"Looney Tune"
The imperial goslin soars through the air,
A sight quite majestic, but lonely.
Once an organ of a glorious flock,
A body dissected to now one and only.
He surveys the landscape of the earth(?) below,
Looking to find something green,
But only asphalt and concrete abound,
The pickings are God-awfully lean.
Civilization has come to this place,
Hoisting its shovels and guns,
And now a synthetic dwelling exclaims,
"See, Mother Nature is conquered and done!"
Suddenly, a mortar shot explodes in the sky,
The goslin has fallen from sight.
First there is red, and then there is gray,
Then everything fades into night.
The hunter arrives, elated by blood,
"Oh, look! What a beautiful goose!"
Then pangs of hunger and the ruffle of feathers,
Elmer is hung by his very own noose.
*** Note: the author realizes that he has taken poetic license by inventing the word, "goslin". Please forgive me.
The imperial goslin soars through the air,
A sight quite majestic, but lonely.
Once an organ of a glorious flock,
A body dissected to now one and only.
He surveys the landscape of the earth(?) below,
Looking to find something green,
But only asphalt and concrete abound,
The pickings are God-awfully lean.
Civilization has come to this place,
Hoisting its shovels and guns,
And now a synthetic dwelling exclaims,
"See, Mother Nature is conquered and done!"
Suddenly, a mortar shot explodes in the sky,
The goslin has fallen from sight.
First there is red, and then there is gray,
Then everything fades into night.
The hunter arrives, elated by blood,
"Oh, look! What a beautiful goose!"
Then pangs of hunger and the ruffle of feathers,
Elmer is hung by his very own noose.
*** Note: the author realizes that he has taken poetic license by inventing the word, "goslin". Please forgive me.
