority
the mousy predecessors of righteousness
trod lightly through emotional labyrinths
only seeking to sate their vampiric empathy.
Her seeks this suffering of the corrupt
where the must be bound in crude scales
packed amongst their parasitical kin.
alexia unbound wreaks havoc in their stead
manifesting in serpentine coils which match
the tongue slithers out cryptic hymns.
Her must and will be subject to judgement,
durum hoc est sed ita lex scripta est.
and does this serpent mimic the rhythmic
folding to suit its needs as Her is bound
once more to the Mire
never to breach the heavenly dome
void of living skin wrappings.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC
When you have a secret
A big one, not that your favorite color isn't blue
But one that eats, one thats hungry
Thats the kind I'm talking about
Secret with a captial S
It seems so big, that no matter how you keep it in
It will come out; but not the way you like
It'll come in snappy remarks, irritation and strife
It will work its way in, and put things through a blender
It'll slice up everything good in your life
It will stay hidden, and show everywhere
It'll be deep, deep inside
It will be everywhere
Secrets are important
Because they mean something to stay hidden
You want to tell them all, let them out
See if you are forgiven
but you want to spare feelings
Its right beneath the skin sometime
Its that second where they ask if you're mad
Its an anger that you don't know why
Its that evisceration of your soul
Its something that will never heal
Its everything you want to let go
Its everything you want to hide
Sometimes its a shame, sins against God
But is it God that will not forgive, or
That beautiful soul you are trying to love
That one you don't want to hurt
Because, like you, they've been hurt enough
So you find your courage, when you've had enough
When you are desperate to try, to put all your pain to ground
Gather your brave, bandage your wounds
Take your pride in hand, and stare fear in the eyes
You'll be better after, forgiven in stride,
Or you will know for sure, that effort's
Another lie
But be truthful to yourself,
The worst lie is yours
Make honesty a choice
And give secrets
the door
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
originally, you came here to copy
a poem, then there came this
spontaneous ********
i luck out, and can keep up a
responsibility for the drunk-ass
and fu- ******* saddggoddamn
it i finally got this typer typing. but,
still, why do i keep expecting
someone to come walking in the
front door?; why am i complacent
to thought of some ephemeral intruder.
and, watching eyes hallucinate
from corners, one hell of a talent
by use of self-destruction;
self-evisceration, but how
was that precision of language?
why are you lingering, now,
still here? how
about let it ******* go;
good me like you used to, and
all over-the-place is a kinda
way of life. (feeling wasted;
trashed) there's never been prison,
listening to privileged rock star;
kinda in for ******
all he did was smile,
and he shook guards' hands.
validating them,
more so to get in any head;
willing patients a preference.
(let 'em guess their illness,
discounts if right;
derisive mocking, otherwise)
now, guessing around too long,
a rise of sun to brighten . . . nope,
segue **** from out your ***
In first light, wax poetic.
In the night, wax tragic.
Paper may burn but
Words will escape.
Lawrence Ferlinghetti;
****** that up, huh, LawF?
bet he wore bowler derbies, and
money-down if a three-piece suit.
(betting on vanity)
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 5:19 AM UTC
We are not monsters.
We’re more terrifying.
We are human:
Peeping on toil crouched, through cracked doors.
We always sink to new floors.
I don’t smoke, and it would be suicide.
But breathing that in beats bearing us at all.
We sting and **** like pesticide.
I hope we’re heading for a great fall.
All of us gathered on this rotisserie.
Lathered in a grease of turpitude.
Always in such disarray.
Our evisceration wouldn’t be so rude.
The beginning of the rest of our life.
Hopefully chalked to the brim in strife,
And more near than soon.
Should bring us a fitting moon.
If that wasn’t clear enough for you,
you ******* tool who can’t read a hue.
I want us to die, I want us to end.
So we can be cleansed of our malady.
So we can begin to find a blend.
One without awe in violence, and parody.
Who’s bitter taste creates our insipid existence.
I think we can find a future merrily.
And isn’t enjoyed just for an instance.
Mar 14, 2020
Mar 14, 2020 at 1:32 PM UTC
to the core.
if this is evisceration
then i can empathize
with all those creatures
cropped and chopped
sliced and diced
salt from my eyes
sprinkled as seasoning
chewed on for your convenience
until i lost flavor
and you wadded me up
whittled me into waste
this is all i am now
a carcass of bones
pulverized into powder
drifting as dust
ah, to be solid and savored
full of taste and trust
but sadly now
just reduced to
just
Sep 22, 2020
Sep 22, 2020 at 6:42 PM UTC