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Nailbar
failed state
crowbars
curate.

White robes
desert
agape
dirt.

Thanos firkytoodling,
Nero a-noodling,
the Fat Lady's yodeling,
cascades tipping overly,
Ragnarok's shakerattling,
4 Horsemen redrumming,
our human superpower
is that we know what's coming, yet

We're seemingly
powerless
to resist
the striptease
of the abyss.

Grownups
debate
should Greta
be shot
or *****.

World War
III
better be
******
****.

What have we done to our fair sister?
Nihilists **** goodtime gal, Gaia.
Tho' the good times may well be maya,
the Void in the **** is Medusa.
Nuclear Winter: Solo Restart
by Michael R. Burch

Out of the ashes
a flower emerges
and trembling bright sunshine
bathes its scorched stem,
but how will this flower
endure for an hour
the rigors of winter
eternal and grim
without men?

Keywords/Tags: nuclear, winter, radiation, ashes, life, reemerges, without, men, Armageddon, Apocalypse, extinction, event
Anastasia Apr 1
if we had five minutes left
i'd spend them with you
staring into the eyes
of a pretty soul who flew
into the soon to be dead skies
we can't escape our demise
if we had to run away
from things we couldn't comprehend
i would stay with you
forever, until the end
i would never leave you. and i'm sorry for that.
Francie Lynch Mar 2014
(the tics will talk 'til twelve o'clock)

When we make time,
When we listen:

The theistic preach deistic talk;
The atheistic preach pragmatic talk;
The agnostic preach proleptic talk;
The heretic preach shismatic talk;
The mystic preach prophetic talk.
(the mesianic and satanic never stop)

When we have time;
Then we listen:

The optimistic teach hypnotic talk;
The pessimistic teach sarcastic talk;
The altruistic teach empathetic talk;
The idealistic teach synergistic talk;
The pacifistic teach semantic talk;
The body politic teach charismatic talk;
The technocratic teach robotic talk;
The romantic teach poetic talk;
The critic teach cathartic talk;
The moralistic teach dualistic talk;
The ascetic teach platonic talk.
(the artist would rather not talk)

When we find time,
Do we listen:

The lunatic speak quizzotic talk;
The neurotic speak pathetic talk;
The chauvanistic speak monistic talk;
The nihilistic speak ballistic talk;
The hedonist speak narcissistic talk;
The futuristic speak galactic talk.
(the minimalist hasn't the time to talk)

Just don't.

Look.
Some tic reset the clock.
tic toc, tic toc, we all run round the clock.
Lay Down Your Arms
by Michael R. Burch

Lay down your arms; come, sleep in the sand.
The battle is over and night is at hand.
Our voyage has ended; there's nowhere to go . . .
the earth is a cinder still faintly aglow.

Lay down your pamphlets; let's bicker no more.
Instead, let us sleep here on this ravaged shore.
The sea is still boiling; the air is wan, thin . . .
lay down your pamphlets; now no one will “win.”

Lay down your hymnals; abandon all song.
If God was to save us, He waited too long.
A new world emerges, but this world is through . . .
so lay down your hymnals, or write something new.

Keywords/Tags: Armageddon, apocalypse, end, time, arms, race,  nuclear, winter, eve, destruction, nukes, final, countdown
Chris Slade Feb 15
It’s a dystopian gloom and doom saga...
Also you may notice I’m still crusading for Littlehampton to feature on the world stage.

(and btw… I do know that US presidents only get
to have two terms of office… But, like most world leaders…
we never let the truth get in the way of a good story).

You know what’s coming doncha?
It’s not the end of the world (yet) but…
slowly and, as with all evolutionary stuff,
things are changing - and I for one… Well, I’ve had enough!
But you do know what’s coming doncha?

Like a glacier melts and the oceans rise.
and the maps change shape and,
unfortunately, also each country’s size.
The scary cry goes out…
‘we’ll have to move to higher ground’.
And it ain’t just Shoreham, Worthing or LA
(that’s Littlehampton) It’s EVERY worldwide coastal town!
You know what’s coming don’tcha

Yeh!…It’s official folks - Littlehampton IS a world class coastal town!

On another but very related matter - Social media…
That’s developing apace. cyber chatter! Not face 2 face!
It helps spell the future for the whole human race.
We can chat, chew the fat and generally carry on communication.
with pretty much everyone in every first world nation.
Of course - You can see what’s coming can’tcha?

Even Boris’s next election win and Trump’s 3rd term
could be voted for on-line. Press one for a **** - 2 for a clone…
And evil dictatorial leaders can be rubbed out by drone…
Now you just might think that’s fine,
but the terrorists will lash back - (back/slash, the swine)
and come stalking down your street…
with machetes and suicide vests - real ones this time -
looking for your hatch, your subterranean retreat…
Cos we won’t be living on it but below the street!
You can see what’s coming can’tcha?

Yeh, we’ll be, underground, overground (Stop it!)
yeh… under that dryer, higher ground
and still be in be touch and on the ball so,
with food & stuff grown by hydroponics (naughty).
padded out by UBER drone delivered Just Eats.
We ARE preparing for Armageddon.
Drone warfare will also cure the need for extermination
nation on nation skirmishes… Just Sweet!
So you do know what’s coming don’tcha?

Yep… cast your mind way forward a decade or two…
There’ll be Amazon drones dropping goods for you;
the things you want  - your culinary needs
Dry Goods… rice, noodles, seeds.
Spices (for the very rich) - and freeze dried veg
and, if you are really wealthy, and for you life’s not on the edge
the city’s centralised, homogenised cooking crews
The takeaway kings… the Just Eats & the Deliveroos.
They’ll still be at it!
And you can see what’s coming can’tcha?

You might think that’s a good thing yeah,
well maybe! But, if we all start living underground…
to get away from the blizzards and the scorching wind(s).
The Summer Hot hot… The winter Not not - yeh sub zero,
that’ll be the only way to stay in touch
no more roaming… (that’ll still be extra).
Just as well because the latest proliferating virus
makes messaging just as popular as face to face or phoning.
And you do know what’s coming don’tcha?

Things are going to be SOooo... different in our not so Brave New World…
Talk about alternative. We’ll ALL be ‘Underground’…
but not because we’re ‘Hip’ or Hippy… Or even happy…
but, because above ground just ain’t where you’ll want to live.
and then… The doubters will shape up…
A toss is suddenly something they’ll rapidly give!
NOW…you DO know it’s coming don’tcha?

You’re gonna need Armour for Armageddon!
Ken Pepiton Nov 2019
What is strange, after all
was said,
and done,

the story seemed
forgotten
and

no one idea remained alone, as an if,
a
possibility,
never even imagined, one,
which alone made
each
hap or happenible, imaginable as an aspect of reality
appear to
happen, in your reality,
now,
and this
happened to be, one possibility,
wit' me
and you In it. it
seems
we can't

discern a granular differing christalization,
for, we know, it
looks like one of us loosed the grip on knowing,
realizability, actual-al-ity, virtually,
for sure,
at eye level.
See
qubic zirconium looks like diamond,
to naked eyes,
in certain light;
and magic seems scientif, with at least
six spin opt-in on the
referendum
passed for truth to exist in California…

Prop. 13 covered us, property tax wise,
so this reality looks
as if it worked,
see,
the effort to not die, remember?

Life goes on.

This is all we got to make the best of.
Your guess, as good as mine, I bet,
it's worth breathing
again;

but don't **** me, if I'm wrong,
joke,
no worry.
I never was,
under
those circumstances, you are crazy.
Not me. Breathe.
It was scheduled for a Tuesday in August, 1970
J J Oct 2019
One day the moon will stop.
    Settling it's last motion unto eternal stillnes;
   And the ground will quake, craters will rattle

And we'll lift like lanterns, light as lit matchsticks
  As we rise to the final night sky.
   Joining the ranks of stars forever stillborn.

The oceans will quiver along one last circlet
  In ode to their past life and the lives they lived through,
   And we will look down at our old skin...

         Never feeling ready enough to properly reincarnate;
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