Home » Poetical Subjects » Aesthetic » Magma Chamber

Magma Chamber

Things rot and often spoil
Dropping patch of rich oil;
Drilling deep unto the soil
Searching for a good resource

Deeper I go, though hitting rocks..
No one knows the underground
Is other than a burial ground
Neither a place for heavy hands

To gain more golds over lands
I journeyed into bottomless
To find heaps of lonely sands
Different colors; as it stands

The dirt became my only friend
Very often she advised I bend
That men are selfish evil clones
That unwrap her to steal her stones

What is flesh, without a soul
What is depth, without a hole
Notably she said, not only breath
Has a right to dwell and to exist

Then she screamed and began boiling
Across the surface it was vibrating
Then I heard people screaming
The magma chamber is coughing.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu


  1. edis rune says:

    I like the dark, upbeat energy of the poem! Keep it up!



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