a very short story, in verse ;)

Hooray, I wrote a poem. Hasn't got a title... if anyone responds I might post another one someday.

If not, I'll pretend I never said anything at all

Here comes the mob and it's out for your blood;
There isn't much left for our planet to do
So we'll spend all our time the best way we know how:
we'll grab pitchforks and torches and head straight for you.

You might be a patsy, a scapegoat, fall guy,
or the unlucky schmuck who got stuck with the bill
for the banquet where all of the deadly sins feast,
just the same, regardless, we need someone to kill.

we're the mob, we're disgruntled, we must pick these bones
we have harbored our grudge for so many a year,
so we'll all pick on you; we don't care if you did
or did not do the deed, but the reckoning's here

so we will wreak our vengeance upon you today,
somebody or other had to be the one,
so just bite the bullet, it's time for the end;
the Eschaton's here, and hot damn, is it fun.

Parallelogram-

This poem was excellent. I usually do not like much poetry since I find it oftens tries too hard to fit into a particular theme or style and ends up just being pretentious. But your poem was extremely good and I really enjoyed reading it. May I ask what its inspiration was?

I for one certainly hope you post more of your work on these boards, for what that is worth. I look forward to reading more from you.

Thank you very much, Jeremiah, I appreciate that.

I tend to gravitate toward poetry moreso than prose for a number of reasons, not the least of which is convenience. I also really enjoy the range of effects that rhyme and meter (or the absence thereof) can lend to the conveyance of an idea.

As for the inspiration, I can't really say for sure... I often start off going in one direction and wind up somewhere completely different by the end, and I tend to lose sight of the beginning along the way.

Thanks again for the positive review; I'll post something else when I get around to it

[edit on 8-8-2005 by The Parallelogram]

Here goes; I'm throwing literary caution to the wind and posting my very own Ode to the Atomic Bomb... please be gentle

one is broken in two like a cheap child's toy
in a cold steel messiah of death from the skies
the stuff that makes up the stuff everything is
now unmaking that which its brothers comprise

it's not just a weapon, it's not just a god,
it's a whole pantheon of paranoid dismay
it can hold whole worlds hostage or grind them to dust
all the kings and commoners equal that day.

the end of the War and the end of the world
the greatest accomplishment man has achieved
the heavens offended, the earth scourged and dead
and the pits of hell full of the righteous decieved.



[edit on 9-8-2005 by The Parallelogram]