Author Information
The Bomb Just Went Off ( a sad story)
blood is red, red is everywhere
it starts rivers in my veins full
of dirt and deceitfullness.
the grass is the color of
a homeless mans wallet,
and smells of burnt skin.
it runs as if something is chasing it.
i would never ask it a question
without already
knowing the answer.
a bloodcurdling scream
comes from the dresser, from the gun
that sleeps in his nest
and is covered with burlap
until the madness is over.
the red saturates everything and
everyone.
people become zombies
in their town
inside my head...
they walk around in their sunday clothes,
like me; in a shell
as uncomfortable
as a small child
in a wool sweater, and as
missed as a lump of coal.
their heads are held low
the children become insane
many more bombs go off
no more
happiness,
no more
people,
no prayers said at night
by behaving kids
their little hands holding each other
the radio in the background
plays you are my sunshine
and a tear from the parents' eyes
as they watch her
wondering what she will
be like in 20 years.
the little girl watches the vulchers,
and the planes fly overhead.
this wouldn't be so bad
if it wasn't all in my head.
Current Music: fuse
The images flow and shift very well in this poem.
Some typos
"of dirt and deceitfullness." should be "deceitfulness"
"a homeless mans wallet," should be "man's"