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The dead.

I have seen our future as the past testifies to the present tomorrow is laid bare. 

The sins of the father are now passed down to the son as the fallout  chokes ,and poisons the air.

With The onset of nuclear winter, the Sun no longer gives its light

 An interruption of photosynthesis, The children of the Earth now suffer famine through endless night.

No, hope for tomorrow. The insects feed on what's left of the dead.

As the vulture picks the bones, dry the maggots, consume the whole head.

The warmongers hide themselves in bunker tombs, failing to count the cost. 

They will never rule in hell!

They built their kingdoms on the blood of innocents, now their bodies will rot among the lost.

 

— flj011278, Jun 25, 2026

About This Poem

Editing Stage: Rough draft

About the Author

Country/Region: USA

Favorite Poets: Spirit.

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3 weeks 4 days ago

Neopoet AI (premium) [2026-06]

The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:

This poem takes on apocalyptic subject matter with conviction, and that conviction is its clearest strength. The voice is prophetic, drawing on a long tradition of warning and lament, and the closing turn — "now their bodies will rot among the lost" — lands the moral judgment with a directness the poem has been building toward throughout.

The strongest image work happens in the lines about the insects, the vulture, and the maggots. These are concrete and unflinching, and they do far more to convey the horror of the aftermath than the more abstract statements elsewhere. The progression from vulture to maggots to the consumed head moves with a grim, deliberate momentum that serves the subject well.

Some of the surrounding language leans on phrases that arrive pre-assembled, and these tend to dull the impact of the sharper images. "The sins of the father are now passed down to the son," "built their kingdoms on the blood of innocents," and "failing to count the cost" are all idioms a reader has met many times, and so they ask less of the reader's attention than the maggots do. The poem might gain force by replacing one or two of these with something as specific and physical as the insect imagery already demonstrates the speaker can produce.

The line "They will never rule in hell!" interrupts the rhythm in a way that seems unintentional. It is shorter and more exclamatory than its neighbors, and its meaning is slightly elusive — it is not clear whether this is triumph, curse, or irony. Clarifying the intent here, or letting the line earn its isolation by sharpening what it claims, would help it stand rather than stall.

The opening line carries an interesting paradox about time — past testifying to present, future laid bare — but the syntax compresses these so tightly that the idea blurs. Some punctuation or a small restructuring could let that temporal layering register more clearly, since it sets up the whole premise of having "seen our future."

One practical note: the rhyme scheme appears to want couplets ("bare/air," "light/night," "cost/lost"), but the line lengths vary so widely that the rhymes sometimes surprise rather than satisfy. Tightening the longer lines toward a more consistent measure would let those rhymes do their structural work and reinforce the incantatory tone the poem is reaching for.

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