We noticed the damned
soon approaching the places
we took years to accept
as our home, to see how tough
our meat stuck to our bones
against their barrage of teeth,
rotten tongues, and pus-dripping nails.
and when you packed the last
of the matches and saw me hiding
all our stillborn dreams inside of
the basement's drop-ceiling tiles,
you told me, "Along the way,
we're going to be picking up
more, I haven't decided
when, but I am sure we'll find
some good ones when we're
digging through the pockets
of those dead pricks, or in
one of the jammed cars
sitting on the interstate,
or in an empty Jack Link's bag,
fuck if I know.
so I hope you're putting those away
to make room for more,
not because you think there
aren't any to have after this.
You don't have to pack so lightly,
I'm here to help carry the weight;
just remember that you're in charge
of grabbing a carton of Marlboros,
if the gas station didn't get
entirely fucking ransacked,
and remember to smile
every once in a few hours
so I know I'm helping you do all right."
The Warning had finally gone out!
There was gonna' be a Nuclear Apocalypse at any moment!
The Sandbergs were a Christian Family
So, they felt that it would be appropriate to say a Prayer together
Before God took them all to Heaven.
No one knew where Ralph was?
Martha Sandburg asked her daughter, Sandra
To go find her brother, Ralph for the Apocalyptic Prayer
Before their Ascent to Heaven.
She didn't think of knocking on Ralph's door,
But just opened it in the urgency of the moment.
Her first utterance was,
Ralph was jacking off as if their was no tomorrow,
Which there probably wouldn't be,
And there were white cum stains all over the brand new, red carpet!
"How could you be jacking off at a time like This"
"When we're about to meet Jesus in Heaven?!"
Sandra asked her brother.
"I just wanted to experience It one last time!"
Ralph expressed in a manly husky voice even though he was only 15.
"Jesus ain't even gonna' LET you into Heaven after doin' that Ralph,"
Sandra told him.
"Now put on your pants"
"And come to the Apocalyptic Prayer Service we're having"
Ralph put on his pants,
But he ran out the door.
He didn't know where he was going,
But he just knew that there was no point
In praying before the Apocalypse
If he was already
On his way to Hell.
and noticing that much
is enough to remind me that
all of this only amounts
to meteoric chances and happenstances,
so even the worst of it will come to its end—
and maybe that just has to do
with the optimistic sap in me.
But even then, you greet me
“Good morning,” and I hear you,
and you sound like you're of the Sun
touching through the barricades of Woodbury,
where the undead fuckers can't touch us.
And you buffer the cold of the wind
and the wet of the rain
when the kindling is too soaked
to start a fire big enough
to counter the draft
coming from under the doors,
or dry our jackets by the fireplace.
Which probably sounds like naivety,
but even after Woodbury rots from the inside out,
and we lose the car and our last can of beets
somewhere during our escape, and the rest of the way,
we're joking about the way things were
before they got worse, while hypothesizing
about the fall of man, epidemics and expiration dates
to forget the endless hills aching our feet, I could tell you:
“Sure, I mean, there are ten-thousand ways
the world can go to shit (and it probably has,)
and I might not live to one-hundred-three,
but if the world's gonna burn on me now,
it's always better watching with you.”
It's an element to that world that intrigues me; the idea of anything that could possibly go wrong, being likely to go wrong, but you have these moments where the shitshow slows down just long enough for you to remember that there's always something, or someone, that's worth laughing at all the bad luck, licking your wounds and doing what you can to scrape by.
It seemed, all at once, that the world had ended.
The glass had shattered, the idols had fallen,
And all the world was burning.
He turned to the wise old one,
Tears in his eyes,
And begged "Oh please
"Say that it will pass, that this is not the end!"
Old eyes looked back, and an old throat cackled
"The end, my boy? That we'd be so lucky!"
Enjoy a game of poker.
It relieves the boredom.
They only have one Big project
booked into the work diary.
The horses are stabled,
so why not have down time?
The day-to-day business
takes care of itself.
Ably supervised by the humans
in a race to the Big day.
The stillness is penetrated by sound.
Death cleaning his teeth
with his reaping scythe or
Death sharpening his reaping scythe
on his teeth.
Either way, it shattered vertebrae.
His nerves were getting twitchy.
Three Kings, the Jack and Queen of Clubs.
Royals were dropping like flies.
It was going to be a busy night.
He met Wars eyes and her bet,
(Damn! She looks beautiful sweating),
paid an advance and called.
he lay down his souls.
Jack and Queen of Clubs.
Kings of Diamonds, Spades and Hearts.
War smiled sweetly.
Her dirk-like eyelashes
fluttering an assassins dance.
Letting her cards fall soft,
triumphant with winners ecstasy,
she declares her hand...
… “SNAP!” she says.
© Pagan Paul (14/03/17)
We’re Gonna Need Some Sunglasses For This Mushroom Cloud
Gonna need some sunglasses for this one,
it’s 6AM I’m in LA it’s been a long night for sure,
just gotta get into that cafe get that cappuccino,
then get safely unnoticed and back to the idling car,
sorry I’m not sorry,
that’s a bad reference to 1995,
bad because Jar of Flies was a different year,
different year different name,
’95 was self-titled,
‘Alice In Chains’,
remind me again,
what the heck we’re talking about,
this poem has no parameters,
it’s off course but still going along,
gonna need some sunglasses for this one,
like my glasses like I like my roast,
with my Valentino’s and dark cappuccino,
and you with your mimosa my dear Yoda let us toast,
“To the Next Episode!” let’s go,
No Dre though it’s more of a Good Day,
not to be rude to Ice Cube but I got ice cubes in my flute,
in perpetual motion from chronic transitions of change,
and when I say Change I’m not talking about Rock The Vote,
because we all see where voting got us,
now we got ‘ Donald Duck Mr. Talk A lot of Nonsense’,
we got that stone cold soviet psycho Kim Jong-un launching stunner missiles like Steve Austin,
dropping finishing moves ’Cold Stunning’ but instead of a drop kick he’s bomb launching,
we can’t even stop him as in Kim Jong-un with bad movies and meetings with Dennis Rodman,
Oh My God Son!
We’re really gonna need some sunglasses for this one,
have you ever seen the magnificence of an Atom Bomb,
a mushroom clouds of the most beautiful hues,
a moment of infinite Light just before the moment we’re all eternally gone…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
The Fanatically Divine Apocalyptic Euphoria
Of Hurling towards a Cataclysmic Explosion!
Am I sitting next to a Radical Islamic Suicide Bomber in his Pickup Truck?
No, I'm making plans for the Destruction of America in the White House
With President Donald Trump.
My fear is a pool
Ripples washing ; the wind is deepening.
This ebbs with the moon if I can freeze my reality
Radio is the enemy
TV is a liar
I wake up every minute wishing I were dreaming.
a new world awakening and inside
beware the darkest days
and beware the brightest nights
for when the wolf howls at dawn
the horsemen will take fight
there is flesh on the floor
there is blood on bare bones
when the end of the world comes,
it will eradicate the thrones
so listen up dear children
listen, one and all
for when the grandfather stops counting,
the end of time will fall