Everything is spinning –
out of control, down a hole
in a galactic whirl.
The tilted axis groans
under our weight of woes.
What will remain?
In a whirling wind, tornado storm,
we’re plucked from twigs.
We’re autumn leaves in a twirling spin;
no more green sprigs, our colours drain.
Sly spiders in their webs
spin intricacies to dismay.
It’s no surprise our webs of lies
will bring a sticky end.
Life’s no joyful merry-go-round –
just one big spinning hamster’s wheel.
The art of the deal is one more roulette spin,
flimflam from Uncle Sam.
We’re spinning tops, when will it stop?
Our yo-yo strings are yanked by jerks.
In disarray, mind-games are played.
The whirlpool spins and drags us in
to leave us spinning in our graves.
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| Writing Prompt |
Please write a free verse poem. Any topic. No rhyming patterns. |
Author Notes
Notes:
"Flimflam" is a trick or deception, especially a swindle or confidence game involving skilful persuasion or clever manipulation of the victim.
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