Saturday, September 9, 2006
We're the last voyagers heading for the black hole,
Too conceited to smell a rat upon the sinking ship.
Two-time losers, hung up on cola and heavy soul.
This reality is scary and twisted, just like a free trip.
When the kiss-off comes, we hope we're still high.
If we can update our wetware, we'll stay undead.
It's not the big one that we reluctantly wanna buy,
The new hereafter is gonna be void of fuss and dread.
That's neither saving heaven nor grinding hell,
We gotta remain blindand dumb to meet our fate.
Before turning into dust, will we be saved by the bell?
We look for a good timing to pass thru the stargate.
Topic(s) of this poem: fantasy fiction