Woebegone Wednesday: Conflagration Congregation

The planet breathes the ashes of indifference.
It is not herself for which Gaia weeps,
but for the collateral casualties caught in the flames.
What voice had they as the world began to burn?
Ignited by the greed of the never-enoughs,

whose gods behold the destruction and laugh.
What can figments and phantasms do, anyway?
The pious wring their hands, or would,
if they dared to abandon their phones.
To their dismay and delight, End-Days will be Instagram’d.


21 thoughts on “Woebegone Wednesday: Conflagration Congregation

        1. I’ll repeat this – you are not, repeat not, the center of the universe. I simply offered another poetic license perspective on your concept. Think of teenage wasteland. Alternate perspective, “They’re all wasted.”

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          1. Dude, start your own conversational thread rather than respond to mine. That way, it will be impossible for me to think you’re talking to me. II knew you would say this, but I typed what I typed regardless. If you click “comment” right there at the bottom of the blog, chances are I’d miss you entirely. Can you do that next time?

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          2. Here’s how it appears on my WP:
            Phil Huston replied to your comment “End-Days will be Instagram’d.” This line will live forever in the minds of the forlorn.
            Forever in the forlorn mindless.


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            1. As an extension of word play. But you sensitive types don’t do word play conversation as there is no differentiation between content and self so you can’t see your words as useful diving platforms for exploration.

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          3. Actually, I AM the center of the Universe. I am The Alpha, the Omega. The subject, the object. I am the beginning, the end. I am the origin. I am past, I am the present I am the future. I am all genders. I is, I are, I AM.”

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            1. No, you’re the guy we give an enema and bury in a shoebox, but that’s another story. As far as Paul goes, that was a good lick. There’s an old arrangement routine worth mentioning where, if one doesn’t have much of a song, rave up and/or beat the hell out of the chorus. Think “Message in a Bottle”.

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                  1. “As far as Paul goes, that was a good lick.” Ok, thanks for that. “,,,or beat the hell out of the chorus..” Ok, the “story” isn’t going anywhere so I’ll just keep repeating : “She love you, ya, ya, ya…”

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                    1. Watch an honest to God evangelical preacher on TV, like Swaggert. The sermon IS the hook, praise Jesus. You wanted to be Van Helsing when you digressed to junior high, you made it. And Mole copying the repetitive baby talk style for 7EZKool… What am I gonna do with you guys? On a bad day you have personal style and imagination that beats the contrived couldn’t get hired by Mad Magazine bullshit all to hell. And if one of you would/could put 800 words together twice with continuity and voice? Be a wonderful thing.

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