no, it doesn’t rank highly

in the annals of catastrophe,

as recorded and studied by humanity,

morbid posterity.

… Few people know

and most have forgotten.

But to you it is everything

… it shaped your very being.

357 fatalities,



Good night and sweet dreams,

beautiful child.





… Like when,

young and up too late,

you fall asleep in front of the TV set,

and subconsciously imbibe,


all of the nastiness

in the worst possible way.


you awake.

… Tomorrow’s hope disintegrates.




Full of shit to overflowing,

just like everybody else.

But the voices and faces

“we” elevate,

are gifted obscene riches,

for their words,

to the herd,

and influential ways.

Alas, strange days.

People and morals perverted.




These things you do,

great effort and toil,

all a farce,


considering tomorrow

you will lie

under grass.




That’s history,

you realize,

as you flush it down the toilet.

All is history,

truth flies.




Is it a dream, a memory,

or a premonition?

There’s a tap at the door

(more so a hatch).

You grope in the darkness,

find the latch and open.

The flashlight shines in,

blinds you.

Yes, there is light,

but does it help you see?




I eat the jar of fine French pâté,

fully and completely,

decadent but necessary.

Depleted, I need energy.

I savor every bite.

I consider the best before date,

3 years hence,

and think of the Armageddon bunker

I theoretically may be stocking:

yes, Terrine de Caille,

avec Raisins.

Functional finery.

Yes, to life and taste, in all settings.





still waiting,


for the adults to act like adults,




… Really,

do we ever stop being petty children?




You listen to them and are immediately engaged:

Intelligent voices, perceptive.

You listen some more and gradually realize

how stupid in fact they actually are.

… Brainwashed wannabes:

talkative parakeets,

lauded by a society,

on a road to destruction.

Spouting words, no real comprehension,

elucidating idiocy,


nodding audience proficiency.

… Messages of love,

laced with hate.

(*Agree, or die!*)

… Really,

must we accept this “fate”?





Small word,

big meaning.

If only…

Implications immense,

future, past,