PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In the desert for a week straight

dealing with the dead

a cemetary of lead filled strangers

horizantally dirt deep

That's when the water ran out

and the mind is fickle, friend

No oasis in this crisis

just a pale faced lot of fools

The others soon realized the end

was going to come sooner than later

and made peace with a peacemaker

or cat called the revolver's howl

I simply took to walking and weaving

in and out of cacti and tumble weed's disguise

I skipped past a mountain of lizards congregating

in top hat attire debating Tolstoy

Wolves came to collect me by dusk

but I walked with them for a spell

to quell the ambition and rumbling of

furry stomachs that whisper

I asked if they've lived here long

and what the neighborhood was like,

Much Crime? Land Value? Good Schools?

The smarter of the pack pursued me

Equippng a monacle he went into linguistics

going on to point out my tresspass

and the meanderings here were unsettling,

I raced on all fours in that case

"Try by the moon", the armadillo spat

"Try by the moon to be in tune with direction

less we now all forget that nature can detect you"

I raced still in nightfall guided by his words

I spy the soul of the desert in the nightsky

drowning stagnant feelings in adventure,

leading cowards to a cold grave

and embossing me in stasis

I'll run this race forever