by Tyler Joseph Wiseman
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
Print Save Become a Fan
Rapture and relegate,
let us dance drunken upon graves
for this place, this funerary pyre
in a state of perpetual fugue
burns with an uncommon fire
Draw the blood, as collective junkies
ready for the next bump,
the black tar flows empty to
power diesel trucks, frozen thrones,
and all the gas grills in our homes
Equlibrium is lost to us, who
inebriated on desire, intoxicated
by the power of self assured demise
flaunt apocalypse like a righteous wrong
As the world turns, we are whimsy to wobble on
They say Mars was once our home,
or, potentially so, blew away when a solar wind
gusted the hot pale of death across it's surfaces
and the core cooled, robbing gravity
from the self sustained feedback of electromagnetism
Now, in the last two hundred years,
we have experience such a remarkable trend,
flow to ebb, of our internal magnetisms
the decline is stronger than it ever has been
and we, free radicals, deserve it
Want to review or comment on this
Click here to login!
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!
|Reviewed by Jim Dunlap
|Yes, the title is the bomb. Intriguing write. You certainly do have a unique way of looking at things. It should make you a natural for Writer's Digest top 100, if you ever enter anything, of course.|
|Reviewed by Floria Kelderhouse (Reader)
|Hi Tykler...gosh everyone passed up the title...what a creative title that is...the poem is intense...powerful...so much here to think on...great write...floria|
|Reviewed by Michael Emery (Reader)
|Reviewed by Tami Ryan
|I especially like this:
"As the world turns, we are whimsy to wobble on"
Good write, Tyler.