10 Reasons for Nothing

 

10 Reasons for Nothing

 

 

          My thoughts upon Heaven can be found

Within Space,

     Not here upon buildings

That jailors create,

Each of us prisoner,

Each of us quickened like

The snuffing of candles,

Must worry time for the bribe

In Our lives.

 

My thoughts upon Heaven

Have no meanings at all;

Not without this experience

Of nothing but hate,

     And I’m watching the cargo

Of beings pass by,

Youngster with dope

And glue in their eyes,

And it’s not the fantastical

Of every Man’s wish,

To be granted -

Given  - the wish we never have

And it’s something of nothing,

Something of nothing.  

 

     My target is Space

My target is home far away

From this place,

For we  never agree -

Upholding so stubbornly - impossible living,

And it’s something of nothing

Something of nothing,                     

Each day tallied up just to be un-forgiven.

 

We’re losing our vision

Disgracing all who have lived

As time passes by;

Never can see as each wonder why

And it’s something of nothing

To vent every nail; continue

The hammering of coffins

For sale.

 

Is this a life?

Are the new Deadzones

The death-tones we hear,

Is the new human devoid and yet

Under contempt,

     For the humble of nothingness

They’ve put in place.

 

There once was a man inside,

Crying in loneliness

Trying so boldly to fit in with the crowd,

But the child that’s disturbed

Thrusts only his memories

In nightmares of pain,

And the human remains

Just a toy,

Void of his character and -

All manner of strength.

 

I’m calling on Space

For the space never given,

I’m calling on space

For a number of reasons;

One - the death of our young citizens,

Two - the death of our own

Creatures of world,

Three – we’re always alone;

Scratching like corpses six feet

Underground,

     Four - we’ve explored all

We can here upon Earth,

Five – we never agree,

Never agree to be balanced among

Equals.

     Six - we’re heading the world

Back to a swamp,

Seven the killing never ceases or stops,

Eight we need somewhere to grieve,

Nine we’re done haggling

Through money and greed,

Ten! I need meet my God,

Need meet my God for the sorrow I have,

     And apologize for the all we’ve become,

And it’s something of nothing,

Nothing of nothing

Nothing of something

To expect life after death,

If in leaving this world

We’re killing everything – dead.

 

Michael J Waite 24th January 2012. 

◄ For Every Jailed Sorrow

UNICEF ►

Comments

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winston plowes

Tue 24th Jan 2012 13:18

Hi Mike,

Got a very empty desperate feeling from this. And we have both contributed something on a 'space' theme. Is there a connection I wonder? I liked the device you used to count to ten in the climax of your piece.

Keep well (inside and out)

Win

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