What say to "Fun at the Dark Arcade"?

Question

Should you shoot the little ducky

Before it reaches the over edge

Into darkness-railed top-again?

And, the next twenty nestlings?

Quack...silence

Piching at the Mickey Mantle

Milk bottles, one, two, three...

Mark and walk...you're in the

Hall of Fame...

Home Run...silence

Crowds blank-walk picking

Cotton candy...summertime,

And the livin is easy...

In those old, cotton fields

Back home...silence

Take a free ride, low rider...

The roller coaster waits the

Next car...stretching, yawning.

What does it know about

It's rails...silence

Have a nice day.

Answer 1

whew, having a Ray Bradbury moment here...feeling the need to RUN!

Answer 2

I love Stephen Kingishness. But don't touch my ducky. We have a standing date every Saturday night at the local tub.

Answer 3

SK would have set it in France, called it "D'arquade" (editted from D'arkade) and had Heath Ledger in his Joker makeup being the arcade spruiker. The ducks would have been a metaphor for innocence truncated. I like your tad version.

Answer 4

S1 L2 is that a hyphen or long dash?

S3 L2 is Milk supposed to be caps?

S7 L4 is there a missing question mark?

Answer 5

Your punctuation is fine. So is your poem. You have again transformed and morphed something mundane and supposedly joyful into a metaphor for its opposite.

Answer 6

Can't say I understand it....(this is getting monotonous) but it has a certain charisma.  Take out the .....silence, and what have you got?  Simply snap-shots of ol' US of A enjoying itself.  Put them back and it becomes somewhat eerie.  Not sure what is going on, quite disturbing in fact.

I will be interested to read what others see.

typos - Pitching/its.....sorry, can't help myself.

Answer 7

Fog of smoke rolls in glassed eyes of painted faces.

A yellow satin of mustard smears the face of midget masters of disguise, their feat planted in the sun rise of shadows in the pines.

Drifting with the wind, a sting of sweat sin,

the ride begins yet again.

Twisted mirror of inflection, shimmers like a pond of molten misery.

Cast iron tears fall from the shifting two faced ruff rider.

A glint of paper mashay machete's twist as the frost falls from the heavens.

dancers do you know wear the ride begins ?

tickets please!

or forever be lost on your knees

  

lost words as I fumble threw a thought in time.

Answer 8

Tis a tad Steven King, like something out of the wastelands or talisman novels...I liked it.

You have a nice day too Madam=:>)