The lane I walk
In dead man’s land,
Is one that bands
The forlorn souls
That dead men stock,
They who trudge
Hoping to find
What’s left of time,
And so survive
Their soul gone blind,
Unsure they be alive…
Thus as I walk
In this non world,
And watch in vain
The suffered pain
Those souls do feel,
Who try to taste
What once was real,
That man laid waste
With insane zeal,
Yet nil a peep
From alleged sheep
To save remains,
For they but follow
Big Brother’s lane,
Who need not walk
In dead man’s land,
Where dead men stalk!
ode to Edgar Allan Poe
Poetry on a Canapé 