The Hills Of Doom Poem by John Ackerman

crisp cool day in the late month of May
alling emblems all around with a song
an old indian was killed in those hills
one lone survivor by his side was left insane popping pills

so I ventured out on my own to see
cascading beautiful hills with thick trees
a waterfall overlooked the cave of the unknown
so I loosened my load and sat

was suddenly approached by a small bob cat
tenderly affectionate but it wouldn't be long
nature's beckoning call asunder with water
a clear fountain gushing out of the river below

there was a stranger who approached me
he told me he would kill me but that didn't thrill me
Until he put the nine to my head he pulled the trigger but nothing came out
so I would fight with this crazy man

hitting each other for a long time until
his face turned into a skull,
suddenly his mighty grip loosened and ran into the woods
left me screaming at that demon

perhaps this is how the indian died
I thanked God I was still very much alive
so I carried on with a song
going on for the ride