If trees were not treeing,
And no birds you were seeing,
Only memories on disks, or chip,
Might you think it an acid trip?
But no plants and no flowers,
And the mole in a hole it cowers,
Its last meal it consumed,
Of an old crumb it exhumed,
And the buzzing you hear,
While no bees there are near,
No apples to eat,
And no steaks as a treat,
No barbeque to smoke,
No fire to poke,
For you burned the last stick,
You turned the last trick,
The rivers stopped flowing,
And your car you were towing,
For power was scarce,
And no trains accept fares,
Then might you think, that’s if you still can,
No more gold or riches to pan,
You shot the last guy,
Loose his last morsel to pry,
All is dark and no more juice,
For your neighbour was the last to use,
His reality virtual or otherwise,
Would you not think those all were just lies?
But too late now my friend,
You ne’r raised a doubt, till right to the end,
You were in a buzz,
And you said, what’s all the fuss?
The glaziers were, melting and now they are gone,
Under water is Jersey, and too your front lawn,
And your basement you’re bailing,
And the mother of Jesus you’re hailing,
Too late now to pray,
And who cares if you’re gay,
Or what Oprah will say,
For now it’s too late, this is your last day,©27/08/2012
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Regis
attention? very few, i'd venture, but you,
Jasmin, are aware and have your wise finger
on the pulse
john
Ron