The Sickle screams

as it falls

A tempest of uncertainty flows through the bristles

as the hound of the gods descends from the moon

and pierces the fool's throat

a midnight jaunt, now a violent haunt

as the clown now dancles a jingle

The minaret of the mosque it crowds with jinn

that stay afloat on it's roof

as they partake of gin and other sorts

screaming their pain into our unhearing thoughts

Nightmares of unending pleasure

The cross of the Son

as it bleeds in the Sun

and his wicked disciples

rot in the Mud, eaten eternally by crows

or worms or toads

it matters not, their woes

The three headed god of Endings cuts

through the paper that separates us

and as the clock ticks closer to the doomsday Twelfth

the Death of the world it seems Nigh

and the world it comes together to Sigh

and in a breathless fury of passion

the roar of an angels lips

the temptestous cry of a shaking world

the thrust of a lovers hips

It comes to an end

Absurdity, as we all the while drown

a Breath escapes

without a sound

Theme : Social Criticism, Satire

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