by Thomas Kurkoski

Created on: February 17, 2009

I have no wealth of soul
I am not rich of heart
nor do I covet any treasure
lying in wait on false hope
and those hollow promises you have made
your book is not good
as many say
it is but lies and deceit
and treachery
all your masks disgust me
as you make your wicked followers
your blessed one's
and they worship you in their courts
and halls
why do you favor them so?
they spill blood
in your name
and you govern them with such tenderness
yet as I traveled
you destroyed me
in your name I walked
in your shadow of life I gave
yet I sit in infamy
alone in this cottage of dust
and ash
and you have forsaken me
all that is left to me
is thoughts of retribution
and evilness
and this burden of poverty
bequeathed to me from on high
as the power of kings and pontiffs
is divided amongst children of war
(the four horsemen sing to you now
but just you wait those children will grow to be
men and then Hell will be upon you)
for Hell is already my bedmate
with the thoughts that flutter
within this brain
and the coldness of companionship
gone
erased as you cast darkness over me
but from your shadow
I shall emerge
and O,
dear sweet God,
you will not like
what the light shows you

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