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if i asked
by Charlie Morgani really yearn to be a flatlander;
no depth, height or insides, flat.
then all miseries will slide over me
like a cold wind touches an envelope,
only on it's sunburnt-yellow side.
then i only want to be the underside.
dark; untouched by the weather's chafe.
as the top becomes eroded by elements,
i'll be suffering not; always fresh,
a life-giving hammock of dampness.
spare me the fulness of life
give only facts and figures,
let me be confused as a hobo,
let me rule my senses; a king.
allow subtly the dieing of specie Earth
so as not to frighten the inhabitants.
i'll make announcements along the way.
12/24/2007 Posted on 12/24/2007
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 12/25/07 at 12:18 AM Amazing. funny, tender, sad, original. In my favorites. |
| Posted by Michael Smith on 01/16/10 at 03:16 AM What escapes me, here, is the title... no matter (i hope).
A wonderfully satirical piece this is, and it tickles my soul. What sort of famous characters might utter such desires? Maybe Eeyore? My mind is too numb tonight to discover others...
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