Ask me what's going on
and I think,
then I'll tell you

they're not building a bomb
we
are the bomb
that is what's going on.

unlit but fused
and we're going to be used.

This is the minefield from which we cannot escape
this is today and tomorrow won't wait.

It wasn't always like this
even in the dark ages when
they illuminated pages
manuscripts
but
that's been stripped away
all we have today
is
the gnawing sensation
that a great conflagration
is due.

The rapture will come
not with a heavenly choir
but with explosions from
the barrel of a gun.


Complain?


Tell me to whom?

Boom
another gun blast

you'd better believe it
the clocks running on
fast

overdrive.

Survive?

you might do
but you won't find an Eve
believe me.


I've written a will

there'll be no one to leave
my earthly possessions to,
still,
it's one of the things that we do.





Guess I'm through sermonising
priding myself
that it wasn't me prising
the lid off
Pandora's box.