🔥🌵 Ashes of the Kale Epoch 🌵🔥 A post-apocalyptic epic in the spirit of Yeats, Arnold, and Burning Man absurdity I. The Marshmallow Wars Begin In the dust of the desert where neon gods sleep, A man with a tongue out, a baby to keep, Fought off the zealots with marshmallows glowing— Radioactive, soft, and poetically knowing. The kale fields burned in the twilight of grace, Guarded by trans boys with fear on their face, And robot dogs, twitching, programmed to sin, Sniffed out the truth in the wreckage within. II. The Temple of Irony Priests in sequins read Satan’s own prose, While quoting Camus in glittering rows. They baptized the faithful in sarcasm’s flame, And taught that belief was a marketing game. Head lice with viral acclaim. Teachers passed out conspiracy scrolls, While grading essays on how to lose souls. III. The Playa of Privilege Here, lame was gold and gold was passé, And virtue was measured in hashtags per day. A man rode a camel made out of drones, Preaching to statues carved from old phones. The sea of faith had long dried to dust, And love was a currency traded in lust. Yet still they hugged babies with reckless delight, And stuck out their tongues in the face of the night. IV. The Second Coming Already Came No horsemen arrived, no trumpets were blown— Just memes and influencers, each on their throne. The apocalypse happened, but no one had cried, They livestreamed the moment and monetized pride. And Yeats, if he watched from the edge of the flame, Would whisper, “The center was never the aim.” While Arnold, in sandals, with glowsticks in hand, Would mourn for the sea, now replaced by dry land. V. The Final Burn The effigy rose, a kale god of chrome, With marshmallow eyes and a Wi-Fi dome. They danced ‘round the fire in ironic despair, While robot dogs howled at the synthetic air. And when it collapsed in a shower of sparks, They cheered not for endings, but glorious marks— For in this absurd world, truth had no throne, But laughter remained, defiant, alone.