Tag Archives: poetry

Corpse

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Fresh

Algor mortis is a cool breeze
That went too far
Rigor mortis is an ironic erection
Yet ultimate impotence
Livor mortis is the revenge of gravity
Against the arrogance of the leap

Bloat

The last thing the stomach eats is the body itself
From the inside out
The last meal of a murderer on death row
Could not be more savage

Active decay

There is nothing so riddled with life as a decomposing corpse
The body of Christ lies across England
Slain twice
And we are the maggots devouring him
Animating him
The grotesque puppet

Advanced Decay

The flesh is a carnival
With an ending supply of booze
To the last revellers
Who should know better

Skeletonization

Need I say more?
I cannot
Even if I need to

On being a slightly fat man

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Being a poem that is in no way autobiographical.

When the necessity to bathe rears its smelly head.
When the pants demand their weekly shed.
When all hope is dread,
The slightly fat man must wash and watch his disappointments unfold.

The water whets his willy’s desires,
And he is compelled to exercise his limbs asymmetrically.
His ugly scene as regularly seen as obscene,
As all his dreams gurgle down the shower’s throat.

The towel cuddles his brimming skin,
But can’t keep up his manifold chin.
Redemption lies beyond the checkout from Gateshead Travelodge.

Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.

Cheers,

Stupid nonce

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Swizzled in the swiller,
Brushelled with a buzzer,
Splish splashelled and bathed,
That’s the bloody shower over with!

And in a waze he filled his trouser,
With fleshy leggo pegs.
It took forth owls and still not done,
To be ready for the meeting.

Ten peeples peeped at powerpeep,
And of the frothy thquarters,
Superintendent Ben asked,
What is a krackerjangerang?

Jizzle jobble did bobble unbalanced,
Till tippled off it did,
Into the black, doleful void,
Oh shit.