Posts Tagged ‘Apocalypse’

The Land of the Free quakes,
Disaster looms above,
Or so it’s said,
Many believe it to be so,

Neighbours look sideways at one another,
Rights become targets,
For the firing squad that is corruption,
Few tears are shed,
Even fewer protests are uttered,

Division and hatred,
These weapons of mass destruction,
Maybe orchestrated by a court of white,
Filled with a rogues gallery,
In business suits and colourful badges,

Led by something of a jester,
With delusions of grandeur,
Possessing a nationalist baton,
And a dangerous red button,
Poking the bear and dragon,

The time has come,
A red mushroom cloud erupts,
In the shape of a pachyderm,
The Land of the Free is no more,
The world is ending.

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There’s trouble ahead,
There’s hellfire on the horizon,
The drumbeat continues,
Humanity marches unabated,
Craters and mushroom clouds ahead,

Out of tune,
Ragged drums and dilapidated regalia,
Painted-on smiles,
Out of step,
Unwashed humanity parading ever onward,

Cracked lips and grazed knees,
The drumbeat continues,
Complaining of weary eyes,
Insanity personified,
Driven on regardless by the beat of life,

The state of this world,
The state of this procession,
Mired in misery and dissention,
Enough for a thousand dirges,
There’s trouble ahead,

The drumbeat continues.

There once was a God who learned to hate,
He grew tired of benevolence,
And perhaps of divinity too,
His creations only brought disappointment,

Beasts of fang and scale grew tiresome,
Achieving nothing but a tedious cycle of predator and prey,
His creations of the waves too,
Fins and scales offer no diversion,

He looks to the skies,
And hates the souls flying overhead,
Cursing at his avian creations,
Each wing-beat an assumed insult to his godhood,

Most of all he loathes those of his image,
Dominating a world he made,
Squabbling over salt and dirt,
Boring, boring and boring,

A bored God is a dangerous God,
A dissatisfied one even more so,
What if he decided to inject some amusement?
A cataclysm there,
A flood here,
Or a plague over there,
Something a hateful God could unleash upon his subjects of ire,

What if this God decided to throw his toys away,
And started anew?

The accordion plays on and on,
Its player masked and humbly attired,
An apocalyptic accordionist,
Tight-lipped and stoic,
Longing for the end of all things.

On and on,
The world falls apart,
Flames jig to the tune,
The land quakes to each note,
Civilization gives a final emphatic applause.

The world moves to an inaudible drum beat,
Waiting for its execution,
The noose tightened,
And the guillotine lifted,
An accordion at the end of the world.

Each keystroke is a crescendo,
Each scale is a finale,
And each note is a curtain call,
An Armageddon,
So the accordion may cease playing.

The end comes,
The accordion plays on.

Accordion

The clowns are here,
Playing in the nuclear winter,
Cracking jokes to corpses,
Juggling in acid rain,

Rotting balloon animal.

Waltzing in a firestorm,
Bowing to inaudible applause,
Giggling as the meteors descend,

Cannibal candyfloss.

We are the clowns at the end,
The only ones left.

Clowns

Where will you be at the end of the world?
When the sky is aflame,
When the very ground shatters,
When society is a distant memory,
When all the states of the world crumble,
When lives end aplenty.

Will you be with your families,
Comforting one another in your last moments?
Will you be be with companions,
Celebrating and dancing among the flame?
Will you be in the streets,
Flailing feebly at the falling sky?

Will you be praying,
Begging non-existent entities to save your wretched soul?
Will you be raiding,
Clinging on to notions of greed even as mankind expires?
Will you be fighting,
Attempting hopelessly to save your fellow doomed souls?

Me?
Where will i be?
I’ll be at the epicenter,
Arms outstretched,
As if doting on the devastation,
A great big grin on my face,
Watching as the world burns finally.
Waiting hysterically for the screams to stop.
All vestiges of understanding and sanity burning up.

Where will you be?
Beside me?

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