Scavenger's Soul Poem by joseph vincent orlanda

metal sticks and sacks are held
scrounging for something worth
amidst the stench and smoke
emanating in the air

with a beaten face
burned by the blazing sun
joining other zombies
where flesh hanging from the jaws

an ocean of rusty needles and broken bottles
ripping through emaciated arms
a gold is found deep there
coated with fresh maggots

all day throughout the night
going on non-stop
with metal monsters and rotten smell
are best companions

when will this end?
if mountains upon mountains
completely envelops
your burning world