In the danse macabre

of humanity,

fractures and fizzures are opening

like zippers in a million blue jeans;

numberless fanzy jackets blow ajar

in the storm of days,

revealing the skeletons in the empty spaces within

that swallow any last minute dumb ass excuses;

sharp-edged stetson hats flying like frisbees

across the plains,

decapitating self-assured, self-assumed clergies

and foolishly law-abiding citizens

at the tip of their cruel warlords' fingers;

the vortex of the void

devouring every fine-tuned heritage,

while silence gags any late words of remorse,

no matter how amplified

- and in the soothing stillness that follows

the doomed commotion

and senseless ego

of eight billion evilutionary excesses,

the birds chirp in the trees

and the lilies thrive on the ground,

with no one there to beg for exemption