In The Vanguard: A Poem

From Whitechapel to you

Ask Flash Battery image by Joe Haput CC BY

In The Vanguard

by Cosmic Poet Simon Pole

Van of sorrow, van of tears,
Van of a spree killer called Shears.
He drove it around, drove it uptown,
And out to gullies and creeks.

Van of death, tube of decay,
Lousey sheath which sprouts nature’s day.
Long was the spore planted on our shore,
Plucked out from Whitechapel’s eye.