The End Comes


The end comes
but not before
this world’s hour
of mindless slaughter

not before you worship
and curse
the blood bones
and meat
of my sons and my daughter

call it art
call it science
just for fun
but no matter

first seize sacred words
break consonant bones
pull them apart
start with their wings
skewer them
spill precious vowels
roast them bleeding
pierced on sticks
in roaring flame
make them curses of perversion
chew them
fat dribbling down
your mechanical chins

wailing ceremonies beaten
on pots of deafening tin
twisted in knots
of electric guitar

electron engraved
on tablets of silicon
recalled by bloodied
finger struck
plastic button

by dervish by gibberish
the beat goes on
clubbing skulls
with ball bats or chemicals
wielded by automatons
treading grapes of cosmic wrath

and when this bloody hour
of temptation is done
the Lord in Love’s Joy
shall return
for all whose stiffened fingers
disdaining sword
still grip His pure
and perfect word.



by c van gorkom