HA! It’s me again, tell em it’s me again! I bet you weren’t expecting another poem so soon, but here I am bearing literary gifts. This poem was made in a kitchen, in a household with a fair few banging poets. Shouts out to Laurie Ogden and Gabriel Jones for the poetic enjoyment. Anyways, the poem…
Youth moves like bush fire,
burning up to no where.
Adulthood is just charred ground,
childhood’s stubborn ashes.
The best part of life is the forest,
before the first puddle of dying.
Too many people enjoy the burning,
think disintegration is life.
Why play in embers,
lamenting the rule of flames?
Nobody told me every forest burned,
that each man turned to desert.
I do not understand the joy of a forest,
if it lives destined for dust.