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Poem

The three hundred
shall perish again,
As history repeats
itself.
Although this time,
it may only be 297.
My mother was
possessed by the
God, Apollo,
On the 21st the new
Oracle of Delphi is
crowned.
And although the
prophet is blind,
it makes the
prediction no less
false,
the narrative no
less compelling.

We live in the time
of the 7th great
extinction,
Yet our people,
occluded like a rat
in a maze
dance, drink, and
watch.
For we are
passengers on a ride
of great forgetting
Our remembrances of
false events
and fictional
commemorations
Very much on
autopilot
And asleep at the
wheel.

The prophecy is no
longer about Athens,
Or democracy's
demise,
But rather
civilization as a
whole.
We are
unsustainable,
on a path to
destruction.
Denial is not just
the river,
At the birthplace of
civilization,
But a reminder of
the devastation we
have already caused.
Just 12 more
lifeforms need to
expire,
and nature will
unleash the 
6bea6st6 upon man.

The event has
already started
with most creatures,
including man
oblivious
We eat and be merry
murdering pigs and
slaughtering cows
But the true beast
is obvious.
And nature always
has a way of
balancing out that
which is
disproportionate.

By: Joe DeMarco -

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