Nuklir threats
flicker on the screen of a nuklir fam'y.

How many bombs it
require for nuklir winter?

Way creeping meatball hunkers countdown;
old silos ponder nuklir clearcut.

Deadline-driven journalists remember
Here is something ought to be remembered.

Many people died, but for what cause
And what came after, they do not remember.

Yesterday is nothing to us now;
And what tomorrow's for, who remembers?

If there were fascist governments before
It must be how they decked out, we remember.

Old Graywyvern drowses in a chair;
He should be mad, is all he now remembers.

the employment

via Blindheit

So many things entangle in a velcro watchband
a rosy morning shatters on my velcro watchband

a swirling flight of birds spans cemetery fields;
an old song's frozen joy, this loyal velcro watchband

Graywyvern stands in line at nearby crowded Starbuck's
around his clever beltloop dangles velcro watchband

No one lights the lamps in the City of Peace;
fear the swift flambeau in the City of Peace.

Layers of lost time, and the shimmer of heat
pierced by august steel in the City of Peace.

Now break camp and go. May you find what you seek:
walls of lasting frith, and a city of peace.

This tunnel does not jibe with all the maps.
Lostness i imbibe with all the maps.

Eclipse-time, and the boys will no more jeer
the oddball in the tribe with all the maps.

Pursuing you, alas, is one that's through,
O tutelary vibe, with all the maps.