Preservation Of Death

Their censure forced the decision

Their murder forced by incision

With furtive defiance I ended their lives

My allegiance to the scalpel has reshaped mine

Stuck with a codgerie of bodies

My aims have something new to embody

Flasks brimming with nutritive concoctions

To stave off decay and exsiccation

In vials suffused with anti-decomposotes

Concealed organelles, their discovery remote

Preservation of...

A post-mortem view to the nature of

Death

Preservation of...

A looking glass through to the traces of

Death

With our crimes concealed, we've time to reveal

Anatomical dogmas, so far not appealed

In perfect suspension, this gralloch begs the question

Past this mortal coil, can we affect reclamation?

Preservation of...

Channels replete through which we aim to cheat death

Preservation of...

To our last breath, pursuing life after death

Information I'll procure from subjects matured

In a gripe's egg of our preserving tinctures

Wrought In Hell

An eldritch study to beguile our throng

The irons that now bind us will be proven none too strong

Our asomatic nostrum, we'll work hammer and tongs

My medical bag brims with surgical steel

If they're the tools for the job, my work will reveal

This apparati insufficient, I'll concede

For death to be undone, custom tools we'll need

Smelted steel prepared to be forged

Instruments unimagined before - wrought in hell

Bio-morphic blades cleave whet stones

Slicing effortlessly through bones

Spreaders and clamps and brackets to fasten

For this craft we've found a passion - wrought in hell

To antique equipment we'll not be resigned

Utilizing pieces of our own design

Bunsen burners conflagrate erlenmeyer flasks

Burets are topped with bactericides distilled in casks

Formaldehyde, ether, lividinous tinctures

Medicinal vegetation we've culled

A pestle grinds these pharmaceuticals - wrought in hell

Toxic particulates mixed with saline

The reagent turns a bright shade of green

Through a rebreather, the stench is dulled

As bellows are topped with chemicals - wrought in hell

With tubing and pipe set into place

This spectre of death we'll attempt to erase

Tangled leads are wound around kaleidoscopic brains

Wherein probes are intromitted in constipated veins

Transformer required to break mortal constrains

Turbines spin generating kinetic flow

Conductive kneck bolts will direct the current to go

AC/DC, electrical, jump-start the physiological

My medical bag brims with that we have decreed

The tools of reanimation, now our work can proceed

New innovations to revivify all things rotten

Hearts will be made to pulse again with tools wrought in...

Hell

Resurrectionists

A hammer to drive the chisel in

A chisel to alter bone and skin

An algid stiff to now provide

A link to where the soul resides

That still hearts should pulse with ichor

Is an ethical dilemma to be sure

That a body can be made to function

Is an enigma to decipher without compunction

That the dead may in mere slumber lie

Is a query that begs us to coax a reply

That rotting lungs shall heave with breath

Is truly a matter of life and death

The ressurectionists

The ressurectionists... no more death after life

Augers employed to crack and peel

Gilding steel teeth with paste of bone meal

Their skulls disassembled and scored

With sanguine expectations, meticulously gored

To reconnect nerve filled clusters

Our encaphalic skill, we muster

To reinstate arterial paths

Our hands engage in a blood bath

To reset joint and bone

Our mending powers are hewn

To restart cardial beating

Our defibrullator is heating

The ressurectionists

The ressurectionists... no more death after life

Intra-venously dripping a potion

To rekindle locomotion

Old hat at plundering lifeless shells

But I shall never get used to the smell

Sutures of catgut carefully stitched

Securing intestines in torsal pitch

Along the sciatic, nerves are defrayed

In our conclave, bodies remade

This brain in a solution submerged

From a cranium we've purged

This jellied ganglia to reconnect

From the medulla to the neck

This artery and vein shall rehydrate

From pulmonary functions we'll resuscitate

This human tabula rasa we've sewn

From it, coaxed, secrets to life unknown

The ressurectionists

The ressurectionists... no more death after life

Date: 2015-12-24; view: 1059