Poetry By Raymond Palma
‘A Ray of Hope’
Walk with a CRUNCH!
The CRUNCH flies every time you step.
So many colors, what do you mean they’re dead?
How can this be when they’ve formed a body?
The head looks familiar.
The brain is hollow, yet it glows with rage!
Orange, orange, a discriminating fellow.
Strangers approach every hour.
A circus is in town.
Animals don’t look like themselves.
Why do they chant the cliche?
Their stomachs will all be filled.
They’ll all go away.
Copyright© 2000 by the International Library of Poetry as a compilation.