The Book of Revelations and Other Party Favors

Revelations

written by an artist too shy to pen his name to a story too big for one man

words bigger than one world.

We walk halfway through the final chapter, (the good book has a hell of an ending) though,

so few have the courage to read

the signs.

Fire, destruction, consumption,

only the drooling street preachers have the wit to say it

throats scratched from screaming themselves silent

yet, there it is, staring us down in verse.

And how amazing would that have been to have written Revelations

and then what do you write, cook books?

But, to know the ending, to know what’s coming so intimately, must be a form of madness

that only the mad can endure. Like life is something that only the dead can overcome.

We

are a consumption of opposites

man and woman breeding life, night and day breeding one

revolution

of the sun.

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