Drone Strike

Poetry should be fun

Like mischeviously grinning
Before gladly giving the middle finger
In the face of the assembly line factory
Literary society has literally become of late
Weigh the sting of my sarcasm by the ton
And rate this efficiently deficient combination
Winning at failing to keep up in an even steady pace
Losing the three-legged race you and I have always run
Lagging behind with feet dragging out of sight
While in my mind I'm freely streaking naked
Under a July sun so warm it bakes this skin of mine
Alive as busy workers buzzing toil and thrive
Somewhere in the corrugated hive of imagination
Can't stand your idle dronings any longer
No time to linger

Hear my thoughts swarm



My thoughts swarm



Swarm