Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Lost Inside Your Bible


Before I was born, the moment I died, night replaced day.
Verily my brothers and you my sisters, to Mary cried.
Strange is this world in which even I, try to hide.
Upside down, none but one has ever tried.

Unto you by word of mouth, by mine this your rule of law.
While twisted tounges predisposed did in the dark rearranged,
all that was read unto them, I never said.

I behind you, have always walked,
I have never run while ahead of me, walks your shadow.
Back to the place before you were born I could hear,
the very thoughts, that I to you spoke of.
I know where you hide them,
even unborn children know, birds without wings can not fly.

For all of your mental hospitals,
jails and your heavily gaurded prisons.
These will be your next heaven,
for all of you, my sons and daughters.
To regress and never while knowing, try to evolve.
Why it is that you place your mother and father
instead of yourself, in harms way.

Where I have gone ahead,
that you looking back can not follow?
Questions to the answers I spoke of to you,
and why, no one listened.

Now look at the children of mine, you have slaughtered.
Prophet's none,
numb with sleep where ahead of me, you placed them.
Religion to see over blind science,
here some but for one, would not be.
Afraid of the dark,
here all alone all of this to you, I once promised.

Submitted: Friday, January 17, 2014
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