by Ashley ListerI need to preface this with an introduction as to how and why this poem relates to this week's theme.
Last week I was chatting with Michelle about the Dead Good Poets workshops at Blackpool Central Library. The workshops are always good and Michelle mentioned that some of the poets had (as always) contributed some exciting and innovative work, despite working with material outside their comfort zone. I made a comment about my admiration for one particular poet's ability to rise to every challenge presented, regardless of how extreme or bizarre, and this is the poem I came up with inspired by that poet's persistent resourcefulness.
So, that's the connection. This is the poem.
The Necrophilia Love Poem
Nothing could be sillier than a bout of necrophiliaBut I always get the boneWhen I’m reading your headstoneI could be plundering your tombThen maybe plundering your wombCos you’re the one I truly craveWhilst you’re lying in your graveWe’ll try a kinky new positionI don’t mind decompositionIn fact I think you’re really hotAnd you’ve got a sexy plotThere’ll be lots of midnight boffin’Whilst you’re lying in your coffinI think it’s great you weren’t crematedYour remains can be inseminated…
Nothing could be sillierThan a bout of necrophiliaBut I’ve thought on this for hoursAnd at least I’d bring you flowersMy soul might be damned and could be cursedBut it won’t matter that I finish firstAnd maybe you might turn cold to meOr be coated with some mold I’d seeBut our love’s not misbegottenThough your flesh turns stale and rottenIf I gave your corpse a face fullYou’d know that I was being faithfulBecause one thing above all would still be trueEven in death, I’d still love you...Regularly.
