(The day the clock stopped) <br /> <br />The master monkeys master plan, <br />Formulated while sitting on cold hands <br />A necessary, primordial game with buttons, <br />Cites just, logical and ethical convictions. <br /> <br /> <br />“The clock says its five before twelve. <br />The clock keepers in university towers <br />They of, noble intellectual endeavors. <br /> <br />The Fusion matter initiators <br />With robotic helpers, <br />In their factory fortresses <br />See themselves as protectors. <br /> <br />Fearful troops of other actors <br />Work tirelessly, on new reactors. <br /> <br />Slaves in fieldwork work harder <br />And desire the products <br />Offered by advertisers. <br /> <br />In The War to end all Wars <br />A hundred years since not past <br />Where when in, first cousins clashed <br />Or so the story is noted. <br /> <br />World War One - Ended! <br />When the soldiers in their humanity <br />A Christmas Truce incited, <br /> <br />It’s a long Way <br />To Tippeary <br />It’s a long way to go”. <br /> <br />Here the master monkey sighs- <br />The troop collectively had reared their voice. <br />Time stopped there and then- <br />Like reality in dreamtime <br />The buttons now all broke. <br />And I awoke. Time, <br />Had offered. <br />Agreed upon social order <br /> <br />© Calac.<br /><br />Chris Lane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/eleven-fifty-five-pm-23-55-the-doomsday-clock/
