Day 6: Saturday Poem

Round and Round by The Geek Zombie

Crumbled carnival tickets,
Once scattered the ground.
Now, tainted with shotgun shells,
dead undead bodies,
and Woody Harrelson's maniacal laugh.

I take my ticket and walk away.
Tossing up hands, crying, smiling,
Yelling "I don't know!"

I cannot say that I am more mature than the next man.
Yet, I know I am.
I do not throw stones in glass houses,
I do not act to know,
Admittedly that ignoring questions of cosmology, theology
Roots in finding it all boring and snoring.

There's popcorn on the ground,
I crunch them under my shoe,
Reminded of childhood and crushing olives.

I cannot say I am more mature that the next friend.
Trying to mend arguments with solace servitude,
thoughts brought in pissing contests,
Burlap bags filled with my god is better than your god candies.

Hot-dogs on sticks, coke cans, and sad
stuffed animals left in garbage pails.
All hails! to the parking lot!
where children once cried for once more turn on the Ferris wheel.

Now, tainted with shotgun shells,
dead undead bodies,
and Woody Harrelson's maniacal laugh.