June 16: Soapboxes, Judgment Day, New Poem

I do have a new poem today.  It was inspired by a lot of recent news stories and experiences in my life.  Basically, I'm tired of Chicken Littles, people who run around screaming "The sky if falling!" all the time.  I have several individuals like that in my life, and it becomes a little tiresome at times.  (I can also be a Chicken Little, but I try not to feed into the frenzy most of the time.)

The sky is falling!!!

Of course, just last month, there was a preacher who claimed the day of rapture was going to be May 21.  Everybody was waiting for Jesus to make His appearance, and it didn't happen.  The preacher, after a day or so of complete disappointment that he was still alive, announced that he'd made an error in addition.  He probably forgot to carry the 8 or something.  Any way, the actual day of rapture, according to Reverend Chicken Little, is going to be December 21, so get ready.  At least that saves everyone a lot of money.  We don't have to worry about buying Christmas presents this year.

There is the whole contingent of the world's population who believe that the world's going to end in the year 2012.  I guess there's something Biblical about the year or the number or something.  I don't really pay that much attention to such things.  I will confess to stockpiling some water and money for Y2K, but, of course, nothing came of that whole scare. 

I know I can worry a little too much.  Some of my friends may even say that I'm a little negative at times.  However, I don't go out of my way to seek out things to worry about.  Worries come naturally enough without me having to fabricate them.  I just try to be happy for what I have right now and hope that I still have it tomorrow.  Doomsday will come soon enough.  I'm going to try not to rush it.

That's what today's poem is about.  I dedicate it to all the Chicken Littles in my life.

Saint Marty, keepin' it real.

Judgment Day

I’m tired of people on soapboxes

Who stand in the middle

Of college quads, busy intersections,

Preach the world will come

To an end tomorrow, Jesus will rip

The Sky in two at noon, ride

In on a Harley, His pack

Of Heaven’s Angels tear up

The clouds behind Him with their hogs,

The day of rapture shattered

By motorcycle thunder, leather jackets.

I’m tired of people who whisper

In offices about budget cuts,

Pink slips, whip coworkers

Into meringues of worry

Until they can’t sleep, sit up

All night, spoon lemon pie

Into their mouths, cry

Over its sour bite on their tongues.

I’m tired of people telling me

My two-year-old should speak

In ten-word sentences

Instead of point at garbage trucks,

Bulldozers, say beep-beep and smile.

I’m tired of self-helpers,

12-steppers, magic-eight-ballers,

Thought-of-the-dayers, New Agers

Who meditate and yoga, go vegan,

Go organic, detox and cleanse,

Chant mantras like, “The only sure thing

In life is change.”  I’m tired

Of all those people who have

Their bombshelters stocked,

Their swimsuits packed for the next

Great Flood.  Judgment Day won’t be

Like fireworks over Cinderella’s castle.

It will be like this morning,

When I woke up, couldn’t find

My car keys or debit card,

When the light in the bathroom

Burned out.  It will be the day

When all my boxers are in the dirty laundry.

I hope he's wearing clean underwear!