#unknowns - Hello Poetry

Where did my Jesus go The one I loved so long ago I wonder if he’s still around I wonder if he can be found As a child, in my youth Jesus used to be the truth Everything was black and white Jesus taught me wrong from right As the world passed me by The flash of life caught my eye And was my Jesus there Couldn’t find him anywhere I saw the way our lives were run I saw the way that things got done I wondered if Jesus was there Wondered if he could even care Couldn’t find him in the bank Or lying drunk in the tank Jesus are you at the bar Or ridin’ in a police car Crazy dreams come in my head Got to thinking Jesus dead Then I looked around to see If he was really part of me Black and white turn shades of gray Jesus lives for one more day He ain’t dead, at least in part He’s living right here in my heart

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Sep 28, 2023

Sep 28, 2023 at 7:57 PM UTC

achunn

Where Did My Jesus Go

Where did my Jesus go The one I loved so long ago I wonder if he’s still around I wonder if he can be found As a child, in my youth Jesus used to be the truth Everything was black and white Jesus taught me wrong from right As the world passed me by The flash of life caught my eye And was my Jesus there Couldn’t find him anywhere I saw the way our lives were run I saw the way that things got done I wondered if Jesus was there Wondered if he could even care Couldn’t find him in the bank Or lying drunk in the tank Jesus are you at the bar Or ridin’ in a police car Crazy dreams come in my head Got to thinking Jesus dead Then I looked around to see If he was really part of me Black and white turn shades of gray Jesus lives for one more day He ain’t dead, at least in part He’s living right here in my heart

28

Edgar Alan Poe is dead. Seriously, I read it. He died in October 1849 - or did he? Do we really know? Poe wrote about death a lot, he teased with it, it was his favorite tool. He kept death close and twisted it like a knife. His profession was the macabre, the shadow, the summoned dread and the gruesome aftermath. He was a writer and a critic - what’s more dreadful than a critic? They say he died from “unknown causes” - how absolutely perfect.

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May 16, 2023

May 16, 2023 at 11:05 AM UTC

anaisvionet

the death of Poe

Edgar Alan Poe is dead. Seriously, I read it. He died in October 1849 - or did he? Do we really know? Poe wrote about death a lot, he teased with it, it was his favorite tool. He kept death close and twisted it like a knife. His profession was the macabre, the shadow, the summoned dread and the gruesome aftermath. He was a writer and a critic - what’s more dreadful than a critic? They say he died from “unknown causes” - how absolutely perfect.

11

"Let's" she said as she walked into a play ground of timeless unknowns & Him

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Jul 23, 2018

Jul 23, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC

maria-etre

Let Us

"Let's" she said as she walked into a play ground of timeless unknowns & Him

7

So much choice So much time So many miles apart So much non-commitment. Anxious and dysfunctional. A side-ways game Of friendship cover-ups. Keeping your options open, Playing your cards close. Thinking I can't see your moves, As you pull back and forth, Hot and cold. Then assuming what you will About my words and indiscretions. And all the insecurities Triggering your actions Are my fault. I left you unable to judge My heart and soul. I left you unable to identify My purity of intent. I left you questioning My cards. And you failed to ask, Because your ego chains you with fear. So we’ll lose at this. Two disappointed hearts.

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Dec 11, 2016

Dec 11, 2016 at 6:29 AM UTC

melanie-kate-dickerson

These Games

So much choice So much time So many miles apart So much non-commitment. Anxious and dysfunctional. A side-ways game Of friendship cover-ups. Keeping your options open, Playing your cards close. Thinking I can't see your moves, As you pull back and forth, Hot and cold. Then assuming what you will About my words and indiscretions. And all the insecurities Triggering your actions Are my fault. I left you unable to judge My heart and soul. I left you unable to identify My purity of intent. I left you questioning My cards. And you failed to ask, Because your ego chains you with fear. So we’ll lose at this. Two disappointed hearts.

27

Face to face Expansive uncertainty in the shadows If I hold on to you I might not be lost into it. Can’t we create enough light To force it to retreat? But you are a part of it too The steady ocean in your eyes Froze when I wasn’t looking. And I lay here, lulled away from shore Watching shadows pull down the sun.

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Sep 29, 2014

Sep 29, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC

sophie-foster

alone with my unknowns

Face to face Expansive uncertainty in the shadows If I hold on to you I might not be lost into it. Can’t we create enough light To force it to retreat? But you are a part of it too The steady ocean in your eyes Froze when I wasn’t looking. And I lay here, lulled away from shore Watching shadows pull down the sun.

11