Apocalypse On Sale


We consume
We demand
We consume
Until there’s no more
No more of anything
No more for our neighbours
No more for the countries
No more for the inhabitants
Of this wild card entry

No more to go around
No more of love
No more of sympathy
No more of laugh
No more kindness
And more and more
Of indifference
More of selfishness
More of dead paper
Cut down from a tree
Worth a life
Now no more
Paper to barter
To consume more and more.

We consume,
Consume rage and hate
Consume lies
No wonder there’s still so much to put out,
We create things
We destroy in our own image
We consume unnecessary
We consume pain
We give more so
Than any more I think.

We waste
We are waste
We overcompensate
That which we destroy
We consume worthy
And put out waste

It’s been ages of tradition,
Of consumption
Our souls now stand,
On sale for consumption.

 ©flyingonemptythoughts


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33 Comments Add yours

  1. poseidons99 says:

    happy that I consumed this poem 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. S says:

      Thanks for this compliment, appreciate you dropping by. 😁

      Like

  2. If words could pierce literally 🙂

    Like

  3. Nishita13 says:

    NO more of everything.
    🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. S says:

      😀 thanks for the read

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Nishita13 says:

        You are A virtuso.
        Stay Beautiful. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

        1. S says:

          Oh you stop it ! hehe *grinning*

          Liked by 1 person

          1. Nishita13 says:

            I don’t lie. Stay Happy. 🙂

            Liked by 1 person

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