Ellen Thea reads from her small-book-length
poem, On My Way to the Apocalypse.
The illustrated poem book is available from her,
and from Dancing Leaf Gallery in Talkeetna.
Ellen Thea-On My Way to the Apocalypse-7-6-2014
It was December 21, 2012.
I was on my way to the apocalypse,
minding my own business,
when a funny thing happened….
Scotty beamed me up.
A Mayan madman jumped out in front of me
and shouted, “Fooled ya!”
Meanwhile, a bluebird started singing
loudly, madly, badly, out of tune, off key
while a monarch butterfly spiraled around me
and a fairy danced up a blade of grass.
At last, 100% of us became
100 percenters.
Then I remembered,
everything is an illusion.
We are on the holodeck and
the safeties are off.
I found out HAARP is not a musical instrument…
I discovered that beer is the eighth food group
and chocolate, the seventh.
I decided to do what I usually do…
I wrote a short poem.
Dying On The Trip To Nowhere
oh but the trip
to everywhere
leaves you
breathless…
Ruminating in the delusional crush
I decided to write a longer poem.
And smiled Yoda did
because the Force with me was.
Knowing there is no ending,
but only the beginning of the start
of the beginning
again,
an endless chain
of recursive events.
As I counted the angels dancing
on the head of a pin,
I heard a voice calling my name
and green fire burst out my ass.
The building storm finally broke.
Silver rain
trickled through my hair,
down my nose,
drenched my clothes.
The apocalypse will not be televised.
We’re all on a speeding bullet train,
headed
straight to our own demise.
From first breath,
we are on our way
to the apocalypse.
You think
you’ve got
all the time
in the world,
but when it comes to the wire,
Bam!
The apocalypse,
shattered dust,
and you’ve been asleep
your whole life.
It was then that I realized
Someone has a wicked sense of humor.
I’m not saying who,
just Someone.
In other news,
Jesus,
Buddha,
Mohammed,
Gandhi,
and Mother Teresa
were playing Texas Hold’Em –
winner takes all.
I saw a fleet of flying monkeys
racing to catch the flying pigs,
and heard an eerie chuckle.
“Yes, my pretty, that’s the one!”
Oh, so you heard it too.
So I clicked my heels together three times
(note to self: the apocalypse requires shoes)
because
there has never been anywhere like home,
even in black and white,
with the old man disappearing into the woods.
Down the road,
I met my one true love,
went to Vega and got married.
But that’s all I can tell, because
what happens on Vega
stays on Vega, baby!
In the background,
I heard Nero fiddling while
the city burned.
Good thing happened though.
I found Nemo,
who promptly suggested that we party like it’s 1999.
“‘Twas brillig and the slithy toves,”
Lewis Carroll recited from “Jabberwocky”
to an open mic audience emceed by Lady Death.
I know this because
when I passed her the salt,
she flashed her tattoo and winked at me.
I floated up to say hello to the Easter Bunny,
who gave his regards to Harvey,
the invisible six foot rabbit.
I saw Elvis.
Arguing.
With Michael Jackson,
over kingship.
Sasquatch was there too,
watching from the grassy knoll.
I was inspired, so I became
the hundredth monkey flier,
and tipped the balance of the infinite scale.
But when I picked up my tools,
I lost my ticket to the big show.
I was thirsty (who wouldn’t be after all this?)
so I stopped in at the Fairview Inn for a beer
(where the odds are good,
but the goods are odd),
and while engaged in a reverie of sorts,
the apocalypse rolled on merrily without me.
As I dozed off,
a cat purred on my feet.
Suddenly my toes were wet.
Thinking nothing of it,
I shooed the cat off my feet.
Then I felt something crawling up my leg.
A newborn kitten.
So I whistled a happy tune.
I mean, after all,
the apocalypse will not be televised,
so how can it be real?
I ate green eggs and ham.
I danced with the stars.
E.T. phoned home.
And even though I won American Idol,
I was still voted off the island.
I stood on the shore;
I watched my ship come in,
but the tide was out.
Neo explained,
“It’s not the red pill
or the blue pill;
it’s the new improved super purple pill.”
The rabbit hole was deep
and I just kept going.
But then things got a little crazy.
Someone had dropped LSD
in my survival drinking water,
but I knew I would be safe because
I happened to have handy
my gas mask
(bought for 25 cents at a yard sale)
and my baseball bat.
I am prepared!
I discovered it wasn’t a dream.
I discovered it was a dream.
I realized the church was right.
I realized the church was wrong.
Just in time for refreshments,
the Mad Hatter invited me to a tea party.
For the pause that really refreshes,
I was doing my business
when the outhouse started to shake.
Was it an earthquake?
A bear?
Hallucinations?
Or had the apocalypse just caught up with me?
No, the outhouse fell into the hole.
Holy crap.
The key is,
no matter where you go,
there you are.
So where was I at?
I heard a loud noise.
Then I felt the breeze.
I realized it wasn’t
the end of the world
after all.
