Wednesday, 21 February 2018




mankind’s demands - insatiable,
homo sapiens demise - inevitable.
it’s the math of population,
of defenestration deforestation;
the drive along highway’s horizon
teetering at the edge of the world.
Gaia you are dying, poisoned of this
dubious chalice as their plans unfurled;
but, come now, relax ... relax ...
you know that well before nemesis, 
everyone alive will soon be dead,
so, high in hubris, why look that far ahead?
just benignly motor on instead;
yabber, dabber do! race you to the rubbish tip;
oh, come on now! stiff upper lip!
nothing is as bad as it first appears,
surely there will be something ahead,
when finally the world is dead.
i’m sure there will be an epitaph,
to make a space traveller laugh;
what a load of plonkers they really were,
nothing to show that they we here.
tick them off, one less civilisation,
a species with moral constipation,
they did not win the human race,
when all’s said and done, a disgrace.
good riddance to them all,
for they did not heed the writing on the wall.
across the empty reaches of space,
the tale will be told of the nation,
who were so consumed with greed,
they wanted everything, 
but it brought them nothing,
in death they bleed into the ashes,
cooked in their fan-oven world,
medium to well-done in cinders,
ne’er you mind your moaning sisters,
you shall go to the wall,
it’s one minute to midnight,
and the final curtain call.

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