Xan Abyss Apr 1

Trapped in a cavernous haze
A blazing inferno which burns on for days
Relentless, eternal
Incendiary waves
And you stand no chance of escape

Death by Stoning!
Buried in Smoke and Rock
Never Knowing
Where it all went wrong

Dwelling in a hellish abyss
Looking for the way you came in
But you're lost as your cause
And time gives no pause
To those barricaded within

Death by Stoning
Apocalyptic Revelation
All is Burning
Succumb to Smoke Inhalation

When the world is on fire
And the flames are only growing higher
Then try to ride the dragons thunder
And let it drag you under

Dying an ethereal death
Laughing at the chaos
And mayhem you left
Taking that final breath
Say Goodbye to suffering
with one final step

Death by Stoning
Apocalyptic Revelation
All is Burning
Succumb to Smoke Inhalation

we will pay for everything
in the future
we will pray for nothing
     I had dreamt a silver, shining  dream
once, but now that dream
is a mocking commercial
broadcast from dingy screens
beneath ozone depleting
     we will pay
for living our lies
     we will pay increasingly growing prices
for increasingly decreasing substance
     I had dreamt a green leaf, blue sky
lie once, but now
that dream
is just chemicals in the water
     now trees are just a dream
now deer, now birds
now fish, and now
now there are no more words
no sounds of life, no thoughts
no lips to tremble
and nothing new for "God's" blundering
sons, nor for Her daughters
     now there are no forests, now no cities
     now there are no oceans, no airports
no drive-throughs, no "losers" to date
no lovers, , no families
no malls, bridges, or buildings
     now there are no could-bes
no factories, or flowers
     now there are no smiles, or tears
     now there are no old folks, or youngsters
     now there are no cars, no buses
no night clubs, parties, nor restaurants
classes, passes, nor tickets
no pillows, no blankets
no warm beds for sleep
     now there is no now whatsoever
nor is there a future
because all that remains
is a past that has passed
and some once weres
that cannot be remembered
we will pay for everything in the future
and then we will pray
for nothing

Previously published in the Long Shot Art & Literary Magazine, Vol. 27, the Beat Bush issue, 2004

political trends;
is this gonna' be the end
like "Gone with the Wind"?
this  intense lust for power
seems like the idiot's game

gr May 2016

if only you would smile when the world is turning upside down and everything is crumbling to the ground. i swear, we'd all still be here. i know it's cheesy, but your smile makes things so easy.                        

if your stunning eyes start to crease and your exquisite teeth start to gleam, the world won't ever end, it will only begin again and again.            

if only you would grin, the world would be so peaceful and all the waves would settle. the wars would be over and the young would always be sober. keep your head high and no one will ever die.      

- g

Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ...

I hear the most croaking frogs and even the sound of crickets filled the night with their songs. Rooster was. His voice was quiet for forty-two years. The only sound now is the voice synthesis of old hardware, metal head that red-eye placed on top of the old marble counter.

- Sir Water? - She asks - The radiation level is low today - finished. The same song sung once a week. The voices? They were silent. Demons are silent now.

Ahh! I wanted to hear the voice of the old rabbi, that white-bearded long peyos when he said to pay attention to the little voices, the voices of the humble, enlightened wanderers, sparks of mystical alphabet, warning humanity that the day would come when voices calariam.

There inside, the demons remain silent. Their voices were silenced by the voice of evil that planted residence in the left chamber of the heart of man the temple.

The ghetto is cold today. People gather around the fire lit inside the old barrel of oil, black blood, called him. It no longer exists. The veins are dry and the blood no longer runs more ...

The white spots covering skin. It should be a good sign, but it is not. Leprosy went devouring the souls of men, women and children. Neither the animals escaped. Contaminated are exiled. They send them to the valley of oblivion where the voice never will rise. They used maliciously. They slandered her. His calumnies were launched in the wind like the leaves of the old oak tree that stood in chaiim forest. He also stopped. The wind no longer howls more through its leafy branches.

Ahh! Where is the voice of the rabbi? He was dead by religious dogmatists. His bright sparks no longer crackle through the air. Even the demons no longer speak. They shut up inside.
Where are the voices of poems and poets? It is also silent. They were causing itching ears of humanity. They accused: - the mighty were the leaders of nations, with their palaces decorated with blood. Blood of the innocent. They made them shut. They caused itches to power the ears.

The gleam in his eyes blinded. It was in 2029 detonated the old Russian gun exchanged for a piece of bread to feed the starving children. All of them died with nuclear heat.

Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ...

Ah! Where is the voice of the old rabbi? I wanted to hear it now. She stopped. Even there inside there is silence now, even the demons whisper more ...

By Deepak Sankara Veda (Misha'Ël Ha'Levi) Mystik Poet

Is poetry came from humanity's twilight dictated to me by a soul of the apocalyptic future of the world in february 2011.
Ryan Carney Mar 2016

Wandering down the highway
Which has been abandoned for decades
A bridge by the water, bruised and beaten down
For Mother Nature has shown her wrath, but it stands tall still

Rigid and rough, the road claws at my shoes
Cracks and small openings line the sides
Is it still safe to cross? Hopefully
Once I had crossed, something caught my eye

Resting on the beach front was a small cabin
Equipped with a dock and fair sized fishing boat
I was relieved at this sight, as I had been searching for life for weeks
Many have died in wake of the recent attacks, but some still stand

Parts of our country remained unscathed, but not many
I dashed to the door to see if anyone was there
And yes, an answer!
"Hello!" I said, "I survived too!"

The man opened the door cautiously
He stopped for a breath, then said,
"You're a very lucky man, but I have news for you."
I pondered what it could possibly be?

He then said,"The nation is in tatters. We lost the war."
I froze with fear, I knew what was coming
The enemy was approaching, and there was nothing we could do
All we did from there is wait, waiting for what fate had for us.

written 3-12-16
Ormond Feb 2016

Dramas of mankind
To what nature has in store
Heats of long winter

Nigel Finn Dec 2015

Some people, in trying to ascertain anothers character, ask;
If the world were to end tomorrow, what would you do?

Others, rather depressingly, ask;
If the world were to end today, would you notice?

Yet still there are those, who hope and search for a deeper meaning, who ask;
If the world had ended yesterday, would you understand?

An abandoned introduction to a story I never finished writing.
olena May 2015

last night;
our neighborhood was screams
of awe and fear
both were unfamiliar

silent impact
our moon was tilted on its side
it rattled and grew closer
monstrous and looming

our moon
stretched our tides until they snapped
coasts held hostage and cities blank
planes dropped like birds
                      our blue canvas.

it was a beacon of terror
man once set foot upon
neap tides now creep tides
a mother hen

If the moon was shifted toward the earth.
Meenu Syriac Apr 2015

I dream,
Let me slumber, kind heart.
Stare into the fire,
Burn your eyes with the truth.
As a falling star turns to dust,
Dreamers will awake
To the sound of an ending world.

I cry,
Sing to me, minstrel.
A tear will flood this barren land
Our hearts have run dry of love.
Listen as the sisterhood prays,
Shouting out to the gods
That forgot us.

I crawl,
In the dark, take me.
These wounds have turned septic,
With the poison in our veins.
Read my lips as I sing of a battle,
A page out of an endless book,
Written with the sins we bled.

I forget,
Enlighten me, lost soul.
Have the gates been closed,
Have we lost all hope?
Blood and dust,
Pain and misery,
Where have all the good men gone?

Maybe not a biblical apocalypse, but one has to just look around and see that humanity has lost its way.
©Meenu Syriac
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