Archive for the ‘Pâté & Armageddon Bunkers’ Category

Yes, the pictures you show are grotesque

and sobering…

Alas, though,

I was in Leningrad, Dresden and Tokyo

and I can’t say that Nagasaki and Hiroshima

suffered any more (or less).

War is war.

Death is death.

Misery is misery.

Burning, peeling, rotting human flesh is…

(you get the picture).

You can’t compare these things.

But you can oversimplify geopolitics

and complicated concepts.

And you can pretend that by banning “The Bomb”

human suffering will end.

Alas …

… Like landmines and schools,

you maim, destroy and breed,






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.