poetry – Page 61 – poems 2 die for

STRANGELOVE

shot in the arm
shot in the back

Merry Clayton
backing your jumping
jack vocals

the whole planet
about to boil

rise up, straming, foaming,
bubbling over

but
if we go
(fast fast
not slow)

at least we can tell ourselves
with songs like these

we were
more than microbes,
were
way more

than
just froth

a single seed

making the Universe its
own garden

garden upon garden
gardens within gardens

the green
in your fingers you
can speak
of it as archetypal
mystical magical

soon we will have
be
the machines
that can really tell

BREATHLESS
WITHOUT BREATH

got no Elon
Musk starship

no Colorado Mountain
bunker with
all the mod cons

so let
the bombs fall
missiles zero in

let my self split into
muliples like
every heavy
metal atom
under the Sun

who cares
if the system burns
the towers collapse

not me
nothing got to lose
as indifferent as
the darkness
of the Universe, to
how
the dice fall, what
comes about

the life of all those digital
billions of
pure
civilization

gets flashed, windstormed
burnt to ash