Shut up buttercup and lay in the grass
We’ll watch the Jays fly past
his blue feathers not so covert
the king of the oaks
Watch him fly
and gleam all that he knows
His dinosaurian voice
And moustachioed wisdom
calling to us
the harshness of reality
as we lay back on fields of yellow
soft beneath our skin
yielding to our unrelenting bodies
in this monstrous
yet wondrous world
Beneath the cover of a tree
finding sanctuary
Watching the world pass by me
A blanket of rain pouring down
A reminder of the cycle of clouds
In stillness
the wild will stroll
It’ll be the best form of acceptance
you’ll ever come to know
Owl light paints shadow
the blackbird sings his days last song
The last lights raucous tongues
clicking, chirping and squawking
‘come along, come along!’
rousing one another to their roosts
Knowing that the night is an animal
the wolfs eye lit in the sky
creeping up through the bustling throngs
Just think
The shadows that swim across the room
are dinosaurs playing out their dinosaurian sequel
An apocalypse reflected on our faces.
Beads of sweat dripping down
Or are they tears we haven’t wept
Yet?
We glow like cigarettes
being smoked down to the last
Sharpening our bayonets
Fighting for remnants of the past
An orange glow
Lit us up
No time to turn on back.
We are carpenters in a crumbling house.
For full transparency the title and last line is inspired by a reply to a post on Quora
The tank might be full
It doesn’t mean we should drive
Where would we go
When we’re all out of seconds
Armageddon
This arms race will forget us
In the blink of a butterfly
In the wings of time gone by
An apocalypse of hearts
Our falling house of cards
We will light up
And remember the laughs
and the nights we cried
And we will forget
this was the night we died
We anchor ourselves to illusions
Desperately hanging on to ideals
A battle between lofty dreams
And the abyss we’re forced to stare into
If we just breathe
And stop beating these primal urges
down into our anguish
maybe we’d be spared
The bloodbath
Awaiting us on the other side
of this Armageddon
If we could look upon the dirt
we try to abandon
With admiration
Maybe we could be held afloat
Instead of drowning
And
we could deaden this angst
That disables us
Time is a gun
Every step
a reverberation
Every word
ricochets
Every breath
a continuation
One flutter
another direction
One snap of a branch
another recollection
Every death
a transformation
Caterpillars making pockets of hope
Wings awakening
A revolution sowed
as if death and us is forgiven
For the terror we’ve torn
through these landscapes
Humanity
A winters dream
