Prayer to K-PAX

 

 

 

 

Hey Prot,

 

Are you there blue?

Are you there above the clouds

That piss the take on a planet full of hate,

     Are you around?

Or are you hiding behind the sun

That never shines?

 

This city, this damned wretched city

With all its shitty deeds, does it beckon you

Like an angel to a song,

     For we only sing here now when

The hour says drinks are down and time

Catches us lerking at the edge of

A divided sanity, a town that lost

Long the bereft of all to intrusive

Thoughts of death.

 

Can you place some healing hands

Upon the throngs that plans did not

Save from remand of poverty

Within its redded finest, Accrington brick

Or, is the day lost to another winter of

Discontent?

 

I ask as here upon the bridge of madness

Where the motorway beneath looks appealing

Now the dealing of disaster has in turn

Robbed the master from his grace: I’m

Wondering, will we ever save the Earth

From its doomsday of intent?

 

These cars, wagons, lorries, flash by

Without mine own eye of troubled feelings

From all they have envisioned blinking

Like the crossing of a railroad that

Hasn’t any trains!

 

Empty and vast!

Empty and vast!

     Like looking into galaxies

That have no revealing stars.

 

Prote, we give our years, we give

All a day can ask of us and still,

We’re going backwards like a downward

Smile of a carousel reversed.

We’re hurt!

 

So hurt the shadow doesn’t want to

Walk no more, doesn’t want the tallest

Days of sunlight to beckon all recourse.

 

Why cannot we live in peace,

Why cannot the days of thunder

Bestow upon us grace?

Why is there such storm upon

A storm and no gentle breeze to

Ask of God reprieve,

     Why is it the crucifixion

Has not yet set upon the gentile

The reasons that we live.

 

Loving life is hard, harder than

An atom bomb when survivors

Of a patience can never find a home,

     How long upon us last,

How long to ask of all we

Are, have we ever really loved?

 

The rain arcs my sorrow to a

Concrete far below and yes,

Human in its content this being

Really loves, really wants this Earth

With all that it has chastised

And devoured in its pride,

To begin a healing of the shadows,

     Those people whose own bright

Conscience can no longer shed

Their tears,

                 We feel.

Feel like nothing really matters,

But for our children, give

Back the content of the darkest

Forms whose vacancy of

Station leaves his saddened life,

     Earth; soulful in its promise,

Deserves more than folding in on

Self destruction, lift a curse of

Suicide, and make pride in all we are

For  this, and each and every generation.

 

Prot man, be lenient upon me.

Be free to hold in victory each son

And daughter that we boast,

And show the sun again.

 

 

Michael J Waite 7^th September 2009