The world becomes a pin prick in the sands of time.

Earth shatters as humanity prospers

laying waste to the United States of America,

rising out of Uncle Sam’s nightmare.


The taste of blood becoming stagnant in everyone’s truth

turning the truth of peace into the equivocation of destruction.

The refreshing rainfall beckons over the horizon…

Ashes of the nearest cities fall;


Un-seeming sight o
f boils follow the smell of sick, leading to the screams of anguish;

As the eternal heat burns form the inside out.

The taste of comfort long since vanished

where mum’s bangers and mash grew stale on a kitchen counter.


Somewhere a horn is blown, causing blood to run rampant; wherein

the petite wings of insanity bring about destruction,

tramping out entrée non autorisee.

Allowing comfort to be found in sin.


It seems humanity is to fall,

by no means other than mankind’s own doing

bringing the “Sun’s tears” to descend upon Earth

tears of mankind’s own doing.


Soot torn edges of Pipe Long Stocking’s book

in a blackened shell of a school house,

neat little messy script spells out Esther-Irene.

A tear is shed for the innocent.


Perhaps hope is to be found in the most unlikely places…

A green angel who helps

to bring forth renewal,

buying time as snow covers red.