Two & A Half Minutes to Midnight

I’ll ask bleakly what time it is—

This ticking is grinding on, 

A breath in the unsubmerged gill,

The moment gets closer still

To some ever approaching horror

The Cold War grew hotter on the hill

Is there some inevitable Doomsday

Some arsenic pill? 
I watched them accidentally passing 

Russian Roulette guns

Dancing & firing, flirting along to mass pounding 

Of beat-bounding, skin-War drums

Their voices bouncing both soft & loud

In blood curdling trickles & gasping hums

How lovely, analyzing all the massive sums—
Money & bodies piled high,

Piled high, so high, beneath the blood-red sky

How deep & rosy red

The Earth spun upon the soaked death bed
I hear the ticking of that fateful clock

As they all go marching, 

Guns, lock, barrel & stock

Locked & loaded

Stoked & toted

Heavy in the reddening night

Finding a way to block the light

A simple boot-stomp 

& out it goes, the rasping gasping of 

The greater knows, that all is crumbling

& down it fell

the pitch into the readied well

Down it went

With all its might

The masses filled with death & blight

Along with the ticking clock

All was gone, 

‘cept for the flock 

nestled soft upon the grass

as night, long & peaceful,

settled in after that last, evening gasp. 

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