In the danse macabre
of humanity,
fractures and fizzures are opening
like zippers in a million blue jeans;
numberless fanzy jackets blow ajar
in the storm of days,
revealing the skeletons in the empty spaces within
that swallow any last minute dumb ass excuses;
sharp-edged stetson hats flying like frisbees
across the plains,
decapitating self-assured, self-assumed clergies
and foolishly law-abiding citizens
at the tip of their cruel warlords' fingers;
the vortex of the void
devouring every fine-tuned heritage,
while silence gags any late words of remorse,
no matter how amplified
- and in the soothing stillness that follows
the doomed commotion
and senseless ego
of eight billion evilutionary excesses,
the birds chirp in the trees
and the lilies thrive on the ground,
with no one there to beg for exemption