There was a time
When my faith was unshakeable
The Lord proved
That I was remakeable
His love for me
Was simply not mistakeable
The Holy Spirit’s strength
Was totally unbreakable
For forsaking me
He was incapable
His call on my life
Was just so inescapable
But I went rogue
And became insatiable
I thought His love
Would just be replaceable
In the world I could hide
And then become untraceable
Write my own ticket
My desires now obtainable
But such a life
Is so unsustainable
Bent and broken
I’m biodegradable
I’ll never get home
The chasm unscalable
Would He take me back
That seemed so debatable
My life got so twisted
My actions so hateable
I didn’t deserve it
My soul was unrateable
Consumed with despair
My steps were retraceable
At His gate I cried
My debt is unpayable
He opened the gates
How is this explainable
You are my son
That is not erasable
Such love as this
Simply unrestrainable
Citrus hints of lemon and lime
Chewing on endless nuisance
Depth of a refillable hole dug
Mountain of trance unscalable
Footsteps dissolve into echoes
Swallowed by sharp currents
Through mist of fractured days
Incoherence sways in the breeze
Hands reach but never interlock
Notes fading over looping time
A story written but half baked
Lost in space between moments
Enclosed behind an impregnable wall
Are souls trapped in an isolated hall
Surrounded by people, and yet lonely
With no one to turn to for company
The height of this wall is unscalable
Such isolation is unbearable
These souls truly long to be understood
But possess no strength to do as they should
Shall they languish behind icy, cold walls?
Should they try to reach out for help at all?
Their muted cries are falling on deaf ears
Would anyone care to listen and hear?
Time...
Sharon Maria Moemise
The sign of time is in the heart of the clock
That ticks off the seconds to our destiny
The sign of our destiny is the self inflicted mark
That scars the very being of our identity.
Time...
Life is lived by the code of our own makings
Emotion switched to frivolous uncertainty
The when and the how of carving our lives path
Lies within the reckless abandonment of reality
Time...
Temporal length of an entity's existence...
As the moments happen, as the clocks tick
Time is as we speak... As we define essence
As we make memories, as we defy irresistible logic
Time...
Time is of the essence, we hear it said
Time is timeless...surpassing life's light
From childhood to adulthood, a journey endless
Time's an eternal climb to unscalable heights
Time...
Drowning in the depths of despair
Their waves of guilt and impotence
Thundering through his brain
The roar drowning out
The anguished pleas
Of family and friends.
Trapped within the unscalable heights
Of torment
Walls rendered impenetrable
By his tortured deafness
His mind thrashed
For a way of escape.
Born of the gilded generation
This doomed Icarian youth
Lured by the amber flame of a vitreous sun
And beaten down by mental strain
Listened for the approaching whistle
And stepped lightly into the void.
The windscreen thump
The driver's startled and pallid face
The screech of brakes
The acrid stench of scorching flesh
And the line at a standstill.
Once the wreckage was cleared
Left behind were the wounds
Lightly to crust over
But beneath, the ever gaping wound
That will never heal.
Just graze the surface
And the pain and questions
Come flooding back.
There are people who make up misguiding lies,
use words to hurt, wound and paralyze,
they put up'walls or mountains to the skies,
of unscalable heights and unmeasurable size.
They set us adrift on a windless wave,
to spew out their hate on an innocent's grave,
they slaver and foam like the depraved,
to fill us with doubt and corrupt the brave.
Their thoughts slither like a snake,
coiling around tightly at every slip we make,
their smiles deceive, their platitudes rake,
their contempt disguised with every heart they break.
They judge and convict with mirthless pride,
and condemn us, while acting our guide,
their two-faced grin, takes our own side,
while watching as into quicksand we smoothly slide.
Their pat on the back, their convincing hug,
leaves a slime trail, they're loathsome slugs,
their poisonous tongues, a mind blowing drug,
which alters reality, beware these back-biting dogs.
Back-stabbers, revel in such cruel intent,
puss breaking forth, from the infected utterance they vent,
troubled and weak, our self-esteem is rent,
when leached with glee, from the bearer sent!
©Jane Richer
Mar. 15 2001
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