An Epic of Misinformation in a Snow Laced Wonderland - a poem

Shortly after autumn a sense of urgency came down from heavenly places
in the form of snowflakes as big as fists, and demanding a place atop the soils
of our planet earth. As it froze the ground, and iced over the trees, initial speculation
consumed dispatchers that this was indeed end of world. Sled dogs were taken to sleeping,
napping, in almost-comas as constant weather allowed no time for typical rest,
and training season had begun. Snowmen hung up their coats, and hats, still smoked
on corncob pipes, and picked at button noses, and slowly sludged into puddles
around warm and sizzling fires. Boots were used as ingredients for soup, despite
many being made out of imitation leather, and the people who ate it found their bellies
laced with poisonous chemicals that were emanated upon boiling. A point some tried
to raise was that it was only possible to survive if motor vehicles were parked,
and kept idle, but many of the population deemed it necessary to give their automobiles
some air, and constantly took them out for walks, free from leash, and safe to collide
into all the passerby's.  In the end all the presidents men failed to put the world together
again, because they were not ruler of everything, only spokesperson for one set landmass
consumed by everlasting frost. How the rest of the world fared during the perpetual
blizzard was not easy to see, but order was given to use televisions only for light source,
and so brightness settings were maximized, and audio tuned to lowest settings,
so all that was seen was static that imitated whiteness of carnage outside. If other colors
happened to poke their noses out, the white was quick to smother it, like pillow over face
of those who didn't want to depart so soon. Soon sledding was banned, and fun of any kind
was determined detrimental to the studies of exchange students who wanted nothing
more than to be in freedom lands. That children were taken to ritual sacrifices is not surprising
as parents demanded they turn off their game stations, and forced them to stare
at blank walls. Eventually, the snow stopped and what was left was memories
that could not be quelled with a taste of antidepressant, but were constant reminders
of how during the worst time, the people chose to eat each others chances,
and let out the bottom end a slush of misery even worse than the trudge it took in snow,
to get to the end of the block, to check the mail.