A little poem.

[Flippy_D]

I had one starting line and a subject matter in my head. So I wrote. It may not be very good, but. Meh.

A noose of hot silk,
a dagger of cold cream,
chocolate poison.

But were you to have little,
a wolf in urban kitchens,
how scripts may have changed.

And drugs and drink and sex and violence and we love you Woodstock!
Maybe this was better.

Indulgence is a warm path to death,
but it's scent is misguiding - beguiling and fresh,
and how pretty the butterflies are off the road.

You. Wealth and luxury.
Death, such an irony - was it that you were not satisfied? surely not.
Yet, a troubled thing, brittle cling on reality. And you may leave
and wander to the butterflies, off the path.


---------------------------------------

If anyone figures out what the poem is about, I'll be quite happy.

[Darth Mandarb]

Michael Jackson.

[MrColossal]

Elliot Smith




[i have no idea who he is but people seem sad he died...]

[Flippy_D]

What, not who  

If it's any comfort, I don't know him either.

[MrColossal]

hehe i think Darth Vader's [LOLOLLL WARD AND JUNE CLEAVER] guess constitutes as a what...

i don't know if you're asking for crit so I won't

[TheYak]

It's about the everyday-man's defiance of the massive corporate machine in order to pursue the co-existance of man with goat-yogurt.

[cpage]

lol for the whole time i was trying to figure out why someone would right a poem about junk food

[Eggie]

Mmmmmmn, chocolate poison...