• Flux Magazine

"Rebirth: A Millennial on Millennialism" by Dimitris Voulgaris

See me stand here deeply forsaken

For twas that god who has come taken

These earthly pleasures that I indulge

So unto you readers I‘ll now divulge

The immediate and desperate need for a rapture

For the idea that my life can still capture

Some sense of a meaning found in the death

And if I am lucky, I’m the only one left

For how better a way is there to know

What it is that caused God to throw

Burning storms and fissured earths

Onto the land for which he had birthed

All of us now who live singly, alone

Blind to the king and blind to his throne,

I know it is coming but I do not know when

So watching the clock knowing of end

Here I will stand continually waiting

While my poor heart soaking and satiating

In the juice of anticipation 

Which through continued participation

Fills up my body up to a halve

For that one question that I will still have,

Where is my rapture?

Have I not raised hell?

Are my horns not sharp?

Have I done thee not well?

Is my tail not curled 

to a sharp pointed tip?

What is it that caused you

Forced you to skip?

I am the death

Have lived it always

And brought it to all

So please be amazed

Bring me apocalypse

A deliverance of devils

A harbinging of Hell Fire

From all those 9 levels

Bathe my tainted world

With the black scorch of it all

End human suffering

And bring forth our fall

For I see the inclinations

Of a rapture beginning 

The punishment of evils

Recompense of our sinning

In the forests’ raging fires

Like the earth on the sun

In solipsistic idiots 

With a complex and gun

In the ever looming threat

Of a nuclear winter

And even the small

A tiny wooden splinter

But wishful thinking

Only gets us so far

So to our human forms

Watch as we mar

It’s then up to us all

To bring divine devilish action

To usher in anarchal angels

Bring bout a war of evil, good faction

To gauge this world in unjust

Unwanting, unarchival, unceremonious

Wonderful war

So with teeth to a curb

Fingers to a throat

And a knife to my gut

Or a blade to a goat

I will spill out onto the ground

Just like a gensisian flood

That Mirthful messiah bringing

All encompassing red crimson Blood

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