• 07.07.07

    The Seven Seals are Revealed at the End of Time as Seven Bows: the Bloodbow, the Pissbow, the Painbow, the Faminebow, the Deathbow, the Angerbow, the Hohohobow -

    Then the morning after. A time and the time and a time and the time and a time and a time and the time. As the bluegreen world is drenched with horsegore, the redseas are covered with horsehair, the ThreeGod arises. As a sign of Betrayal - His? ours? - a vast Bloodbow covers the skies. One dips into a broken bowl full of sadness, the other into seven hundred children with horses' heads in different stages of decomposition. Across the Bloodbow a hundred thousand betrayers are nailed and lost. To the sound of the mewling of eight million cats all those who have betrayed humanity twist and turn. Step forward, if you can, Satan in many scumcoloured forms. Hister marks. If you've had ears better to have slain them there on the warplain of your face. Hell is paved, despite the Balance, with tedium, tedium and loss. Hell is where the steeds then betray the horsemen, and the horsemen betray their steeds, and and and and and and and. The Bloodbow begins to discolour: streams of urine begin to gush from the blackbending heavens and hells that have circled everything so very quickly and quietly. The Redbloodbow gives birth to a Urilebow. ThreeGod starts to weep. Then all the angels weep. Then all the demons weep. The stench of the universal uric acid fills all the worlds ever ever ever ever ever existing. The Bloodbow is replenished by a rain that ascends from the bodies of the damned on Earth. Huge clots of gore and blood and lymph rise up, ripping through the flesh of the lost; the Bloodbow increases in size, and bubbles and seethes. Unable to take any more, just over the surface of the Earth a thick plain of screaming congeals into the pain pain pain pain Painbow, which hovers and turns above the soil. Alas, alas! A high pitched singing emerges; bones, some gleamingteethywhite, some shitdustbrown, start to clatter from the Painbow. A ricketty arch is hesitantly built by the rothorsekids from the bones and bones: the Faminebow. "We are so hungry, so very very very" they sigh. They die, their hunger to be forever unassuaged. Their rotting bodies arise in clumps 'n' bits 'n' bobbins, forming over the Bonebow - that is to say, the bubbling Faminebow, a new, special experience. A grotty rotty mass of children's and horses' grey flesh, death in all its mumbling and dull colours, step or crawl right up for the Deathbow. ThreeGod has been so angry with us all whilst this is happening; His frown fills up one million trillion universes, or more if you please or if you don't. His pursed lips fill up even more universes than His frown, as His anger grows as it descends His face. This immeasurable frown becomes the inverted Angerbow; an upsidedown 'U' that is constituted entirely of choler and spit, pick 'n' mix... stones and sticks... 'n' 666 - it makes me sick!

    (Yet the stars and the moon and the sun and the comets and the little birds and the little lights and the little animals that sing to God God bless the little animals and the little animals that scream to God please O Lord bless the little animals that weep and weep and weep they are approaching the Greatbluegate of Death itself oh Lord hear me when I shout and shout and shout my heart is almost empty.)

    [Whilst the Gods play
    We pass away]

    {Anyhow, once I looked at the stars, and they were all blood. Over the Southern Cross she arose, redbloodyred, as I think she was, Luciferette and how she shined. Overthere in the west, where alas she had begun to set, dead children were singing. Out of my window, beyond Mao, Rao and Yao what seems to be the sun over the arch of Bethlehem, shining. Louie Wain is there. I can see, if I stretch my eyes far and further, William Lawes dead dead dead on the plain dead dead dead. I fall to my knees and weep. And goodbye to You all.}

    <Then He sees, in His mercy, that the Worlds have all passed away. The frown passes, and ThreeeGod starts to laugh. The farce is over, the wasted experiment over, and His jolly laugh becomes the HoHoHoBow.
    All the starres are dead now. And so we pass away.>

    And goodbye to you all
    - Whilst the Gods play -
    Goodbye to you all...

    - Current Ninety Three

    All the World makes Great Blood.
    • Oushies ha detto...
    • Utente
    • Lug 8 2007, 19:26

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