The Rain of Empty Choices
My once rosy pink flesh has been drained
of life. I am left with nothing but this pale
wrinkled whiteness, revolting as writhing
maggots. We are all awash in blinding white
that appears to us as an endless gray rain.
The voice of God washes over us.
Drowns us within our own irrelevance.
We have been left here to stare
into the open pit of empty choices
no rain could ever wash away.
This poem was written as part of the surprise ekphrastic Halloween challenge.
Andrew Vinstra is a huge devotee and fan of 60's British invasion classic rock, 50's rockabilly, American blues and soul music and the classic standards of American popular music from the 30's, 40's and 50's as well as old country and jazz. Andrew also loves old classic Hollywood films, the paintings of Vincent Van Gogh, the poetry of William Blake, Gerard Manley Hopkins and Pablo Neruda and the rantings of Charles Bukowski, Henry Miller and Jack Kerouac. When not writing poetry or singing classic rock and Sinatra standards at karaoke bars Andrew wishes he had the guts to pursue becoming a stand up comic like his heroes Robin Williams and George Carlin or that greatest of American writers who was also perhaps the first great stand up comic, Mark Twain.
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