Poem -

No One Gets Out Alive

No One Gets Out Alive

Though (supposedly) only
the good die young, urn holding
cremated ashes a mere cup
full, every last man standing falls,

cuz nobody else
escapes un pup
yule lore blitzkrieg,
or aging gracefully,

the unavoidable eventual fate,
(mortal fateful demise),
sans the remaining unsung
anonymous peoples meet up

with the grim reaper,
who will ineluctably disrupt
the carryings on
with each and every individual

(non plus ultra all other
life forms as well)
gradually or with abrupt,
and unannounced debut

scythe lent lee appearing
to whisk away the
honest and/or corrupt
whether taking their

first meal of the day,
and/or last sup
per, perhaps sitting quietly,
when body electric

amp pare rent lee
receives ohm
my word fatal invite,
whereat permanent shocking

quiescence doth, sans
stealth maneuver erupt
tragically, indiscriminately,
and blithely

mowing down innocent civilians,
and/or training fate squarely
upon heads of soldiers
life during wartime,

where opposing armies regale
while marching men go hup...
to three fore (akin
to a story field day),

winning booby prize, viz
counting on qua,
asper winning lottery
and/or Stanley Cup

major blood bath rendered
significant counting coup
whereat each opposing fighting
force figuratively doth slew

the other, analogously dost defeat
making mince meat
re: as uniformed brigades in heat
of wanton killing

fields sliced minced,
chopped nada so vary neat,
via stealth unable dupe, nor cheat
death be not proud,

et cetera, nonetheless,
grimly forced to greet
a bonanza coup won,
only tubby beat

tin to pulp by adept
skull and excellent fleet
of foot (top
notch crafted) sweet

(albeit) temporary victory
tasting said treat
assailing, bruiting , and/or
weathering stance versus

alternating between defensive
and/or offensive
use of cross bones,
in a hail of bullets

instantaneously didst greet
fast and furious i.e. suffering
deadly raking har row
ring slaughter, an entire

phalanx gone, where
(metaphorical terrible swift sword)
no uniformed fighter
can never call retreat.

Like 0 Pin it 0
Support CosmoFunnel.com

Support CosmoFunnel.com

You can help support the upkeep of CosmoFunnel.com via PayPal.

Log in to leave a comment.
Poem -

Hair envy to the max

Hair envy to the max

I felt way to embarrassed to axe
the cashier his name,
nor express any physical attraction...

Poem -

Today would have been my...

Harriet Harris née Kuritsky
passed away May 4th, 2005.

My mother known as bubba
to...

Poem -

Carefree joie de vivre...

Carefree joie de vivre spirit contingent upon...

healthily functioning bowels and sterling bill of health
and more invaluable than countless untold...

Poem -

the spider

often
the spider comes
seeking upside down corners
upside down worlds
He is...

Poem -

tapping the Glass

All of life
presents itself for viewing
painted in the colours of a cold
god

...

Poem -

Out of Conversation

Out of Conversation

Today in the scrolling news...

The infamous rambunctious man
of limited filtration
...

Advertise on CosmoFunnel.com