Apocalyptic Blues, the Hard Ones

The Bard just sang in the 21C

That someone had told him

In the last century that the Age

Of the Antichrist had begun

I don’t know about that as

I was too young and ignorant

Then, perhaps not even born

Nonetheless, I dig what he says

For from where I stand today

It seems almost too clear to me

That the Apocalypse is already

On, is on and is rolling out on

Though the Sun still rises and sets

It seems the accounts are being

Settled by whoever God has

Appointed, or whoever has

Become God or many Gods

At this point, I am tempted to

Say the same old so far so good

But there has been a catastrophic

Glitch in the divine machinary

In now settling the accounts, for

It is clear as glass that the God’s

Recordkeepers have jumbled up

All the accounts so that there are

Cases galore of one Ramprasad

Having committed the crime but

It being Shyamprasad who was

Held to account and sent to hell

Literally, that is, not as metaphor

Tons of records of actual crimes

Have gone missing and have

Evaporated, never to be found

At the same time there are too

Tons of records of many crimes

Uncommitted and misattributed

Misrepresented, miscommunicated

Ramprasads have become the Heroes

Of heavenly abodes that have come

And still to come in the Apocalypse

That is already ongoing here now

On, is on and is rolling out on

Thus even the Apocalypse has

Gone horribly wrong, all just

Because of a technical glitch

Or the carelessness of the God’s

Recordkeepers, or some mischief

By some heavenly Ramprasad

The purpose of which may be

Divine secret as they tend to be

Or may be it’s just an indexing

Error, a kind of human error

Err, I mean a divine error here

Still one can’t completely rule

Out the possibility of the Bard’s

Song’s truth being the real truth

Channelling Bresson, it can be

Said that who is leading us by

The nose? To which the answer

Being simply as the man on the bus said

Le Diable Probablement, quoi d’autre?