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Briefly, the Apocalypse

(x = space)



Briefly, the Apocalypse


The circle won’t be broken

Angels will hold

The breaking places

‘Til we get there


We’ll keep the world together

Until an ending that is proper

Appropriate for

New heaven and

New Earth


C L Couch



Photo by bhuvanesh gupta on Unsplash


Thirty Means End of Story

(x = space)



Thirty Means End of Story


How will it end

We do not know

What happens next

We have great lore

And supposition

We have stories

Of returns

We should believe them


C L Couch


(not years—thirty is or used to be a sign in journalism)



Photo by Rishabh Sharma on Unsplash


The Final Countdown

The Final Countdown


And if we remember


Let’s remember

God is love

Even inside the pit

Whose floor no one

Above has found

God is not only

On the floor but also


Propping up the Earth

Until all prisoners

Are released

Until the harrowing

Is done

Until what remains in hell

Is nothingness,



The devil without a job

Receives an invitation

To go above,


Wherever devils

Have met with God


No victory lap

No dumping Gatorade

The winner loves the loser

There is a reckoning

And everything

Has mattered

This is no rehearsal


And it can mean something

If not all

For God to offer

To the devil

Forgiveness on the way

To freedom

Knowing such

Practiced usurpation

Could turn it down

Remain there, alone

Waiting for a

Final confrontation,


And misquoting Scripture

All this time


C L Couch



Photo by Aida L on Unsplash


The End Is Near

The End Is Near


The Earth has four billion years already

Only one billion remains

Our star will expand one day

(well, over an eon)

And finally we will lose the light


Some say it’s tomorrow

Or later on today

(after tea, I hope)

Some engender crime and madness

Pray for it, vote for it in others

If we make it bad enough

The Lord will come to sort it out

After all, aren’t we right

To invoke a



God might have other plans

We know God does

God gave us the notion in the first place

Of the notion

That a plan sometimes is good

But don’t program the

Spirit of the



Savior’s not for turning

Not for the to-do list of some kind

Of faithful


We should do well

We should do good

Is that so hard?

Evil done for good is, well,

You know

And that’s crazy thinking

More so to enact


Thomas Becket knew

Joan d’Arc, too

Listening for God

To follow through

Is mad enough

For virtue

The end is near for valorous

Much better


C L Couch



The Passion of Joan of Arc, 1928



to readers, then a poem

I hope it is a holiday of blessings for you, regardless of tradition or having no tradition.  It’s a time when at least we speak to peace on Earth, which means more people think about it, if only in reaction.  And reactive thought can realized in action.

I’m still dealing with new pain, and I hardly sleep at night (from old pain and the new).  I’m sorry, this makes me less communicative than I’d so much like to be.  I’m trying some new medication.  Maybe that will provide enough amelioration.

I wish and pray for you a Merry Christmas, leading to the start of what will be a Happy New Year.



Let Earth

(end of Advent, Christmas Eve or Christmas day, or, you know, anytime)


And where is joy?

It’s here


Depending on your mood

Or how you’re treated

How you treat someone else

You may not see it

The wrong ones will not pay attention

The ones who are wronged will

Because they must

It often goes this way

With wisdom to

Make a choice,

A pledge to difference


If you can,

In all moods choose joy

If you can’t, maybe joy will find you

If not, we’ll have to wait


‘Til there is allowance

And recourse


Sorry if that’s hollow

Everything cannot be fixed

In a day

A year

And not a moment

But where is joy?

It’s here

If within opacity like crystals in

The tube of a kaleidoscope

But made of a magic kind of gem that

Someday must crash through


Into release

A new promise of day

Without involvement of the persecutor

With unbound chances

To live openly and well


A day of birth

Such as this one


C L Couch


Larisa-K / 471 images


Red Sky at Night

Red Sky at Night


Retiring into the deep

Colors of the day


We come to the end

When light must give

Way to night


We sigh and with

Misty breath, exhale


Into the coming dark


No more arguments

To make against the



Maybe a farmer’s

Understanding, for

There are evening



Whose cycle will

Reverse the colors


Sorry, perhaps, for

Those who cannot

Read the final

Message in the dusk

Of dying day


Well, look to new hues

In the tellings that

Arrive, whenever


Daytime and

Nighttime meet, alive

haiku and prose(story)-poem

haiku and prose(story)-poem


There is no war here

For those who warred have fallen

Heaven realm’s justice


The war in heaven is long.  This is a surprise.  It is a surprise to feel that way.  How can one feel something’s long in an eternal place?  Michael looks up, feeling tired and never feeling tired.  Michael knows those fallen to either side.  Michael knows them all.  Michael has known all the host for an ageless time.  Gabriel will be the one to tell, as Gabriel before and every time tells everything to all who hear.  War outside of Eden rages, though who wins is understood.  The end of war is known.

Microcosmic Murder

Microcosmic Murder

A country in West Africa
In a city there, al-Qaeda
Attacked and killed

A UN microcosm:
Twenty-seven dead from
Eighteen nationalities, five

Times the number
Injured, thirty and more
Hostages now freed

I don’t know how much
Longer I can track (or truck)
Adding to the list

Or if, in the world’s swell
Against, I will more simply
Merge my interest with

The quiet dead and the
Outraged living, awaiting an
End of unnamed campaigns

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