The Second Coming

© 2014

walking faster to a run

anklets chime to rising wind

alone together we all wear orange

and nothing rhymes with it.

a menagerie of intention & belief

made curios in painted alabaster

we’re set to fester in our billions

on sheafs of pornography & religion.

we stare through long imagined space

cast eyes across tectonic plates

spinning swift on graphite pencils

thank god we don’t all know our place.

this archipelago against apocalypse

grows smaller as the waters rise

signal fires warm our hill forts

yet they find no compromise–>

the thrashing waves of compliance

a tsunami mumble of even tones

leaves the wicked in good standing

while they monitor our phones.

What piebald beast we face,

slouching towards a computer screen

earning all our scorn:

the fanatic & his sudden acts

whose banal story ends like hard punctuation.

And the smug & well-connected fool

with his presumptions of ordered society

and pretensions to penitence.

We wisk our lives in an illusion of freedom

yet they fulminate illusions of control.

May our courage face and bleed them

our arms are waving from the shoals.