Time to write another poem
Verses appear magically
Where do these come from
Does the muse create
And so the writer penetrate

So anon,
The earth turns on
We the planet’s infestation
Are permitted to stay on
But for how long sustained
And tolerated as recidivist
Humanity unchanging is
Will the Earth shake us off
In some terrible hiccup?
There’s no defence to put up
We are not very secure
In spite of science and craft.

Buy your seat in the aft
of the rocket
when it lands nose down
in alien soil
You may be saved
Then Hell has landed
Once more.