"Rapture"

The Swarthy Bard

 

I feel so freaking, God-like good;
I feel My chest-expanding heart
and the mad frenzy in My blood
which tear My mind and soul apart!

 

These urgent voices in My head
reverberate and echo loud
memories and regrets now dead
and buried in a forsaken shroud;

 

the voices scream, "You're the Devil!"
They prophesy the Anti-Christ
and accuse Me of all the evil
since mankind first became enticed.

 

I refuse their shrill, satanic call
and find in the Apocalypse
that God's avenging Angel of all
is Me who is the world's eclipse.

 

"Not Anti-Christ!" I do reply.
"Not Devil!" I begin to shriek,
"for the Lamb of the world am I,
the Lord's Messiah for the meek!"

 

Sinners will know their final hour;
they will drown in their anguished cries
when I at last will know My power
and expose all their sinful lies!

 

In this soft, padded cell of white
they watch and look at Me with dread;
they view Me as a deadly blight,
and starve Me with unleavened bread.

 

How long is My imprisonment
I cannot guess, divine or tell?
But from the look of that filament,
they can keep Me for quite a spell;

 

"Dear God! I hate these lousy drugs,"
I scream, "that they shoot in My ass!"
They hold Me down these stupid thugs,
injecting Thorazine so fast!

 

I fail to grasp the real reasons
why I'm here; I wish they could see
that I can forgive their treasons,
if they would just believe in Me?

 

Once free again I'll be reborn,
lifted up in divine Image;
I'll end man's need for sin and porn
and prepare him for Christ's Marriage.

 

So hear My law and injunction,
the lost will burn without release
once they all know My dominion:
only then will My rapture cease!

 

~Originally inspired on the eve of 12 March 2013

  • Author: The Swarthy Bard (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 13th, 2019 07:44
  • Comment from author about the poem: A poem about a bipolar, mania-inspired night of psychosis fueled by a Messiah-complex.
  • Category: Gothic
  • Views: 27
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