PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The key to it all was passing by

Slipping thru octane tanks of oil

The journey into night would deny

Even the slightest chance of spoil

The angelic gods did whisper low

And cars clearly attuned were hearing

The Spanish preacher put on a show

Of faith to make it all endearing

We followed the passions south of night

Everyone subjected to seizure

In the prancing distant preening light

Denying us time for any leisure

Crimes were committed by old sinners

Led astray by famed sinister imps

Echo calls crying out for their dinners

The whores tantalized by rigid pimps

I had about all I could take

So I left the theatre in my haste

I know you were in despair on break

And all this life was really just waste