The thick cloudy blackness,
Suffused with cries of angry, withered souls
Sprints by as I, tormented soul,
Race through the darkness
Of a fractal, gaping emptiness
Divulging the contents of itself
Into my unguarded, convulsing mind;
An undualting, rising, climax of damp earth and musty air;
The ingredients of my approaching doom.
And in the secret, abandoned spaces of my mind,
Death cooks his feast:
Politics, war, lust,
freeze-pops,
Aaron Copland’s Appalachian Spring,
the smell of new cars,
obergines,
and mating Japanese beetles.
Stir twice clockwise, then seven times widdershins.
Add a lock from the beard of a woman,
Then sprinkle with a bit of hair lice from that clown in the ice-cream truck.
What the fuck?
This isn’t death!
Just too much acid.
Author notes
Picture credit: http://dholl.deviantart.com/art/The-Dread-Domain-96173276
A contest entry
- Quickie Dark Prompt. by Sweet Impatience.
750 points, ended September 18, 2008, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Hahahahahaa.....Well where do I sign up for this kind of trip???? Excellent take on the prompt, you went deep into left field here and delivered a bit of humor in a most demented way....thank you for your entry
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lol!
it was a pretty dark write, but it all came to a funny ending!
awesome write, keep penning! >.<
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I love it!! It's starts out dark and morbid then BAM! funny. it's amazing great work
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"widdershins?" Its words like that that make your pieces awesome. I see you're taking to the poetic waters quite nicely. Welcome to the jungle, man.
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