April 7, 2004

  • 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.

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