Poetry

The final cliché

W.H. Presley

The final cliché

When th’endangered species are no more
and the seas are no longer around,
and the multicultural masses
are expiring under the ground;

When every darned thing has been side-lined;
and the last line in the sand has been drawn,
and nothing is fit for purpose,
and nobody else can be born;

When the toasted lonely planet
circles a raging star,
sexuality won’t be an issue
or what religion you are;

When ethnicity’s simply irrelevant
and there isn’t a single one
to choose the road less travelled
for all the diversity’s gone;

The moon will turn itself around
and reveal what had passed us by—
a notice in very small letters:
Terms and conditions apply.

W.H. Presley