Armageddon will be televised, face-booked and twittered.

Armageddon will be televised face-booked and twittered,
Porn-hubbed then piniterested.  The gossip will finally be administered
By round faced, flabby cheeked, pro-conservative, neo –liberals;
Who sell 70’s style discotheque records and turntables as the latest, greatest
thing.  

The pale horse is seen by millions, as she slowly trots among the bright stars.
She bray’s in vicious triumph;
               Curling her nose and pulling her salivating lips,
Upon the tightly held bridal bit that is caught between her salving, gnashing
Teeth.

Her eyes are rolling in their sockets.
They writhe, in horse delight, as she watches the rolling, falling skies.
Slowly, the stars descend from the now totally clear blue dome above;
They rain in a near divine spiral sequence, of frozen cloudy crystal tears;
While the plump son finally burst’s.

Caught and shared, where were you?

We are watching a broken ballet performed by tragic old men.
It’s reminiscent of the swinging thumps of 1968;
Where blood bleeds from innocent organs that are violently puncture
Or bulleted.
By soldiers, themselves mere children, so callously and brutally billeted;
And they don’t know whether to shout scream laugh joyously,
Or bitterly cry into crabbed hands that hide their faces.  

Caught and shared, where were you?

We are watching wealthy gambler’s sit in anxious murmurs,
The cards are then so slowly cold screw turned
To reveal on their silk surface the losers hand.
This enrages the ragged clothed wild eyed revenants,
Who spit at their weakened minds and whip their and scarred livers,
With drugs that bring on insane unknown whispered near hinted fears.

The cards force their hands to slap their tram lined faces
And then to pummel the pale round plumped feather walls,
With pleases  and pleay's  of release;
While from behind the securely locked doors,
Stand pubic bearded sages, who stare out -myopically-  from small glass holes.

So here, they finally leave me by their gaudy golden betrothal gate;
Where Peter stands and makes a selfie  “great”
And where my liver is now being devoured by eagles that stand on their gilded
Rocks of hate.

I’d share it but I don’t have the time, I’ve got to look for work.

(c) adh 2015