Had the sun set there and then
everything would have been all right,
course fragments of blue sky
where still exists unclouded insight.
I duck and I hide and refrain for no reason,
I am the fool in behind each imagined restraint.
I feel for the troubadour carefully hiding his anger
at fools who consider him a saint.
Jesus, your name has been squandered,
your reputation as a straight shooter is in debate.
Your address comes up on too many invitations,
sentiment arriving, as usual, much too late.
Strapped in to what the free world calls happy living,
constrained by what your heart too easily believes,
you stagger and solo and feel erroneously grateful
for pressure bitter crying only temporarily relieves.
Why are you sighing with pathetic resolve?
What are you refusing to admit right out loud?
That all your best moments have turned into rust?
That your small circle of friends is one pitiful crowd?
Heaven is an invention of human indifference,
an unwillingness to face jesus at his worst.
A race, an adventure, a chance experience?
No, Hell got here first.
-
Author:
Dan Williams (
Offline) - Published: September 21st, 2024 00:37
- Comment from author about the poem: I look for you folks to tell me what it means.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, aDarkerMind
Offline)
Comments5
Powerful poem Dan, good write.
I can't agree with some things here, but good write as a poem.
But God got here first. There was never a time when He (can include 'She' elements too) was not here.
Jesus overcame Satan on the cross. Satan can't win ultimately now.
I hold to these things as part of my beliefs.
No offense intended. You and I have too different sets of beliefs to be resolved here. Thanks anyway.
Loved it from the first stanza that opened with great poetic power and felt as if it were a classic novel. The last stanza ties it all together so nicely.
You really are going to swell my already thick head. Glad you liked it.
Powerful write
Many thanks for the encouragement.
You're welcome
another finely tuned write San.
my fave list grows ever longer.
That your small circle of friends is one pitiful crowd?
strong stuff!
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