On The Lips Of Miss Apocalypse


Do stare, glare, blare, dare, scare, do we care
How Grey, is the creed, of this, new Green Breed
Feminism, further bares, to bone, this sordid affair
Orgy o’er, earth’s cause, crucified and buried!

Who made her, Messiah, of our legacy
A blind herd, hails, one-eyed prophet
Who vomits, a Doom’s Day, prophecy
At the funeral, of her, ‘Dead Planet’!

Why world, should bear, this Swedish Curse
Whose folly, transcends, her ignorance
Whose words, are worse than, Satanic Verse
Born sadist, who flaunts, her insolence!

Urban naxals, exalt, this Dreadful Disease
O’er, our Green Cause, Dark, and Stark, Eclipse
Sell, soul’s striptease, Sin-Shops, of Sleaze
On The Lips, Of, Miss Apocalypse!

© 2021 Vikas Chandra

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