Sane seems insane

Societal challenge: momentum gathers pace.
Another thirty years? our span of grace
Now seems in meltdown clinging to a space
Extremely tenuous, fragile as race
Speeds to untimely end for human race.
Early or late trend tends towards disgrace,
Early or late Fate leaves behind no trace -
May in December ends in any case.
Sane and in[s]ane identically chase
Ideals predestined to black hole bleak. Brace
Now before bleak winds of change unlace
Storms Richter scarce suspected and uncase
Apocalypse which ‘progress’ will replace.
Necks thrust through Time's noose, loose ends, harsh Past
End of Days Present, Future b[l]ind - die cast.

1 December 1991 revised 31 October 2008

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!