In the beginning—in this case the 13th century—pocalypse was an especially unpleasant set of letters. You would find them only in the biblical apocalypse, and that meant a violent end of the world.
But in the last half decade, pocalypse has been liberated from world termination and has taken on a decidedly lighter tone—not light, necessarily, but lighter—as a suffix indicating disaster.
Nonapocalyptic pocalypses are libfixes (say that fast three times). A libfix is a letter string that uses a strong connotation to add meaning to an unrelated word. Think of Watergate’s gate or Godzilla’s zilla.
The first pocalypse was probably the snowpocalypse of the brutal 2009–10 winter season. Blizzards that year qualified not only as snowpocalypses, but also snowmageddons and snowzillas.
The world survived, and pocalypse has spread widely—appropriate for a morpheme that brings disaster wherever it goes. Dying honeybees are the beepocalypse. Pollution in Beijing is the airpocalypse, and the ridiculous “tradition” of fighting crowds the morning after Thanksgiving is shopocalypse.
I don’t know how long pocalypse will seem clever; that’s a personal judgment. But now is the time to strike. For me, it works better with a word ending in a vowel sound (tacopocalypse) than one ending in a hard consonant sound (concretepocalypse). The exception might be a word ending in P (soupocalypse). And in the middle would be words ending in softer consonants such as R (beaverpocalypse).
So pocalypse it up while you have the opportunity. Pocalypse, like the world itself, won’t last forever.