Lost Innocence Poem by Marcus Czarnecki

A Darkened youth drips tragedy for all.
'Oh! Prejudice', sobs our lost innocence,
In the shadows of modernity.
A frightened child,
Wailing for its mother.
It's sobbing echoing throughout the universe
Lost innocence.
Written in tears by the children's eyes.

Children grow.

Lusty blither passions rendered hollow.
Vibrant joy and love,
Are the murdered cousins,
Of lifetime's shattered dreams.
Just anathemas,
And his youth,
A lie on realities lips.
A burned out testament
Of the embittered Imams' hollow call.

A fully twisted child -
seething 'vengeance' in the searing heat,
The twisted priests' poison
Coursing through a beautiful boyhood's longing for truth.
His pure passions - rent,
Now a terrible foreboding
Revealed in his glaring eyes of hatred.

Shaped by the soil and by the poverty of the ghettos
Carved by the craft and guile of cowards
Eyes that now can see the sun no more
But are trained to see only war.

Jihadic Youth.
War. Half revealed in the demi-light of reason,
Half-hidden in the shadow of disbelief
Rendered from the walls of separation,
Cemented with intolerance,
Measured by the craftsmen's greed for billions
Designed by priest who twists the Prophets words.

Singing - Oh! Our damaged minds.
A Noble death is distorted honour's craving,
Yearning to live the dream of immortality with God.
The youth's deepest dreams - rent by blades of anger,
Abuses in eternities deep waters
Putrefied, very deep.

Immortality is sacred to us all,
And yet, Immortality
When spewed forth by crafty tongues
Perverts the purity of any prophet's mission,
Creating eyes that could cry tears of compassion and love
Into eyes that can only dribble tears of cultivated rage

Whispered secrets abounding through space
Pumping through my heart a-raging in grief
Unable to weep
Numb with disbelief

The boiling waters of innocence lost
Streaming down my sour cheeks
Endless tears wetting my neck.

Here Freedoms Daughter dare not touch the edge.
Only the sirens of chaos
Choking on our wounded pride
Whisper, ‘What do you really know? '

If they had been built from love
They would have been pillars that supported the air.
Those Alters of arrogance
Luring us each to our own edge,
Unable to grasp the call.

Now, throwing stones and blossoms back over memories wall
We realise that the Towers of Lineage and Wisdom
Were not so tall after all.

Disbelief replaced by eternal rage.
An awakening true for us all.
A Prophet Is Perverted by twisted priests.
So are noble youths corrupted by them too.

Moses Jesus Mohammed
Choose your prophet,

The twisted priest is always the same
Principle rather than living flesh
Cancer hungering for the light of recognition.
Interpretive power junkies camouflaged in robes,
Ten billion times more lethal than paedophile's rage
A million times more deadly than a crooked Politician purse
This is the curse
Of this age

Prophets Are Perverted by twisted priests.

Cause hatred
Cultivate venom
Murders youth
Genocides generations
Bombs hearts
Threatens survival
Twists law
Utters the call
For youth
To die a meaningless death
And twist the call for all.


Written to protect the pure hearted youth from the vicious, violence of older men who use and harm younger people to hurt others in the name of peace.