“future” Poem by Stefan Hanson

It was the dawn of the one thousand nine hundred eighty-fourth world war
Only thirty milliseconds left till midnight
Not a sight of the red and blue spotted grenades to be seen
There is a sweet taste of bicarbonatedplutonium in this years Christmas feast
Quite sweet in contrast to quadbubblelanny light beer which
Was the only brew left when all that's green
Is radioactive and smells far to sour for beer
And makes the water scream an unholy shrill
Like the chill of the oncoming nuclear winter
Which precipitates white ash and dark snow
If you're lucky you might even see an albino reindeer
Or go skating on the frozen lakes of industrial waste
Which is only safe enough to skate on for two weeks a year
Unless your already a mutant and emit your own squeaky sounds
Or your an overlord ruling down from Lordorron