Acopalyssus II
poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2009


If the green fields of Oatland were painted red by blood
If the sands of Sahara turned brown overnight
Would you turn to the wastelands and slide through the mud
Or flea through your window unsearched for in fright

If the blue seas of Greenland were tainted with our life
Would you stand by the shore and await your last bite
Or as the human does, never give up your futile strife
Run with the wind until down sinks the light

And the world is ungulfed by the horror and grey
And you can't see your fists or their fists or your way
And when you find your flashlight amidst an internal mound
The light leads your sight to the darkness around

As surreal as this life seems we all seize to be
As unreal as this life ends we're still you and me
Unless gods wrath falls upon us, or the gates of hell close
And there is no way for us to of the dead dispose