These Are The End Times

 

One quartet is assembled,

grazing in desultory fashion.

The world turns, the world burns,

the gate is open, the horses ride,

fleshed out from their time at pasture.

 

Pestilence comes in silent waves,

(Ebola, Cholera, Dysentery).

Famine feasts on fly-blown Africa;

(Boko Haram, beaucoup haram, very kaffir).

War ensures no Damascene conversion,

(Yalla ISIL, yalla ISIS, jundi kabir).

Death comes pale at a canter,

(raining fire, raining gas, raining poison).

 

“The horror, the horror”

“Mistah Kurtz, he tell de future”

 

These are the end times,

take your partners

for the Totentanz.

 

Place your bets on the Apocalypse Stakes,

back all four to win by a nose,

watch it live or watch it dead

watch the pale horse win by a head.

 

Will someone throw the nuclear dice?

The Cossack-fixated former spy?

The cartoon, strange-haired, trumped-up guy?

 

The land is laid waste,

wasted by hollow men,

hollow vessels make most noise,

hollow demagogues with the morals of boys.

 

Stranded boys,

landed boys

dancing around

the head of a pig.

 

Unclean animal,

unclean, unclean.

The muezzin’s call

is the leper’s bell.

We hear, we fear,

Allah hua akhbar,

wa Mohammed a russul

If we kneel on the qibla

we bare our necks

to the swift sword.

 

Their virgins outnumber ours

and their women quake in fear

while ours protest

- but not enough -

at mutilations

that are no more

religious

than

a pierced navel

or a prison tattoo.

 

B A N G!

This IS how it ends.

My whimpering friends.