Rotten Fruit

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You're rotten fruit: a feast for hungry worms;
A banquet for the maggots; they have built
Such vulgar appetites by taking turns
To crawl for endless hours, as you wilt;

You sweat a living foment: you can cough,
Regurgitating bile from your throat;
If you're brought withered blooms to see you off,
Don't smile politely: let your belly bloat;

They'll breathe in puss: it is sweet recompense
For over eager vultures; your last breath
Rasps noxious fumes; and it spares no expense
To drag your carcass to a bilious death;

It's your enormity, you graceless brute;
Your testament; you feast of rotten fruit...

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3 Comments
Ashesh9Ashesh9almost 11 years ago
Your very success as a craftsman is vindicated at the reader's shudder as they read

" rotten , vulgar , withered , noxious " ----you make us hate the creep whoever it is ?!?! 5-ed .

twelveoonetwelveoonealmost 11 years ago
glad to see you

break out of the SOS

i fived

although about half is trite, cliched

this is good

If you're brought withered blooms to see you off,

Do you want lessons? I'm quite good in this genre. laughs

AngelineAngelineabout 11 years ago
Lots of interesting wordplay

in a poem that revels in its vileness. I think it'd be even stronger it you cut it back some: fewer sharper images would make the poem cut like a knife. Too many and it loses its overall shock value.

Love the last two lines. A perfect ending that feels just right to me.