Drone Strike 1

       
Poetry should be fun  
        
---a mischievous grinning        
before the middle finger giving       
in the face of assembly line factory        
literary society has become of late        
Weigh the sting of sarcasm by the ton;        
rate this efficiently deficient combination        
winning at failing to maintain steady pace        
in the three-legged race you and I have run        
lagging behind with feet dragging out of sight        
while in my mind, I'm freely streaking naked        
under a sun so warm it bakes this skin of mine        
---alive as busy workers buzzing toil and thrive        
somewhere in Imagination's corrugated hive        
Can't stand your idle dronings any longer;       
no time to linger  
 
Hear my thoughts swarm      
       
       
My thoughts swarm      
       
       
My thoughts      
     
     
swarm    













^ hive shaped poem