Signs of the Times

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?