Walking through the twilight between reality and myth Stepping in the shadows of cross and monolith
Chinese whispers running through religious verse Fairy tales told from baptism to hearse
Children kneel, hands clasped with bowed heads Praying for angels to surround their beds
Acts of god on insurance claims Surely it’s the devil who lit the flames
Jesus’s face in a loaf of bread Proof he rose like a zombie from the dead
Jubilant believer’s line blood stained streets Celebrating the infidels death and pagan defeats
In marble halls under painted domes Pious men swap robes and thrones
I’ve spoken with the faithful and heard their final prayer Wished them well on their final trip to the fabled palace in the air
Now as a lay me down to rest I have no soul to be blessed.
Poet’s Note : Religion is dogma based on fear but the principles of love and charity should never be overlooked. I’ve seen the faithless scream for salvation while the faithful are carried with dignity to the grave. I know there is nothing waiting for me when the final curtain comes down and I can live with that.
Who am I?"- English by birth, Scouser by luck, living in South Africa by choice- Paid to cook, hypnotizes for fun and writes poems because I cant stop- Insomniac, chain smoker, sour worm addict- Bulldogs, Motorbikes and Liverpool football club- Dreamer, realist and slighty depressed
Ever grown in adolescence, A convoluted leading presence, Thoughts loom large or small, Can this be it, can this be all? Eyes flicker like bulbs burning, Rarely it all fits or so I’m learning, Consumed with madness my kindness finds,
That was the dreadful night when my world went upside down, Tough decisions were made but still I count, The smiles the sorry the vows that were so profound, It just hit me hard now when ever they come around.
We are broken pieces, Pieces of art, Sometimes joined At the odd cracks, Hoping for completion. Sometimes we are glued To a piece so intricately Carved, so well we gel An illusion to dwell, An illusion to live, Until that