Well, I had to mark my 666th post somehow…
[Now, with Added Graphics for your Viewing Pleasure! Thanks, Fojap!]
For those with eyes with which to see
Watch John as he talks of calamity.
For those with ears with which to hear,
Does he slur as a man does, taken in beer?
Vision of a man, from the clouds he flies,
With stars in his hands, and fire in his eyes.
Vision of a man, in his mouth a sword,
And golden lamps strewn abroad.
Dreams of a dragon, horned like a lamb!
D'you think, maybe, John's had a wee dram?
There's seven of this; of that there's seven.
John's blank-eyed, now; in junkie-heaven.
He talks of a door to paradise,
Of a sea of crystal, of glass, like ice.
And four-and-twenty Elders enthroned.
He's flying now, and righteously stoned.
Eye-covered creatures praise The One
Who's all that will be, and all that has gone.
(Is this the Heaven I'm told is so grand?
An eternity fawning and kissing His hand?)
There's a seven-eyed lamb, and a scroll (seven-sealed).
The seals are broken, the Horsemen revealed.
John's sweating, now, shouting and raving;
He talks of those found worthy of saving—
Of a tune, on seven trumpets borne;
Of land and seas, riven and torn;
Of death of millions, plague and fire,
Of Earth become a funeral pyre;
Of a sun-clad woman giving birth,
Of the brightest angel, cast to Earth;
Of a beast whose number is six-six-six.
John's shaking now, from his latest fix,
His Vision become incoherent, confusing,
His thought befogged by the shit he's abusing.
Here I shall draw down a kindly veil
O'er John, dipped too deep in Opium's pail.
Have pity on those who suffer as he;
But don't take their raving for prophecy.
Opium Den by Fojap
[Click picture to enbiggen]
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