return to my poetry's home.

just in case some of you are unaware: this is supposed to be funny. it works better spoken as a highly significant 'warning to the generations'.

the first line was inspired by a little bin in the bar i was sitting... the rest sort 'came' as i went along. :-)

bin of doom

beware the bin of doom!
for whence your rubbish came:
a monster, in shadow lurks...
and it will seek no fame.

each scrap of paper you take
and, with careless abandon,
write you ill-formed ideas:
which later appear.. almost random...

he sees them all. and he gloats!
for he has a plan, you see.
once, in an ad from the pru,
he found all he wanted was "to be a tree".

once that last paper is wrote,
and flung way across the room...
then! the monster will be loose:
a tree... that bin of doom.

© 30/mar/2002 the auroran sunset