- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Desiccated
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This used to be Mission Beach
but not anymore. So-Cal is gone,
so are the Mormons and the Oakies too,
all swallowed in The Quake.
Now we lie here on our backs baking
in Memphis sands, stripped dust bowls.
Obsolete oil machinery pump
in the background, serenading us,
sucking up magma clear to China.
Revolted, I bite the inside of my cheek
rubbing her sharkskin with cocoa butter,
dreaming of grass and palms trees.
We are but dried crustaceans skittering
along dead lands as it seems cars
no longer need gasoline,
but still drain our resources.
I see seagulls and tonight I'll fry
them in butter because there is nothing left.
- COMMENTS
Neonuroticover 12 years agoAuthorHey Maria, WillowedCabin (I want to call you Willow, but that would be to familiar). This poem originated from the 5 Senses challenge thread in the PF&D forum. Then, I used to obsess on super natural disasters that came on T.V. documentaries. Some of which could/would destroy the western seaboard so hence a poem of the aftermath on the new west coastline, Great Salt Lake, Bonneville Salt Flats.
Glad you all enjoyed my scary-crazy poem. Like I mentioned the 5 Senses challenge, that's where I get some whacked out ideas lately for newer poems I've been posting.
Maria2394over 12 years agothe previous comment and knowing your food prefs, it makes it a killer line. I don't know how to say this, it will probably come out wrong, but the piece sort of scared me. It is so visual, to me, at least, I can see a barren waste land, like in Mad Max and that future, that time lines scared the shit outta me.
The rhythm in your lines is catchy, you did a very good job in your word choices but I question the "palms", maybe I am reading it wrong, but it seems like an extra s in there.
I hope it never comes to that for you; frying sea gulls.
~ m
PS, I am PM'ing you about another matter...
WillowedCabinover 12 years agoThat would be a five alone, just for the ending line.
