Conviction's Diatribe Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Our sky is but coloured white,
with the depths of deepest black of space above!

Our social roots (subsist) (exist) in deepest, sweetened sands,
or upon a scared boulder's barren hide…

The brightest lights revealed,
what in such shallow darkness dares;
upon life's steep and violent downward slide,
earth's soul filled strata shears;
as rock to chaff and sweetest seeds
to grains of sand through time,
what roots resist the will to cling to such;
be lowest shrub or mighty forest king,
on precipice, one boulder's dust so sways,
at precarious rest and lean
a mighty juggernaut,
its body weight against the air does weigh;
in layer's sieve that mixed,
of such, the fall to which the heaviest,
to the lowest depths do crash;
would a person's will to root so choose,
against an ease to whet the water's thirst;
or risk the parching burn of any boulder's
sunny side exposed,
or even still, the least and most fragile
flowering things and blades of simplest grass;
in respect, to which light's focus shades,
what to one appears a slight of sight in truth,
grows there, and everywhere within,
the times of these ends of days;
while on wiles of thought, these points now made,
does any mindful human care?

If my pen were ‘stone',
it's will would finest grain of sand so be;
and like the princess to the softest pea,
a nagging prick, to oppressive mindsets rend;
for caustic thought to lead,
an answer to the fetid ills of man,
presents this truth in present time;
allowing half-wits and profiteering twits to lead,
is criminal, and gives our social ills
a tightening cling for with which to squeeze
the promised life to death;
and leave for all,
the barren cinder's ash
as our daily faire.

The time and lives of man,
is as the most massive
granite slab from quarry's bed,
its heart and hone inflect the nothingness,
of imaginations thoughts and realm;
without the will of that which is providence divine,
its minion's grains of sand compressed to depth,
in darkest universe and layered so before
the beginnings of all conceivable time.

As example this; the cut, at Cumberland Gap;
these geological years,
a billion, or two, or more, who knows;
in man compared, two hundred thousand years
from tree swinging apes,
to thinned fleshed beast,
without the "mind" to get along.

Where, to go from here,
conjectures slit and hatred's tastes;
unlike a vestal virgins unclenching thighs,
where wondrous pleasures rest;
and not the bottomless pits surely
eternal and ever waiting prise.

To burn with lust for justice, honour,
strength, and future's wide;
instead of burn to death and suffer
wanton Satan's wile.

At last the point;
from minds of men, the truth yet hides;
no metaphor, simile, or acronym can bend,
mankind's stupidity or womankind's
insatiable tastes for all of life's worth;
and if it not be from you,
in Amerika, she will surely get that,
from another male or worse;
so to my object,
that socially we are deviant, upon genuflect,
just grease stains smudged against the surface,
of life's lowest floor;
each life an unconscious sin,
no greater than or less,
than the most minute and insignificant
particle of solar sand.

To this end then…
If thought so blessed
puts your excuse as human,
above a festering pimple
on the creators universal arse;
purchase and over/under sawn off throwaway,
load up your number twos;
put the barrels end in your mouth,
and blow yourself away!