Free Will is an Illusion (a poem)

Free will must be an illusion
None of us are running the show
I spend my days in utter confusion
My instinctual drives I don’t know

What is destiny? What is fate?
Are these things superstitions?
Let’s gather and have the debate
I’ve always had my suspicions

I believe the subconscious deep within
Has more say than we like to believe
And many of our decisions hinge
On things we cannot perceive

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Angel of Death by my Bedside (a poem)

The angel of death sits by my bedside
I stare into the vacuum of her eyes
I know for sure I’m being exiled
And she’s waiting for my demise

She comes to visit once a month
Brings me a bouquet of dead flowers
She always looks so stunned
That I’m awake at such late hours

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The Darkness That I Transcend (a poem)

What is this beast that rises from the sludge?
My friend thinks it’s quite amazing
It’s obvious that I have misjudged
The beast’s insatiable cravings

It has swallowed my family whole
In one terrifying gulp
Now it will not let up control
Our insanity is the result

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The Pain of Living (a poem)

My skull is packed with worms
They slither and they squirm
But let’s be serious now
Let’s scamper in the streets and prowl

When the machines fell from the sky
I got a burning sensation in my eyes
The satellites crashed through our roof
And the pain of living was quite acute

The preacher told me God was dead
He’d supervised the killing himself
Then he stood up and declared
He was moving to a different realm

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Still Searching for God (a poem)

I’m still searching for God
But have I found Him?
When I pray, He doesn’t respond
So, I sing murder ballads and hymns

God is in the stars
He’s in the grocery store, too
In the face of an old man
In a sunset that’s so true

Really, you can find God anywhere
If you look in the right places
Perhaps She’s in the very air
And in the in-between spaces

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The Things that God Allows (a poem)

Religion is a system of cruelty
And the priests are the executioners
The church can no longer fool me
Of the terrible abuse that occurs

Let’s go beyond good and evil
Into the gray mist of the unknown
Leaving behind the crosses and medieval morality
That have provided comfort for so long

This priest towers over me; a blazing fury in his eyes
He foams at the mouth and tells me
He’s the Devil in disguise

Trust me, I do believe him – in the darkness of the confessional
His tales of deceit are utterly credible
And his wizened face is ancient and contemptible

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No One Listens to the Prophet (a poem)

The prophet travels through the mountains
Reading the desolate landscape for signs
She misses her family dearly
She had to leave them all behind

The prophet had to go on a great journey
And warn the people of coming dangers
Recently she’s begun to worry
Of her society’s rapid changes

The people have lapsed into sin
And we all know what happens next
The great flood will soon begin
And wipe everyone off the map

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Before the Altar, We Pray (a poem)

Before the altar, we pray
To gods of the forest-night
They hear us in our anguish

Remove us from televised carnage
And mass murder of dreams
In America, nothing is as it seems

We trek to the forest at nightfall
By light of neon and longing
It smells of fire-smoke and dust

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Where Does the Eternal Lie? (a poem)

Where does the eternal lie?
Some things can’t be seen with the eyes,
Like infinite doom-loops in my mind
And the everlasting disguise of
Angels and demons

The deity is malicious; he crushes me
Between endless surging waves
On undying shores of violence;
Where does the eternal lie?

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