Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Greetings,

I am sending in a poem for submission. It refuses to rhyme sometimes, but I think you will find that it is a masterpiece.

Thank you for your consideration, take care, and bless you, and bless all!!!!....,
Daniel C. Jackson

A Poem Without Direction


In the ancient land the truth was covered up

Through a corrupt hand insanity grew in those unknowing of the plan

Cities grew on land of those they killed

Mass amounts lived for no purpose

drifted to be happy at the end of the day

Toiled for a ladies breasts and various amounts of pay

Inside the prisons, asylums and of course the homes, cries cried their plea

And this was evidence their souls were against themselves

Yet the carriers of these souls suppressed what inside did dwell

They would say sayings like "oh, it's not so bad."

Or tell you that it's worth it

While everyone once and a while some people's rage cried for mercy... for death

Many grasped hold of a self who seeked peace and an end to their breath

But they were forced to go on and live to help others

Great care in them the powers inspired

It turned out to be required

Soon the mental hospitals came about

They watched daily, they watched the miserable shouts

Oh, I've seen this more than you would believe

Inside these places I've seen and inside me were the same silent screams

The hospitals were required to keep these people who cleaved to death so they could continue on with their plans for life

All had to treat the other as they would themselves and so they did fight

Many suspected the fight for life was based on vengeance

That's what I would have guessed

Then again, their plans created the insane who prayed for people to be happily blessed

At first I would say "surely you jest".

And yet it all seems so true

What are you fighting for, Christianity?

Do you place mass amount of beings with feelings inside into a bomb filled fire?

Do you do this for happiness is what you desire?

Relationships, most set up to live without the care for another

While the children, the shame is upon the mother (although seemingly contradictory to what Jesus said)

An entire society seems to be based upon hate

And it seems another day I will have to wait

While it's been years and somehow the corrupt men and women's prayers are accepted

My hope and yes my faith is dying daily for every morning I'm rejected

Jesus claimed to be so perfect and true

While I look into a Biblical eternity and a blessed few

I arise to the second floor of my house and I've ascended many mountains

To seek of God help while 2000 years ago many sought blessed fountains

Oh but the fountains are few and the anger of the sick is great

But the present and the defenses, the past cannot erase

My prayers I pray to everyone last one of you

Maybe someone will accept, but instead I see so many seeking to sue

Maybe mercy will find that place empty in so many's hearts

Men with hate who never let go what they should have long ago at least

Men who from their very selves would not mind escape

So in these days so many say the generations have gone bad

And yet the children are the best we've ever had

Listen if you can for the children have come to value mercy

Oh, they touched on something when they labeled sex wrong in a certain way

And yet to be married is all fine to them to this day

They expect their children to follow until this earth is put to an end

Pain is hardly a crime while other issues the vengeful defend

To call pain wrong is to accept something other than "create! create! create!"

This is the Christian agenda and certainly the Catholics while we wonder what will be of these babies eternal fate

WE MUST LIVE FOR THIS:

To end excessive creation and live for the universe oh so ever present

I still feel the Ultimate Powers have it under control but a hand to us they have not lent

So we must continue in a way

But not the current way

All the while thunder makes such an obnoxious noise

Ah, well this is what a righteous man feels, yet if it's yelling at the corrupt it's obviously not enough

As a matter of fact it's asinine to yell at a creation given a random will

To consider all and everything and inside you, shock should fill

I call silent yells every day while every night for me is hard

My rage inside, my helpless, hopeless hands I pray will take hold of this universe

To end pain and set it on a better course

I could go on but you see this poem is called A Poem Without Direction

Lest we put that right-will in and then we'll find protection