Old New York

Old New York

A Poem by J.L Hunter

Once upon a time in old New York.

Once upon a time, in old new york
an old man used to say.
the world would die some day.
I shrugged my shoulders  and passed him by
and said "we'll all die some day"
Well now I stand here amidst the waste
And endless stretch of nothingness in this barren place.
The sky is blue even still
There are no clouds in sight
They've all gathered to the south
To the fading light.

However much we try, this massive suicide
we find a way to live and fight.
The ground below is black with ash,
and crumbled bits of stone.
A world gone by in an instant, with a flash
of blinding white, and yellow light
Some live like moles, underground
barely even human anymore.
So I've found
That most are blind from years of subterranean dark
Insane from lack of art, and color.

I sling a rifle to my back
clip a belt of ammo that sing against my thigh
Gunshots ring across the barren city along the piercing silence,
The moment does draw nigh.
Tomorrow they will come
The sightless ones coming from
Their vaults and endless caverns
Footsteps meet the earth below, like ever beating drums
An awful cacophony, in this fallen sea
of what once was.
and what will be.

Once upon a time, in old New York
an old man used to say.
Forget our guns and swords and such.
Forget our wasteful ways.
For one day these guns will be the only thing
That will keep us alive that day.
So I brace myself, unsling my gun
And ready for the sun,
To slowly creep
Underneath the horizon line.
And when the time unfolds
I'll aim my gun, at the heads
        Of a thousand dying souls.

© 2011 J.L Hunter

My Review

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Nicely done. I like the fact that you put a scary storyline to it. Good work.

Posted 11 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Can't put into words how much I love this part..
"Insane from lack of art, and color. So many sweet lines

Posted 11 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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2 Reviews
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Added on March 21, 2011
Last Updated on March 21, 2011
Tags: New York. Guns. End of the world


J.L Hunter
J.L Hunter

Pensacola, FL

Writer. Father. Lover of cheese. Umbrella salesman. Badger enthusiast. Doorknob. Cup. Also, cigarettes. Lots and lots of cigarettes. And beer. Smoke. Sizzurp drinker. Lemon flavor, never grape. more..

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