What the Chinese Would Say behind the Japs
they think they are greater
but look they use our characters
to write their own names, their own names! ! !
taking our lamps, our light to brighten up their own houses,
civilisation, their own souls,
originality, creativity thrown to the winds
and they talk about intelligence with us
these half schooled barbarians
who once ransacked our survival
waylaid our pride, like how Rome tore down
the Temple of Jerusalem, the Germans
exterminated the Jews............
the disciples who learnt morals only to sidetrack
their masters, our philosophers, to bury their corpses
in their gardens, flowers grown over them
but a corpse is a corpse! ! !
behind the beauty of everything Japanese
is but a corpse that each of them tries desperately to hide
the very thing that explains the obsession with cleanliness
but a corpse is a corpse
it is unpleasant and lives on
in the japanese mind to disturb them
if they let it hide in their soul
without proper atonement
and adherence to the master's teachings
rain, storm and earthquake would destroy the blooms
and expose the skeletons below them
the skeletons that refuse to be whitewashed
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Living Corpse
propulsion often decays into nothing
but stagnancy, the visit of eternity
next erupts to tranquillise my flesh
raising me from the ground
and my corpse jumps
and my corpse curses the prison
once more the ripping
fits the feet and the well-being
I am ransacked tonight.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A walking corpse
I walk around like a zombie.
A reflection of a corpse.
Like Im in a body thats not mine.
A body depression has invaded.
Im a reflection of a corpse.
So numb and dead inside.
Not being able to feel.
Trapped in a body.
That once used to be mine.
Now its like its someone elses.
Im a walking corpse.
So very dead inside.
As numb as numb
Number than Ice.
Depression has over road.
And overtaken me.
Its made me like a walking corpse.
I may aswell be dead.
Thats how I feel inside.
A excellent resembalence
Of a walking corpse.
Mabey I can fight it
But that I very much doubt.
I have had to fight to many demons.
One more I cant fight this yet.
Im a walking corpse.
Dead inside.
A marvolos resembalence.
Of a walking corpse
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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The corpse [Cadavrul]
The corpse is lying on the bed,
Immersed in gloom it does appear,
Because bewitched by other sphere
The soul divine abruptly fled.
And the quick mind inside the head
Has fully stopped to interfere,
The corpse is lying on the bed,
Immersed in gloom it does appear.
Repulsive, heavy as the lead,
And its appearance fair and clear,
Which used to spread a perfume dear,
Today is nothing but a shred...
The corpse is lying on the bed.
poem by Cincinat Pavelescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Behnd the Wall of Sleep/Wasp
Precious cups within the flower
deadly petals with strange power
faces shine a deadly smile
back up on you at your trial
Chill and numbs from head to toe
icy sun with frosty glow
Why'd you go reaching your sorrow?
why'd you go read no tomorrow
Feel your spirit rise with the priest
feel your body falling to its knees
Take your walk of remorse
take your body to a corpse
take your body to a corpse
take your body to a corpse
if you want all remorse
take your body to a corpse
Now from darkness
song performed by by Black Sabbath from Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A corpse is meat gone bad. Well and what's cheese? Corpse of milk.
quote by James Joyce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind The Wall Of Sleep
Precious cups within the flower
Deadly petals with strange power
Faces shine a deadly smile
Back up on you at your trial
Chill and numbs from head to toe
Icy sun with frosty glow
Whyd you go reaching your sorrow?
Whyd you go read no tomorrow
Feel your spirit rise with the priest
Feel your body falling to its knees
Take your walk of remorse
Take your body to a corpse
Take your body to a corpse
Take your body to a corpse
If you want all remorse
Take your body to a corpse
Now from darkness, there springs light
Wall of sleep is cold and bright
Wall of sleep is lying broken
Sun shines in, you are awoken
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man is not whole, sans woman
Body sans soul is a corpse.
Soul sans body is ether.
Man is the corpse.
Woman is the soul.
Both together make life.
The corpse deteriorates.
But the ether exists.
Sans woman, man decays;
Sans man, woman stays.
Woman qua volunteer to Gandhiji,
woman qua adopted daughter to A.B. Vajpoyee,
woman qua daughter to Pandit Nshru
lent to respective men the soul.
26.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Highly Valued Objects
The highness of an object resides in its lustre,
Demanding traits are discarded, like silk.
Interiors of the organs of a body are of the corpse,
Relishing nothing for nobody, and nobody else.
Then the disease of the heart enters the calm,
Fostering new teachings for everybody, and unique too.
Let the praise of heaven be our neighbour,
Insert the eye of sheep in the dishes.
A dish is a dish, a body is a corpse
But a cadaver in secret, an excellency.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Sexual Attraction
At the hospital where he works.
Speaking he can convey,
with the ninety two year old corpse.
Mirrors every where warm trees cold bushes.
92 leaves speaking she shakes it only for him.
Bony old woman no ham.
After finding the light corpse
he checks the cotton on the rigid smile if it was.
Ninety two years old where you are detained.
You can hear the limbs cracking as the corpse gives.
Turned over on it's belly I seem like observer.
There is no sound commonly appreciated with sucking noises.
It was the very first time,
I had ever seen a shoe horn used on the moon.
Except for the golf swing by Shepard.
Brutal crimes on the dead better I think than on the living, still.
The family has a long history of patients and of those.
Emphatic and it has resonated a cord completely.
Watching him talk as if and it is somber fearfully.
You read to late it written before he came a dying declaration.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Loss of history
Loss of memory leaves one a corpse.
Loss of history of one’s ancestors
Or the ignorance of it by one leaves
One a corpse bereft of identity.
26.09.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Autopsy and the Corpse
Coroner: This is very complicating and in the whole body music runs and
It takes couple of years to diagnose.
Corpse: It doesn't make any difference dear officer just sign and give so and
so died as the others.
Coroner: It's really difficult as the corpse still speaking and the music goes on
never stops it seems?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Weaponry
The real nature of a weapon, the real sort of prize,
Is its joy of presentation to the other half.
One man is incredible for joking about death,
The real bomb awaits the people to matter.
One sword is not two storms of death,
But ten innocent dead men, who simply have deceased.
Seize and rock him about with hands and feet,
The body shall become a corpse, a harvest of a kind
Is gathered, the corpse then uncovered,
For all to really matter.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Knock Em Dead (live)
This basket arrives to show your condolence
You hope that it finds me well and just in time
This loss was unbearable, but now I have flowers
Thoughtful happy bright arrangement
I can fall into...
Just a corpse in his place,
You only have one shot to knock 'em dead
A toast to the way he left us counting our blessings
And holding our heads...
You better speak up, you better say something
We better believe ourselves for once
'cause you never said help
You never said anything the way that we dreamed ourselves to fear
It's only in this silence
I can hear ethan screaming
all alone, all alone...
Just a corpse in his place
You only have one shot to knock 'em dead
A toast to the way he left us counting our blessings
and holding our heads...
Just a corpse in his place
You only have one shot to knock 'em dead
And I would have thought that I had more to lose than him
My skin has gone stark white and an ash covers my skin
I should have worn makeup
It seems to have worked for you
song performed by by Dashboard Confessional
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bellman
BRING out your dead before you reap
From lips beloved infection dread;
Above such brows ye dare not weep!
Bring out your dead
Into the street from breast or bed,
Lest ye too sicken into sleep
That recks not of the Bellman's tread.
Thrice foolish heart! Why do you heap
Corpse upon corpse--conspire to spread
Corruption on all else you keep?
Bring out your dead!
poem by Muriel Stuart
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Dramatic Finale
Shakespeare loved a corpse
strewn Globe Theatre stage.
As audience universal appeal; twas
all Elizabethan; dramatic finale rage.
Shakespeare loved a corpse strewn stage.
Dramatic methods made a single scene,
carry multiple meanings, beyond mere action,
echo tragic ruin; vibrating dust porous lives.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Ghost-Cycle
They argue and fight over dead bones,
One of them is a skull making him ill.
There is utter disbelief, just decaying bones
Ready for burial like no other corpse.
Some say it will grow and inhibit us
By rejecting our ways and entering our affairs.
Some say we see and hear everything it says,
But the deceit is maximum, all the time
That we find it invisible from some satanic source.
Since the universe follows laws too special
It, the corpse, betrays us and its task
To fail as bones and so it goes on in the cycle.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The abandoned Mortuary, Coroner and Corpse's Post-Mortem
Among the pale walls of the old mortuary the mysterious inquest goes on.
Corpse: 'Sir, your odoriferous tincture is very strong and please dilute the mixture as I get a severe pain in my liver.'
Coroner: 'Hey! Mr.Serious Alcoholic your liver has already damaged and are you still living? '
Corpse: 'Yes Sir, poor man never dies as he has to suffer a lot.I swept all the dirty & stinking roads of the puritan politicians and in gratitude they offered me the cheap liquor.My entire sand castles washed & vanished by the cruel waves of life.Please do not let them know that I am still breathing and much appreciation if you could bury me alive before I die.'
* I wind up this scribbling to my far away dreamlike friend Denis.Joe O'Driscoll via Kremlin drive, Tuebrook and Liverpool where the comfortable omnipotent Queen resides in the United Kingdom.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Mamie and You in Madrid.
Madrid
and after the street salesman
conned you
out of coins
in your change
Mamie said
well put it down
to experience
we all get caught
at one time or other
and they have
brought forth
great art
and you stared at her
at her hair and eyes
and said
yes I guess
but you were still peeved
about it but then
thought of the night before
when you and she
had slept all night
in the coach
through France
and into Spain
she with her head
on your shoulder
making little
snoring sounds
sometimes talking
in her sleep
other times
turning towards you
with her mouth
slightly ajar
and her hair
in a mess
and you had moved in
on her and kissed
her brow
like one planting
a soft kiss
on a corpse
and that made you laugh
and she said
what's so funny?
and you said
taking hold
of her hand
crossing a street
just something
entered my head
what?
she said
about kissing a corpse
you replied
what corpse?
and that reminded you
of the time they brought
your father's body home
for the night before
his funeral and as
he lay there
in the coffin
your gran had said
kiss him goodbye
and so you did
and that stayed with you
the feel
and chilled skin
and how it didn't seem
to be him
just a shell
but you loved him still
for all that
and when you told her that
she said
how sweet
and you gazed at her
at her eyes
and hair
and kissable lips
as you walked
the Spanish street.
poem by Terry Collett
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If I should die
1 If I should die to-night
2 And you should come to my cold corpse and say,
3 Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless clay --
4 If I should die to-night,
5 And you should come in deepest grief and woe --
6 And say: "Here's that ten dollars that I owe,"
7 I might arise in my large white cravat
8 And say, "What's that?"
9 If I should die to-night
10 And you should come to my cold corpse and kneel,
11 Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel,
12 I say, if I should die to-night
13 And you should come to me, and there and then
14 Just even hint 'bout payin' me that ten,
15 I might arise the while,
16 But I'd drop dead again.
poem by Benjamin Franklin King
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Super Terrain
The metastatic figure.
He was seeking truth without thought,
being in and out, he was sleepwalking in
dream. I am the absolute, he said. Skeletons
are popping up everywhere. Poor beasts.
And there was the tired flame who
burned all night in vain.
The body was aching after the discovery
of a super terrain. Another earth? or
a conventional aberration? The planet
was heaving with hot clouds. Reason
for a substitute. Right perception of
life was difficult. Everybody was running
in opposite direction for a message.
He dives to pull up the corpse of liberty
locked deep in water. A noble idea to
free the corrupt world from the bondage
of decaying foundations. Half-truths and
half-lies must live together for the human
survival. Quest of the self ultimately
begs for forgiveness.
poem by Satish Verma
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