The Silence at the End of Time

Note: Leibniz and Kant postulate that time is part of a fundamental intellectual structure (together with space and number) within which humans sequence and compare events.  Without humanity there is no time.

No ranting pastors preaching hate,
and exclusion without Jesus.
All quiet from the imams teaching
religious violence frees us.

Black Friday long has passed,
we’ve consumed it all away:
our depleted planet barren
in the light of a sadder day.

The one percenters’ struggle
to have it all has failed,
and society’s poor can no longer see
injustice against which they railed.

There is no birdsong spreading joy,
in this orb so bleak and sere:
and no inuksuk now remains
to say that we were here.

Corporate and military adventurists
crumbled into karmic dust;
as policies of greed, and depletion,
untempered by empathy must.

We refuse to plan for tomorrow;
instead we wallow in our waste and grime:
our arrogance ensures our species shan’t hear
the silence at the end of time.

It Must Be Me

Surely the headlines every day,
and the carnage that we see,
are fictitious misinformation:
     or it could just be me.

So much anger, betrayal of trust,
dislocation, war, calamity,
with no sign of social enlightenment:
     but that could just be me.

Politicians telling lies,
messages saying we are free,
just shop until you drop, and take your pills:
     then perhaps it is just me.

Flags flying, heroes, martial music plays,
while we sip our coffee, drink our tea.
Military adventurism rules:
     or is it all just me?

Has the mountain of evolved society
shattered into tribal skree?
Are we capable of making a better world,
     or does it only bother me?

So I shall continue to hope for the best,
and see what tomorrow may be.
We could make our world a paradise,
     if we stop thinking “me.”

Against the Wall

  

The crypt coldness 
of the alley walls 
always bothered her 
even more than
the bad breath 
of her furtive clients.
Her thin shoulders 
were bruised and scraped 
by the bricks, 
as the speed of fiscal passion 
abraded foreplay.

Her working clothes 
were a hentai fantasy; 
short, with slits 
and scoop;
and a mile of leg 
disappearing 
into leather micro. 
Her eyes held that look 
of reflective knowledge 
found only in the better work 
of a few Dutch Masters.

The mind-place 
she visited while working 
was an old friend 
from a lost childhood:
a place to which 
she continued to be drawn, 
even after learning 
her test was positive.

On the Passing of a Friend

We all have our moments
when, perusing the past,
we chronicle our lives;
sorting events and changes
from first to last:
our friends, our mistakes, and our drives.

We all have our moments,
when a friend has been lost,
to reflect on what we could have said;
perhaps to have given more of ourselves
not counting the time nor the cost:
now that friend, like that moment, has fled.

We all have our moments,
when tears have been shed,
with regrets and remorse tucked away.
We can smile in remembrance
of things done or said,
and be with him then, each day.

Liturgy for Social Media

Breathe.
Ignore ignorance.
Do not become depressed
by the lack of societal empathy
reflected here.
Breathe.

Breathe.
Do not be sucked into the morass of false news.
Forgive stupidity, and do not respond to it.
Avoid the slimy vortex of hate posts.
This is a product of conditioning,
and is used by governments/corporations to mould
the audience that they would enslave.
Breathe.

Breathe.
Do not be drawn into policy statements:
your opinion will never change the ethos of a closed mind.
Do not invest anything of yourself.
Breathe.