Posts Tagged ‘Apocalypse’

The planet suffers,
Cracking under human pressure,
Choking on human fumes,
Past generations inflicting coal bruises,
And ozone cigarette burns,
Unnaturally accelerating the stopwatch,

But the ones to suffer the repercussions,
In the decades to come,
The pessimistic youth,
Are the only ones to comprehend it,
Seeing the world without ruby goggles,
Knowing they are the ones to burn,

The elders are in denial I fear,
Or simply uncaring of what won’t harm them,
Children born now are not blessed,
But cruelly sentenced,
To being part of the pessimistic youth,
As the planet boils.

What is left of a world,
Once all potential is wasted?
When no deified spirits are listening,
And even the ivory towers are vacant,
Just the muck,
The detritus,
The residue of hope,
No longer viable,
I see piles of it everywhere,
I swear even in the mirrors eye,
Wasted potential,
Grey and cracked in the sun,
Walking here and about,
Coughing and spluttering,
Debating and multiplying,

This mess,
This population,
It pretends to be concrete,
It feigns purpose,
When it is meant for naught but the drain.

The world is a corpse,
Lain amidst rot and pus,
Split up and killed long ago,
Now nothing more than ore,
Nothing more than flesh,

We are vermin gnawing at the meat,
An infection borne of Mother Natures own seed,
Rats in tracksuits and skirts,

Deaths spectre strafes up above,
The barbers blade,
Picking us off one by one,
Dining upon our foul frail forms,
Eternal bird gets the worm,

But the reaper can only excise so many,
We’ve become quite the obstinate infestation,
We are legion,
So the only salve I fear,
Would be the sun stepping in,

And we all know what that means.

There shall be a day,
When the sun perishes,
Even gods can die after all,
Apollo and Ra and Amaterasu,
All things come to an end,

Earth shall be awash,
With cleansing fire,
A supernova song,
A death rattle of a star,
A galactic graveyard chime,

Everything and everyone you know,
Shall be burned away,
Ash is the only future,
Hiroshima shadows,
No escape,

There is no malice in this apocalypse,
It’s just a funeral pyre,
An indifferent obliteration,
A simple natural metamorphosis,
Of light to dark.

Join me,
Celebrate the end,
Lets party and rave and cavort,
Dance and laugh and cry,
To the setting sun,
For the final time,

What greater party,
Than the apocalypse,
The belated end to all evil,

What better firepit,
Than society finally igniting,
Ultimately baptised in its judgement,

What fonder toast,
Than this grim marriage,
Between all of us in our decimation,

What grander fireworks,
Than the meteors which descend,
Disco balls of pyroclastic ecstasy,

Take this PiƱa colada,
And a party hat,
Under this ruby sky,
Take my scarred hand,
It’s the end of the world.

Before this year,
This turn of the sun,
This roll of the dice,
The world was a fragile place,
A utopia on a faultline,
Held up by infirm chains,

But now,
Atlantis is falling,
The end days come,
And the waters of discord rise,
The waves lash hungrily at our cities,
The sea consumes all evil,

A virus stalks the elderly and weak of constitution,
The world brought to its knees choking,
Madmen and dictators rule with hateful fists,
Bigotry and nonsense from a birds beak,
Innocents are killed in the streets,
By good guys with guns,

Our Atlantis is falling,
The golden towers brought low,
This year has broken us,
The waters surge,
We will all drown,
The sea consumes all evil.

Do you hear the drums?
As the stars fall,
Tracing streaks into the blue,
Pounding down with hate and conviction,
The skies and earth ignite in concert,

A symphony of our end,
Percussive beats of destruction,
Brassy cracks of red lightning,
The choirs of agonised wailing join in,
The woodwinds of lives ending,

I know not what crime the globe is convicted,
But I see the sentence,
An astral genocide,
It approaches,
Wreathed in fire and stardust,

Pluto smirks.

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.

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?