World-View Caught In The Subconscious Poem by Gert Strydom

Outside the winter is dismal
with poison loaded in every glance,
where people are selling themselves,
do merciless chase after the next Rand,

do set up traps for each other,
trees do skeleton and are almost without any shadow
and the language is totally unknown
as if from a wild, foreign origin.

People are self-obsessed, very important
in their own eyes,
do want to believe the newest madness
that they are gods.

Even the animals do flee in the veldt,
there are snakes everywhere,
even baboons that run about,
the sky is full of birds that agitated do call,

the wind whirls as if it wants to build a tornado,
storms of hail hang all over the east,
thunder does constantly flash down blue-white,
rain pours down that road do stream like rivers

as if the seven last plagues
or Godly curses
are already hitting the earth
and these things do point to the Second Coming

but when I do awake
I am soaking wet,
while the sun does rise fiery-red
and the pet-cat does want its breakfast.