Title: Boasters, Blasphemers, and the Breaking of the Dragon’s Reign

This prophetic poem is a poetic meditation on 2 Timothy 3:1–5 (KJV), Paul’s warning to Timothy about the moral and spiritual collapse that will mark “the last days.” It expands the apostle’s list of sins, weaves in Revelation’s imagery of the ancient serpent (the dragon = Satan, Rev 12:9; 20:2), and closes with the triumphant hope that these very “perilous times” signal the imminent overthrow of evil and the return of the King.

Core Scripture (KJV)

2 Timothy 3:1–5
1 This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come.
2 For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy,
3 Without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good,
4 Traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God;
5 Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away.

Supporting End-Times References Echoed in the Poem

• Revelation 12:9 – “that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan” (the dragon imagery)
• Revelation 20:2 – “he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent… and bound him”
• Matthew 24:12 – “because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold”
• Luke 21:28 – “when these things begin to come to pass, then look up… your redemption draweth nigh”
• Revelation 19:11–16 – The King returns “through the smoke and the flames” to judge and reign

The poem therefore moves from warning (2 Timothy 3) to hope (Revelation’s ultimate victory), declaring that the very darkness Paul foresaw is the death-throe of the dragon and the herald of Christ’s return.

In the last days, perilous times shall come
when the heart forgets its ancient drum.
Men will crown themselves with mirrors and gold,
lovers of self, and lovers of cold.

They boast in the streets where the shadows play,
proud as towers that lean and sway;
blasphemers of heaven, mockers of grace,
children who curse the father’s face.

Unthankful tongues and unholy hands,
no mercy in eyes, no truce in lands;
love grows thin as winter’s breath,
natural bonds lie bruised in death.

False accusers hiss like serpents awake,
fierce as wolves when the weak hearts break;
they slander the good and betray the trust,
rash and swollen with the poison of lust.

Pleasure they worship, a glittering throne,
higher than God, more dear than His own;
they wear the mask of the pious and pure
yet deny the power that makes men endure.

From such, turn away, the apostle cried,
when the age grows sick and the salt has died.
Yet even in ruin, a whisper remains:
the King still comes through the smoke and the flames.

Hold fast, little flock, though the night is long;
the dragon is raging—his kingdom is done.