Waiting for Armageddon by Mark Barrett

Waiting for Armageddon

by Mark Barrett

I just read a great little poem and since so much of my creative energy is fueled by feelings of inadequacy, I decided to write this poem. The poem I read seemed to say it all. It had this contemporaneous benign-tragic quality about it and as soon as I got done reading it I said to myself,"There are no more poems left or words to write them with. Everything has been said that needs to be and the world will soon end." I sat and waited for Armageddon but nothing happened. All was still and silent. I got to my feet and began to write this poem upon the wall but then I realized that this poem was not a poem because there are no more poems left. So now I am sitting and waiting for Armageddon. I know that it must be near because there are no more poems left to write or words to write them with. They have all been discarded in the trash cans of America, shouted into the air with great gusto only to dissipate in clouds of second-hand smoke, scrawled in blood upon the walls of our hearts only to be washed off like so much existential graffiti. Don't you see?! The time has come to stop writing, shouting and bleeding. There is nothing left to write, shout or bleed for. There are no more poems left to write. No more words left to write them with. We are all just waiting for Armageddon, whether we know it or not. Won't you join me?