The Last Supper

The roar from chromed metal pipes
Bouncing off natures most pristine scenery
Through the interior of British Columbia
All the way to the fjords of Alaska
Bathed by the winds that carry a spirit
Of the Eagles, Wolves and Bears
Ancestors to our Native Peoples
Nations sewn since life began
A peaceful journey in search of mercy
Coastal Mountains line the way
Hugging, speeding along curves that sway
The echo in my ears are the past of my tears
Bidding, a good day and goodbye
Through rain and snow, chilling cold
God bless the times the sun comes out
The warmth builds a hunger
For long, succulent legs
A bucket where legs bend over the rim
The saliva drools from a grin
Melted butter in a soup bowl
Icy cold suds with the tops popped off
All you can eat
Alaskan King crabmeat
With a belly full and a satisfied smile
All the thoughts exploding in my head, disappeared
Turned off with a press and hold


its just a poem. a thought. however distrubing or blissful. its just a poem.

One thought on “The Last Supper

  1. not sure why comments went closed. must be my dumbass touching things I’m not supposed to touch.
    thank you all for the likes, always appreciated more than you know.

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