Pretending the End of the World

I woke up on this side of the mountain
Waited for the sun to rise
I knew I’d go nowhere else today
Took pride in my open eyes.

I am always west of the Rockies,
west of the Appalachians,
West of the river…distant,
almost a boat adrift on the Pacific
…almost.

Where it begins,
the day, in the here now,
in imagination growing my mind
out of dream state to here
…now.

I woke up at 9:30 am,
cleaned the kitchen,
listened to some people on the radio
talking of ‘revolution’
who couldn’t remember
the songs they’d sung
traveling the world as ‘Internaticionalistas’
– as if that made them citizens of the world
– …they couldn’t remember the songs,
– even the words to the ‘Internationale.’

But what do I know?
What have I known?
I never knew all the words to that song.
I sang ‘Masters of War.’
And ‘It’s Alright, Ma, I’m Only Bleeding.’

Later the radio played
‘Bob Dylan never sang about this’
… the subtitle to a new book entitled, “1989,”
–pretending that history came to an end in that year
with the fall of the Berlin Wall
and the massacre in Tiananmen Square.

Peter, the title of this blew my mind, to use an old 70's expression. I had recently watched many episodes about disasters near and far on reality TV that would lead us all to believe that the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are waiting in the wings. Watching all that crap on TV made me want to write a poem about it.

Then I woke up this morning, and voila, here is your poem. Thanks for saying what I was thinking sort of.


Les

wow... just wow. nice poem

modern dining furniture | modern dining tables

Thanks, Karlplax11. I hope you will post some poetry of your own as well. btw, I don't need any furniture right now.

cheers,

Peter