In The End Of This Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

To complete me
I; need a new spring
one, of the responsibility of
both a nuclear summer and winter.
One of all life returned to ash in an instant.
Very fine, extremely fine, damn near invisible
ash. I, know this to be the truth, as I do dabble
with the absolute truth at times. Funny; how so
many things got in my way these past few years
or this nuclear summer and winter would have
occurred in 2012! No worries! The host is on
the way. And all those players all over this
planet know this! Then there is the mass of
[this americant public. These deaf, dumb, blind]
stumbling all around everywhere barely above
any lesser primate; "Blind Mullets"! Nothing
else can be said! Something; will be born
of spring, summer, winter, and that which
falls out of the skies so soon. So, IAM checking
that list; I can write it in my thoughts; I can talk it
walk it, chuckle about it. I, know that this list implies
a massive and heinous, pain filled death for every
member of the species human; and all else of this
speck of solar sand in orbit around the systems
sol… but no one cares… so why should I… why
should any being from anywhere else give an
ant's worth of stool? I tell my laughing self
everyday that insignificance is the tool; which
made, all of the difference, in the end of this.