The World's Wit

They say the world is gonna end by noon-
I beg to differ,
and if begging's gonna help,
then I'd-

Plant the maple trees into the hollow sidewalks-
or doubt into the hearts of men.

Guess they say that the world ain't ending well-
I beg to differ,
it's restless out there,
knowing that you're going to get your next meal in-
packages;
motors;
earthly delights;

Or in packet-full of remorse than repentance,
or deceit or the painstaking TV show.


They say it all too well,
that the world's gonna end earlier than I thought-
I set the alarm to 7:00 AM everyday,
hoping to find the morning as calming as the birds chirping-
but I beg to differ.

The morning ain't calm,
it's disturbing.
With less and less sleep;
more contemplation,
more rigors of work,
dried leaves left to decay on the street;
I reckon otherwise.

They say the world's gonna end;
let me wait in my trousers and my dainty hat;
pulling the blinders of my window
in the late afternoon.