Treasure Island

Matthew Henning

(2/13/1998 / United States)

Rest In Peace


It began with a whisper.
A soft voice
in the ear of those who would listen.
An underground thought
Blind eyes wandering
stare at the question making cracks
in the status quo
slowly.

Whispers grow louder.
The idea spreads like a festering weed.
Proof, they ask for,
The blind asking for glasses.
We declare the existence of answers
where there is only speculation.
TV prophets advertise shadows
as an alternative to light.
It’s cheaper.

We have it right.
There is no other way.
O’ we gods of flesh and blood
passing judgement on the unworthy,
for we are the all-knowing.
Death to our opposition
It’s what he would have wanted.
Trust me.

Eden has fallen.
Utopia has risen.
Holy light has been replaced,
by fluorescents and neon.
Love, and respect,
becomes money and murder.
God Bless.

God is dead.
And we killed him.
with our ignorance and pride.
Amen

Submitted: Sunday, October 06, 2013
Edited: Monday, October 07, 2013

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  • Noreen Carden (10/17/2013 5:03:00 AM)

    Hello Matthew a brilliant poem very wise words i am in awe of your way with words you are a wonderful writer
    keep writing although i think i don't need to tell you that as i feel writing is for you like breathing necessary for life (Report) Reply

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