This really isn't Heaven
and it ain’t exactly Hell
A fleeting glimpse of
freedom at the bottom
of a well.
They say they’ve got
the answers in their
jaded Holy book
And they tell me I’ll find
Jesus if I stop and take
a look.
Existence is a strange thing
and death is stranger still
And they say there’s no
religion in those tiny little
pills.
But what the hell do they know
in their ivory covered halls
When the devil’s on the
rampage and he’s got you
by the *****.

And the pain is never ending
in that cold and empty pew
God has left the building
he’s got better things to do.

The product
of imagination's
meandering bliss
This long sought
after truth an
uncouth concept
in the beholder’s eye
Naught but a way to
disguise the fear of
mankind's inevitable
demise.

(Hell of a thing to base a life upon)

Man can it get any worse than this?
Aimless verse floats in space and time
until I’m sick of the shtick coming out
of my head.

Dead words on a wasted pages scream
rages to no one in particular.

Great! Now I have to find a rhyme
for particular.
Vernicular?
Absurd, not a real word.

Poetic license I believe allows
for nonsense I conceive.

Past 25 or 6 to 4.

Christ what a bore it is to exist
in the here and now

The child opens his eyes and sees
a million points of light, each one
an open door to an endless
possibility.
The adolescent opens his eyes
and sees a hundred thousand
points of light, each one a door
to new hopes and adventures
The adult opens his eyes and sees
a few hundred points of light,
each one a door beckoning him
to new experiences
The retiree opens his eyes and sees
perhaps a dozen points of light, each
one a door, welcoming him to well
earned relaxation
The old man opens his eyes
and sees but one dimly lit point
of light coming from a single door
from which he hears his name
gently being called
In trepidation, he closes his eyes
and walks slowly towards that
final door, and nervously passes
over it's dark threshold

When he opens his eyes,
he is a child with a million
points of light before him,
each one an open door to
an endless possibility.

Sunlight glistens.
I listen to butterfly
wings as a lark sings  
a song from a departed
age.
Lost in a dream life seems
empty and void of substance.
The wind is still and a chill
grips bones that tremble
alone in the dim twilight
awaiting morning's
consoling bliss.

One for all and all for one
We’re together everyone
We’re together one and all
Though our voice is rather small
Even though our voice is small
We’re together one and all
Getting louder everyday
Growing strong in every way
Growing strong and getting loud
Standing tall and standing proud

Pretty soon they’ll here our cry
From every corner of the sky
Crying out for liberty
Stop the killing
Let them be
Can you hear me Sarah P
If they die then they ain’t free
If you **** them one and all
Then you've only built a wall
Built a wall and locked the door

Complete madness
settles upon the masses
leaving ***** exposed to
the unadulterated *******
of society’s collective wit.
Christianity’s **** will hit
the fan before man awakens
and dispenses with the mistaken
notion of this delusional existence.
The metaphorical distance between
life and death is but the breadth of
a hair in the universal cosmic order
we call reality.