Continued Contemplations Of The Apocalypse
when Mother Earth
slams down the lid of her steamer trunk
and throws a few leftover bras and panties
in her Adidas carry-on bag
when she stubs out her last cigarette
and farts one long one followed by a short snuffer
as she hurries on her way to the front door
where the Armageddon Taxi Company driver
is waiting somewhat impatiently
when she leaves without so much as closing the front door
i'll still be here waiting for your call
when your nerves are shattered
like ice cubes in a glass cracking under the bubbly
foam of a diet Coke
when your eyes twitch and your lips flick
like eddies in a stormy sea
and your hands shake so bad
that you don't think you can really hold on
to life for even a second longer
no matter how hard you try
when you simply can't grab on to what was or is or might be
i'll still be here waiting for your call
when the air raid sirens break out
of the age of rust and spin
a cacophony of fear over the neighbourhood
when the dogs wake from the sleep
of the endless summer's heat
to join the choir and howl in harmony
and you begin to hear trumpets over the chaos of noise
trumpets and the roar of some golden chariot
swinging low and sweetly
when it swoops down your way no matter how unexpectedly
i'll still be here waiting for your call
when the souls of the dead rise from their graves
in exquisite clothes and the frilly finery
that someone thought was best for travelling
underground on the way to journey's end
and when they shimmy and shake up and down
like marionettes on such an unsteady stage
and for the life of you or maybe for the death of you
you find yourself shuffling your feet so heavy with clay
and begin obscenely thrusting your hips back and forth
in some bizarre rendition of dirty dancing
when you grind on some unsuspecting zombie and groan your way to paradise
i'll still be waiting for your call
when Mother Earth
slams down the lid of her steamer trunk
and throws a few leftover bras and panties
in her Adidas carry-on bag
when she stubs out her last cigarette
and farts one long one followed by a short snuffer
as she hurries on her way to the front door
where the Armageddon Taxi Company driver
is waiting somewhat impatiently
when she leaves without so much as closing the front door
i'll still be here waiting for your call
when your nerves are shattered
like ice cubes in a glass cracking under the bubbly
foam of a diet Coke
when your eyes twitch and your lips flick
like eddies in a stormy sea
and your hands shake so bad
that you don't think you can really hold on
to life for even a second longer
no matter how hard you try
when you simply can't grab on to what was or is or might be
i'll still be here waiting for your call
when the air raid sirens break out
of the age of rust and spin
a cacophony of fear over the neighbourhood
when the dogs wake from the sleep
of the endless summer's heat
to join the choir and howl in harmony
and you begin to hear trumpets over the chaos of noise
trumpets and the roar of some golden chariot
swinging low and sweetly
when it swoops down your way no matter how unexpectedly
i'll still be here waiting for your call
when the souls of the dead rise from their graves
in exquisite clothes and the frilly finery
that someone thought was best for travelling
underground on the way to journey's end
and when they shimmy and shake up and down
like marionettes on such an unsteady stage
and for the life of you or maybe for the death of you
you find yourself shuffling your feet so heavy with clay
and begin obscenely thrusting your hips back and forth
in some bizarre rendition of dirty dancing
when you grind on some unsuspecting zombie and groan your way to paradise
i'll still be waiting for your call
Love bears all. .....
ReplyDeleteHey, you got it ... shows you're a poet ... ;o}
DeleteIt's always comforting to know that someone will be there to help pull you to the good side of love and life ... no matter what!
ReplyDeleteLike a good reclining chair ...
Delete... you certainly have a way with words ~smile~ .... the true intensity of love ....
ReplyDeleteMerci, madame ...
Deletewow...I bet you had chilli for dinner just before penning that....probably followed by banana cream pie for dessert. That's some serious imaginings going on there...grinding on zombies? :) I feel like I need a conductor complete with baton and orchestra playing a rock opera to accompany my reading....although i do love that diana ross song! Intense.
ReplyDeleteHaha ... actually, I wrote most of it in my head on the way home from Walmart ... not sure if that signifies anything ... ;o}
Deletethe rock of love...my family is like that for me...
ReplyDeleteYes, so is mine ... it's a comfort ...
Delete