No Mr Eliot, this is how the world ends

He sprays around the propane tanks

But do not be fooled,

That will not end the world.

He digitalizes libraries

And the books go out in boxes

But that will not end the world either.

He sells the farm away for lots

And brings in the guard

To round up the seasonal pickers

Who are bivouacking at the Canadian border,

But that will not end the world.

He shouts over the protest,

Let there be kings!

Let me be king!

He reviews the toy soldiers

And their mighty tanks,

But that won't end the world.

He paints his face with war paint

And bombs villages to dust,

He stirs the dust with a finger of wind

To spread the asbestos far and wind

(Just for the hell of it)

But that won't end the world.

He catches an 11 inch trout

Out of the stream by the bridge in Griffith Park

And tosses it flopping into the bucket

Without gratitude . . .