Driving Through Hell

It is not the time to admire the scenery,
the fire, the demons, the broken ones
whose only language is destruction.

The fires here are not for warming,
but for consuming
and so the object is to drive insanely

fast,

as the sparks fly around you
and the dark beasts follow.

Drive fast

and when you come out on the other side
(and you will),
the burn marks will make you
the most interesting man in heaven.

About this poem.

I am going through old poems that my mother saved. They go back to high school, through college and beyond. Some are garbage. Some are still pretty good. But what surprised me is how much I used my sense of humor in poetry back then. I’ve been laughing my head off reading some of them.

How did I lose that?

I hereby declare I am going to reclaim it, one bad poem at a time. This is the first.

Tom