Saturday, 31 October 2015

Bush Walking

Like thunderstorms
Like earthquakes
Like hurricanes
Rumbling through the jungle
Heavy boots of fellow campers
Demolish life along their route

Gamble with the odds of extinction
They dare you to inhale
Elongate your branches of leaves
Under your head of hair of weeds
Protect your fragile figure of thorns

Whisper and soak up the sun
Oh how you wish you were never born
As the boots come squashing 
Each weighing a ton
Implications of pain and torture
Bleeding the obvious

Hailstorms of dirt and metaphor
One boot at a time
Suffer the turmoil
There’s no one to bribe
There’s no where to run
The boots keep on coming
They’re having way too much fun

An opera directed catastrophe
The running time too long
Green faces
Made not out of envy
As death plays its song

One at a time your neighbors quiver
As they all fare goodbye
You wait your turn
An impatient patient
To be buried deeper