Ten-Fold.

In the epic days,
and valiant ways,
of old;
were things like dignity,
and empathy,
I’m told;
there was humanity,
and human beings,
ten-fold;
was concern for,
so much more,
than gold;
was no need for,
any nuclear Holy War,
just growth;
then came humanity,
lacking all sincerity,
a joke;
tailed by the hungry beast,
swallowing good and evil things,
we know;
but we didn’t see,
what was happening,
behold;
in the world today,
perversely incensed ways,
unfold;
pedals fall away eventually,
a desperate act of dying beauty,
let go.

Assailed.

The noise has grown unbearable atop a fortress’ ramparts –
ten thousand swooping pterodactyls amidst the horizon,
the bantering of all the world’s inebriated sailors setting sail –
the bellies of every monster growling in a symphony of hunger,
the swarming of every dead and gone spirit’s uprising to the heat –
a chaotic explosion from nothing at all into everything there is,
the drowning out of young giggles within meaningless adult words –
complete destruction of the calm isles veiled by smoky-blue waters,
the solitude of confinement washed out by a high pressure firehose –
the noise grows and grows like an ornery, bad weed strain,
it’s rumble and tumble tectonically taking steps towards world war –
plates shifting, funnels twisting, levees failing, babies adapting,
a species evolving to become accustomed to its deafening noise –
a breed unlike the original roots to a better humanity,
the fields became buildings, the tractors drove themselves away –
malfunctioned smart electronics that will throttle our truths,
skies changing into backdrops to a new storyline –
a scripted game played by something or things much greater,
much wiser, much more antiquated than the pawns moved around –
this is the noise, this is what it must sound like to be swallowed,
by an invisible ocean giant sperm whale, inside of space’s vacuum.