PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

3/10/11

“Do you believe that this life is nothing more
than a test? Do you believe that out of the
thousands of different religions yours is the
correct one? What makes your faith
any more of value then that of others?”
---Excerpt 'A Theory of Existence'

ThoughtShock
'Puppets on a String'

                        'Strange voices all shouting my name, screaming at me as if it were some bad out of tune choir, desperately trying to compose what would be a symphony. Screeching notes and choking on various cliffs, like nails to a chalk board it rings in my ears and tightens my stomach. Why by any means tangible would this migraine cause me to think so chaotic. Dreams as real as the sensations against my flesh, and the bitter taste of ash lingers in my mouth. A constant struggle to never gain an inch. A constant war with no chance for victory and the only true proof of such battles are the scars of failure. Gods need not to forsake us, for we have already forsaken ourselves. A constant reminder to our own mortal flaws, that make us human. We live in an age where the old heroes, and the mythical villains are born again, through the drama of our constant struggle in the human spirit. We relive the legendary stories passed down to us, where the names and the deeds have changed but at the core the ideas and ideals still remain.'

“We have became our own pawns in a game,
once played by the gods themselves”

Shadows play tricks out of the corner of your eye
dancing before the open fire, where our heart will always follow a lie
broken promises and dreams of far off distant places
and there before me stands a creature of two faces.

When you walk to the wall and face down the firing squad
will you plead for mercy or will you discover your own god?
For when death stares you in the eyes,
will you be proud of yourself before the world you know dies?

We all share in the same twisted thoughts,
the ones that creep in like a disease as your morality rots.

Maggots fill the lungs of the departed, ignorance fills the minds of the retarded
and the ones left over, are simply tossed and discarded.
Sheep who are lead by the blind, where intelligence falls far behind
scars and scabs cover the bodies of the dead,
and the morbid thoughts continue to echo within my head
“We are the damned, who all have been blessed,
human beings, being put to the ultimate test
Mortals who will all eventually be put to rest”
We are perfectly flawed, where our minds can fathom mythical gods
and many believe our future is written in fate,
however you see it, tomorrow begins with the steps you make.