One never really knows when anathema will strike;
Some sense portent of th' bizarre by....malediction.
Did th' Mayans really understand God, and science
Or... did Nostradamas own a Waterford crystal ball?
And, should I be awakened in my pinched pine-box
Will th' cold silence re-instill my cold mortal being?
I own no ilixur...that might soothe your manic mind;
I can speculate but that would be merely speculation.
Truth is... I possess no quench to deign such queries;
Reason being..Lifes too short for th' non-negotiables.
© 2014-All rights reserved
Frank James Ryan, Jr/FjR
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem