"putrefy" poems
when I say the wind blows
you already know
but how do the leaves portend
emerald on the end
or grasping to the limb?
If the Love is Lost, when?
feelings were ample
yet, when unplugged they limp lame
sentiment in lieu of visceral slanguage;
Who needs a Heart when a record can be Broken?
i think therefor iThoughts
Depress into cracked lead
and bled red into inkwell;
gun shots have more potent stocks
tragically hip to be so square ingots
what gracious melodies and languid lives
battered idioms with only one just is to bear
how Sad their flirtatious Ness affair
with Pain must fin' ish and putrefy,
those believers in Death will die
hail a Hashtag worthy of
Octothorp
for phoenixes are found everyday
prostrate your Poetry for posthumous
consumption
apply the alembic of alteration
and
Heal our Hashtag heathen history
or
**** It
Hate the Hashtag
that's Life!
#love #life #sad #pain #depression #thoughts #death #sadness #heartbreak #lost
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 8:28 PM UTC
Bells that chime with malcontent
shall toll the sounds of dread.
Whistles cry with detriment;
the hour of death's ahead.
Fields are razed, and valleys hazed;
miasma shall ensue.
Mountains crumble; end of days
rides 'pon the heels of doom.
Death has come for everyone;
no cornerstone unturned.
Putrefy to purify;
with blood, your lakes shall churn.
Sanctity's naught but a dream;
rescind your factions few.
It's all for one to come undone,
and all shall burn with you.
Clouds aflame, for in His name
the sky comes thund'ring down.
And when this land rests in His hand,
He'll take our throne and crown.
Tyrant-force with no remorse;
from out the sea, He'll rise.
He leads His thrall to conquer all,
with fire in His eyes.
Apocalypse shall head the Styx;
the river shall run high.
And to the banks, you stand in ranks
and heed Lord Charon's cry,
"File in, all ye of sin."
His cackles crack the trees.
*"Thy Earth undone, my kingdom come.
Now sunder unto me."*
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
In this palace of madness reside creatures of fury,
of time, of earth, of light and dark.
A callous canvass upon which to paint such
murderous intent, spite and gleeful joy.
Malice hacks at the door.
Black blankets the beckoning mountain.
Maggots putrefy this palace of decay.
Trackless steps lead to the mountain,
worn away by thousands of pounding feet
over thousands of years.
All stepping into the casket of night.
All stepping into chasms of phantoms.
Enchantments abound this un-hallowed ground
memories, anxious to stay locked behind the door.
Madness clawing, devouring sanity step by step.
Turn back, for insanity inhabits this palace, and,
Here be dragons.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
A negligible volume and infinite energy
A limitless interval of knowledge and intimacy
Wisdom surpassing reason binding the creation
Imprinted information in our core's explanation
I am eternal, i will never die
Death is conquered, though you will putrefy
Because
You knew too much, still you chose crime
But
I come from the outter margin, beyond space and time
Words Of Harfouchism
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 3:28 PM UTC
If it were up to me,
I'd let myself rot here
Drowned in my cotton sheets
And allow my skin to finally sink
In between the gaps of my rib cage.
Rot and
putrefy and
fester and
ooze,
Flesh dripping off bone,
So this stink of my own decay may be apparent to me alone no longer.
Senses overburdened by defeat.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
The cover never tells the truth,
for every story... has papercuts
when you've turned the page.
Every fable can tell a tale,
some sweet as pie, but not all apples are
syrupy, some putrefy from the core.
For this cover shows her reading,
while rabbits playfully play.
Not one for ill suspense..
The book was different ways to
cook rabbit, she knew they
attended this spot.
Know your pray,
Remember that to be at ease
gives them a false sense of passivity.
Now when your ready, make your move..
The best practice is to scare, for a moment of
uncertainty will make then scatter in directions
not uniformed..
With that she slammed the books pages together,
startled bunnies ran in all directions...
The ground around sewn with steel teeth
awaiting
gentle steps to snap shut...
She stood up proud, that the book was true,
not all tales are fairy tales some are truthful.
As a few were still squirming, she did an act
of kindness, the book heavy as it came down.
The family will feed well tonight,
she had to wipe off the fur
but there were plenty more stories
of how to capture and create
that fairy tale meal..
May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 5:32 PM UTC
Imprisoned clouds, waiting to fly,
Held back by a willowed, sandy bank:
The river, green and clear as an eye.
Its silent depths enticed us to pry.
Into the liquid dungeon we slank,
Imprisoned clouds, waiting to fly.
There we discovered we could scry,
And so greedily we drank
The river, green and clear as an eye.
Our brains ceased to electrify,
Souls fusing with those dank
Imprisoned clouds, waiting to fly.
Now bloated, white, we putrefy,
For we could not outflank
The river, green and clear as an eye.
Deliverer of fate we can’t defy,
But for our new life we thank
Imprisoned clouds, waiting to fly:
The river, green and clear as an eye.
Sep 3, 2024
Sep 3, 2024 at 6:21 PM UTC
Like stagnant water
We too putrefy quickly.
We must keep moving.
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 12:27 AM UTC
Faint flint like floating
Locked with chains, swept up rust cages
Iron locks secured
Damage ones reveal, flopped
experiments, putrefy
©sim
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 2:06 AM UTC
*Bottle it up
Like tears in an hour glass
Hide it away
Like the skeletons in the closet
Keep it quiet
Like the secrets between you
Let it build
Those walls around your heart
Cover it up
The scars you hid for so long
Ignore it now
So it can fester and putrefy
Let it break
Even though you swore it wouldn't
Let it be
Even if it's just for the time being
Let it flourish
Because you know it's going to
Give it time
I promise it's worth the wait
Let it go
It's not always in your hands
Open it up
So your wounds can breath
Risk it soon
Because sometimes you need to take action
Take it now
Because not everythings given to you
A delicate balance must be held
Between knowing when to wait
And when you need to work for it.
It's easy to say you cannot control
When you don't know what to do.
Things are given to us, rarely
Without risks you get nothing.
Fear and history make us cautious
But we can't let them control us*
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 6:16 AM UTC
The art invention AI, the Allsay, I'll-gorithm,
Aiaia ai
let me say this is poetry, I did not write,
but found
enlightening:
*dhe-
*dhē-,
Proto-Indo-European root meaning "to set, put."
It forms all or part of:
abdomen; abscond; affair; affect
(v.1) "make a mental impression on;"
affect
(v.2) "make a pretense of;"
affection; amplify; anathema; antithesis;
apothecary;
artifact; artifice;
beatific; benefice; beneficence; beneficial; benefit;
bibliothec;
bodega; boutique;
certify;
chafe; chauffeur;
comfit; condiment; confection; confetti; counterfeit;
deed; deem; deface; defeasance; defeat; defect; deficient;
difficulty; dignify; discomfit; do (v.);
doom; -dom;
duma;
edifice; edify;
efface; effect; efficacious; efficient;
epithet;
facade; face; facet; ******
-facient;
facile; facilitate; facsimile; fact;
faction (n.1) "political party;"
-faction;
factitious; factitive; factor; factory;
factotum; faculty; fashion; feasible; feat; feature;
feckless; fetish;
-fic;
fordo; forfeit;
-fy;
gratify;
hacienda;
hypothecate; hypothesis;
incondite; indeed; infect;
justify;
malefactor; malfeasance;
manufacture;
metathesis;
misfeasance;
modify; mollify;
multifarious;
notify;
nullify;
office; officinal;
omnifarious;
orifice;
parenthesis;
perfect;
petrify;
pluperfect;
pontifex;
prefect;
prima facie;
proficient; profit; prosthesis; prothesis;
purdah; putrefy;
qualify;
rarefy;
recondite; rectify; refectory;
sacrifice;
salmagundi;
samadhi;
satisfy;
sconce;
suffice; sufficient;
surface; surfeit;
synthesis;
tay;
ticking (n.);
theco-; thematic; theme; thesis;
verify.
It is the hypothetical source of/evidence for its existence is provided by:
Sanskrit dadhati "puts, places;"
Avestan dadaiti "he puts;"
Old Persian ada "he made;"
Hittite dai- "to place;"
Greek tithenai "to put, set, place;"
Latin facere "to make, do; perform; bring about;"
Lithuanian dėti "to put;"
Polish dziać się "to be happening;"
Russian delat' "to do;"
Old High German tuon,
German tun,
Old English don "t
dondiddondondon just the facts.
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 4:45 PM UTC
These images, this
love grows shattered
between us.
What never was
always refuses to return
What never was
always burns
what could grow
between us.
Nothingness is
pregnant with misery,
questions and answers
buried under
sand and cries of wind.
Questions may never
know their answers
when estranged by distance.
Questions once
estranged make more
questions and such questions
multiply unimpeded,
until they starve themselves
for lack of answers.
Your answer suspends
itself as gold,
in the pendulum of
infinity, the treasure
immense, far beyond
any such reach as you,
yourself could ever allow.
You could bring
our love to deliverance.
You could crash the famine
between us. You could
reconcile the answers
and resolve the questions.
Once quenched, these questions
cancel their thirst.
We could be disastrous together
or I could be a disaster
alone. But, this is the world our love
lives in:
Our children that may
never be,
that we may never have, putrefy in
nothingness of bone.
Our words that we may
never utter,
gallop upon the
hooves
of failed horses.
The kisses that may never meet,
that we may never share,
stir upon frozen waves
of reflectless waters.
This house, our love
which never stood,
waits to rise, vacantly
in a forest of nothing.
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 1:46 PM UTC
This is the way I deal with it
The venom between the lungs which sinister stirs on the shortened breath of shaky self-esteem
The poetic palpitation pleading please write your wrongs before they putrefy
This is the way I deal with it
It is when words dry up that the ink bleeds
Dance around your feelings, call it a campfire
Let others at least roast with the remnants of yours
This is the way I deal with it
For some it is to light the fire
For others, to follow the smoke
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 2:53 AM UTC
The overgrown fetus does not shiver here.
Splayed like a downed bird
head under brittle arms, one eye open to
nothing. Do you see your birthright in the darkness
Dove? Do you swoop in
my wake as you sleep? Yes, dream
your keen searching stare
and your downy talons on my back
parting skin like clouds.
Still you crack and pool
and putrefy on unyielding stone
for wrath is silent without air.
Dec 7, 2024
Dec 7, 2024 at 11:07 PM UTC