to the overthrow
the worm things of the soft earth
in the rainfall night crawl forth
onto pavement doorstep or road
into the concrete certainty of death
they do not think but they know
that in a darkness yet to fall
there will be an overthrow
and those who rule will crawl
and those who crawl will rule
though tonight in their impossible thousands they die
crushed under wheel trampled under foot
conquered by a nation that knows them not
posted by heelers | 3:41 AM
1 Comments:
Possibly the creepiest poem you've ever written. Or perhaps it's just that I've killed various creepy-crawlies in the last few days as the cool, wet weather has brought them forth.
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