Apocalypse
by Pompey Bum
I sing the Antihuman where ze reigns:
Leviathan, the pussyfooted male;
And Babylon's Whore; a needle born
Against the quickening flesh of innocent day.
The sun deranged, our deathless star
Undone and nova red, its spirit, dead,
Trails oracles like blood drops on a virgin's bed.
So sheds at last the purple fruit, the idol's fodder.
So comes the silent, drugged, anonymous slaughter,
Wrought by faces masked, by steady hands and true.
Oh, Man is dead, and we have killed him, too.