image borrowed from bing
Dark Man Awaits
“The signs of the times signal us that
the Rapture is near--that the final sequence
of events could unfold at any moment.
--Paul Boyer
If this planet is truly going to hell,
where is the damn hand basket?
Open your eyes.
Do you not notice
that we are surrounded
by religious, cult, & political hypocrisy,
by Catholic celibacy that twists trusted priests
into dimorphic pedophiles,
by suicide bombers dispersing death,
scattering bodies like dead leaves
wherever the innocent shop or gather,
by embedded Islamic Mimids parroting
Koranic vocalizations as they flip the red switches
on their C-4 vests in order to transport their drab souls
into imagined perfect orchards of peace,
where myriads of virgins flutter,
where murder imitates honor,
where zeal invades reason,
by omnivoric Genera that wholly worship
consumption, favoring it over conservation,
by anonymous probing fingers that hoard
terra-bites of distinctive data on every one
of us as we busily conduct the domesticity of our days,
by modified media sound bites that often seem
barely associated with “truth”--that much too elusive
specter we often overlook or cannot see with its
translucent flesh and pink albinistic eyes?
So where is the vehicle of our escape,
our valve that maintains our sanity,
our release from the accepted madness,
our guide through the fiscal cliffs & slippery slopes?
Will the solution be messianic or demonic?
Will it appear before the oceans rise so high
that America will become Atlantis?
I love the sound of a gadfly
in the morning.
It sounds like
wailing.
Glenn Buttkus
November 2012
Posted over on dVerse Poets OLN
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10 comments:
Another stunner.
Great title. Your opening cracked me up: "If this planet is truly going to hell,
where is the damn hand basket?"
These are my favorites:
"by embedded Islamic Mimids parroting
Koranic vocalizations as they flip the red switches"
"where zeal invades reason"
"by omnivoric Genera that wholly worship consumption"
"by anonymous probing fingers that hoard terra-bites of distinctive data"
"that much too elusive
specter we often overlook or cannot see with its
translucent flesh and pink albinistic eyes"
Your closing is fantastic; seriously, it makes the whole poem:
"I love the sound of a gadfly
in the morning.
It sounds like
wailing."
i think through the centuries we were always surrounded by all kind of mad and crazy things...it didn't get worse i think, just different...and wondering where this goes and for how long...
dang bro...great last bit there....tight closure that is tangible...they will always be predicting the end of times...i think we find a bit of control in our beliefs that way...it will come when it does, why waste time if it is?
Wow, another apocalyptic poem this evening. That is so interesting. What’s bothering us, Glenn? Very Whitmainian, I must say, the way you list on and on, with a relentless pace (and you do quite often I gather). What will the solution be?
Intelligent and forward. I like the fiscal cliffs and slippery slopes...yes one day the money is here and the next it's spent. Gardenlilie.com
Great poem. Salvation could never come from messiah or demon--it's a gift we grant ourselves--from our own hearts. And one by one we can save this planet. But it takes true courage to be guided by ones own heart.
The rapture happens every day, every minute, if you want it. But few want the escape. Swoon and sigh!--David
Wow... packs a punch!
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