The World After Tomorrow


“Sleep!

May be you will wake up tomorrow and find that things never changed, the apocalypse never happened, and everything’s fine, normal, at home.

Or may be you will wake up tomorrow and find that things have changed, for the better, the apocalypse is over and there’s light, hope and a new home.

Sleep, you crazy soul, just sleep.”
― Sanhita Baruah

80

The cities were visions veiled
of what they once were
the faded colors of high-gardens

was stark against the decaying roads
the after days was not a revolution
it was an extinction event
the algorithms told of this day
scientists tried to warn politicians

who served the elite, not the people
this was nothing new in the
history of humanity, empires fell

for the same reasons, greed and decay
how can I regret anything
if this was nature’s plan all along?
long ago, aeons ago, I had seen this before

In Egypt, Rome and even Atlantis
Man brings strife wherever he goes
I am too a man, who lived a kind of a life

the world united through a greater speed
of information exchange, and the collective
news on the day the markets crashed
were cruel, communities came to dust
keep your love and sell your lies

hope starts again the day after the apocalypse
nations were tormented things anyway
we divided the world, and stripped the masses
of opportunity, so that a few might become masters
we all know how this turns out.

Link: NASA Funded Study: (Simulations)

http://www.theguardian.com/environment/earth-insight/2014/mar/14/nasa-civilisation-irreversible-collapse-study-scientists

Applying this lesson to our contemporary predicament, the study warns that:

“While some members of society might raise the alarm that the system is moving towards an impending collapse and therefore advocate structural changes to society in order to avoid it, Elites and their supporters, who opposed making these changes, could point to the long sustainable trajectory ‘so far’ in support of doing nothing.”

at the steps of the exultant future


The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.
~ Oscar Wilde

67

i exile myself in that which can
bear witness to all of humanity
i subdue the myths we tell ourselves

and find a utopia amid the ruins
it’s my occupation to dream
nor does human love achieve it
i’ve brought burial signs for extinctions

and i’ve drawn up the algorithms
these Madrigal apocalypses
the sunflower bends to the west

the rains calm the scarcity of hope
how many lifetimes have i lived through this?
the last play of light fades
on a dry belt of cloud ready to clasp

thunder itself, a fragrance of storms
i always loved the storms, spent hours in them
flooded myself with the hope to witness

cosmic events, rare fall of empires
revolutions of transhumanism
so i chose this moment to be born
here on the banks of futurity

i shall hold buds of nano-geraniums
as if they always existed
as if I am the same as who I once was

it’s the poetry of life that allows
us to love life more than ourselves…

Photography credits attributed to: http://www.deviantart.com/art/raven-is-to-blame-471721702

AFTER EARTH APOCALYPSE


OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Dead hands of foam lead me to
The stasis that is extinction of human life
Black sweet blood mouthfuls
Of the Cities we built, machines we taught

Like many species we
Drove evolution into oblivion
Becoming Gods of profit
For feeble hours, substanceless blue

Aware of short-term projects
Suicidal, reckless, individualistic
Ritualistically aggressive
Men sought to exploit other men

Women sought to breed and secure genes
It wasn’t the kind of civilization
That I imagined could survive indefinitely
We were the lowest common
Denominator of greed, fit for brief empires

Dead hands of foam lead me to the
Cloning stations, where I will get
A new body, because I’m of the elite
Last in a hierarchy of mortals.

Disinherited Europe


To Spain, Greece, France and Italy These decades are birds of passage The years overwhelm with Information, change, economy instability I hear the beat of the future Hang low in the dewy atmosphere With a beat of glowing snow I … Continue reading

Language at the End of the World


67

To lighten up language, I’ve/
Dug deeper, soared higher
A grassroots entry into oblivion

The little landscapes collected/
Of a billion lives, varieties, in-commons
To become a single blade of grass

Or a single bead of flowing water/
That’s the first conundrum
To identify with everything

Purely, without pretence/
I do not barter light and dark
They simple are, like the macrocosm

Of my internal states, I mirror them well/
With is neither grief nor joy
But only peace, nature, what is –

Time will tell if I listened or loved/
This world well, with my lack of vitality
To lighten up language, I’ve

Blown in your direction, across/
Buried cities, with little saliva
In my mouth for the end-of-times

I’ve dreamed apocalypse would be/
Not so different, as the sweet oblivion
Of a dying world, that thrives if only
For it’s artificial growth.

Cycles of the Clear Bright


41

The cities will be ruined
And what will remain will be
Heavy dew, thick mist, dense grass
Fields, far as roads once ruled

The drunken parties of men will be gone
Fled into the fifth watch of
Galaxies, tunnelling into oblivion
Somewhere near the speed of light

Passing are all ruined palaces
Empires will crumble, as if gladly
To make way for the new
The coasts will swallow peninsulas

The skies will perform cleaning
Volcanoes will erupt
And broken gates will ease in
New wild gardens, waterfalls

Over bridges, time renews all
Life does not question, she moves
While we rest in moments of snow
Beneath migrating rains

The gravestones of Earth will be hidden
Only the voice of screeching owls
Will remind the lantern light
Of Nine Spring mornings
What all was once, can be again.