the wait

i came upon a heap of littered words

strewn upon the landscape

a graveyard of frozen pens and dried up pages

torn

as if from the living hearts of voiceless poets

who had exploded for want of outlet to speak their minds,

their passions,

their cares,

their hates and loves

and they could not express,

because no one cared,

to read them without their audience,

to feed upon that yield,

of their written words

the poets were as nothing,

aimless,

like wandering, restless spirits,

hungry,

as if restless spectres seeking bodies to inhabit,

no means to spread their words

they caripaced, their souls dried,

the world became

a more abandoned place,

the distractions,

the fill of void with empty space,

the never ceasing spew of scientific words

the never ending barrage of useless facts,

the end of poets’ repose

to endless,

meaningless streams of jargon,

newsfeed loops of mind numbing redundancy,

increasing violence feeding depressing thoughts

with exponential maladies of sin and vice,

artificial gods,

by everlasting streams

of technological reams of data bits

as the fallen fell

upon all sides of the maelstrom of so called life,

artificial intelligence, so called,

demon entities through which they manifest

they served to suck dry liberty,

as the populace fell at their clawed feet,

exchaninging virtue for cleverly disguised misguidance

freedom slowly, with individual will,

paradoxically, splotched,

with a stain on amazing grace,

disappated,

in the pot of incrementally boiling water

to extinction,

juxtaposed by the grace of free will to salvation

given by God who gave his Son in ransom,

the lampstand dimmed to extinquishment

one is freezing at work in the cold,

another is striking blows hard upon some metals,

sweating hot beads,

streams of salty water run from weared, worried brows,

throughout the earth

it happens from sunup to sundown

human souls trudge on the swamp,

bake in the sun,

die in the heat all over the land

time after time

decades come and decades go,

over the centuries they fly

eons go way back into the past

into the old, spent earth

the great bulk of mankind fails to learn his lesson,

chooses the chaff,

chooses the horned fiend's words instead

millions of years gone by

living souls who reside upon it

ride upon the move of time

our human flesh keeps going somehow

moving along with the rusted tools of iron

and copper strands of electrical wires’ flow

sunup to sundown

never ending stream

somehow we go

and somehow

we don’t all lose our minds

i’m waiting for a change

waiting for one that brings a real change,

but he hasn’t come,

he hasn’t come a second time yet

it’s real obvious to the ones who are looking,

that christ is delayed

for his father's supreme purpose

for the ones who are content,

the way things are,

it’s easier,

they’re lost in themselves,

they expect no more,

no less,

they just are

i know,

‘cause i was there once

one is freezing at work in the cold,

another is striking blows hard upon some metals,

sweating hot beads

some in soft clothing, clean and pressed

others in denim

most in dirty tee shirts

streams of salty water run from weared, worried brows

throughout the earth

it happens from sunup to sundown

human souls run on the swamp,

bake in the sun,

die in the heat all over the land

time after time

decades come and decades go,

over the centuries they fly

eons go way back into the past

into the old, spent earth

millions of years gone by

living souls who reside upon it

darkness comes and goes again,

the rising of the sun,

the moaning of the earth

drowned by the silent,

restrained screams of humanity,

the muffled droning sounds of pain in every form,

masked at best by intermittent gladness,

oh, if it would only stay,

the gladness

waiting for a change that brings a real change,

but it hasn’t come yet

based on past observations of recorded history and memory and dreams,

and etchings on the rocks,

and whisperings of the collective minds and ghosts,

the only real change will be hard,

and spill the blood of all things livings before it comes

like before,

over and over again

sunup, sundown,

another day

millions died yesterday,

billions upon billions have died,

like grains of sand blown across the land

and gone,

it’s a monstrous time

of waiting for a change,

waiting for the one, and only God,

to stop the span of time,

that moves so wretchedly for me

as time goes by

we work as hard as we can,

even lazin’ around is work

and when it’s done,

it’s even time to work at rest,

no real rest comes in times like these,

whether in or out,

near or far,

or nowhere of significance,

no matter what the status,

or the frame of mind,

arrogance or humility,

the wait is causing instability,

’til the change that brings the end

for the change we’re waiting for,

tp bring an end to the mind bending

instability,

a bit of respite

is fleeting,

it will never last,

when it comes time to let our muscles unwind,

most of the time it seems they don’t,

it’s inevitable,

the upset,

the crash,

the roll call of the end,

it comes for everyone,

even to the helpless child,

the defenseless one, who sleeps

and keeps a tranquil heart,

a clean bed,

an open heart,

waiting for him to come back and fix things

back the way they were meant to be,

the way they once were,

when they were first made by him

sure is boring for the wait,

i’ve seen so much

i feel i’ve seen it all

i’ve read about it,

i’ve seen it through other’s eyes

by pen and ink,

by video,

by word of mouth

and i’ve tired of it,

it repeats itself over and over again

the tired,

the weak,

the hungry,

the pained,

the angry especially wear me out,

the ones that go out of their way to hurt others,

the ones that expect others to stop and bend for their angry whims,

for their own selfish gain

these hurt things the most,

they wear me out the most

it makes the wait seem longer