trlange

In This Land

In a land of preconditions
Set upon a hollowed hill,
We partake in nuclear fission,
The implosion large and shrill.

Who stands during the fall,
Who can ever stay afloat?
Life makes fools of us all,
Learning everything by rote.

We rise and fall each day,
Marching onward toward our death,
On bent knee we pray
Evermore wasting our breath.

Who lives after they die?
Who, in death, can really live?
We try to laugh as we cry.
We all take, but rarely give.

In a land of meritocracy,
We're stuck in a hellish mire.
In life there's no democracy,
Just effigies burned on the pyre.

Who's free while still entombed?
Whose fears ever find release?
We are all exiled from the womb.
Death owns us, we have no peace.

We rise and fall each night.
Bereft, we've lost all hope.
There is nothing but our plight.
We've lost our ways to cope.

Who knows they're really alive,
Who can discern such truth?
In this world we're all deprived,
Grasping at the air for proof.

In a land of divisions,
The fortress sits upon a skull.
Our ship escapes without provisions,
As blackened oil sleeps from our hull.

Who understands our position,
Who determines where we'll go?
Our ignorance blossoms into fruition,
We are pantomimes in a talkie show.

Clueless on being clued in,
Separated from the whole,
We feel perfect while in sin,
We close the gates on our soul.

Who has been across the river,
Who's seen the promised land?
The cold nights make us shiver,
We await eternal reprimand.

In a land with no communion,
Where we promote our own divinity,
Can there be any spiritual union,
Or is death our only reality?

Who's kept even all accounts,
Who as accepted their own fall?
Not one of us shall pronounce
That we haven't crashed the ball.

Masqueraded by Satan's face,
The mirror never ever lies.
As time is forgotten in space,
Except the beasts in us, all else dies.

Who can even shed the pain,
Who can race against the sand?
This wilderness envelopes our shame,
We are entombed in this land.

Comments1

  • Damaged Soul

    One thing I can say with utter conviction is that death is a staggering reality. Its an enemy yet I beg it's comfort and peace. You write one hell of a poem my friend. You always do.

    • trlange

      Thank you! I truly appreciate it!



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