As my forbearers firebombed the outskirts
and paved city streets in chromatic parades,
the wonders of the world
fell to my marauding progenitors
potentially freeing me from my ascension.
I should thank them, but I will not.
Their bursts and beams of light
covered the cloudscapes and deciduous sky
turning sun to shadow and saturnine smiles.
A caliginous concert for the converted.
Surely tomorrow will never come.
Eden is in a mushroom cloud.
A contest entry
- anything your heart desires, prewrites, new, everything! by wendymolly.
555 points, ended July 27, 2008, 41 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
after reading your thoughts and then your explanation to a fellow writer I completely get it! Amazingly dark and twisted in that sense in which you describe of post`revolutionary.
your a fianlist in the contest! take care always, ~pithyAplomB. 
I mean look at darth vader and darth sidious, who did they really think they were foolin' but only themselves.
-
Call me dumb, but who is this about? I can imagine what is taking place, but I think there's something more to it. What are you NOT saying, hmm? I love the word choice. It's fascinating how wonderful you write!
-
-
It's basically about selfish revolutionaries that care little about what kind of world they'll be living in after the revolution. Hope that helps a little bit.
-
-
Your thoughts are always complex but well described. Words bend to your will majesticaly. Good poem.
Kaitlyn
Adding your comment:
