The apocalypse is not something which is coming. The apocalypse has arrived in major portions of the planet and it's only because we live within a bubble of incredible privilege and social insulation that we still have the luxury of anticipating the apocalypse. If you go to Bosnia or Somalia or Peru or much of the third-world then it appears that the apocalypse has already arrived.
luxury apocalypse live social planet privilege
[Professionals also have taken cracks at the topic.<br/><br/>] Cartoonists hit the mother lode with this one,.. Giant bugs blend with images of doomsday<br/><br/> cultists and visions of the apocalypse.
apocalypse mother visions images
This is the way the world endsNot with a bang but a whimper.
poetry apocalypse world despair
Their conversation ceased abruptly with the entry of an oddly-shaped man whose body resembled a certain vegetable. He was a thickset fellow with calloused and jaundiced skin and a patch of brown hair, a frizzy upheaval. We will call him Bell Pepper. Bell Pepper sidled up beside The Drippy Man and looked at the grilled cheese in his hand. The Drippy Man, a bit uncomfortable at the heaviness of the gaze, politely apologized and asked Bell Pepper if he would like one. Why is one of your legs fatter than the other? Asked Bell Pepper. The Drippy Man realized Bell Pepper was not looking at his sandwich but towards the inconsistency of his leg sizes. You always get your kicks pointing out defects? Retorted The Drippy Man. Just curious. Never seen anything like it before. I was raised not to feel shame and hide my legs in baggy pants. So you flaunt your deformity by wearing short shorts? Like you flaunt your pockmarks by not wearing a mask? Bell Pepper backed away, kicking wide the screen door, making an exit to a porch over hanging a dune of sand that curved into a jagged upward jab of rock. He is quite sensitive, commented The Dry Advisor. Who is he? A fellow who once manipulated the money in your wallet but now curses the fellow who does.
politics door curses conspiracy espionage writing apocalypse money man future body writers satire dystopia authors feel conversation economics mask shame patch call hair cheese hand rock skin hanging sand dystopian-fiction sensitive books curious legs short
I want you here. I don't care if it's a hundred degrees and every blade of grass dies. Without you, none of that matters to me.
chaos apocalypse death beautiful care grass
And starward drifts the stricken world, Lone in unalterable gloomDead, with a universe for tomb, Dark, and to vaster darkness whirled.(The Testimony of the Suns)
apocalypse death world universe dark darkness armageddon testimony
You're Hell's Angels, then? What chapter are you from?'REVELATIONS, CHAPTER SIX.
funny humor apocalypse death angels
In her mind's eye she saw it, saw it all at last: the rolling armies and the flames of battle; the graves and pits and dying cries of a hundred million souls; the spreading darkness, like a black wing stretching over the earth; the last, bitter hours of cruelty and sorrow, and the terrible, final flights; death's great dominion over all, and, at the last, empty cities, becalmed by the silence of a hundred years. Already these things were coming to pass.
silence apocalypse death earth sorrow darkness battle black cruelty eye bitter things cities empty souls dying great terrible
Till her appointed course be run; Till on the darkness faint her breathFlown to the silent void, and DeathSit crowned upon the ashen sun.(The Testimony of the Suns)
apocalypse death darkness sun run silent void testimony
If it happens that the human race doesn't make it, then the fact that we were here once will not be altered, that once upon a time we peopled this astonishing blue planet, and wondered intelligently at everything about it and the other things who lived here with us on it, and that we celebrated the beauty of it in music and art, architecture, literature, and dance, and that there were times when we approached something godlike in our abilities and aspirations. We emerged out of depthless mystery, and back into mystery we returned, and in the end the mystery is all there is.
apocalypse history spirituality
Bodies lay in the sun. Bodies stood in the sun.
apocalypse scary zombies creepy horror
Death and Famine and War and Pollution continued biking towards Tadfield. And Grievous Bodily Harm, Cruelty To Animals, Things Not Working Properly Even After You've Given Them A Good Thumping but secretly No Alcohol Lager, and Really Cool People travelled with them.
funny humor apocalypse
Mark Spitz didn't ask about Harry. You never asked about the characters that disappeared from a Last Night story. You knew the answer. The plague had a knack for narrative closure.
funny apocalypse stories grief humour
Sure, at some level scientists know nanobots will destroy mankind. They just can't resist seeing how it happens.
funny apocalypse science humour
What if nobody showed up at Armageddon?
funny humor inspiration philosophy apocalypse
He walked out in the gray light and stood and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.
life apocalypse thoughtful
Do we not each dream of dreams? Do we not dance on the notes of lostmemories? Then are we not each dreamers of tomorrow and yesterday, since dreamsplay when time is askew? Are we not all adrift in the constant sea of trial and when all is done, do we not all yearn for ships to carry us home?
dreams magic life apocalypse death music shakespeare songs sacrifice romance haunting poems science-fiction ghosts water count sex rain ships gothic empty jazz piano abandoned amnesia androids carrack cityisle cityspire damnation desolate emily-dickinson fedora greek-mythology haunts magick masquerade reflections storms tempest waking
Call me crazy, but there is something terribly wrong with this city.
All is as if the world did cease to exist. The city's monuments go unseen, its past unheard, and its culture slowly fading in the dismal sea.
Did Bach ever eatpancakes at midnight?
I rouse Emily to our guests, as she finishes off our fifteenth snowman by setting the head atop its torso. She stands limp at my direction, pointing out the coming shadows and I cannot help but hear a muffled sigh as she decapitates her latest creation with a single push of her hand.
I steal one glance over my shoulder as soon as we are far from the foreboding luminance of the neon glow, and it is there that my stomach leaps into my throat. Squatting just shy of the light and partially concealed by the shade of an alley is a sinister silhouette beneath a crimson cowl, beaming a demonic smile which spans from cheek to swollen cheek.
No debt Her eyes lapse into a stare. No debt someday when all thedreams are gonediscovered for when will that be, Samuel? Three times andthen declines forever.
Heed that the Rue du Bourreau is my domain, and I its malicious sovereign.
At the round earth's imagined corners blowYour trumpets, angels, and arise, ariseFrom death, you numberless infinitiesOf souls, and to your scattered bodies go ; All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow, All whom war, dea[r]th, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you, whose eyesShall behold God, and never taste death's woe. But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space ; For, if above all these my sins abound,'Tis late to ask abundance of Thy grace, When we are there. Here on this lowly ground, Teach me how to repent, for that's as goodAs if Thou hadst seal'd my pardon with Thy blood.
poetry apocalypse religion
Showing 1 to 25 of 79 results
You must log in to post a comment.
There are no comments yet.