Conscience of the know
Sits in thoughts of the archived files
If only the priest will hear my confessions
Before the awakening of my selfish sleep
Where man of self preservation
Lies in comfort sleep, replenishing the holy grail
While sight of the daily know, ignored
Comes back to haunt the night
But the priest can not hear my thoughts;
He says “this is not what he signed up for”
The best he offers is a prayer for the dying man
A few references made along the line of chit chat
“May the lord have mercy on their souls”
The priest is not ready for my confessions
And the tears, and mercy to be felt,
For the destitute
Are not enough to go around
They weigh too much on burden,
Like crosses carried of another man
So in a little while after empathy
These doors of see, hear and know
Will become closed doors
On instinct of self preservation
Another sight, is just around the corner
Another hear, see and know
The priest is not ready for my confessions
Shared with: The Thursday Think Tank http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/
Profound, brilliant write!
ReplyDeleteYour writing is deep and beautiful. I write on loose peices of paper. I also got a book of simple poems published thru Lulu for some one who is just learning English Language. I mean we cannot hand them Shakespear right away.
ReplyDeleteIntense and very well expressed!
ReplyDeleteI know this feeling Hugs xx
I need to read the other parts I think! Great intensity to this poem.
ReplyDeletehttp://jessicasjapes.wordpress.com/2011/02/28/sci-fi-hi/
brilliant ......so intense..
ReplyDeleteProfound words, the intensity of this piece rides high along the paths of life. Tough endings, tough confessions not wanted to hear. Well done.
ReplyDeleteOhh maaannn.. it's horrible to be alone, and have no one to listen to you!! It's like some huge burden...isn't it ?!
ReplyDeleteWell expressed here, Kodjo... It was so intense that I could almost hear the pain and misery in your words here...