End Times
Bereaved time of maudlin despair,
soul darkness with words that writhe
in a poignant capitulation
to doom, gloom, death.
Dates traverse a calendar
to end times, 2012 years or other
never-again-to-appear numbers.
Eons maniacally march
ever-advancing to oblivion.
Weary world waits
to puncture the promise of youth
turned chilly down the spine
of never-ending war lists.
Mother Moon and Father Sun
watch patiently as a plethoric potency
of weapons spirals
in unspeakable spasms
towards doom, gloom, death.
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