Welcome to Your Poetry Dot Com - Read, Rate, Comment on, or Submit Poetry. Browse Poetry Forums, or just enjoy other parts of our poetic community.
One of the largest databases of poetry on the net, now over 198,500+ poems!
Welcome to Your Poetry Dot Com    Poems On Site: 198,500+   Comments On Poems: 427,000+   Forum Posts: 105,000+
Custom Search
  Welcome ! Home  ·  FAQ  ·  Topics  ·  Web Links  ·  Your Account  ·  Submit Poetry  ·  Top 30  ·  OldSite Link 22-November 06:13:24 AEST  
  Menu
  Home
· Micks Shop
· Our eBay Store· Error Submit
 Poetry
· Submit Poetry
· Least Read Poems
· Topics
· Members Listing
· Old Site Post 2001
· Old Site Pre 2001
· Poetry Archive
· Public Domain Poetry
 Stories
· Stories (NEW ! )
· Submit Story
· Story Topics
· Stories Archive
· Story Search
  Community
· Our Poetry Forums
· Our Arcade
100's of Games !

  Site Help
· FAQ
· Feedback

  Members Areas
· Your Account
· Members Journals
· Premium Sign-Up
  Premium Section
· Special Section
· Premium Poems
· Premium Submit
· Premium Search
· Premium Top
· Premium Archive
· Premium Topics
 Fun & Games

· Jokes
· Bubble Puzzle
· ConnectN
· Cross Word
· Cross Word Easy
· Drag Puzzle
· Word Hunt
 Reference
· Dictionary
· Dictionary (Rhyming)
· Site Updates
· Content
· Special Content
 Search
· Search
· Web Links
· All Links
 Top
· Top 30
  Help This Site
· Donations
 Others
· Recipes
· Moderators
Our Other Sites
· Embroidery Design Store
· Your Jokes
· Special Urls
· JM Embroideries
· Public Domain Poetry and Stories
· Diamond Dotz
· Cooking Info and Recipes
· Quoof - Australian Story

  Social

Are You 486?

Contributed by savingmarion on Monday, 17th May 2004 @ 07:36:46 PM in AEST
Topic: toughstuff



Movement I

Fifty mangled corpses covered in glass,
Surrounded by blood of forfeit transmissions,
And ego trip malfunctions.
Didn’t you get the message signifying a collapse?
Healing light seems to vanish,
With the waxing of a collective pain.

The needles fall to the floor,
Only after their opiated scars have satisfied,
The lust for content.
Splintered verdicts suffocate our conscience,
While bending silver spoons,
Across the backs of children.

Transfusions;
Blood for mercury,
And bacterial silhouettes,
In telephonically conversed contraband,
Bathe in the light of corrupted vulnerability.
In this concrete desert,
It’s getting harder to trip,
Without licking clean my arterial walls.

Desensitized to the humble cries,
We take for granted our freedoms,
And rust our corneas,
With a cinematic, sexual suicide.
Entrails spread along a city sidewalk,
After a credit card corrosion,
Intercepts the electric memo,
That would deny permission,
To feast upon the innocent.

Gas masks cannot filter,
The incubated abortion of morality.
And intravenous psychosis,
Impairs functionality on an everyday basis.
The script plays out,
In a stereophonic seduction,
And a breakdown of inhibitions.

Cradled greedily within our “rights,”
We exploit and ravage them,
Until our creativity ceases to operate.
Blind to the world,
Yet we think we are all Gandhi.
The slightest scent of burning flesh,
Tickles our nostrils,
Like nothing we’ve ever known,
And all of a sudden,
You’re lynching the chef,
‘Cause things just aren’t good enough.

It’s time to shave your eyelids,
And raise your pupils,
To a realization of angst,
Outside your white picket fence.
Your pristine front lawn,
No longer hides the stench of decay,
And your widespread, lifeless vessel,
Is all but a carbon copy,
Of everything you’ve come to know.

Visions of white,
Now replace the hunter,
Once found in the radius of your skull.
I pray for the day when water takes your breath,
And the coast is once again lost to an abyss.

Movement II

Fifty rotting corpses piled into a trash bag,
Each one searching for its limbs.
Each one screaming for a dream,
To satisfy the insatiable.
They split your skull,
And charge your thoughts,
‘Til your lobes spill and fall through the floor.

Your tongue is pregnant with deceit,
And it leaks like a poor man’s worst nightmare.
So quick are you to sever someone’s trust,
Just to pick up the pieces,
From the last time you choked.
Your polka dot pretence,
And make-up mischief,
Aren’t enough to pull you from your self-dug grave.
This is the last time,
I will break my fingernails on the basement floor,
Just to drag you through the floorboards.

Melting ligaments and broken bones…
The dissonance in cognition,
Makes me scratch at Amygdala’s eyes.
Hail to the picnic table partitions,
And the chalky trauma,
Of your sociological philosophies!

Movement III

Fifty blood-red corpses,
Colored by the sharpened side of Crayola cutlery,
And each one wishing it was painted gold.
But unfortunately, when painting,
With the blood of Medusa’s head,
All you get is black.





Copyright © savingmarion ... [ 2004-05-17 19:36:46]
(Date/Time posted on site)





Advertisments:






Previous Posted Poem         | |         Next Posted Poem


 
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title etc.
Re: Are You 486? (User Rating: 1 )
by Cancer on Monday, 17th May 2004 @ 08:11:20 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
i'm not usually a "wow" person, but dammit, WOW. that was unbelievable. i could write six scrawls and not even say half of what you said here and i'm not even talking about the length. you just said so much with every word. every description and twist of words was superb beyond verbal praise. i usually rate scrawls with bags of skittles instead of stars, but bags aren't gonna cut it here. this deserves several dozen dumptrucks full of bright berry skittles.

jesus christ....wow.

51


Re: Are You 486? (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Tuesday, 18th May 2004 @ 12:20:57 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
Swirling and . . . vivid.
An impressive inspiration.




While every care is taken to ensure the general sites content is family safe, our moderators cannot be in all places; all the time. Please report poetry and or comments that are in breach of our site rules HERE (Please include poem title or url). Parents also please ensure that you supervise your children well when they are on the internet; regardless of what a site says about being, or being considered, child-safe.

Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©

Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster

All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com

All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.

Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com