Tag Archives: funeral

I’ve Got All This Blood On My Hands (And None In My Body)

Stay out of the light or the photograph that I gave you
You can say a prayer if you need to
Or just get in line and I’ll grieve you
Can I meet you, alone, another night and I’ll see you
Another night and I’ll be you
Some other way to continue, to hide my face…

~*~

I wanna turn your insides to white (say it ain’t so)

So it looks good on my bedroom walls (black, blonde, red)

My heart’s been bleached by the tidal waves (so wash me out)

I wonder if it had any colour at all (maybe not)

.

(So they say that the switchblade is better than the sense)

Well then, let’s see how you look in basketcase drag

(So they say that all this praying won’t make you a saint)

Well then, let’s see how you look when it goes bad

.

It’s not profound or romantic (it’s a mechanical interlude)

And I’m tired of (waiting for) all the infinite eulogies

(And they all put words in my mouth that) make me feel sick

Babe, I just wanted to sever a vein (but you made it plural)

.

(The incineration of another night, the gunshots rang clear

The townspeople screamed as a body fell out of a windowsill

Sirens wailed and ambulances crashed to the beat of my heart

Screaming “fucking save me!”, but it was all a nightmare thrill)

.

‘Cause Magdalene’s desecrated (and her scripture womb) now ain’t sacred

‘Cause all your best friends will only get together when somebody starts to die

‘Cause you can have your fucking funeral but still end up running late for it

(‘Cause you might) say grace all you want and still throw up (pure lies)

.

(Say it ain’t so) I wanna turn your insides inside out

(Black, blonde, red) And end up drunk on your bedroom walls

(So wash me out) My heart’s been drowned off by the tidal waves

(Maybe not) I wonder if it meant anything to you at all.

~*~

And we’ll all dance alone to the tune of your death
We’ll love again, we’ll laugh again
And it’s better off this way
And never again, and never again
They gave us two shots to the back of the head
And we’re all dead now…

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i.) roses & bones.

flowers-grunge-pale-photography-Favim.com-3578013

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Missed Call

“We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones.”
~Stephen King

~*~

Every night after his funeral, I always called him on the mobile phone that was buried with him to hear him speaking on the voicemail. Call me rather morbid, but it was simply a little ritual that somehow kept me sane after the loss of my dearest beloved. Though after the events that transpired tonight, I do begin to wonder if I really have managed to retain my sanity after all. Just like any other night, I dialed his number and tapped on the call button; but as I did so, I suddenly heard his ringtone play loudly under my bed. And just as if things couldn’t get any worse, the phone on the other end of the line picked up.

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I Put the “Fun” in Funeral

Get down, get low, turn the radio on
You’re invited to a graveyard party tonight
Punk is heavy and the moon is full
Dead never looked to beautiful…

~*~

Don’t expect me back next morning

I’ll be busy shopping for body bags

And tagging my own fresh cadaver

The grave won’t dig itself, you’ll see

.

Don’t expect my visit this afternoon

I’ll be sniffing aroma formaldehyde

And letting my tailor sew me a suit

I’m composing my eulogy, obituary

.

Don’t expect me to sit on for supper

I’ll have a chat with the undertaker

Updated my last will and testament

For the church pastor’s wake litany

.

Don’t expect me to stay for tonight

I’m picking the colour of my coffin

And planning funeral arrangements

But you’re welcome to come with me

.

Don’t expect me to be here for forever

And stick around for this deadbeat life

Baby, don’t you see? You’re the reason

Why I’m throwing this party, honestly.

~*~

What happened to the life of the party?
I’m not kidding, we’re all dead
Now everybody’s passed out, face down
The sun is rising and the fire has faded away
And even if we have to move it to the next town

We’re gonna rock it, this week anyway.
D-I-E…we won’t be dead forever!

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It’s Watching You

This thin man is starting to fade
You won’t be living for long
So, just fly with me, die with me, babe
They all swim while I drown
They just dig up the dirt and bury us into the ground…

~*~

It’s watching you with rotted eyes

The remains of a corpse that holds a lively disguise

He broke out of his coffin and turned it into crutches

When his skin peeled off, so did the soiled bandages

.

It’s watching you with decaying glares

The deceased carcass that’s not quite dead and aware

He brushed the fresh ripe maggots off his tattered suit

And clawed his way out of the dirt and grave in pursuit

.

It’s watching you with hollow sockets yet again

The cadaver with a rancour mind of pure and a desiccated heart of sin

He fashioned his wilted wreaths into a cheap bouquet with your name

For you failed to attend his funeral; and he does not intend to do the same.

~*~

It’s been watching you
Your slips and slurs and play on words
All fall from your mouth
Each mutter, rolling dripping from your tongue
My plagues begun…

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[A]wake

One final night

To pay respect

On silent vigils

Express regrets

Candles burning

Midnight smoke

Scent of flowers

Paperback cloak

Memories chase

Dark paints dawn

Leaving goodbyes

And he must go on.

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Wouldn’t it be great if we were dead?!

I’m not a morning person

And today I’m wearing black

To mourn the death of my motivation

I wish my sleep can go back

And pray I make it through the day

Before my sanity does give way

And my kneecaps’ll shatter down

As into drowsiness I resolutely drown

But if I don’t return back to the living

Don’t listen to their foolish reasons

And don’t give me an early funeral

I’m not a mourning person.

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[F]undead!

Well I’m a total wreck and almost everyday
Like the firing squad or the mess you made
Well don’t I look pretty walking down the street
In the best damn dress I own?

~*~

I smile and I hand in my defeated resignation

Send all my best wishes to the judge and jury

Cash all my checks for funeral renumeration

Just can’t be buried with debts, now can we?

.

So call the ambulance and black metal hearse

The gig’s over now, I spat out all of my curse

With every acerbic word I say, the maggots reverse

But steal the flask from me and keep it in your purse

.

‘Cause where’s the sense in going back

When you know it’s nothing but attacks?

Where’s the sense in it? Where? Where?

It’s almost as funny as the black clothes I wear

.

Congratulations, you just won a trip for two

Down the cemetery drive, awaiting your tomb

Your throat is parched, blowflies fill your lungs

Hold my cold hand tight darling, we’re gonna have fun

.

Oh I love how your navy evening gown looks

Under the moonlight, covered in filth and dirt

And one appellation is all your passion took

Now I take claim and wear your souvenir shirt

.

‘Cause where’s the sense in going back

I’m out with the zombies, got my own pack

Where’s the sense in it? Where? Where?

Gouge my eyeballs with a spoon and strum my hair

.

If the masses are stupid enough to execute me

I’ll just laugh in their livid faces, and so let it be!

I’ll have the upper hand in this sacrificial tradition

For death is my bitch and dying’s my only emotion

.

A last call from paradise ain’t too far away

You reek of cordite hun, so come out and play

We’ll make merry on bitter formaldehyde shots

Limb by limb falling apart, and we continue to rot

.

‘Cause where’s the sense in going back

If I’m wanted by every single ugly hack?

Where’s the sense in that? Where? Where?

Demise and misery is meant to be shared

.

So kiss me condolences with cheap thrill bouquets

It’s all the same baby, we’ll both decay anyways

Save those saline tears, ain’t you a ray of sunshine

Why grieve my loss when I’m feeling damn fine?

.

Fire my 21-gun salute, this is my ultimate goodbye

No more existing in this world just to suffer and lie

You will be the one to stab down the lethal injection

Just turn up the voltage in this rusty chair electrocution

.

Where’s the sense anyways in trying to go back?

If I’m burning in hell, then I’m on the right track

Where’s the sense in that? Tell me, fucking where?

I mean, I’d be busy pissing my pants, but I’m too dead to care!

~*~

Some might say we are made
From the sharpest things you’d say
We are young and we don’t care
Your dreams and your hopeless hair
We never wanted it to be this ways
For all our lives; do you care…?

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M O N S T E R × r e t s n o m

Turn away
If you could get me a drink of water
‘Cause my lips are chapped and faded
Call my Aunt Marie
Help her gather all my things
And bury me in all my favourite colours…

~*~

V.) MEDICINE × enicidem

Lying in limpid stasis, comatosed on a cold hospital gurney

As the sterile figures are wheeling me in, onto my last journey

Doctors with white angel wings, armed with swords of scalpel

Slashing away at the indomitable monster my body hid so well

.

Blast liquid radiation, intakes of chemo, concentrated vials

Dialysis emptying my veins, and attempting useless trials

A diagnosed creature transforming, stage 4 metastasised

As everyone glances at me sadly with glossy pitying eyes

.

So take away all the coloured calendars and the clocks that mockingly tick

Counting the seconds, hours, moments, all the years that I can never keep

Turn off the machines, disconnect my wires, I won’t be needing any longer

I’m ready to accept my ultimate fate, for I know now that I will be stronger

.

X.) MEMORY × yromem

Reminiscing our faded memoirs, on a dessicating ancient diary

Writ in intervals of ink, blood, love, our accrued stolen memories

Spending afternoons in the butterfly garden, tales of you and me

Living out with childish mirth, our own secret Mary Lennox fantasy

.

Writing out last wills and trembling letters of false painful assurance

To uncle John and Aunt Mary, to all my relatives first and secondary

I’ll miss you, loved ones, but you’ll forget me once you collect insurance

Keep my soul in your thoughts as you enjoy my unexperienced itinerary

.

Pack away all my things, store my belongings in a strong mulberry box

Those framed photos of mine on the mantelpiece, carefree and relaxed

Their quaint presents, trinkets, clover leaves, constellations for good luck

Keep them now carefully, for I won’t be needing any of them all that much

.

L.) MOURN × nruom

Make my image come to life again, make me beautiful, Mr. Mortician

Powder my gaunt, pallid complexion, make it a flourishing pink and fair

Dress me up in your finest silk and cotton habiliments, Mr. Mortician

And try to save what little you can from my raining withered haybale hair

.

Carry away my coffin into a cathedral solemnly, be bereft and lament me

Let the choir boys sing a melancholy requiem for the girl I’ll never marry

Rain down the roses, parting crowds like Moses, drowning on a red sea

Etch an epitaph on my tombstone, a final word of William Blake’s literary

.

Proclaim all the good things I’ve done right with my scanty epoch life

In my sepulchre, chisel my marble memorial with a dulled rusty knife

Hate me and berate me as you cremate me, a final prayer for your loss

A light drizzle of ashfall, leave me now in peace, to be buried, to repose

.

C.) MORTALITY × ytilatrom

Remember me, remember my name

Don’t you forget our whimsical days

Perhaps I’ll find a better home

In a field of crumbling gravestones

So goodnight for now, my dear

Don’t you cry such wasted tears

Maybe someday I’ll be back here

Smiling, none the worse for wear

.

Remember me, remember my pain

Don’t you forget me, lest I fade away

Perhaps there’s a blissful heaven

When the pendulum strikes eleven

So goodnight for now, my dear

This is goodbye for now, I fear

‘Cause this is when I disappear

Promise me someday you’ll meet me there.

~*~

My sisters and my brothers, still I will not kiss you
‘Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you…

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Hymn For Annabelle

This night, walk the dead in a solitary style
And crash the cemetery gates
In the dress your husband hates
Way down, mark the grave
Where the search lights find us
Drinking by the mausoleum door
And they found you on the bathroom floor…

~*~

Can you hear that loud sound intruding your softest elegy, Annabelle?

Melody against harsh thunderous clanging of the old church bells?

Sonorous sound resonating, disconsolate and mournful to the bone

As they carry your pastel withered body away in your chiseled pink coffin stone

.

You knelt down to me now, crying in a shadowy church confessional

Annabelle, love, what sins and vices have you often lusted for now?

Whisper all of them to me clearly, for your divine transcendental

Heaven, hell, purgatory, which will your tainted soul venture to allow?

.

Annabelle, I have always thought you were the purest of white

Annie dear, synonymous to a blooming water lily, delicate and bright

But somehow that efflorescent plant has now wilted and drowned

Filling its decaying brown lungs with the cold water that surrounds

.

Annabelle, giggling excitedly with your group of friends at the bayside pier

Cotton candy by your lips, your celestial dress hiding your dessicated heart

Pleasant demeanour fading as you stood waiting, your fluttering ebony hair

Staring down into the murky waters, how badly did you wish to jump?

.

Annabelle, would you like to relay your last prayers in your wake, vis-à-vis?

Hands clasped together, in a pew, staring at your own funeral service

Fallen rose wreaths and fake red tears, can you handle the melancholy?

Sordid priests and frowning nuns, as I mumble my heartless bland eulogy

.

Carafes of bloody wines toasted, canticles in a morbidly-joyous anthem

Ostentatious display of sorrow, grotesque streamers on a mausoleum

You were a simple girl, Annabelle, but they wanted your lifeline celebrated

But confetti and balloons and the static noise is what you always have hated

.

Annabelle, there’s a budding flower flourishing inside your twisted womb

But you don’t wish for it to blossom so you chose the sanctity of the tomb

They would shame you, they’d disgrace you, throw you down the pit of deceit

You thought it better to have a fabulous death than a life of wretched defeat

.

A parade of endless black and grey, silk dripping and umbrellas raised up plain

As the dislimned anguished skies pulled a fresh sheath of sobbing rain

A grave dug fresh, a grey cracked tombstone, a short epitaph inscribed

“To the beautiful girl who still radiates hope and inspires even as she died”

.

A wandering soul with a grave mistake, my perfect, sweetest, bleeding Annabelle

Society has wept and grieved this day, for such a innocent lovely girl has fell

Annabelle, your teasing scarlet lips are forever stained in a permanent smile

Won’t you tell me one last secret to keep, or will you hide them all for eternity’s while?

~*~

I miss you, I miss you so far
And the collision of your kiss
That made it so hard

Way down, way down…

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