Caution SPOILERS:a Poem

Some might call them spoilers
But none who love do so
They're letters from the future
Where we but dream to go
The prophets of the ancients
They seized such fleeting shards
The broken pottery of dreams
They read, as, tarot cards
So I hail spoilermancy
The new occultist's tool
Who sees in what fans' promulgate
The burning tower, or fool.
A fly-man and a lost bus,
A sand-dune and a storm
Of flying kites with gaping mouths
They speak of what's to come.
So cross my palm with silver
And I'll pull back the caul
The wrecked bus is the credit crunch
That's obvious to all.
I speak first of the thing that's known
As the witches to Macbeth
That you might value what's beyond
On the long path to death.
The fly-man is the child we spawn,
Who's eyes show not the soul
But looks at us across a gulf
Longer than ages roll,
The flying mouths are time itself
They gnaw us all away
To Doctors we may look for help
But time they can not stay.


Simon BJ