O! Poets And Men Of Letters Awake
O! Poets and Men of Letters awake
Impede the itchy fingers of the leprous hands
Lest they should press the buttons in their own craze,
If once they push the buttons, there will be a chain in reaction,
And then holocaust, extinction of biological life,
The cities, the towns, and the villages big or small,
The parks and streets, the houses and huts will become silent.
The earth will move dull drab, into spaces around the sun,
With a load of skeletons, skulls and bones,
But all purposeless like an astray stallion whose veteran
Is killed in the battle and it runs away unrestrained.