If these are the end times, as biblically foretold
Or just the bubble of civilization approaching its burst
From climate change
Or the breakdown of dysfunctional political corporatism
Let’s appreciate them, the end times
Let’s make love as often as possible
Let’s love these days
These rare days when everyone with privilege across the globe
Can buy the same perfect apples in air-conditioned sameness
These commonplace days of global luxuries
Where winter just means having to fly your strawberries in from across the globe
Appreciate the luxuries that may not be around much longer
Since there seems to be sufficient portents to nudge me towards gloom
Thinking doom and doomsday plots
As reports flood in of massive ice melts, methane gas releases, shrinking glaciers
While dystopian planners hunker down in pinched fear gearing up for a fast ride to hell
And failed states release terror into the shipping lanes
Failed rulers cling noose tight to power with blood red iron fingertips
Overhead strange signs appear
Like grid patterns of chemtrails crossing lines from secrecy to sin
Leaving us at the mercy of a tainted wind
Droves of us mill about in sheepled delusions
Brainwashed by selective education and finely crafted propaganda
Called popular culture
Our behaviour manipulated to ensure submission into complicity
But understanding the inherent flaws in this grand monoculture
There’s still some room for righteous hedonism on the way out
Because there is a lot to be savored in this shimmer
And if there is some apocalyptic descent into chaos
Waiting in ambush around the next bend
Don’t we owe it to everyone to use every possible pleasure to its limit
And if this scrap survives beyond whatever ultimate disaster takes us out
To be read by some far futured survivor picking up pieces
To you I say, it was fucking awesome to be alive at the apex
David Trudel © 2013
David, this is brilliant. Alive at the apex–what a way to end this 😉
Susan, its probably a good thing there’s a continent between us. Otherwise, watch out.
Ah yes–that continent must be there for a good reason–geography keeps us both out of trouble.
That’ll be the next poem!
Oh, yes, please! That will be a fun read.