Rubbishyat

I sometimes think one never goes to bed
But sings "The Red Flag" in a hat instead
And certainly if a census were conducted
The living are outnumbered by the dead.

And each invigorating walk we take
Down here on earth for very boredom's sake
May cause a hurricane to be concocted
Or someone up on Mars to bake a cake.

A meteorologist, while drinking gin
Happened to see the Apocalypse begin
Eschatological weather forecast!
"Light showers, and fire and brimstone in King's Lynne."

For every trope the poet has invented
So many problems have been circumvented
That God might almost seem to take a hand —
The transcendental signifier has repented.

        Spool.