Taste Of This Potage!

I've got a strange feeling, like, it wasn't as bad, as I thought it was. No! It was much worse! It is beyond belief, beyond balance, the unhingement, of the world, as she descends...to her death. The waves toss, frantic chaos, above nukes popping off, plates coming loose...the 'ring of fire', frying, like a man hole cover, above a sewer...about to 'blow', sky high! 

You were there! I was here, got the tee shirt, and a ticket stub! The coasts are toast! The birds are in the air! Hope you got a flotation device, an 'old log'...I'll be shatting mine, for sure! The 'false christ' is here, and he is busy busy 'business' as a bee! 

The 'News', can hardly keep up lying. It's a beast, the daily grind, of 'making up' what is! 'To be', is not the question. 'Or not', is not either. 'To be', is what we are...screwed to the bone, by events we could not imagine, nor had foreseen, for enormity. 

A tempest, in a pee pot...is what it truly is, and it wont be 'cream' rising to the top, but turds, swimming for their lives, in a soup of 'editing', and mongering of wars, and deaths, and sacrifice...of all but theirs, but they shall have a taste, first...of this 'potage', they made for us!


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2016, at Deming, New Mexico

Art: thecoastalpassage.com, wild waves