Hell-HolesA Poem by Poe Redd
not so hellish as it sounds, don't worry.
Cloaked in heavy thought
approaches the fork in the road
there was a sign there that read
"Pick a door! Any door!"
when I didn't see a single door.
Not even continued road.
Just a hole ringed with gold
coins falling alone into its mute dream
whistling their unclaimed tune as they flew
to die, surely, I peered into its
one yawing eye- it stared
back. I cringed.
Spat out at me was the stink of life
the grotesque element, I saw now,
radiated from several dark hell-holes
dotting the concrete ground.
Pouring into each was a
whirlpool of desired wealth.
So these were the doors.
Which to fall for?
Without doubt each led to
a bone-shattering death.
this gold was ceaselessly piling
on countless corpses.
So the question was-
which corpse to lay on?
On all sides the atmosphere
rushed down at me smiling foam.
Now or never
life or death
jump before the tsunami swept me off my feet?
presses down on us.
At the fork
why not take the prong
that makes death what you want it to be?
© 2012 Poe Redd
AboutI don't write for anyone, but myself. I didn't learn to write the way I do from anybody, not E. A. Poe or Tuomas Holopainen. I have a ever-evolving style and I don't mind that. Keeps me unpredictable.. more..
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