From the Sun [poem]
The only thing
that’s going to change
this broken, crazy,
dazed and fading world
is one humungous
ghastly shock
beyond what’s ever been
experienced on earth before —
some cataclysm or disaster,
jolts to haunt us ever-after,
something which will throw us
all down to the floor —
an angel of death
going door-to-door
like in that film
where green smoke
slid along the ground
and whirled around
the frightened eyes
and made them realise
their days were done
so no more fun.
Let’s have some monstrous force
to rub our faces in the dirt
& punch us without mercy till
our shirts are soaked in blood,
prevent us from our flirting
with the devil’s seed, or bring
on something like the flood
in Noah’s time; although
they wallowed in their warped
and toxic slime, they laughed
at him and thought him mad,
obsessed meshuga-man,
they treated him with scorn
until their precious toes
felt wet & then they blamed him,
called him God’s own pet,
still wouldn’t see what fools
they were, so then they drowned
& as their sickly minds & bodies
floated down the brindley brine,
all their opinions, shibboleths
and narcissistic garbled breaths
just dissipated through the
aych too oh as face-to-face
they came with what they’d
overgrown and slaughtered in
the abattoir of twisted selfdom’s
ego-flash and me-me-flaunt and
“why the hell should someone
wonderful like me be doomed
to die; why aren’t I indestructible,
immortal here continuing
to spout my shit and twitter
to the world, just watch me fly!”
To which the answer came:
“Because you fucked Atlantis up,
[a crime you seek to cover up]
& now you’re sinking like a schmuck,
you foolish little smirking boy or girl
[whichever one you think you are
for even there you’ve thrown
a spanner in the works].
You thought that you could
reinvent all natural laws
ignore cause and effect;
you put your nether regions
[namely, your fat ass]
upon the throne so anything
and everything you now condone,
denying there is wrong or right
or good or evil, darkness, light
& wrecked what should have been
a marriage made of magic joy
with angels who withstood
the fall & in your wilful immaturity
you set out only to destroy,
too blind to see, too deaf to hear,
you have ignored the call to purity
& should have courted harmony
within your self and with the
world you’ve now polluted
with your dark arts and
your madness which you think is sane
& now it’s Noah who you blame??!!”
And with that deathly diatribe,
which dreaming heard I in my mind,
I saw a world undone which no more
on its former axis spun and realised
it had described what soon will pass
on earth again, though not with flood
to wash it clean but fire and quakes,
volcanos’ steam, and something
streaming pulsingfully FROM THE SUN.
And after that, whoever’s left within
the cosmic rubble from the stars
will then declare:
“We’ve learned at last now who we are.
We bow before the Light.”
A new world has begun.
.
.
© Alan Morrison, 2016
The Naked Troubadour 