Inspired While Sitting In The Cemetery: A 15 Minute Poetic Exercise

“Beelzebub!” screams the weirding creep.
But I have gone too far, too long, too deep
to bother with such earthly scum:
I’m with the dead and going down.

Not a lesson in school could ever prepare
a mortal man for such a daring affair.
Each step is invented as you go
And you’ll be damned if you go it slow.

Where there are no names I am unknown,
slinking deeper, darker zone by zone,
plummeting intrepidly into endless night.
Why then do I think I see…a light?

There’s a door slightly ajar!  So I pry a bit,
ever so slowly, and peer through the slit.
And when I gaze inside, what do I see?
A cup of milk and a chocolate chip cookie.

To prowl by night requires accursed stealth,
steel nerves, and a disdain for one’s health.
But to reach the Fridge: that’s the ultimate prize
even if you must look through the devil’s eyes.

Good morning, Mr. Tree!

The more I wander, the more I lust.  Wanderlust.