Tuesday, October 06, 2015

Portents of Doom

Portents of Doom

Attentions fragmented; realities
filled with empty calories –
that thing I don’t know about
because I am too old
or too worn out
to care.

Depth is absent;
a vast deficit
lies where meaning used to thrive.

Silence is gone,
reflection a thing of the past;
even pocket mirrors
rendered obsolete
in the world of cellphone selfies.

Without irony
this poem
will be posted
in hopes of life
after the death sentence.