Eighty-Six

Cosmic heat death,
radiation overload,
galactic collision,
Alpha Centauri or
another star
going supernova
minus the aid
of champagne,
possible allusions
to the real Wormwood
and not the metaphor
found in some outdated,
contradictory holy book
where a slow-moving,
lumbering whale of a
space rock, atypical to
the commonly known make-up,
will turn the waterways
worldwide into sewage vessels
and any living thing that
imbibes of it will turn
the hue of Absinthe,
albeit a paler shade.

Our cosmic number,
eighty-six, is called.

Author's Note

Count the words.

Reviews

[Brad]

why am i not surprised at the genuis behind this poem's creation and it's creator?

[NightShade]

This works on multiple levels. It's f*****g genius. Besides, Champagne Supernova is an excellent song! Pure discipline meeting with the telling of dooms we should all be familiar with by now and most never give a second thought to. All tied together in such a way as to almost want to calculate numerical values of certain terms in here from Hebrew, Greek and other systems, just to see how far you took this. I said ALMOST. Awesomesauce!