Tag Archives: end of the world

…because tomorrow you might be dead

16 Saturday May 2020

Posted by in A Few Thoughts

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abstract black and white blur book

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When you’re looking through glass at tomorrow’s history lesson, there are just some things that go through your head.

I worry that I won’t get everything done, that all the things I planned to write over the next ten years won’t get written. That I’ll die with series unfinished and stories untold and unshared.

I’ve gone a lot of places, I’ve met plenty of people, but writing is my life, and I don’t know if I’m going to be alive next year. That’s just truth.

I’m sheltering at home, but so many people in my area aren’t, and without masks. I don’t know anyone who’s died of coronavirus, but I don’t know how many people I know who will. And one of those people could be me. That’s just truth.

I work from home and I don’t go out. My dad is a Whedon dad; he does all the leaving for the household.

This is doing nothing for my paranoia and agoraphobic tendencies, to say the least for my thanatophobia.

One small but significant thing that’s changed is that I eat the ice cream and pizza now. Because if I’m going to die soon, I’m seriously not going to tell myself I can’t have the ice cream. It’s a good thing I really like working out.

Warning Signs

01 Friday May 2020

Posted by in Music, Poetry, Uncategorized

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white rose and pink smoke

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The coming mist glows yellow
With sulfur in its smell
A smoky sky, hanging low,
Carries dangerous stories to tell.

Red sky in the morning
Blood on the moon at night
An ill-swept wind blows in
With an eerie kind of light.

The world is lit with warning signs
The roads run dark and still
Cyan bruises on these lips of mine
Purple sage upon the hill.

Red eyes from the mourning
Blood on the sheets at night
A sickness marks our subtle sin
The beast will have its bite.

In all the colors of all the signs
We saw but haven’t seen
That we bring ourselves to an end of times
When all we can see is green.
When all we can need is green.

A person must be wicked
If a person’s to be heard
Were I a witch, with verdant skin,
Could the lesson be learned?

Red hives in the morning
Blood from the mouth at night
The edge of green is browning
And blackens into white.

What Are You Wearing to the End of the World?

06 Friday Sep 2019

Posted by in Music, Poetry

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blue and yellow flame painting

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If I keep going like this, I could have a whole album of apocalypse songs.

WHAT ARE YOU WEARING TO THE END OF THE WORLD?

Everything falling to pieces around you
The core of the apple has gone to the worms
The surface is cracked but the planet still turns
The Earth will do just fine without us.

But what will we decimate into our chaos?
How else to sully our decadent names?
Arsenic apple pie and murdering games
In prosperity and in plastic we trust.

Chorus:
On this day of our Lord, I ask only one thing
The chains are all rattling, the pendulum swings
The roses are dying and thorns are unfurled
What are you wearing to the end of the world?

Leather and lace go with shame and disgrace
The meteor falls in red fire silk
Volcanoes are flowing with honey and milk
But the milk is laced with sweet poison

Stilettos in pockets and the heels of our shoes
Pistols spin in pistoning security machines
Bad boys go worse and the good girls go mean
Here’s the handbasket to hearse into hell in.

Chorus:
On this day of our Lord, I ask only one thing
The chains are all rattling and the pendulum swings
The roses are dying and thorns are unfurled
What are you wearing to the end of the world?

They’re serving a feast speared with silver-lined spoons
The glazes look fine but taste of ash and of dust
The golden-gild cages are tarnished in rust
But we cannot break open any of our locks.

Dressed to the nines and down to the wire
The fur is all fake, blood-mined diamonds and stones
We’re dancing on shoes worn down to the bone
The servants keep turning back all of the clocks.

Bridge:
The masque of the red death holds sway over all
When the apocalypse hits, we head for the mall
The Beast has a number and our number’s come up
There are debts to be paid. On your knees, ante up
Hell is just empty and the devils all here
Amputated hands steer a carnival wheel.
We know what we’ve done, no more acts of contrition.
Lay back in the earth and think on your sin.

Chorus:
On this day of our Lord, I ask only one thing
The chains are all rattling and the pendulum swings
The roses are dying and thorns are unfurled
What are you wearing to the end of the world?