Wasteland

Wasteland

teeth rattle to the beats of

the wind and the knuckles

to the ruffles of leaves and

sheaves to the bleats of

wolfs like sheep

the land cackles like the

witches of oz and old and

tattles like nomadic tongues

spewing curses in two folds and

threes and fours like fell trolls

in green and white and green

till her denizens become citizens

bathed in spite and creams

of crimson blood skinned in

wars and gusts of dust of

bombs and angry cannons

till fear and death linger in

the air like tears of

the moon and gaunt fingers

wither in hunger and want

and hope

that may never come

 

till these scums in golds and

robes be sent to

slums in silver caskets

the grisly cackle of the land

shall  not cease and the

tune of tombs and gloom shall

soon lull the land

into macabrous peace till

the end of eternity

begins

again

w a s t e l a n d  .

 

 

 

 

 



One thought on “Wasteland” by praize (@praize)

  1. Excellent job, I love your choice of words.

Leave a Reply