Seconds to Midnight

The Doomsday Clock has stopped its ticking
The batteries are dead I’m thinking
It rains from heaven as angels cry
Drinks for the Ivy League alumni
Lucy in the sky with her diamonds
Shining light on all our islands
Like kids with a magnifying glass
Who’re burning ants after science class
Newspapers dishing out purple prose
While doctors are charging us per dose
There’s no fixing this pain with oxy
Or even by sniffing epoxy
Brain cells are frying from all the heat
The streets are filled with molten concrete
It’s real close to midnight I reckon
But we’ve still got more than a second

I’ve Got No Rhythm

Iambic thoughts hiss and they bite
Directly strike at my blank mind
Unwieldy words seep through my brain
Mistaken meter drives insane
Forgetful of syntax and rules
Completely weird hullabaloo

Forget about meter for now
Rhymes are much easier to plough
‘Lazy people break rules,’ my Dao
Effing stress marks, I won’t kowtow
I think that you’re way too highbrow
And now I wish to take my bow

(I’ve taken some liberties with the pronunciation of hullabaloo and I don’t know if ‘of’ can be stressed. I’m feeling too lazy to edit. Damn that first stanza! I should have never attempted it)

M.A.D.

Mutually assured damnation
They say is the name of the game
Run by the Hellfire Foundation
That just recently rose to fame

All the popular kids are playin
The game’s number one on all the charts
It’s taken off like a hurricane
To play you need to bet your heart

The jokers and trumps are in your hand
Everybody wins in the end
Prizes sponsored by that famous brand:
Morningstar- ‘we are your best friend’

Send your angel to the gallows
Cause you’ll never win otherwise
Bathe your feet in the red shallows
And watch the world through serpent eyes

The murder round has just started
Gather your teams at the starting line
Run past the Red Sea while it’s parted
Let’s screw around with the Grand Design

A cruise missile for the grand prize
There’s champagne for all the winners
Watch it fly by beautiful sunrise
There ain’t no such thing as a sinner

“God’s approved all the advertisements”
I hear from a priest with a collar
As he puts together his faith’s fragments
In nice patterns for men without colour

The crime was murder one,  a judge ruled
A lone voice that was soon throttled
By one and all he was ridiculed
I hear that he took to the bottle

“Blessed are the warmakers,” preachers preach
From their pulpits of worldly success
“Blessed are the proud of heart,” teachers teach
With books from a Park Avenue address

A game exclusive to the wealthy
You can get in if you sell your soul
It don’t matter if you’re ill or healthy
In this game you’re always on a roll

A/N: This poem is about how we’re making our present world a living hell and growing spiritually numb to the suffering of others. I don’t know if hell is a real place, but it seems sometimes like our own world is turning into one.

Salt and Gunpowder

Lights gleaming off silver spoons
The band is playing merry tunes
Outside the window I see the dunes
I’m stuck here pretending with tycoons
They seem to think that money’s sacred

Five types of wine,  ten types of meat
It looks like I’m in for a treat
I’m sitting on the edge of my seat
I ain’t the one collecting the receipt
Can’t let good food be wasted

They say their grace to the Big Machine
None of these men look lank and lean
Not a single course with a trace of green
My boss is on the phone with a queen
Some of my dining companions look basted

Many of them are notorious arms dealers
Wish I was eating instead with the healers
But I’m stuck here with the life stealers
And all these people are believers
Of the ‘Church of the Fully Sated’

All the wine is going to my head
The bouillabaisse fills me with dread
I just hope that I won’t end up dead
After eating this extravagant spread
I use the wrong fork, I’m frustrated

Cairo is a few kilometers away
I really think I should not stay
But then they bring in a nice smelling fillet
My conscience is filled with dismay
I’m breaking bread with men I’ve always hated

For dVerse

Off With Her Head

Within the Louvre’s walls
Against all the protocols
She’s crying waterfalls
As she tries to recall
The many pitfalls
That brought her here

The guards take her to trial
For wiping away Mona Lisa’s smile
And all this while
Her sweetheart’s keeping a low profile
While stenographers compile
Everything they hear

It’s in the master’s jurisdiction
There’s no need for legal prosecution
Can’t help feel it’s moral dereliction
Hypocrisy in her last benediction
Priests ignoring the crucifixion
The audience chug down their beer

They put her head in a guillotine
She’s a broken cog in the machine
The executioner is looking keen
The media is all over the scene
Kids in the crowd shouting things obscene
She wishes she could just disappear

Above her head a halo of flies
The mob eagerly awaits her demise
But there’s something that I recognize
Flashing like morse code in her brown eyes
All of a sudden I can empathize
I can’t stop myself from shedding a tear

And finally they chop off her head
The blade drops down and then she’s dead
The crowd cheers loudly as they see red
While they feast on their daily bread
I’m still hanging in there by a thread
We’re treading on ground where angels fear

Penny Dreadful

‘She had ancient machines

And torn old magazines

Icons on the wall: Byzantine

Statuettes of powerful queens’


He set up the scene

On an old typewriter

He pulled an all nighter

His words came to life

He was terrified
Of the horrors he’d created

For dVerse

(The Challenge was: Type us up a poem of precisely 44 words, including some form of the word type.)

A clumsy ending, I know. The 44 word limit is hard to work with, but that’s part of the fun.

Flow of Quotes

Poets are damned but see with angels’ eyes
Act well your part, there all the honour lies

Hell is empty and all the devils are here
“Love of money will ruin Sparta” said the Seer

Oh the thinks you can think up if only you try
When the rich wage war it is the poor that die

Tommy can you see me?
A free spirit takes liberties with liberty

A third of life is passed in sleep
A stable, changeless state, ’twere cause indeed to weep

Time and tide wait for no man
Frankly my dear I don’t give a damn

Without music life would be a mistake
Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake

I intend to live forever or die trying
We must laugh at man to avoid crying

No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings
Experience is the teacher of all things

It’s been a hard day’s night
The time is always right to do what is right

A/N: Each line is a quote by a famous person (or song lyric, line from a book, etc).

Just Another Shadow

I wanted to be inconspicuous
Kept a low profile miserable
Posted all my work anonymous
But now I’m almost invisible
I am just another shadow

I also wished to be pivotal
Make a name for myself in this world
I dreamed of being consequential
Now I’m lying in my bed all curled
I am just another shadow

They called me the tall and silent type
When they could still remember my name
Couldn’t get anyone to subscribe
My existence is an empty frame
I am just another shadow

When the bright sun ain’t right in the sky
I get my fifteen minutes of fame
They look upon me from way up high
Finally finding someone to blame
I am just another shadow