I wrote this poem off the cuff into my microcassette recorder because the date involved was unnerving me somehow.

Osix-Osix-Osix

 

The number game June six-o-six?

Encouraged events or another trick?

Masks and gloves be for the sick,

Sixty candles cut down the wick.

Batteries, toilet paper, food and gas,

Lots of water and plenty of cash.

Extra soap for hands and clothes.

Comes martial law no one knows.

The flu, the weather, a terrorist dream?

The time is near so it would seem.

Know your loved ones and where to hide.

Be wary of strangers bought on a bribe.

Have maps and firearms if you must run.

If you're a minority you'll be a targeted one.

Mr. Bush can't stay under ground.

They'll toss him out a wasted clown.

The media could end this nasty war.

Or take aim and focus a little more.

We've seen his politics not so nice.

Talk to each other now or pay the price.

  

   Ciera S. Louise c. March 31, 2006