Get Your Premium Membership

Poetic prognostication proves itself pathetic pablum part deux

Countdown to *****sapiens extinction predicted millenniums in past ordained but never occurred December 21 two thousand and twelve after common era whereby catastrophic spark detonating inferno incinerating blast eradicating extant flora and fauna activating bereft hegira with no means to interrupt the die since the dawn of civilization cast, but last minute reprieve granted. Impossible mission to escape ominous predetermined fate of human rat race, nor turn back hands of time with origin of species on clock face thus ticking closer to hour of doomsday without faith to brace allowing, enabling and providing Gaia to redeem terrestrial space vestiges of teeming billions soon erased criminal minds without evidence traced forcefully relinquishing simians planetary stranglehold amazing grace proffering tabula rasa for another dominant species to claim the place. Sirens promulgate emergency impending toward inescapable cataclysm yet no place to run or hide lest one boards a rocket light-years away which makes suspense thrillers birthed by John Grisham enviable plot to keep total Earth's destruction at bay. Matthew Scott Harris, a lifetime America Online meme bur hastens to convey dire crisis sparking to offer electric nom de plume a papa who did help sire deux darling daughters, now grown into young gals yet for ages hive stung with hurt early, whence fatherhood did fire meow n childhood's end fostering people strangers even fork getting this communication, per S0S sprinkled with auk shucks corny, egret - letting opportunities take flight aspire now pleasures soft as gossamer feather bedding down play hardened angst riddled psyche, where ire Ronny gully stubbornly thrives amidst adversity as father time spins gyre row scope at greased lightning speed, intimating with dead reckoning to hire grim reaper, who whiz patient as Job, and exemplary at ridding mire and muck bogs down this dada robbing existence with joie de vivre, where funeral pyre doth flickr-beckoning GoDaddy, cuz Juno I haint gonna hear angelic choir or equivalent enlightenment re: home sweet home, this atheist doggedly tire so haim trying keep sea legs one step ahead of tipping point envision self pitched into abyss - thus finally ends discombobulated wire.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.