Bloated hungered stomachs burst,
As unquenched lands die of thirst,
In the circle of life; what comes first?
The new-born-babe or the corpse in its hearse?
The Gods look down with knowing eyes,
Jesus frowns & Buddha sadly sighs,
The Gods grimace & Allah cries,
As man auto-destructs, shrivels & dies.
The vulture waits in patient pose,
The wise man nods, because he knows,
The wounded beast lies in sluggish repose,
And the West wind sadly blows.
The sun is angry & spitting with fire,
The bruised sky screeches with pent up ire,
The meek pray & look up at the spire,
While life hangs on suspended wire.
The prophet’s prediction of present & past,
Has come & gone, moved so fast,
The raised fist, high as signaled mast,
The end has come, it is life´s last.
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