Ah fearful vengeance hasting toward this mortal soul
thrusting heinous worries forward as if silent deadly swords
except me from, I ask of thee, that long awaited fate
deny me not my last request before it is too late.

Those nobles’ visage on display in purple splendor be
naught but remnants of the life once evidenced in me
alas though as a fearful terror of night brought into day
they in becoming what I’ve not now mock me in disdain

So cast me out upon the seas of dark and deadly waves
leave my soul to wander lest I plague those who’ll remain
Scorn my presence from afar, denounce me while I roam
Forms and figures once called friends set watch over your homes

This last identity I find remorsefully inside
for twas the one which I had fought until it snared my life
I’d ask for your forgiveness as the storms come rolling in
but diseases from such noxious traits deserve the end their given

So as this guilty sinner spreads his thoughts upon the seas
I know that there is nothing more that men can do for me.
Fearful vengeance swift and true make haste to find your mark
allow me to abide no more with black and calloused heart.

Vindicate the world which has so long held scorn for me
and curse me with the plagues which fester in visceral fury
Curse the heart which curses God and punish what remains
for life’s existence bodes eternal evidence of shame.

And as these words escape my soul in ranks upon the page
I now attempt to stay their flow lest secrets held escape
diligent reader ascertain the fiction and the prose
And through the light of truth discern what iron pen composed

End this abhorred nightmare bliss of eloquence disclosed.


Midnight Musing

We told the stories

Sang the songs

Built our lives on right not wrong

Stood for truth

Defended weak

Listened in when one would speak

Learned so much

But loved too little

Carved out names in stone and brittle

Laughed at death

And scoffed at pride

Simplicity we left behind

Opened doors we should have shut

Trampled paths we should have not

Lived our lives and forgot time

But in the end time claims our lives.

Hopes against the futures fears

Are built to stand the test of years

But those forgotten in the night

Stand condemning those of light.

Don’t regret it’s me you’ve known

Please don’t hate the way I’ve grown

Remember me from former years

When innocence imprisoned tears

When we move on the future’s still

Shining bright beyond that hill.

Don’t feel shame at what’s been done

Think of all the times we’ve won

Don’t lose sight of what is real

Convince me somehow I still feel


The final poem in my ‘God is Dead’ series.
You can read the first two here, and here if you’d like.

Just a note concerning ‘Unbelief‘- It is very dark. Probably the darkest I’ve written but I believe it fits the nature of the subject very well. If you’re looking for a light-hearted poem, however- Pass on.

~ Unbelief ~
They killed another man today
Actually they killed three
Another pointless waste of life
Another useless day and night

He told them that he was a god-
If that were true than how could God
Have died in such a gruesome way?
Gross, pathetic, tragedy.

Hear the devils minions cry
Hear the weary widows sigh
“God is dead! God is Dead!”
Oh the nonsense that is said-

“God is dead! God is dead!”
Hideous souls are filled with dread.
Pitiful and weak their plight
Insisting that a god gives life.

‘God merciful. God the just
God the wonderful who must
Love all men-‘ Yet man still dies
And e’en the god-man lost his life

So tell this cynic what you’ve seen
That demonstrates you should believe?
God is dead but suns and stars
Still flow by while broken hearts

Obsessed by some divine nature
mourn his death but still won’t turn!
“God is dead!” Your god is dead!
Rather mourn that you still live!

For if indeed your God is dead
Than of men- as has been said
You are the most pitiful lot-
Your God is dead and you are not.


This is another of my ‘God is Dead’ poems. Before I give it to you, however, you must understand the backdrop from which these poems are inspired- The Crucifixion of Jesus Christ on Calvary. This one being written immediately after the events have transpired as if from the mind of a historian.

~ God is Dead ~

What were the thoughts within the minds of those gathered near that hill?
Who gazing in astonished awe and wonder all stood still.
For in a moment, in a breath, His final words were heard-
And the almighty God of Gods for man became acursed

Who on earth would dare to speak these three terrible words?
Regardless of the truth contained who here would want them heard?
For evidenced by natures anger thundering on men-
The truth is near unbearable- God is dead. God is dead.


My first  ‘God Is Dead’ poem in the series was written as if from the mindset of one of the followers of Christ. Who mourns and begins to doubt in the face of what has just transpired.

My next will be from the opposite view.

I feel also that I must recognize here the one who has traditionally been given credit for penning the titular phrase of my series- Frederich Neitzsche. Who, as controversial as his work may be, he is somewhat indirectly responsible for these verses. For I must confess when I happened upon his statement of absolute and utter despair “God is dead” I felt inspired.

Thank you (as always) for reading.