lockdown’s final cough
planet home to skeletons
no more suffering
By DS Davidson
No hands left to tend
those turbines making the light
slowly going dark
By David Edwards
The Empty Bottle
By Mark Hudson
After the war I wore a frown,
everything was like a ghost town.
Somehow, I miraculously survived,
but somehow, I feel deprived.
I go into a gas station,
a skeleton sits in meditation.
a dead cigarette in his hand,
did this happen across the land?
I walk into an empty bar,
where the front door remains ajar.
A skeletal bartender is frozen, posing
You no longer have to worry they’re closing
Skeletons passed out on the floor,
“you can have another drink, but only one more.”
Thousands of bottles of liquor to choose,
what would it hurt if i had a little booze?
I open the cash register and there is cash,
I greedily add it to my stash.
Below the counter is a 44,
I take it; he won’t need it anymore.
The gun just might come in handy,
if I get too wasted on this brandy.
Am i really the only one left?
Is the world that I see it really this f’d?
Well for some reason, i’m, the last man,
I think I better come up with a plan!
cosmic wave
irradiates Earth
empty shells
silent streets echo
life reduced to dust
By DJ Tyrer
The loudest sound, I wonder,
on a planet empty of
human civilization…
possibly rolling thunder?
By David Edwards
Apocalypticana
By Harris Coverley
the sun is a dot
a fragment of senseless light
meant for nobody
seas are but puddles
ammonites poking up through
those fatal waters
the dirt rolls listless
the last weeds wait for primping
that will never come
full skeletons bleached
their owners have fled by wind
the land is their grave
the grey dust gathers
in the corners of the Earth
the hourglass is turned
Sunrise on another
of its humanless dawns,
casting forlorn shadows
upon lifeless homes, their
vacant windows reflect
(futilely for no one)
mountains of unraked leaves…
jungles of unmown lawns.
By David Edwards
probe returns to Earth
humanity’s descendants
images of dust
By Aeronwy Dafies
View From Atlantis 