Faith slaughtered by the hideous laughter of false clowns as truths are dissected into vision and wish.  The seeking of the realm of prophecy remains undaunted.  Everyone hears the angry cries of sinners.  With disgust, I view the drunks and the hobos.  I spit of the downtrodden though I myself am without shoes.  Those discrepancies—they are of no use to me.  I am the fool—kick dirt on me—throw me into the river.  I see the claims of the immaculate and skepticism remains.  What else could I do?  It was my only hope.  No others existed.  The pebbles were flipped into the water without vision or quest.  The verse is broken down and still revived.  Water pumped out of my lungs.  The singers croon their love ballads.  Ha!  Pitiful sentiment.  It sickens me.  It thrills me in its impotence.  The dreaded plague ignites the sullen passenger.  Taste wells in mouth.  The sinister dark of night is none too great.  I’m still wallowing in the moment of doubt.  The sea is too vast.  But a harsher liquor was indeed necessary.  Spirit kicked in the balls by an insidious force of evil the penetrated the soul.  It is overcome.  At least it is fought off desperately.  But staring into the face of Satan my faith is renewed.  The fires of hell burn around me but the holy water of communion still keeps my soul pure.  The long road is followed but it is still taken one step at a time.


View georgeschaefer's Full Portfolio