Line Up Massacre, a poem by Drem

This is from 2012! Let me know if you find it interesting.


I couldn’t find a good archery picture. So, in the Featured Image, just pretend those guns are actually bows and arrows.

Line Up Massacre, a poem by Drem (c)

Mid April 2012

“In the perpetual purgatory,

the sweet rushing sense

we get

from the hesitance

and excitement

of waiting.

We’re waiting

for the arrows

to wind themselves back

and point


towards the time.

So we stop,

and we talk

in the while

it takes

till they

catch up

to us.

To our place,

our existence,

with each other,

alive now,

in our line,


in a row

waiting for

the arrows.


we then break it.

We aren’t compliant.

because waiting

is for the limitless


and inanimate


that could do nothing else but not move

and wait for sweet death.

They have no mind to see

and no eyes to evaluate

and think

out their situation

and its future implications.

Leveling in speed,

we run away

but in a unison beat,

heartbeat matching


as our feet break

the leaves and twigs

and make marks in the wet Autumn soil.

But even with you, sweet angel behind me,

we fail.

Even with everything I am,

each path planned,

with all my inner forces

that I mustered

I failed.

I’m hit…

And I think it’s time for my hell.”


4 thoughts on “Line Up Massacre, a poem by Drem

  1. I see myself in your middle stanza and I feel ashamed. Your writing touches me very deeply. I hope you don’t feel like I’m stalking you or your blog lol.
    I am stuck Drem, somewhere in between lazy, immobile, sore, ashamed and not good enough. I’m struggling to move… Jx

    Liked by 1 person

Share Your Thoughts

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s