Chris G. Vaillancourt
Chris G. Vaillancourt Poems
A Boy And The Dragons
Shhh. Tell no-one. The dragons are sleeping
like baby lizards in their caves. Breathless from
a day of pillage. Restful after a time of destruction.
Somewhere, on the other side of the hill, a boy
is playing in the woods. Caressing his manhood,
he becomes a symbol of self appreciation.
Be quiet. Don't disturb the boy in his game.
It is his only means of achieving satisfaction.
A reaction would disturb the molecules from
their expected conclusion.
The boy does not realize how close he is
to potential danger. If he awakens the
dragons, he awakens his ...
Moving coloured in
a too dark world
through the dingy corridors
of cigarette stained minds.
Heated balloons of ambition
have been instructed
to ignore the state of soul.
Focus instead on ambition
and loss of self-control.