It is an oblivious sort of thing.
Walking upon the shores of the aftermath
Feeling the settled ashes give way between ones toes
While the air clouds heavily with smoke stacks
As the bitter feelings of starvation rattle and shake the knees.
Ignorance in the face of Armageddon
Loosening the helpless
To indecision.
Can the call to arms be so terrible
Can casting calls yield better faces
That soak up the suns lessening rays
So that smiles can grow
It is strange this sort of age
When war is no longer a viable tool
When education and knowledge show
That we have but little reasons to kill one another
Yet we create the problems
Into fables so larger than life
We demand the hellfire rain
We are sick of waiting for the next life it seems
We or those
Those who dream of heaven
Might seek to accept that this life is finished
Might seek to race it onward
So that they can find paradise in death
Let the bombs drop they'd say
It is a sign of the end times they will cry
God has deemed it so
They self fullfill their prophecies
Crying for buffoons of irrational anger to sit upon the thrones
A mad man with his hand on the button
A world who looks on upon him with frightening annoyance
We are the butt of the joke
Maybe we always were the joke
If there is no battle what will soldiers do I suppose
If there is no injustice what will the nay sayers balk at
It is a dream that human beings be able to just live in peace
To enjoy the fruits of the labors of countless generations before
To finally grow out of the adolescent selfishness
And greed
The school yard was so long ago
and for all our aging
We are but toddlers
Throwing fits and demanding our toys
Let the bombs fall I suppose
Let our enemies attack
We are already destroyed within
We complain that our government has failed us
But do not want its help
We look for ways to alleviate violence
But build up irrational walls
Calamity will ensue
And I will wonder
If you all care about your children
Why the fuck do you not want to fix this world
If the world is ending tomorrow
Why even try
Why procreate
The joke is no longer a joke
The fable is no longer viable
I am afraid
I am afraid that my just wanting to live
Is not enough
These expectations
These aspirations
These trials
And this tribulations
Jesus would be ashamed
Of every single one of you
That speak his name
those of you built up with rage
Built up with ignorance
Those who do not accept
Who do not embrace
Who selfishly hold onto all of it
There is the brink
I'm afraid of it
That deep cliff face
Cooler heads seem to prevail
But then we move to put a hot head on the throne
That standby may no longer matter
God almighty,
Though I don't often pray
If you are up there
What the hell have you let us become?
