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Spadille Jan 25
Lord, My Lord you have forsaken me
You have rejected my prayers
And laughed at my tribulation

Lord, Lord you saw everything
Yet you sat there and watched
With your wine in the holy grail

Lord, I have lost my faith
You are not benevolent
Those verses spoke lies

In the brink of death it was not you that I saw
But it was rather the devil that comforted me
Yet I was still loooking for you

You have abandoned me, in my isolation I've lost my sanity
Hatred became my dearest friend
Grievance was now my lover.

With this I no longer knew nor understood my self
I was now torn between praying or dying
Would I go back to your arms? Or continue my resentment towards you?
Lost faith that needed to be found
"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens."
- J.R.R. Tolkien


The irony of it all is the loneliness of a star.
Not noticed in the nebula, she glances from afar.
At her neighbor’s neglect, even in nature of quasar.

The irony of it all is the silence of the owl.
A lot in the gloom it used to hoot and growl.
Prior to the onslaught of looks with a scowl.

The irony of it all is the frostiness of the blaze.
A fire that only freezes surrounds me in haze.
My friends, the flames, their stare a cold gaze.

The irony of it all is a bird that wants a cage.
Astounding is the absence of his own faith and sage.
To acquaint with his habitat, he is afraid to engage.

The irony of it all is a knight with no one to save.
To issue a kind aid, insignificant it is to crave.
So the importance of his ideal is dug into a grave.

The irony of it all is an unbreakable heart.
Tired of trying, it is an insatiable art.
That Heart’s betrayal splits the soul apart.

The irony of it all is the kissing of the hated.
Love was hostile, but the exes again dated.
And my heartbeat for her was hasped and gated.

The irony of all ironies, a phantom of tangibility.
Roaming amongst humans, champion of inutility.
Is the ghost of an emotion, the dust of heart’s fragility.
This is the first poem of the fourth chapter and it starts this last section of the anthology with a somber tone and a tight structure to reflect the ghost aspect of the speaker, bound to be unseen by the people around him and emotionally and psychologically unable to free himself from the prison he and others put him into.
Through time
Through space

We wander alone
Everything in ruins

They are not forgotten
Another page written down
Another book has ended

I lay these hands down
And go to the river to pray

"God is dead"

The amen is said
Faith is useless

These prayers are meaningless
Another tragic play of man for the masses

Another flaw in life's grand design
These prayers are unheard

Goodnight,cruel world
It's time to sleep with peace.
Ylzm Mar 2020
The faithless believe in belief
The idolatry of his will to believe
Preyed upon by Balaam the prophet
Anointed but evil, speaks truth but lies
Promised escape when Tribulation comes
For a fake ticket, the faithless sold his soul

Does a soldier flee when war arrives?
Was not war the call he obeyed?
When sun’s hidden and moon’s fallen
Light shines most bright on darkened Earth
The Covenant is not of bread alone
But surely all shall drink the Cup too

Israel was embittered against Moses
They’re yet slaves, and their burden heavier
Pharaoh hardened, proud and defiant
Egypt ravaged by plagues and ruined
Israel ate unleavened bread and bitter herbs
Unseen, the Angel of Death passed over
N Mar 2020
She forced me to pray for a god
that never answered my prayers

When I told her that I wish to die,
she told me to recite Al-Ikhlāṣ

In her own eyes,
I was a sinner who didn’t worship
the same imaginary friend as hers

An imaginary friend that let her
steal my innocence instead of saving me
from her cruel hands and piercing eyes

How can I worship a god that
didn’t listen to my desperate cries
when I was abused,
abandoned, and bruised
Well, that was painful to write.
Tony Tweedy Feb 2020
Oft have I paused to think upon faith and what makes it strong.
The faith to be wise and to know right from wrong.
No not the faith that gives rise for Gods to be born.
But the strength and belief to fight when I am most torn.
I speak of the faith to believe of who I might be.
The faith to know with conviction its enough to be me.
A faith to be sure and a faith with no doubt.
No mumbles in meekness but a voice raised in shout.
So long since my faith was so raised up on high.
So little belief now that there is nought else but to cry.
What can be done to restore faith that is now lost.
With each thought and contemplation at additional cost.
So low now on faith... did I ever really believe?
Perhaps all along... not faith... but only... self deceive?
How can I live a life where all belief of self has faded away.
To what point, without my own faith, to greet the next day.
Do you ever get lost in never really knowing who you are? Who you were? What do you have left when all you see are the flaws... even seen in hindsight?
And when the Lamb had opened the seventh seal,
There was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour -
I did grab my last chance at God to finally feel,
But after all those fights and battles, I still was proven dour.


Never - I felt myself winning in Death's game of chess;
Even if, I was sometimes pridefully smiling,
Just as like children feeling proudly after doing a remarkable mess;
I wanted to prove myself on Earth while God has been hiding.


All time - I left behind the ridiculous faces,
Painted with pious spirituality from random rapturous riddles
That might fuddle the painful slaves on his laces
To hear the scream of Death as dance-starting fiddles.


Oh, no - I said: Away with all the physicality,
Give me rather knowledge on my own - at least to know -
Who is God and who is Evil if they are real in reality,
To know, these faked battles against Death were not shallow.


All time, I've been annoyed on my road,
Though, it wasn't Death bothering me but my own emptiness,
While others had thousands of funny wishes implored,
I only wished to fetch up with my boredom and lonliness.


Never, I gave up to call the fate upon suffering fights,
To know, whether I would bear another hit - another blow,
Then, for sure it's my final destiny to hear how it invites:
Come, it's the end. I know you've become so tired for now.


And when the Lamb had opened the seventh seal,
There was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour -
And God has been silence all since I've been able to hear,
Say, what's the fate of such a terribly deaf and faithless soul?






"S.D.G" (Soli Deo Gloria) — "To God Alone the Glory"
Inspired by Ingmar Bergman's movie, The Seventh Seal (1957)

21.09.2018
Kyra Sep 2019
hell is the static
hell is the dizziness
hell is the tightness in my throat

all i remember from faith is the begging
Persephone Jul 2019
Her wings fell away
And she descended into the willow
Screaming for her laughter
And wishing for her hope
She warped into a free fall
Crashing into heartless branches
Grasping for a helpful hand
Engulfed in wordless fear
Forgetting to believe in herself
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