Before coffee God tells me the truth,
laments the end of the world.
I listen closely, transcribe
trumpet blasts, divine jargon.
Newscasters will stooge, taint silence,
pretend to be the funniest men alive.
Like open mic night, no one will be listening.
People will deserve one thing,
then settle for another.
Some will speculate God tolerated
more often than he loved.
Religious campaigns will replace war:
Is Jesus your quarterback?
Put Christ in your starting lineup.
Everyone will find new profits to believe in:
White-collar Christ, Paint-by-Number Jesus,
the Menthol Spirit of the holy smoke break.
Churches will accept endorsement deals.
My Jesus prefers Miracle Whip to Hellmann’s.
Each day the sky will be a different color of shit.