The world will not end with a whimper
because whimpering implies fear
and, to truly be afraid,
one truly has to care.
The ocean turns to acid
and the bees disappear.
Melodrama will be the death of me
O apathy, apathy!
We cover ourselves with paint and skins
and forget that we’re made of mud
drinking and merrymaking
like they did before the Flood.
The Nephilim roamed the earth back then,
with fire in their blood,
they had no say
when they were swept away.
The greybeard on the corner
likes to say that the end is nigh
and, if you look at the paper,
you’ll see that he doesn’t lie.
He survived Millennium’s end, you know
when Reds dropped outta the sky.
His Muse is a real talker
who goes by ‘Doctor’ Walker.
The world ends every day
and the culprits are in plain sight
some people look to the Supermoon,
others for thieves in the night.
There are so many predictions
and not one is right
for the world ended yesterday,
around 8 o’clock last night.
Look at the ground,
ignore the trumpet sound.
This piece revisits some of the imagery and ideas that I explored in Apocalypse Postponed.