Alchemisland

Told my eldest son Kieran 

Endtimes are nearing.

Don’t hold back your feelings.

I won’t say who is to blame but

Y2K will go off like a grenade, chum,

Or a car bomb from the IRA.

We’ve been betrayed 

By the weak leaders of our nations.

They are probably celebrating,

Waiting out the weeks of degradation;

The reaping, the steel predation,

On yachts, like they’re on vacation.

I know you’re just a teenager,

But you have to be brave.

I’m telling you to your face,

The streets will be as graves!

Machines are your replacement 

Blocked up casements 

One by one, the human race erased 

Or made slaves 

Constant violent robot raids 

An end to trade

The end, perhaps, of my tirades.