"When searching for the truth, look no further than your own heart." ~John Lennon
The Search for the Truth
(Inspired by The X-Files)
|
I look towards the heavens, it stares coldly back at me. I reach out for the stary night, it reamins distant and unyielding. I grope forward in the darkness, searching for a guiding beacon. I stumble and fall again and again, as my hope starts to crumble. My desperate efforts bare no fruit, and I begin to tire. My faith to keep looking has fleeted, I turn away from the skies. I cast my eyes into my soul to look for deeper meaning. And to my surprise, I find what has eluded me for so long, the truth which I've been seeking, was inside me all along. |
[Back to the top]
Click here to view the lyrics of Sarah McLachlan's "Dear God". Her song is somewhat along the lines of the poem I have written below (and no, I didn't plagiarize ;-)
This poem was featured as a poem 'o' the day at ~Home Sweet Home~!
God of Evil
|
I believe there is a God. His name is synonymous with Satan. No, I am not a Satanist, yet I believe God and Satan are one. God is cruel, selfish and hypocritical. He sees disease, yet He does not heal. He sees suffering, but He does not soothe. He sees war, yet He does not prevent. He sees innocents condemnded, but He does not save. I believe there is a God, and He has blood on His hands. |
[Back to the top]
Man of Mystery
|
Sitting by myself, talking to a stranger through my terminal. Man of mystery on the receiving end, being his impersonal, insensitive self. His inescapable gravity draws me back every week to confide my deepest thoughts and fears. He touches my emotions, stirs up dreams and nightmares, as would anyone else in flesh. His name I may never know, his face I might never see, his true self forever hidden behind the monitor. |
[Back to the top]
Monday Morning Wake-Up
|
Sunlight streaming through the blinds sharing its radiant warmth. Slipping back into world of dreams... (Brrring...Brrring...) Phone. "Hello?" "I'll check..." "DAD!!" (Tick...Tock...Tick...Tock...) "No he's not home, sorry." Slamming phone back onto cradle. Tossing and turning, settling down... (Vrooom...Vrooom...) Lawnmower. (Tick...Tock...Tick...Tock...) (Bang) Front door. "Dad, someone called..." "uncle henry" "Uncle Henry" "UNCLE HENRY!!" Pulling sheets over head. Drifting back into peaceful oblivion... (Brrring...Brrring...) Phone! Again! "What?!" "The mall?" "At 3:00?" "Sure!" Hopping out of bed to wash and get dressed. |
[Back to the top]
Cold Cocoon
|
Looking outside to see the world. It's out of reach, out of touch. Silence like a thickened fog curled, For liberty I longed so much. This is the place I'm bound to stay, Wound tight in this parental womb, While my wild teen years waste away, Here I lie in this cold cocoon. Shuffled from one prison to another Always under a watchful eye. Trying hard to please my father Though my dreams may be denied. This is the place I'm bound to stay, Wound tight in this parental womb, While my wild teen years waste away, Here I die in this cold cocoon. |
[Back to the top]
Raging Torrents
|
A gull struggles forward in howling winds Fighting to stay aflight swervin', chargin', hurlin', hoppin' Looking for safe passage Indifferent gusts rage on without care or a second glace |
[Back to the top]
A Pen Out to You
Words
Contorted by mind's fears
Forever lingers
Ringing in the void.
Doubt grows heavy
For the undeserved,
A hissing serpent of low esteem.
Green-eyed nightmares
Reflected upon innocent hearts
Cannot be erased.
I pray it will receed
And trust's scars heal.
Sad misgivings through this pen
Shall now be sealed.
[Back to the top]
[Previous Poet]
[Next Poet]