Of Corpse

Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by pit, Aug 29, 2011.

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  1. pit

    pit Well-Known Member

    You hate life 'cause it makes you cry
    You hate life 'cause it makes you want to die
    You hate life 'cause you can't stand the stink
    Well, here's something that'll make you think

    Here's what happens the minute you die
    These are physiological phenomenon in case you wonder why
    Your eyes roll back into your misbegotten head
    As if you'd just swallowed a milkshake made of carbonic lead

    Your old friend, the sphincter, has the last word
    It will spew diarrhea along with party balloon sized turds
    Your penis or vagina will vomit a torrent
    Of golden urine, the stuff that needs no warrant

    The blood vessels you clogged with your party of dancing fats
    Will surface in your flesh, you'll look like a blue-veined map
    Any part of your body lying on the floor
    Will retain a blue hue, blood puddling there forevermore

    Your muscles which you once loved to pump
    Will turn into rock, just a bunch of twisted, turgid lumps
    The skin which you loved to tan down at the shore
    Will turn green, blue or alabaster, the tone of a zombie boar

    You liked a clean house, swatted flies, roaches and other pests
    News bulletin: an army of maggots have invaded your flesh
    Plus flies too, yes, houseflies and gnats
    They're munching on your flesh, fucking under your fat

    Once your figure was lovingly commented on
    It was slender and wiry, you played night tennis till dawn
    Now it's blue and it's bloated; it's getting fatter by the minute
    Like an undead Hindenberg, your body's a rotting zeppelin

    If you're lucky, you may be rescued in time
    By the coroner, who dresses corpses in lime
    But he'll stuff you with tubes and suck out your blood
    And insert Formaldehyde, oh, that shit doesn't smell good

    He'll sow shut your eyelids, maybe sow shut your mouth
    If he's kinky, he'll lie with you and touch you down south
    He'll kiss your lips, rub your groin and play with your hair
    If you were alive you'd say get off of there

    At last comes your funeral, but it's nothing to read about
    You killed yourself too late, in your 50s I hear about
    The only ones there are the coroner and the director
    They're joking, saying things like if he/she were alive, I would've punched him/her

    Young suicides, yes, they get all of the attention
    Crying parents, friends, teachers, sometimes an entire nation
    They're written about, sung about, memorialized in anti-suicide ads
    Old suicides are the loneliest, the young are tragic and sad

    Now you're perfectly isolated six feet down in your coffin
    Replete with worms, ants, flies and maggots laughing and coughing
    Gagging on your flesh, they say they've had better
    A better feast like a dead baby who didn't need to keep fitter

    Or you may be entombed in a cremation center
    At the mercy of flames that lick to death all Hell's sinners
    And out of the blue, you may open your eyes
    To find you can't get out as the soaring heat makes you die

    So sit on the couch, take a look at your life
    You know the bad things that make you want to say yi yi yi
    Though ice cream and orgasms often go quicker
    They're better than maggots eating you down to the knickers
    Last edited by a moderator: Aug 29, 2011
  2. VALIS

    VALIS Well-Known Member

    This is awesome
  3. pit

    pit Well-Known Member

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