Busy Dying Poem by Barry Middleton

Petty souls,
like dogs, will bark
with greed and lust
within their heart,
and if they could,
would steal the spark,
the fire of dawn,
daylight made dark.

All hope is vanished!

The pride,
a generation's grace,
evaporated
into space,
for hate and war
still hold a place
that insane poets
can't erase.

All love is banished!

The lust filled miser
sold his soul,
but all his silver
and his gold
can't save him,
if truth be told,
for judgment falls
on meek and bold.

All treasure tarnished!

The wolf will come,
the owl with cry,
with wind and fire
as planets die,
and in a corner
of the sky
four horsemen ride
and demons fly.

Mammon and famine!

Then tears will fall,
for life's a joke,
and every prayer
is lost in smoke,
no one could hear
the words I spoke,
I had a dream,
but then I woke.

I guess I managed!