Red and orange sky, a promise sign
Forlorn groups huddle in shallow caves
Unhatched eggs wait as elders bend from time
The gods of pylons aid in our fight
gods of light we banish you from sight
blessed is the black
blessed is the dark
blessed is the ever night
*No apologies are given for crappy poetry on sleestak Sundays. I put it in the title. It's your own fault you read it.
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Wouldn't it be awesome to have this prop?
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely.
ReplyDeleteThe poem did what it neess (Sleestak inflection there)to do!
ReplyDeleteRight next to the birdbath. And eerie enough to make inanimate concrete gnomes scoot away from it through the garden at a rate of a few inches per day.
ReplyDeleteThat Sleestak looks kind of like the Lawgiver in Planet of the Apes.
ReplyDelete"Not to be born is best."
ReplyDelete**Holds up cigarette lighter at the back of the room**
ReplyDeletethat would make an awesome decanter (Shrink it down and make the head to shoulders the lid). Or perhaps a tiki mug.
ReplyDeleteLove the poem. I just picture a bunch of sleestaks in berets and dark glasses sitting around snapping their fingers while the poet recites his lines. Beatstaks. Or Sleestniks.
ReplyDelete