Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.|
My window has flaking paint and gaps of rot.
The bluesuit business man realignes his mind
For the next briefcase presentation of relevant facts,
And obscure lies, needed to sell his ZF230-14A copier.
A black torpedo.
It speeds into the building below,
I'm in mid air on a carpet flying,
Surreal and suspended,
As orange tongues,
And boom and dust, shoot out.
A Fire Breathing Dragon.
Is a page of destruction.
And clear, so clearly
Is flying, across the square below,
Of 1958 domain
Bouncing on cobbles
Before its bones separate.
Its words are lost.
A random poem inspired partly by the pic. Thanks for that.
'Business' and 'man' are separated, deliberately.
You can watch the TV, but ...
What's it like when a bomb goes off near you?
You somehow miss the direct blast, but see the effects.
What's it like when suddenly something familiar, or someone, is lost?