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Open Poetry #37

Truth Almost

green_itchy_stuff
Senior Member

since 2003-06-26

Posts 1929
New Caney, Tx

0 posted 2006-04-22 03:03 PM

Pen on the page
Atheist in rage
Minute minute maddness
Choked from under the water
Of worship tunes to God
And Him I adore

Make another sketching
Wrap your fingers close
Mold Him out of you
Angel that doesn't fly
Wrestling with myself
How do I get free... from ME?

Now I know you got it
You took it when you had it
Never knew you chose it
Open the cloak solid white
Crazy me, I still write
Door's been shut all night

Angel come ino the room
Tell me what I've done
Push past my shamefulness... please!
Your finger points at whom
Under graces of the son
New York is a disease... ...and its spreading

balloons are made of rubber...
... and they float too...
as will I to Heaven once I die...

backtash123
Junior Member

since 2006-04-22

Posts 46

1 posted 2006-04-25 11:19 AM

This poem was funny and interesting at the sametime

green_itchy_stuff
Senior Member

since 2003-06-26

Posts 1929
New Caney, Tx

2 posted 2006-04-29 02:38 PM

thank you.

-GIS

balloons are made of rubber...
... and they float too...
as will I to Heaven once I die...

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