Coons And Coppers

.





I'm clawing at the skin of my life.

Wild, beady eyes in the dark,
in the park, where the yuppies don't go -
won't go
in the dark
I'm clawing at the skin of my life.

Thrashing about in the cage
in a rage at the steel and the bars
and the cars
in a rage
I'm clawing at the skin of my life.

Like a coon in the trash
seeks remains from the flames
and the games
in the park
in the dark
where the yuppies don't go
with their cars and their bars
in a rage at their cage...

But I'm clawing at the skin of my life.

And like the snake sheds his skin
In a moment I'm born again,
for the ultimate joke
has been played on that bloke -
that serpent -
that symbol of hope.

(c) 2006, Lois Johnson

posted by Headless-in-GR @ 8/23/2006 08:01:00 PM

 

Comments:

Wow, that's quite strange that we both had raccoons in our poems, because I didn't even see this before I wrote mine. Sisters!

# by:  S. Grace : 10:11 PM

 

Its got a beat you can dance to!

# by:  spookyrach : 4:40 PM

 

Post a Comment