Apocalypse
Careless whispers from sordid lips
Echo through the wooded landscape of hearts.
Destructive wants and needless needs,
Carried on the remnants of rust and bone,
Discarded amongst the fallen bridges,
Where once that precious garden grew—
Abundant petals with morning dew…
Oh how those poetic colours swirled
In the abstract minds of troubled youth,
With Silver tongue of rivers deep
And how that made the willows weep.
They wept in mournful sorrow first
Then blew light-heartedly in swift gay breeze,
Swaying merrily to gardener’s tune,
Reciting songs of lovers’ moon.
Drooping soon, one by one,
Neglect: naïve or playboy rule?
No willow’s death carved into stone
Sighs forgotten—another clone.
But each one knew they weren’t alone
With all decaying days that passed.
And thoughts of how the last was strewn:
Loved too quick, deceased by noon!
Empty melodies confined to ash
No garden path to lead them up,
The fickle gardener’s longing tales:
Seeking roses, endless fails.
Bitter stumps, now burnt and bare,
Fruitless end to nature’s womb,
Apocalyptic trails of dirt
Sporadic care and endless hurt.
Acidic rain to wash away
Polluted minds and drunken hearts,
A world once loved now fades to grey
Pastel night now charcoal day.
Neverland: a silly notion
Truth keeps blooms of love in motion,
A life of fantasy fulfilled
Though one of lies is one half lived.
Midnight Aurora
|