Herbert Nehrlich - Smoke Machine

I had a dream last night.
It was a dream in vivid colours.
A satisfying dream.
A dream of justice and
righteousness.

So, here I stood,
horsewhipping
a cowardly soul
with a large wet rag.

The rag was called
INNUENDO.

And the cowardly soul
looked like a pathetic
old spinster whose
belt had fallen off,
exposing soiled nickers
and hidden knives
dangling.


In the background
one could see
what appeared to be
a fire.
Only smoke was visible.

But then, as the screams
of the victim echoed
back from the Hills
of Deception and
Cowardice,
it became obvious that
there was no fire.
The smoke was coming
from a Texas smoke machine.

Herbert Nehrlich

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/smoke-machine/