A Word To The Dumb
by Paul
Murgatroyd
Portending the end of days,
a man-child has been born,
with wolf-heads on his chest and knees and elbows,
crying: ‘Kill, baby, kill!’
Soon stone will rise up against stone,
every creature will look to heaven and tremble,
locusts with human hair will strip seas and lands bare,
wormwood will infect rivers, infest streams and lakes,
suns will scorch the soil to ashes
and mountains will be engulfed by bleeding oceans.
Such are the fruits of your torpor,
Apathy’s child.
Enjoy!
