#apocalypse poems on Hello Poetry

Kerstin Apr 2017

i am nothing
personality functionality deficit
and i attract
people with certain similarities
people who have embraced solidarity
will you hide with me?
brought forward an onslaught of emotions
my love
you’re running bargaining
i end up alone
with false hopes
to an end of my own personal
apocalypse
as i write in this
mindset
brought on by
a year of internal struggling
and endless working
my mind wanders
as insomnia sets in
will I be alone?
will I die today?
a dose of the unrequited effort
my mind wanders
what if my world would go black
would that be my win?
ramble ramble ramble
this existential poem
would it be ironic to like it?
ramblings of death
the end and personal pain
if one truly hates the pain
and yet loves the idea
of the darkness
are you afraid to die?
alcohol i bid thee a fair burning welcome
how long will you stay
enough to to see my lack of coherent sentence structure
or enough to see i am a flawed creation
going on and on about existential problems
for i shall exist regardless of my best intentions
as the wheel continues to roll on despite the moss covering this rain slicked track
i am done
all alone
But I don't want to be

Rachel Procopio Apr 2017

Apocalypse

The apocalypse is coming,
I heard them scream,
It will only take a minute to wake from this dream,
Then I turned and I saw peaceful waters turn into a violent stream,
I looked up and I saw our light blue sky turn dark green,
I noticed the animals running away at their fastest speed,
I heard the wind say "this is what the earth needs."
Has a minute passed, when will I wakeup?
I want to get out before the land below me is shook up.
I looked up again at the sky,
I saw the earths reflection way up high.
Is that a mirror in the heavens,
So we can watch our own demise?
Time stood still, the wind ceased,
The wrinkles in my forehead creased,
The sun exploded, only moments away from impact, but the earth imploded and I was still in tact.

written on 6/18/15

#apocalypse #mirror

Vincent JFA Mar 2017

The only thing dying with our old dreams are the dead.

We noticed the ******
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 ******, or in
one of the jammed cars
sitting on the interstate,
or in an empty Jack Link's bag,
**** 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 ******* ransacked,
and remember to smile
every once in a few hours
so I know I'm helping you do all right."

The second poem in a series devoted to the tender moments seen in dreams of a post-apocalyptic world.

#love #dead #dreams #smile #personal #apocalypse

Vincent JFA Mar 2017

The dead are walking, but I still see the Sun.

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 ******* 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 **** (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.”

This poem, like a few that came after it, was heavily influenced by the nature of a post-apocalyptic world (thanks, The Walking Dead,) and dreams that I had relating to it. I seldom have nightmares about zombie apocalypses; usually they end up capturing this moment of tranquility in the midst of a decaying wasteland that is an effigy of what the world once was.

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.

#love #life #sun #hope #dead #romance #zombies #apocalypse

Dan McKee Mar 2017

The End for the Ages

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!"

Felt like writing something- hardly a poem, but oh well.

#age #nonsense #apocalypse

Pagan Paul Mar 2017

Soul Mates

.
War. Famine.
Pestilence. Death.
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,
(****! She looks beautiful sweating),
paid an advance and called.
Uncharacteristically delicate,
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)

.

#poetry #soul #poker #apocalypse #mates

Aaron LaLux Mar 2017

We’re Gonna Need Some Sunglasses For This Mushroom Cloud

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,

Jar,
of Flies,
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 ****** 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 ∆

Oh Fck...

#peace #theend #la #hollywood #apocalypse #sunglasses #nwo

Joshua Penrod Feb 2017

World Ends

So what happens
If the world ends
And I still
Can't let you go?

"World Ends" -JP

#love #world #theend #lovepoem #apocalypse #lovewords #worldpoetry