silent prayer
rp: instrumental programming
© 2007 peguesmusic
I ask for humility, Oh God
God of everything
vanity and self love consumes
the seed of your love that is within me
because I see the world through
the sight of my own eyes
in mono sight it looks forward
and cannot see backward into my own head
a cavernous shell of self-doubt and illusion
this is why I seek to know myself
through me, through words,
images and sounds
am I imagining you
only to wake up
one day
somewhere else
dreaming you
reading this
so I pray
to the unseen God
and I have given all my hopes
up to Him/Her
even in my vanity I imagine my death
the friends and those that even imagined my love
the words of these mourners
will the words of flattery
measure up to a life time
will the mourning tears show a love for the longing
of my company
how can they
as I sit alone in my house
and the phone is still
and the door is closed
no one has called
in life
why will they cry in
death
will they cry because my departure
quickens the pace of their own demise
death as an endless line to a door to a place
where people go in
but no one comes out
this is the fear I take to a funeral service
whether I knew or really knew the dearly departed or not
I know that my time is coming and the
ceremonial dumping of my earthly remains will follow
and everyone will go home and watch tv
and wake up the next morning and go to work
and my life, my work , my accomplishments,
all that I am
will be forgotten
if I really want to make a difference
I need to touch the world
so that the imprint of my sacraficial devotion
is more than a memory
let it be
an eternal touch
an eternal prayer
an eternal voice
an eternal love
11 comments:
Your're not suicidal are you?
What? There is no god. If the universe needs a creator to exist, what created the creator? That creator would also need a creator. Its my god against yours, the root cause of war and terrorism, but hey a good christian like George Bush got a message from jesus to go ahead and bomb, way to go jesus. Teddy Haggard got help, now he's not gay anymore. Little boys are still being sodomized by priests, what god allows that to happen?
what do you expect from a guy that wears black everyday?
lighten up ...it's just poetry...
That was a great poem Rodger. A fine meditation on death which is one of the great themes of poetry.
can't say as much for Brian & Jennifer, duo of mental sloth and leftoid obsession with Bush; to the degree that Bush crowds your conversation, your every thought, you are a prisoner. Why was it so important for me to know what B & J think about Bush? I can tell who won't be taking my wedding pictures, now. Free yourself, kids; ask God to free you of your weird Bush obsession. Amen.
WHEN THE BRUSH LEAVES THE PAINTER’S DEFT HAND
There can never be an artistic man
When our poems neither rhyme nor scan.
For as crass erudition
Bedeviled cognition
The last esthetician far ran.
There can never be an artistic man
When the brush leaves the painter’s deft hand
For as digitalization
Replaced re-creation
The last integration far ran.
There can never be an artistic man
When a tune cannot conduct a band
For as improvisation
Lost melody’s suasion
The last true musician far ran.
There can never be an artistic man
When on principle a man cannot stand
For as mystic addiction
Defiled definition
The last rhetorician far ran.
now if you can recite that naked
with a lighted candle stickin
out your ass...
we got a Show!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BY CANDLELIGHT
The uninformed have but one defense:
A tall and weighty ignorance.
Art’s truth will dawn, if and when,
You’ve ventured past ad hominem.
everything's not a polemic
see that's the difference between
an artist and a pompous asshole
I don't need to defend anything
I'm not at war
people that don't produce anything
original other than commentary on
the original work of others...
spend all their time building up
someone (ie Rand), or tearing
down someone..
THE NAKED TRUTH WHILE LOOKING FOR ANOTHER MATCH
You’re nonsense was never a match for me
Philosophy trumps your witch-doctory
I make sense and you don’t
And I make it up fast
Reciting poetry
With a stick up my ass!
TO THE PSYCHOLOGICAL MASTER “IS YOUR HONEYMOON SWEET?”
Bitches bitch forever bitching
Fools and fooled; forever switching
Masters comes to be manipulated
Then romance ends constipated.
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