Armageddon

 

Seven bowls poured out
The first festers flesh flustered by a feast of boils
As holiness bears the blade
Drawn across the throat of those that speak with anti-anointing oils
As wrath proceeds in a procession of plagues

Bowl two, a red tide
Some parasite born of spiritual decay
When the beauty of creation has died
And moral degradation is the new way

Furthermore there is a third
As all water turns to blood
The thirst for violence quenched
Choking on the rot of their own flood

No penances made, onto number four
When men are scorched of fire
Sinful martyrs of false grace
Falling prey to the consequence of wicked desire

Count up to the countdown tipping the bowl of number five
As darkness cries out to darkness
Impenitent doomsday
Hard hearts are a fading beat, there’s no getting out alive

Enticements of the sixth when men are given over to their spiritual warlords
From the mouths of the serpents the frogs speak
Signs and wonders to deceive and dazzle to enchant
Recruiting for the last battle, the power that they seek
Ever out of reach and as a winded dog they pant

Armageddon embodied throughout the existence of time
The empty attempts to thwart God and overthrow the Kingdom of Heaven
Deceivers lies scribed as every man falls in line
As all becomes a segue to bowl seven

The earth quakes and cities are divided as they are swallowed up in fractures
Bricks of hail as stones
Blaspheming truth when what they see is all that matters
What is this modern Babylon, a construct of dead bones…