Angels Stop Their Watch Poem by Chris Goss

I am non longer to be known
Pain I endure is a gown
That has become overgrown
Consuming everything I own
That has no meaning anymore
Inside this vacuous eyesore
Life is not worth living at all
Inside is a void that will not endure
All the King's horses could not put me back together again
Father Christmas chimney collapses
All the angels will stop their watch
The New Year will not be seen
The Queen's guard will walk away
Since they are not needed this day
All the stars in heaven will shine no more
For the celestial body implodes to zero
Major Tom has no hero
The garden birds will leave their nests
All the animals and sea creatures rest
There will be no more Sunday roasts
Seas will depart their coast
Rivers and canals will leave mouth estuaries
Monks and habits vacate vestries
No more sun dawn and red sky night
The matadors arresting bull fights
The North and South poles thaw
The polar bears & penguin demise dawns
Doors, gateways and windows close
Chest of drawers of course follows
The house martin does not swallow
The sea reefs blanching to white
Big white shark will have no bite
Castle no longer rook or pawns
Knights don't bishop kings queens
John Bishop jokes no longer scream
Cellotape and cotton roles un-reem
Nobody shouts for ice-cream
No sweet is anyone's dream
Bedsheets and pillows un-maid
Butler is not playing with his maid
Loos, lavatories and urinals don't flush
Seaweed and reeds don't rush
Volcanoes eruptions disappear in a flash
Potatoes, carrots and swede don't mash
Old habits do die hard
Bruce Willis does not die hard
Bob Willis stops fast bowling
Werewolves stop howling
Peter Shilton stops saving
Beards and minges not shaving
Erections stop erecting
Sperms are not injecting
Toner cartridges stop inking
Computers stop thinking
Cat eyes stop blinking
Cars and bikes stop motoring
Coach and buses stop stopping
Big Ben no longer chimes
Clocks and watches don't time
Oranges and lemons don't lime
Mohamed Ali no longer butterflying
Cups and saucers no long flying
In contrast all stop dying
The last pen that was writing
All the mouths stop biting
Perhaps because it will be passing
All the gals will be gassing
And the geese gaggling
Street corners of course haggling
Can the pain become dangling
By the silkiest thread hanging
Grand Canyon comes beckoning
And time for the reckoning