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Revelations: 05;09 by Norman Cristofoli

Storm clouds converge on the New Jerusalem

Rain falls in colours, hiding the blood-stained sun

Purple lightning dances a ballet of destruction

ripping neutrinos from within our atomic soul

Beams of radiance explode from the head of Moses

His gun points downward, trying to kill the earth

A blackened forest of charred trees form a circle

to chant the rhyme of Nostradamus

The Reaper collects tolls on the East River bridge

while Loki cuts the anchor, setting Jacob’s ladder adrift

The corner of the attic is bare,

cleansed of holocaust victims who once hid there

The first begotten of Shadows are named Alpha and Omega

Excalibur rests in the dust of a pawnshop window while

ancient Merchants and a Minotaur barter for the sword

The Musketeer has two heads, each loyal to different king

A chivalrous knight tilts his lance towards a mechanical bull

In a distant kingdom, three princes burn nine candles

beneath the sepulcher of Orion

In the Iron Temple that was built in Vulcan’s forge,

the Lamb opens the seventh seal

Lo, the archangel Michael leads a golden horse,

casting the Dragon from the heavens

The last brown grizzly bear conducts an orchestra of blue

Ladies in Waiting spin a tapestry of the sky

and demons fight over the corpse of the Phoenician poet

A bouquet of flowers surrounds the face of a clown

as he watches a tear fall from the eye of Horus

Five thousand kisses betray the Last Prophet

An Elysian field yields a dark harvest of forbidden thought

Monsoon storms cannot wash the earth clean

Lucifer surveys the city of his dreams

while God peaks over the horizon

A promise is taken from my soul

by a winged Concubine of the Dead

I engrave a tombstone with the name “Higgs Boson”

for I am the Dark Matter that fills the space between

Trapped in this illusion,

I climb the only remaining Ziggurat

and pray for an awakening,

but the light of Mithras grows dim

If I could only but close my third eye . . .

A cell phone buzzes

the truth was calling

but all it got was voicemail

It left no message

Norman Cristofoli has published several chapbooks of poetry/prose plus two audio compilations of his spoken word performances. He was the publisher of the “Labour of Love” literary magazine for 25 years and was the co-founder and manager of the “Coffeehouse” artist networking site. His full length collection "Relinquishing the Past" is available through CanamBooks. His play “The Pub” was published in June 2020, also with CanamBooks.

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