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Patrick Lynch Poem
Heil to thee o Lord of grace,
Who’s corrupted words now rule this place.
Who died for us, but all in vain,
Look how evil your church became.
And though heretical this thought must seem,
You must admit it’s most obscene,
How Priest and Cardinal, Bishop and Pope,
Control the many with fear filled hope.
“Go fight this war or go to Hell,
Kill the pagans, O hear my spell”
“They do not believe our God is true,
Kill them all, Their Spirits too”
With these words, the world fills with hate,
To help greedy men enrich their plate,
They control the masses with hate filled speech,
We’re a long way from “Wash Thy neighbours feet”
Your words of power have lost all meaning,
Being a faithful one is most demeaning.
Your church is cruel and loves to revel,
In the fact it helped God, lose to the Devil.
Copyright © Patrick Lynch | Year Posted 2017
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Patrick Lynch Poem
Surrounded silently,
An invisible veil,
No words, No contact
Against it prevail.
Life on the outside,
Fleeting and quick,
The Bubble protects,
From the stones and the sticks.
The price that is payed,
For safety of mind,
Is loneliness and darkness,
Always looking behind.
The present is missing,
The future unknown,
No parents, No siblings,
No family, No home.
Control of emotions,
Not easily loosed,
The Bubble is perfect,
To hide imperfect truth.
But the longer it's used,
The steeper the price.
The Bubble protects,
At the cost of your life.
Copyright © Patrick Lynch | Year Posted 2018
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Patrick Lynch Poem
Eyes can see,
Arms are strong,
Legs can move,
So what is wrong.
Tongue can talk,
Ears hear fine,
Brain can think,
Too much sometime.
Mind is lost,
Ideas no more,
Can't find help,
What's it for?
Hope's no friend,
Despair less so,
Contemplate life,
The high and low.
Still I fight,
No choice but to,
Left alone,
So I can't hurt you.
Copyright © Patrick Lynch | Year Posted 2019
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Patrick Lynch Poem
The lonesome tree can stand so proud,
By babbling brook, no friend is found,
Life is dark for all to see,
And evil hope is filled with glee.
The fish that swims with the current dies,
The desolate bird refuses to fly,
Life is dark, It laughs at me,
Bound and gagged in slavery.
Innocence lost, to be never found,
But lonesome tree is still around,
For when its all been said and done,
Life is dark and not much fun.
Copyright © Patrick Lynch | Year Posted 2018
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