Exquisite Corpse


Exquisite Corpse


“and a thousand, thousand slimy things lived on

and so did I”- Samuel Coleridge


While some folks choose the James Dean way

(a short career and exquisite corpse),

as for Myself, I can but say,


“Live Fast,

Die Old,

and leave a loathesome carcass

that disgusts everyone to see.”


Why should you care, after all,

about your shucked-off husk?

Sad that there’s no more road-trips

and the old vehicles up on blocks but still

You had a good, long career

and furthermore

you’ve outlived all your rivals

and danced on their early graves,

yeah, all the Golden Boys who burned bright

for a year or two

but soon expired extinguished.

They were the Stuff that Matinee Idols are made of;

The Jesus’s and the Deans,

the Shelley’s & Valentino’s.

As for Me I was made

to comfort grieving Widows,

provide a sympathetic shoulder to cry on,

whilst I twirl the tips

of my evil mustachio’s,

and ponder tomorrow’s excesses.



technical difficulties spider



The Reverend Hellfire is a practising Performance Poet, President of the Kurilpa Institute of Creativity and an ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanists AND the Church of the Universe.

Loves to be Loved.



~ by reverendhellfire on November 24, 2013.

4 Responses to “Exquisite Corpse”

  1. Here’s to a long, long life of much Guinness & Jack to the ripe old age of 100 then lingering on for another 15 or so– as long as the brain remains lucid enough for disdain…

    • Thank you dear lady for your sentiments. Indeed, more frightening to me than Death or Old Age is the thought of losing my beautiful brain. I’ve come to quite care for and appreciate it, it and its attendant personality. Just sitting and thinking about stuff is my favourite activity.
      Its always shocking to see great intellects or personalities disintegrate from Alzeimers or post-stroke. Sure the body still walks around but the occupant is gone, gone.
      Lord spare us that! A quick death please Lord without any tiresome extended mediacal proceedures and expenses for my loved ones.
      Hopefully I’ll die laughing, preferrably at one of my own jokes; I’ll keel over and everyone will be still waiting for me to deliver the pounch-line. Beautiful.
      Or perhaps I’ll be struck by lightning, in the middle of a raging storm, God hurling thundebolts everywhere and muttering to himself,”That guys harder to kill than a cockroach.”

  2. Love it!  Describes me to a ‘t’; grieving widows and all.

    • Ah Malcolm,you old rogue! I think you might have been part of the inspiration for my poem.
      Say, ever read that poem of Dylan Thomas, “Lament”?..starts; “When I was a windy boy and a bit/and the black spit of the chapel fold..”etc. Makes me laugh, especially the last line..”and all the deadly virtues plague my death.” Not too much lets hope!

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