PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Multitudes of people

walking

going on about their business

Not seeing me,

not, seeing.

A familiar foreign land.

I looked up

giant elongated honeycombs dripping with honey

hung inches apart

No one noticed

No one knew

They were pacified with life.

Thousands upon thousands of wicked giant wasps emerged.

Crawling among the combs, gathering, waiting.

As the honey dripped into the lives below

the people gathered it in blinded praise.

They knew not it's source.

Didn't care.

Honey in life was taken for granted.

The wasps smiled as their stingers grew

longer,

sharper.

There was a strange man walking into the city.

I called to him with silent word.

He looked up at the wasp infested buildings

He saw the people, not seeing.

The winged alliance was in formation.

The man rose to the heights of the buildings

gathering the wasp covered combs.

Placing them in my arms,

I began walking them out of the city.

The combs stuck to my arms and hands,

I tried to shake them lose.

Disturbing the wasps.

Their anger grew and they called out for help.

I turned to look back at the city

there I saw the wasp forces attacking the people of the city.

The people could not protect themselves because

their stomachs were full of honey.

I saw the strange man.

On a ladder,

out of harms reach.

He just watched.

He was smiling.

The peoples were screaming.