This Is The End

This is the end of times.

Kingdom would rise against kingdom

as guns point towards country men

with perpetual colored skin.

Blue blood spilled on walkways,

and heavens filled with false shooting stars-

falling endlessly, passing-on wishes

like a scythe on a harvest day.

It cannot distinguish between ripe and tender fruits

And there shall be famines,

and pestilences, and earthquakes-

Where mouths thirst for lips

with gospel on their tongues.

Hunger is not only devoted

to empty stomachs.

It also recognizes ignorance as its god.

The grim reaper will knock on every door,

It will arrive at houses uninvited.

Taking everything but gold and silver.

All these are the beginning of sorrow-

but here is a natural man.

All flesh and blood.

Naked in its desire.

Bare-skinned like a babe

on its baptism day.

Needing nothing but to quench

its temporal yearning.

As it watched the world on fire,

heat crawls all over its body.

It is only loyal to its dryness.

The world is ending but here is a man,

void of everything but its lust.