Trampled Brethren

...so that we would be denied the knowledge of who we are. This was taken out of the history books several centuries ago, and, of course, it has not been put back as yet. Truth crushed to earth will rise again. You can't hide truth forever

With uncertainty, I ink my final thoughts on unlit blocks

**** caught on herron nods

Still at odds with false gods of archaic age

Angelic face wretched with pain ignites my flame

Your mundane daily life amazes me, such complacency

Tattered city once brimming with life now sits abandoned

Some feel these thoughts too random, I hand them their empty heads

As main course to da Vinci's "Last Supper" as they sit in wonder

Abundant sun pours over old steel and bricks

Feeling my aching eyes 'til they split, I felt my earth shift

Contort and twist, lift heavy brow to view

What happened to my tiny corner of dirt, worthless soul

Too old to care as despair builds thick amongst my people

From burnt steeple, hear distant toll of bells

Ancient tongue swells as one lumbers with prenatal language

Manage a coarse, throaty mumble to convey how this earth crumbles

I tumble close to where I've been a million times before

Free to ignore pain which pounds at human temples

Resemble less of a man and more the dirt I tread on

Truth I fed on

...so that we would be denied the knowledge of who we are. This was taken out of the history books several centuries ago, and, of course, it has not been put back as yet. Truth crushed to earth will rise again. You can't hide truth forever

To my trampled brethren, Heaven won't accept you

Either you or it don't exist, consider that a gift

As we walk through that mist-filled valley

Vulnerable souls tell tales of ill proportions, scorching Ra

Soothing moon soon to dim, my travels at an end

Light bends into dark, jagged, crossed sticks manhandled

As scripture and art, picture your Christ as blond and blue-eyed

As mine resides within confines of empty glass bottle

Robbed of youth, I wobble past society

And rest my head on curb of reality, if only for a nap

To gasp for that which we lack, remain trapped

Within these three dimensions, mention I once stepped past, now viewed

As insane, trained human pets scurry to cubicles for food pellets

Next funeral for those who think 'cause thoughts are relics

I smell this viscous odor on each face I meet

Seems humanity reached peak in twentieth century

My jaded eye strains to see through a smoke-filled room

Consumed by books which speak of our past, at last begin

To piece together our beginnings with few fleeting seconds 'til our end

Quickly cross that bridge, you bum, see what's on the other shore

It's lure magnetic in our drunken minds

Poor, feeble shell hoping for so much more

Left entranced by ancient dance of emptiness

Few are the blessed who feed on truth's breast

...so that we would be denied the knowledge of who we are. This was taken out of the history books several centuries ago, and, of course, it has not been put back as yet. Truth crushed to earth will rise again. You can't hide truth forever. Truth may seem that it's forever on the scaffold, a wrong king forever on the throne, but that scaffold sways the future, and behind him unknown stands God amidst the shadows, keeping watch above His own