I am absent now, I no longer inhabit this temporal cage,
I have no need for traitorous Love and no use for the finer things,
My short and sour visit to this decaying empire of rage,
Has been far too painful to beg for the peace that holy sleep brings.
Now there is no need for vicious air or dangerous water,
My fear and my hatred of the inequity of life sustains me.
In desperation I now suck at the bosom of cold terror,
My ears cannot hear sweat music. Even my eyes struggle to see.
Around me are those who would feed on my flesh. Dear God let the icy hail fall,
And old eternal Heaven shut forever its golden and forbidden door,
Now let poor old Satan in a cheer, trumpet a victorious call,
For I am done and washed up on Hell’s shore.
-
Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: March 12th, 2025 01:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
Offline)
Comments3
Giving up comes to mind with this poem. I hear disillusion, disgust and just being plain tired in this poem set in rhyme. Nicely done
Thank you for your clarity.Much appreciated
Now that is much more convincing than just throwing the towel or even just walking off in a huff! Majestically done 🙏🏻🕊
Yeah I tried pouting and huffing but no one took any notice.Thanks for your insight commendatore.
Blue in the face never worked with Mum either! 🙏🏻🕊
I get a sense of tiredness and disillusionment in life, feeling of just had enough with it all, nicely written and expressed
Thank you for your comments mi amigo
You are very welcome
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