July 19, 2013

Silent in the wilderness of life they call

Silent in the world this life

So loud you cannot hear them

So quiet you feel their screams trying to explode through your mind

The beat

It goes on

It is constant in this monotonous world we have created

A mantra for the doomed

No matter how much money they might have made

No matter how little

The shining light it seems evades my grasp

I’m not a negative person by nature

Man has molded me

From the day I was born

Until the day I die

I have made my decisions on the actions of those around me

I have made my belief built on those that care not for anything

For those that gave their lives without thought

Diving into raging waters knowing they would never surface

Those that raced into burning houses given a zero chance of emerging

The good of this world drives me to find even more

The evil that seems to ooze from every pore causes me to turn away in distaste

I find myself at a point in life

What is good and what is Evil

Who is the dominant?

What is it that should push me to my final path?

How do I know that all of this is true too the words of God?

A God who never really told his tale

It was told by man

And we all know just how feeble man can be given a power from up on high

How much of what we know is truth?

How do we truly know we are on the right path?

Will there be signs to point the way?

I think not

We are alone

Maybe that is one of the tests

One of the many we must endure

Who can say my words are not the true words of God?

Who can say that homeless man that screams his words as he staggers through the cities streets is not telling the truth?

We cannot push all we hear away

We must learn that God is everywhere

Who says he can’t tell us the truth from the cracked lips of man that has not bathed in weeks

Who says he could not be heard from the mouth a woman that sold her child for drugs

Or a teenager that killed a father and his son for the small contents in his wallet

The words

Listen to the words

Not from where they come

Listen to what they say

Listen to who is saying them

Maybe I’m wrong

Maybe I deserve the fate that is waiting for me

Who can say

Maybe a poet that thinks a little like I do

Once they hear of my death

Sickened by humanity they will put pen to paper

They will tell the tale of my passing

My loss

My waste of life by the hands of a murderer

Who whispered the words of God