Behold, it is the time of the second coming!
A new dark prince will arise
to throw our human dice,
to question mankind's existence
and ravage love in an instance.
Thus the quiet owl emerges,
thus in blood it drenches.
As prophecy shows --
so a prophet - a guide;
so shall you witness
the coming of the dreaded child!

Thy poems - an appetite for the misguided,
who feverishly anticipate your enlightment.
Where poets, such a few
could not rise tomorrow anew.
Where others may fly and fall,
a new light shall you bring to all
upon the wings of thine eternal soul.

Chaos and order, darkness,
and all that which is divine
conduct great battles for your mind.
Sickness and health intertwine,
struggle for domination over humankind.
Death is an anguished sorrow
for if death arrives, alas,
so no tomorrow.

White man will perish
beneath the water he'd cherish.
Scarabs shall eat the Arabs,
and who remains to accuse,
none other but the Jews.

Fire and tears had never ceased to flow,
rivers of anguish , in darkness, will glow;
as space drifts away, as ancient roman letters grow
on an ancient sundial - faint light may show,
thy paths shall twist and fall
and the bells of the dying shall toll,
shedding blinding words upon thy soul.

Four nations and seven seas,
faded memories of light sun
and a gentle breeze.
Clasp eternally in muddy waters,
never again to listen in peace -
to the sound of thy moving trees.

Lovers and those who believe in passion,
makers of art, creators of culture,
all creations lost - life is a passing fashion.
Blood of creators flows endlessly
over unspoken silent green pasture.
The cry of mankind, the laughter of nature,
gods and dreaded others,
all to remain are butchers and muggers;
all hope will sink to earth's deep,
thus thy prophet his prophesy shall keep.

A prophet and an owl,
a future so black and fowl.
A tournament over once great a race,
your enemies may take your place.
Fill thy human void;
nature now bears an empty space.
No passion, no faith,
nor wisdom or grace.
Alas, for only I was left to carry the cross,
the cross of changes.
We're brothers no more, but strangers.

A child bears the mark of Kain,
once a renegade son, a consuming fire
a raging force so evil and dire.
The terrible curse of black willows;
a blazing nighttime sun,
the endless circle of blood has begun.
Death destruction and decay,
the dark triple D, some may say -
shall rain down from the heavens
and rise from the stinking
bowels of the earth,
like your utter blackened sins
thy hearts may possess.

Some may ask, in dull but frightful voices;
why this evil, or chaotic reality
will come as a plague on humanity?
They so much will ask with no vanity,
for their mind's already tainted in insanity.
And what of the innocents' ones,
who never had thought of wars or guns?
The poor children, the fearful women,
the sons and fathers, daughters and mothers.
many a family, victims of a tainted humanity?

That which is dark and sinister,
cannot be thought of -
not even by a king or a prime minister,
for thy eternal dark cloud cannot distinguish -
righteous or poor, or wicked as such
and thus will extinguish
all who it may rest upon and touch.

My prophecy shines a guiding light
though darkness my word may be,
so it reveals thy unknown path in the night
this I vow I have sworn to thee,
else were I not a prophet
and my poor ballad - no prophecy.

Far in kingdoms' hearts
there lies the truthful ending.
Thy poems' white glory,
Humanity's divine shield, defending.
Within their words, inscribed in gold,
so it is said - so it's foretold,
a hand of god
will strike a blow,
for young as old -
release thy life's eternal flow.

Great times are drawing near
the glowing era of the dark,
a time for fighting, no fear;
we leave in future's history our mark !