Kevin Michael Bloor

No Future

There is no magic anymore,
for we have seen it all before:
soft silver moon, sweet stars all shooting,
our precious planet we’re polluting.

There are no secrets anymore,
none hidden in the deep heart\'s core.
And paradise won\'t be unveiling,
nor come with clouds of glory trailing.

There is no shelter anymore,
no haven safe on any shore
from savage storms and sea’s tsunamis
and plagues, all marching in like armies.

There’s nothing special anymore,
no sacred sites like once we saw;
the sacramental tide is turning;
the bridge to beauty\'s broke and burning.

There is no meaning anymore,
just dissonance to darken door.
And symmetry that rhymed with reason
has turned on us with traitor’s treason.

There are no lovers anymore;
our mirror image we adore.
The passion in our hearts is chilling;
our veins, with frozen rain, are filling.

There is no laughter anymore,
just mocking mirth, and furthermore;
all joy just jangles like it’s joking;
good cheer, once cherished, now is choking.

There is no future anymore;
an open grave’s the open door.
And hope, that dove of peace, is lying
on deathbed, so discreetly, dying.