Doomsday Is This Saturday Poem by Hebert Logerie

Every second of the day
Is the end of the world for somebody.
As proclaimed by the boisterous clergy;
Imagine for a second, this lazy
Freeloader had not been smoking day
And night, nor drinking his habitual special kool-aid.
Imagine that for once, what he said,
Was true. A major earthquake hit several places,
Volcanoes erupted from left to right,
Tornadoes landed right on our faces,
And water is everywhere. There is no light.
The fog is thick, it is immensely dark;
Yet one can feel the intense heat emanating
From outside. No birds were chirping in the park
And the crickets stopped serenading.
What would you do?
The beautiful diamond ring is on the table,
You cannot touch nor see it.
The luxurious car you just purchased not too far from the stable
Is parking outside and you cannot drive it.
The exquisitely furnished mansion that you moved in last year
Is trembling like a wet naked chicken.
The noise coming out of the den
Is egregious and unfamiliar.
What would you do?
Imagine, you are imagining...
You feel that the end is truly approaching...
You don’t know what to do...
Brothers and sisters, I have one motto
In life: one has to be ready all the time.
When the end comes, you won’t know what time
It is, nor be cognizant of what hit you.
Death comes unexpectedly; it is the hermetic taboo,
The ultimate equalizer; it can strike at any given time.
So for this Saturday, there are three alternatives:
Get up, shower, eat and dress up like it is Sunday,
Second, in your make shift coffin, pray St. Ives
Or your God that the end is still far away,
And lastly do nothing, behave like Saturday
Is just another day
To keep on worrying about the bills,
The bad brakes and the bad deals
That you have experienced throughout your life.
Every second of the day, a wife,
A child, an uncle, an aunt and yes a husband
Hit the bucket and disappear like the summer wind.