Dead Men Do Tell Tales

Dead Man Tells Tales I saw, the rot of selfish desires, burning endlessly in clever fires Piles of cash a mountain high stolen by those that steal and lie six days every week , while they go to church pretending to be so mild and meek The preacher crying all to give so much more while he lives in a mansion with a golden door drunks living with no other life have sacrificed family and wife naked women on the the street, selling thier pride and body like meat hustlers getting rich selling poisonous dope as they hang themselves with an evil rope I looked for solace and found there was none just endless cowards crying on the run A world teaching wrong is so damn right blind monkeys never seeing the light dancing in fruitless trees, tree-rats eating with relish their rotting cheese Looking for Spring to bring life anew I too am blind and without a damn clue a fool holding onto a false hope on a tight leash and even shorter rope Where is the miracle we each think can come we see it shining there for some A treasure glaring in the glimmering Sun gifted not stolen by guile and a gun So I finally turned to family for relief ease my Soul, winter in my long lost belief that Life must give us all a saving line other than more food when we sit to dine Ahh yes, I swing in one of those fruitless trees, a monkey often doing just as I please yet dare to think to have so much more salvation on a far away dazzling shore My arrogance is in my daring to wish to be better a fool writing fantasy in an inquiry letter Is death the only, the one saving grace a vacation from this sadness infecting the human race I wonder, can man ever journey forth without greed without pride of the darkness in his seed with the guiding light pointing to that place where joy and love beams in every shining face All the vanity I once held firmly, so damn dear was no more than vanishing suds in my lousy beer Standing now to look over my own selfish deeds I see a child still lost in the tall, tall weeds sometimes crying for help to rush on to rescue is sweet salvation only for the chosen few Spring came when I had completely given up on me a beaten man , crying out in a desperate plea Once I had lost my arrogant, foolish pride I had no shelter in which to stupidly hide As darkness raced to force me into its trap that restraining leash did finally snap I took one step into the waiting light away from darkness of that life enslaving night And only then, only then did I see- The huge rot of all my selfish desires, burning endlessly in my clever fires Piles of my cash a mountain high stolen by we that relentlessly steal and lie six shameful days every week , while we go to church pretending to be so damn clever, mild and meek Robert J. Lindley, 04-20-1999 Note- This poem was written long ago. Things have only gotten worse since then. They can lie, steal and deceive mortal men but not the One that will one furure day judge them !