tumble weeds of the prairie,
they know not since they don’t see,
of off-color plaster walls,
approach from the periphery.
how foolish was I,
persuaded by an evil demon,
to launch down rolling buttress hills,
recycled from slumbering lunatics.
alike to a reunion between Venus and Mars,
on a scale of epic proportions,
stupidity it seems as reached its limit,
with craters created by cranial helmets.
3 comments:
great poem!!
made me think of chaos a little bit when you described "rolling down buttress hills recycled from slumbering lunatics"
who is the evil demon??
I love the imagery in this poem!
"...stupidity it seems as reached its limit/with craters created by cranial helmets"
The alliteration tumbles off the tongue just like your poem! The ending brings me back down to earthfrom your grandiose imagery ("...alike to a reunion between Venus and Mars") and feels like a crash landing, bouncing and rolling to a stop. I like it.
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