Old New YorkA Poem by J.L HunterOnce 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 HunterReviews
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Added on March 21, 2011Last Updated on March 21, 2011 Tags: New York. Guns. End of the world AuthorJ.L HunterPensacola, FLAboutWriter. 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..Writing
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