The badlands beckon me
From times past
To trek so ominously
Creatures stirring the sacred pot
Traversing in a quagmire of iniquity
Under the inflammed sun so hot
Bad habits increase in the fold
Natures voice calls us to join
What the imperial site beholds
Asphalt of broken bottles
And females dancing away
Feeling like exotic models
Times past please stay
Enjoying the breeze of cuddles
by j. bowers. j.
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This entry was posted
on Saturday, July 14th, 2007 at 5:13 pm and is filed under Life Poetry.
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