Apocalypse

Careless whispers from sordid lips Echo through the wooded landscape of hearts. Destructive wants and needless needs, Carried on the remnants of rust and bone, Discarded amongst the fallen bridges, Where once that precious garden grew— Abundant petals with morning dew… Oh how those poetic colours swirled In the abstract minds of troubled youth, With Silver tongue of rivers deep And how that made the willows weep. They wept in mournful sorrow first Then blew light-heartedly in swift gay breeze, Swaying merrily to gardener’s tune, Reciting songs of lovers’ moon. Drooping soon, one by one, Neglect: naïve or playboy rule? No willow’s death carved into stone Sighs forgotten—another clone. But each one knew they weren’t alone With all decaying days that passed. And thoughts of how the last was strewn: Loved too quick, deceased by noon! Empty melodies confined to ash No garden path to lead them up, The fickle gardener’s longing tales: Seeking roses, endless fails. Bitter stumps, now burnt and bare, Fruitless end to nature’s womb, Apocalyptic trails of dirt Sporadic care and endless hurt. Acidic rain to wash away Polluted minds and drunken hearts, A world once loved now fades to grey Pastel night now charcoal day. Neverland: a silly notion Truth keeps blooms of love in motion, A life of fantasy fulfilled Though one of lies is one half lived. Midnight Aurora