The end of poetry

The cat beneath my feet
Lays like a mat
I wonder if she realizes
That the end of poetry is near


Grandma cooked soup
Chicken soup of course
I wonder if she realizes
That the end of poetry is near


North Korea has the bomb
The south are reluctant to attack
I wonder if she realizes
That the end of poetry is near


He reads the signs and turns his back
At times not making a single dime
I wonder if he realizes
That the end of poetry is near


He shakes his fist to his God
Plays his guitar to the song
I wonder if he realizes
That the end of poetry is near


I wonder if he realizes
That the end of poetry is near