Beyond The Apocolypse

 


My turn to prepair the feast for fools


Descending upon the wild,


with hope for herbs, mushrooms and berries.


Finding only irradiated mash


Sling and stone...


Should i encounter a potential meal of flesh


the only moving targets, violently fading dreams


I do not recognize much of my yield



In this my maiden voyage


Nutritious or deadly?



the knowledge escapes,


Fingers on cutting board


All into the simmering cauldron,


boiling Madcap stew..


We all allowed our mother earth to be raped to a shroud


So I'll pour a bowl just for you