poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2009


If you were caught amidst a mist of zombies
Swarming over the isle like warm blood
Would you scream out your pretention and sorrow
Long for the darkness deep within the caves
Search for the isles that might have once saved you
Unless the fish were decaying and deranged
Still the world spins around without energy to borrow
My, isn't this world strange