How strange to be of the last;
to write in the end and dregs of time,
but must needs believe, as in the past
that many to come might be reading mine.
A part who knows the grains run out
and another hoping for posterity;
with this contradicting mud about
to still pen down some clarity.
It breaks my heart how few might read,
but more torn I’d be if not to write -
for creating in me is a greater need
and I must still try with might on might.
Even if my audience be one indeed,
I will write for Heaven and give hell spite.
Armageddon
is she here?
Some days I wonder
Are we being swallowed up by ignorance?
rolled down the hill and through the mud by untruths?
sometimes I think this is already happening
Greed seems to be not only acceptable, but preferred
bullies steamroll over our ideals, laughing at our helplessness
I marvel that people are not screaming from the bowels of the trenches
But we are not doing a thing
Standing by, waiting for the next torrential downpour of idiocy
When I was younger, I might have been marching
But today I sit safely inside, because I do not run fast
and I am terrified of what hell might be poured upon us next
I can imagine me being dragged out of my house
as my loving dogs lick my tormentor's fingers
Brick by brick, defenseless and overwhelmed.
At the brink of success, hubris was the greatest foe.
Lost in awe, remembering what once was.
Watching, pondering, a leap of faith was needed.
Sadly, the universe denied such acts of devotion.
Parallels to each other, never batting an eye.
Two branches of a broken tree, the roots, corrupted.
As the color fades and the torrent subsides,
It is only then I am able to focus.
So much trouble, for something so small.
Laughs from hell rise through the cracks of my chest.
Unimaginable pain projects the prophecy of an ancient tale of sorrow and betrayal.
Timelines shattered, dreams lost to the void.
Two hearts intercept, two realities.
Two beings that never should have met.
When End of Days marked every soul,
The Bells from Hell, as well, would toll.
This mad prophesy, sadly written,
Had the Devil badly smitten.
We had to face the flames and fires,
Thick with smoke and funeral pyres.
Fought on the beach and desert sand,
Well, at least, it wasn't hand to hand.
All the beasts were barking for blood,
It was feast, famine, and flood.
Still, the Bells continued to chime,
Dogs from Hell, ate two at a time.
Amen, for now, our sin would end,
And a reign of pain would now begin.
Was it all by some grand design?
No matter now, I'm in that line.
Feathers for bird museum,
None see 'em,
Home was sweet,
Strangelove repeat....
(12 word poem).
A battle set for a place and time
Millions gather armed and ready
Distant trumpets sound end times chime
Victory is assured already
The ground will get a crimson hue
As prophecy comes into view
The world shall know
Whose kingdom has Glory to show
The battle's over, victory divine
Armies annihilated, a heavenly sign
Gunpowder
was to ‘Little Boy’
as a whisper
to a shout
Forever changed
the world remains
enslaved
— unto its rout
(The New Room: February, 2025)
Her eyes filled up the way they do when she is predicting madness
We try not to take her words literally, for she is theatrically over-the-top
Armageddon, she told us, the armies are gathering now for end of times
Who to tell first? The father who abandoned her at eight.
She scoffed, thinking how strange it was that she thought of him first.
He was maybe her least favorite person in the world.
She almost picked up the phone to call her mother
When she realized that she would be pooh-poohed and chastised.
Who to tell? She wailed in a lamenting way to her kitchen clock.
The clock was no help, but her journal was.
She wrote a little note “I wailed in a lamenting way”.
She could use that someday.
Her sister would be going to bed about this time; she worked nights.
What about strangers? It would be fun to alert strangers.
She put on her most colorful outfit and left her home.
Running from house to house, she screamed and yelled and shrieked.
“Armageddon is here! Armageddon is here! Save yourselves!”
The neighbors were accustomed to her;
They did not open their doors or look out. They knew who it was.
If you are disillusioned use what you can, put not your trust in self-seeking men.' Or women for that,.In all events will not
Do.!! We need Jesus.' And also do our neighbours this
Is (the whole world through!) If you are honest to you
Look at the signs upon this earth.' And call to the only
One..Who is faithfull and true.' In princes and leaders
In presidents and kings in pharmica a type of magic.'
What are they intending to bring? Look back over four
Years from this two thousand twenty twenty five to see
Only Jesus put all the confusion aside.' Pray in your
Waking, as you drive before you sleep.' As you awake
Call upon Him.' To return! to remove all evil; to wash
Humanity in his blood that dissolves all sin.'
"Four"
Four
With that word, the world came to an end
In flames of nuclear power
That man did send
Death
Swept through Eastasia and Eurasia
The scale was tipped by one last breath
Oceania’s
Pride
Three
Three giants threw spears at each other
A scorching war destined to be
And Big Brother
Died
Nuclear sunlight beamed through cracked glass
Waking up the proles, who soon cried
Seeing the grass
Two
Two strayed partners, ready to relive
The proles, the remade Eden due
One choice to live
We are in abyss
Of brink of Armageddon,
If peace halt, not shown.
In the final week they still swept their floors.
A gate was mended on the third last day -
the people in the village so stuck in their way,
that some, in leaving, even locked their doors
as if to keep back the dam tide -
frail wooden levees that will not hold.
They die hard: the habits of old,
and cannot be casually cast aside.
There is a nephilim here, in the leafy dark,
staking his plants and pulling out weeds,
though the distant coffer dam is broken.
As in the days of Noah and his ark,
the gardener labours in vain for vain needs,
ignoring the government prophecy spoken.
This time not at the cross of Cavalry,
But at Armageddon battlefield.
The earth will hear trumpets blow,
And thunder roars.
They will see the sky open and is adorned
With a majestic seven-color rainbow.
At the battlefield an obnoxious enemy awaits,
Demons, Ai’s, and humans in their millions with
Their beast, antichrist king, and satan.
On a white horse, our Savior will ride in.
With an infinity of angels and saints behind Him.
They will hear the trumpets louder,
And the tremble of the earth under their feet,
As all the angels and saints with their King,
Come marching in.
The space will be too small as we take our stand,
From heaven above unto the battleground.
And then a great silence will fall,
After Jesus speaks.
Satan and his two minions will be taken into captivity.
Thrown into the deep abyss, and the rest,
The birds of prey will have a feast.
Heaven with all the angels and saints will rejoice.
Because victory belongs to Jesus.
He is the darling of us all, our King, Savior, and Emanuel.
And deep within the depth of me
Blaspheme
And there's nothing left to me
The last scene
Dear Lord what has become of you
Are you Looking down at me
Through the trees
can you see what I see
The rage in me
The evils taken over me
In your absentee
And even through the doubt
Without a doubt
shall you call upon my help
Thy Lord
you have my sword
Forevermore
But until that day
I see your face
Your holy Grace
I'll fight my way
through the fiery haze
For better brighter Days
Armageddon
Empire fall
Empire rise
This is real reality of humanity
Who dies or live doesn't matter
As long as an empire rise or fall
If the children live or die
They don't care
Their ego is worth more than life
In their mentality
Another fall is about to befall us
If we don't stop it
The world is about to live or die
Who know tomorrow
Cos today looks so troublesome in the world
Armageddon Armageddon Armageddon
Empire fall
Empire rise
This is all the warning
They end us with
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