The best in line for the slaughter are those who don’t participate. Those with health insurance are prime candidates for eternal life.
The man with no family will one day be hailed as a hero.
The actor with no headshots, the farmer with no shovel, the head without a brain just might one day become president.
We cant stop the invasion of bug eyed mutants who thin their peevish poindextorous ways are funny or innovative. Best we can do is pray for a large asteroid or title wave or earthquake or some thing. Anything.
Anything that keeps us from turning our trollish selves into name tag jockeys and 8 hour a day mindless bottomfeeding shell dwellers.
I hope our death is an exciting one.
I know it will be.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Where to? by matt fromm )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- My Ramdan, My Repentance, Ahamad Ilyaas Vilayathullah
- She in Desert, Akhtar Jawad
- A bucket of paint, Piyush Dey
- Value be given, gajanan mishra
- Egypt, Tony Adah
- A Tribute To Gray's Elegy, Naveed Khalid
- Nothing i can offer, binod bastola
- Canonical, Naveed Khalid
- Africanesse not Darkness, Famoroti Odunayo Israel
- A Broken Mirror, Naveed Khalid