" I DREAMED OF THE ANTI-CHRIST "

Out of the night which blankets me
Comes a glimpse of despotism
I am so shaken by what I see
I dare not try to interpret the vision

The fall of the Church appears in the dream
The rise of the bloody head, comforting
The confusion inherent in the imagery
Warms my blood for the sun cannot be seen

Voice of a lamb, strength of a dragon
Somehow faith leads to slaughter
Love could be found in liquid from a flagon
Somehow became the Love of all daughters

Drunken and laying broken in the streets
All of my friends have found Gnosticism
Blood on the faces of every belief
It seems a Dali version of surrealism

I struggle and sweat and swing my broadsword
Cutting down savages as I head for the trees
I sense a ray of hope that I'm fighting toward
In a sudden burst of light I awake from the dream
And there on my forearm ~ the mark of the beast...

Tony Taylor   (Chicago)