The beauty of a white world all around,
but I cannot see it beyond my window.
I am entombed by reality,
gestating in the womb of Mother Nature’s swollen belly.
Her raging emotions unsettle me,
her fury becomes my anger.
My sense of peace is replaced by the need to kill.
Thousands of individual victims lay in wait
and my I raise my weapon.
I lose track of how many bodies have been discarded on my property
as my shovel throws more snowflakes to their grave.
polysyllabic profundities 
You are murdering the unborn snowmen!!!
It’s always the quiet ones…
Brilliant!
(I’m going to have to try very hard not to steal this, word for word, for the next Beatnik Poetry Slam.)
(But if you have another, you’re welcome to do a guest post for it if you like.)
Haha….I don’t think anyone has ever called me quiet before!! And theft is the highest form of flattery….thank you! When is the next slam?
Fortunately, they aren’t on any schedule. They just happen when something occurs to me.
I’m considering “wake up time” for the next one, with no idea what instrument to use sound effects for…
my favorite would be the coffee maker. 😀
NICE!!!
Apparently I’m getting my writing mojo back…..just started a poem about “wake up time”. Thanks for the inspiration. 🙂
It’s like we’re sharing a brain!
(I hope it’s yours.)
(Mine is out of warranty and a little run down…)
Mine is just getting revved up….hold on, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!!
Very nice indeed (and a little scary!) 😉
I feel a little like The Shining. 😀
Haha… great title! All those snowflakes murdered- you’re running out of room to toss the piles, it looks like.
Attagirl! Kill! KILL!
I feel like Jack Nicholson in The Shining (without the axe)!