Tag Archives: end of the world

Play the Odds

If you’ve got the coin to spend,
and you’re looking to retire,
the smart money is on the end.

Of course, it is your life my friend,
and there is plenty out there to acquire,
if you’ve got the coin to spend.

But, I say buck the trend,
forget all the stuff people desire,
the smart money is on the end.

Too many out there want to contend
offering admission to some place higher,
if you’ve got the coin to spend;

you can do all that, you can make amends,
but listen, we’re all going to expire.
The smart money is on the end.

The world as it is, I can only recommend,
find someone to admire- and prepare for fire.
If you’ve got the coin to spend,
the smart money is on the end.

Parliament

Twelve surrounded the table
where once this world was founded
but now was fated to fall
to a council long since sedated

The years dulled their edges
once sharp minds lulled
by dreams of static nostalgia;
nothing new could mute the old fantastic.

When the end stood before them
to be judged for all its ill and its good
they refused to name if for what it was
and searched amongst themselves for explanation

Thus, in deliberation, the world ended
not in the soft sobered silence of rumination
nor the enraged cacophony of rebellion
but with all the grace of a madman caged

knowing only himself with whom to confer

A Shotgun for Last Place in the One Horse Race

It’s hard sometimes to keep control
when the world comes to collect it’s toll,
but the world is such a massive thing
once its intent gets into full swing
because the world is more than it was
drifting from orbit to a new cause.
A harnessed thing with a barbed bridle,
the world gallops towards a false idol.
In time the world will get what it wants
and we will be the ones whom it haunts;
for once it has died a thousand deaths
the world will scream with its last breath,
“the world that birthed you can be no more
all life was sacrificed for this war,”
and the jockey will exclaim with joy
as it makes another world its toy.
But for now this world is tough to bare
as a parasite on a small square
filled to explosion with all its fruit
force fed in spite of the worlds dispute
so the jockey can address the world
with its long fiery cloak unfurled
and an old salt lick in its right hand,
the whip readied should the world demand,
“Woe to the world that has suffered such,
curse these people who asked for so much.”
Both parties will take from me their need,
though surely by now I am poor feed.