apocalypse storm poem poetry prophetic

DOOM SONNET

Mars has fallen

the missiles stand erect
casting lomg shadows
firing position

buf they have been like this
for well over a hundred years

if I had the art
then I could paint them
you might bet the picture
would be
pretty severe

but I am prole
what do I know
so are
we all
what
do we know

Mars has fallen
the machine is broken
all is entropy
final state between
the have
and the have not

nothing gets sown
so there are no parables

just the explosions that will come
that they cannot stop
the pressure built up
simple, obvious physics
I would have said if I knew
such
basic things

but I am prole, must always
flounder in darkness, taste
bitter ash
the storm gathering

the storm we are told
is pure propaganda
the deepest
of lies

but Mars has fallen
we can feel it, smell
if
energy has gone, lifeblood
is drained

someone has
done all the sums
it is the end of the line

you do it an injustice
to call it Winter
blithely so

even to inflate it
metaphorically as
a disastrous winter,
bringing storms
of Shakespearean proportions

no, this is something
of another order entirely

you would have to turn
to turn to the ancient
scriptures to have ang idea
of how terrible
it is, the narrative
we are all about
to enter now

one story
fits all

one story
destroys us all

and you thought the
crazy symbolism of
apocalyptic ending was just science fiction

was just poetry

the words are there

they are waiting for you

the power is there
the storm is here

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