In a Land By the Yard

In a land by the yard 
by the yard of bones
is the truth a terrible
truth grinning beneath
the trees

A finger points up
and toward the Gods;
dying laughter screaming
'they are all the children
without a hope'

and so it goes...  

all across
the ruins the mighty ruins
of fallen minds
as sharp as sharp
as the edge of town

a horror in the day
in the light of day
tears of joy streamin'
as a fat man sings,
it's the serial killer 
called

"Pogo the Clown."

:: 04-29-2018 ::
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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