Slang

Slang

A Poem by Kenneth The Poet

standing on a rock
with a wind-eroded torso,

a mushroom cloud frozen
in time but teetering on a
precipice,

awaiting the right moment
in the future to become
another member of the
Boot Hill gang,

the land will remain
as the buttes erode
themselves first into
faux mushroom clouds
and then into shattered
elegance,

and then and only then
will the slang become
null and void

© 2012 Kenneth The Poet


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Added on February 9, 2012
Last Updated on February 9, 2012

Author

Kenneth The Poet
Kenneth The Poet

Bismarck, ND



About
Kenneth The Poet is an optimist wrapped in the candy shell of moroseness and cynicism. He lives between the two parallels marked 46 and 49, all while living in the state marked 39. He pretends that he.. more..