I'm writing now because I know
without doubt the moment I stop
I will cease to exist

There are no portents in western civilisation
no circling vultures
no tapping Poe raven's
no Marley ghost
to come at 12 and again at 1


We ignore the earth
in all her mystery and
ancient magic

The way she breathes

the way she sobs uncontrollably

We carve our name into her
of gulley and fissure
with machine
and reckless disregard

We slaughter her children
then our own with equal fervour

Blood
a sign
a portrait of shame
smeared
then carefully
painted across her surface
for all the reavers
to see

And the sign is
Aramaic
Sanskrit
and rap gangster speak

It tells of the coming

it speaks in twisting tautologies
of rune and enchantments

Mouth the words
and cease with me........