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Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #1197670
You'll just have to read this one
Ooing, gooing, dripping, clogging sludge.
Non-solid, non-liquid, glueyness.
It invades, it escapes, it conquers!
Like "The Blob": It lives.

With no defense, the white flag
is waved in surrender -
But it is not seen or acknowledged.
It's blown and disintegrates
in the wind and storm of goo.

The helpless willing prisoner
of this war lies prostrate
atop his many flags of cotton:
Of relinquishment.

"The Blob" oozes out interrogations
upon him... within him.
Then the victim sleeps
from exhaustion, for days.

When he awakens finally,
the enemy has withdrawn.
He breathes in the cool, clean air
to the full extention of his lungs.

With his breath, he hears silence.
He has survived another cold war.

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