A Terrible Place
A Terrible Place
Is there such a place, such a thing--
Where the flower petals dance and the fire flies sing?
Is there a world where I can escape from the dark
That lurks in my weary heart?
Or am I forever condemned to this pit
Where my skin is lashed, bones broken and on my face the white man spits?
Is there a place where love can be love?
Like the place where the Saints and the Poets say lay up above?
Has my suffering been in vain
My condemnation a twisted game of pain?
Where I lay my head on a bed of broken dreams,
Where the blood of the forsaken trickle down like river streams,
And the nightmares await for the weary to fall asleep
When they can be taken and never allowed to awaken
And allow their loved ones to weep?
Is there a place where I can have my eternal sleep?
Or am I left in the ground, buried six feet deep;
Where the maggots eat their way from my head to my feet?
Am I food for the worms as they writhe and the squirm?
Is there a place where the light of the day shines through my rusted cage?
Where I can burst through the chains that have come with my age?
Can there be such a place so very unlike where I remain,
Where the beaten and the tattered slowly grow insane;
And the women and the children are beaten, raped and maimed?
Is there an escape from the prison of my supposed sin,
When all I did was ask if God would save the starving men;
Who try to support their families on a small bowl of rotting rice.
Try to aide the druggies addicted to ice.
I lastly asked if he would he allow children to die
Was it so wrong to just ask why?
And apparently it was as I was beaten and caged
And my thought processes were disengaged,
Till slowly my heart grew dark and my soul became enraged;
A fragment of a once beautiful soul
Who had fallen from the heavens because he had forgotten his goal.
A corrupted piece of society that embodied the wrong and the wicked
Where my mind and my heart became conflicted;
Till I finally realized I invoked my own demise
Oh lord, what a thing to surmise,
And to my surprise I keeled over and died.
As I fell through to the other side,
I was met with nothing but the starving worms of rot,
Indeed it seemed a death for naught.
In the end I was met with the tools of death,
The coffin, the worm and lack of breath.
It seemed my suffering was in vain,
Indeed a cruel sadistic game;
Forever docile, calm and tame
Without recognition love or fame.
So here I rot within my crypt,
Where my secrets slowly slip
And where mine eyes have had the glory to behold
The dirt and the worms that took the saints of old.
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In the part of this universe that we know there is great injustice, and often the good suffer, and often the wicked prosper, and one hardly knows which of those is the more annoying. -Bertrand Russell
I smoke more than a building on fire and roll more than the wheel.
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I smoke more than a building on fire and roll more than the wheel.