Nativity Obscene - A Nursery Chyme

Calcified infant is a breach birth debacle

Natal necrolysis, destined for a formaldehyde-filled bottle

Caesarean section reveals the ghastly tot

An ossified infant, in its womb borne to rot

Livid and stiff ere its first breath is claimed

The rigid bundle of joy, catatonically maimed

Cold, dead and hard as it's exhumed from the womb

The uterus its cradle, and its moist fetid tomb...

Only scalpels left for playthings

Swaddling clothes bloody but not from chafing

Baptism by embalming solution

As the trocar facilities the cold blood's dilution...

Festered fetus drawn from the cavity in which it was conceived

Birth and death now unified, as the grotesque infant is retrieved

Livid osteopedion, breathless lungs still, cold and dry

Birth is just a forensic folly when in being born one dies

Birth and death in one fell breath, extract the corpse from her guts

The morbid birthing cavity is lavaged, torn and cut

Another tiny life that ended before it could begin

Another piece of human offal, to end up in the rubbish bin...

Neither gurgles nor cries escape its lifeless blue lips

Placenta disgorges amniotic fluid as the umbilical cord rips

Morbid nursery chymes fall on deaf little ears

As the dry-eyed infant incites parents to bitter tears...

Obstetric atrocity

With a casket for a crib

Nursery for an autopsy

Body bag for a bib...

Hush little baby, don't say a word

Mama's going to have to get a casket reserved

But if your body is too decomposed

The coffin door will have to stay closed

A babe in her arms

Not safe from harm

When the water breaks, the cradle will rot

A nursery chyme with no happy ending, left in the wastebasket, dead and

Forgot...

[lead - matt]

Another corpse to carve for pathologists and their ilk

Nursed on embalming fluid, no use crying over silt mother's milk

Silent baby rattles stilled

The doctor's gloved hands deliver the babe into a grave that now is filled

Morbid anatomy technicians are the child's only playmates

Callously dissecting, the infantile inanimate

A bloodied dissecting table serves as the young one's tomb and trundle

As inquisitive butchery, splays this joyless rotten bundle...

Dead before ever being alive to die

Eyes closed forever ere the first tear could dry

Mouth sealed by rigor mortis before the first newborn cry

Dissected infant on the table, dead-cut and dry...

Newborn fatality

Whose playpen is a slab

Lifeless nativity

Diminutive toes to be tagged...

Now i lay you down to sleep

Your putrid flesh not long to keep

If you should rot before you wake

Then leave your corpse for the worms to take

In the cold corridors in the sterile, dead morgue

Sobs are heard from the maternity ward

But from the mouth of babes, no sound escapes

In this nativity obscene behind mortuary drapes...