So life is a film,
of compact frames,
and missing scenes.
Confusion and unrest,
accounts for our deaths.

And outside my car window I observe –
no, let my eyes drift asleep.
I cannot bear the pain of the ones I see.
I’m a coward, God,
yet I still believe.

Oh we’re all the same,
the ancients and us.
The present: the past.
Doom held our hands,
and led us from the garden.

Twisted spineless chords,
in straight backbones,
Of corporate endeavors.
The tower of babel to reach the All Mighty,
a skyscraper to exceed the Architect.

They’re calling for war.
Scheming eternity:
collective demise.
It’s faithful destiny;
fatal fate aligned.

So after all is said,
and all they’ve sought is done,
Nimble ladders erect:
“Nimrod failed; but not tonight.”
We are the only ones left alive.

Dear shameless children,
infants and innocents.
The purity of your child’s play,
makes me believe likewise.

Justified injustice;
the grass withers,
and the flowers fade.
Indeed the final say,
bashes the pride of the day.