The Great Floods That Plague Us

Excesses wreck what is underneath.

Excesses wreck what is underneath. (Image from Pixabay)

They say,

There is no escape from the great plague.

The memorable today is faded like the Abaddon may

Washed away like bygone days…

In last May,

The flood of clouds created an unyielding storm

Now that fragile roof is gone.

The flood of sediment clouded that turquoise pond

No longer as bright as a newborn.

In two-thousand and eight,

The flood of coins infatuated the infamous baron

Oh the choir sang a tragic song.

The flood of sensation settled our primitive wants

Our meaning of life is torn.


The Buddhists say,

Sit down and wait until dawn

Who am I to call out the wrongs in the monks?

(Hint: Abaddon is the nickname of a tyrant you know who)

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