Noah, he ain’t

Noah, he ain’t.
At least
Not pre flood..
Chicken little
Fallen foul.
But post the non-rush?
Now lush in impression
Bitterly self-righteous
Crossly guessing
Pitifully gushing
Tossing
Utter rubbish
Britain flooded with
Its home-grown prophet
Fully bloodied
Profiteering
Cheering on the
Fire and brimstone.
Boom! The paranoia
Clung, foretelling
Doom for everyone.
And from the farmyard
Some of them want
Gloom so bad, like
Frightened creatures
Still they come to make
Sure Noah’s work is done.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s