Boiling Point -- The Muse Mongers Motel Poetry Archives

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Subject: Boiling Point

Author:
andy

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Date Posted: 07:00:20 01/20/08 Sun

Boiling Point

The beetle on his back shakes legs
sliding across my hardwood floor
for a second I contemplate his worth

Then crush him with ninety dollar Nike's

It's a world of forgotten death
the living shall blow their horns
until death begets us all

As the world blows up
from the inside out
our volcanic dreams
transformed to ashes

There's a plethora
of bones in peat moss
waiting to sail
across a nuclear sky

We're all waiting on heaven
while Mother Nature
begins her boil

ajs

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