THE WORLD IS ENDING

It seems the world is ending
Everybody knows just when
Well you better get yourself ready,
Especially if you're post-trib.

Apocalypse is coming,
Yes friends, in case you hadn't realized.
This life on earth is fatal
And you are going to die.

And I guess my question is...
How does this change anything?

It seems the world is ending
Everybody's got their theory
Get the latest Bible conjecture
On who the anti-Christ might be

And I guess my question is...
Does this change how I'm living?

Be afraid, be very afraid,
Manipulative preachers, Christian book-sellers
Who use fear to sell your
Latest roll.
Fear will not bring about the life
That God is looking for.
Please read Jeremiah,
and shut your face-hole.

The world is ending,
The world is ending,
And my real question is this:
Why would that change my life?
Shouldn't I already be doing my best?
Shouldn't I already repent?
Shouldn't I already seek, if there is indeed a God,
The one who made the world?
The world is ending, one way or another,
I'm dying anyway.
What happens then?
I really DON'T know.
I reckon God's big enough to sort it...

Embankment

Embankment curves tube lines
I'm falling in love with strangers again in
Trafalgar Square, I want to take their picture
But I don't have the guts.
Spanish tourists long conversations
I make friends, but it's not the
exchange-information type of friends.

Alone five minutes after being found,
I went to see the impressionists again
and think of David Blackwood are my
memories printwork or abstract sketch?  Are facebook
friends really friends?  Beauty is in
the Eye the sunset slanting past the
Thames the garden greens but
I only see the Trafalgar stop-and-go,
smiles and sighs and to a lonely man
a conversation is oasis in a concrete
sand.

9th Fort

We made apple pie
From the ashes of holocaust victims;
It seemed fitting tribute, perhaps the best
That one could do
In the face of terrible evil
Nicely fenced, commemorated,
And overdressed in green grass.
A man was flying a kite over the memory stones,
I couldn't tell whether
It was a religious act or profane, I tried to make a serious face,
When his boy yelled something about flying
Into the air.

And what is death?  As all die,
Is a moment of death, a silence, proper?
Or, should death, if it be a crime, be celebrated or mourned
With signs of life?  Like dance?
On the other hand, no stone, however contrite, can make right
1000 shot in the head...and
50,000?
God is either sadistic or incredibly merciful, or...
The dead deserve it,
The dead are given rest,
The dead are gone.

World War II looks different here, perhaps more honest.
There is no triumph.
13% of a nation dead, not accounting for
Imported Jewry.
The Bolshevik rescuers, sent thousands to
Their own cold camps.
And we've put all this behind us,
For Eurovision, Lady Gaga, and
The latest touristic sensation,
Complaining how the old men drink.

Good-byes

Passing dashed yellow red sunset lines
Veins pulsing big top applause, in coloured canopy leaves
Our hands clasped together
Most all our lives, grey curtains grumble, the light falls,
In Autumn winds our daylight smile dies.