The faithful bow their heads
at the call to prayer
and kneel down in humility
but what if no one's listening
what if no one's there who cares
then it's all futility
a crime a waste of time
throughout the ages
what makes them willing to follow
like lambs to the slaughter
a purposelessness inside needs filling
an empty shell wholly hollow
it's all man-made solemnity
with ceremonial trappings
a means to control the soul
disguised in thinly-veiled wrappings
the so-called spiritual leaders
have much to answer for
no matter which religion
not a one guilt-free of shame
to make the penitent cower
tho' all is done in the name
of a higher power
If I should wake to live another day
my soul would surely burst with boundless joy.
On pious knee I would fervently pray,
repentant soul would actively deploy.
A full day of blessèd atonement wide,
a soul on mission to pay its penance.
Rapidly strolling with refreshing stride,
repentance on recent fair countenance.
A purposeful action of ascesis,
my heart would be uplifted from its shame.
A length of golden thread from Lachesis
exonerating my well-deserved blame.
Freed from infernal Hell I gladly die,
blissful smile as my soul ascends the sky.
Not so hard to repent
Don't mind if I do
for the fabric I've rent
in my relationship with you
I'm so sorry, please forgive me
I'll never hurt you again
How's that? ... Mere words, you say
Just so ~ A woman who understands men
Oh how I loved you, and I still very much do.
My world feels as though it’s going to end soon,
But no, I’d much rather spend the rest of it with a friend.
But really there’s no such person, that’s better suited, than you.
What joy!
My prayer's answer has surpassed passion's deepest well
And I am raised from my despair to grace's height
By poetry, that only sought to vent emotions,
Never dreaming another might consider it art
Or that friendship might be found in my verse.
Now even if sadness rules the earth,
My pen's ink will stain the page with joy,
My muse exult with no remorse,
Expectations of being used but a shadow of the past,
For I have felt the loving support of a stranger to my life,
And now my most intimate dreams are
Simply of sharing this precious gift with you!
Brian Johnston
February 12, 2016
Poet’s Notes:
Inspired by Abekah Emmanuel’s poem on PoemHunter.com
called “Forever Grateful.”
My gypsy, mystic, music soul dances in ellipses
Down pathways of holy manta mandalas.
Ritualistic, shamanists trace circles in painted sand,
And, I stand in boots of slavery,
Like a penitent at the altar,
Seeking entry permission at
The vulvic door of your love.
You wallow in anguished, angry fear,
Hungering with your eyes.
the rosey velvet treasure clutched
Like crumbled heart-shaped chocolate dreams-
Of Valentine's Days forgotten.
You never even got a card.
It still hurts you deep inside;
Down in your "long ago".
Leaving teardrops like a breadcrumb trail,
My robber's feet run rampant
Trampling, as I scamper,
The Lilacs left before your door.
When you relent from your sorrow;
Stop paying interest on debts you don't owe,
You'll find me at the local pool-hall
Shooting darts and talking low,
On the pay phone in the back.
Lord--
turn not away Thy face
Thou desirest not the death of a sinner
Thou desirest for men to come unto Thee
so that Thou mayest gather them
the way a hen gathers her flock
i have not been true to Thee
i have not harkened to Thy voice
11/3/07
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