Indeed, have ten thousand fallen down all around,
While I myself lie prostrate on blood-soaked ground;
One mistep following another, I fell without sound;
Darkness draws near ~ pain and suffering abound.
And, lo, does the deadly pestilence stalk at night,
And terror in the darkness that no man can fight!
Behold, the pale horseman with his quiver of plight,
Arrows striking the very sun to blacken all light!
Listen! Here is a mournful sound without harmony
Rising from unknown tombs in earth and sea!
Dead souls given voice in the council of eternity,
To clamour for justice denied heartless cruelty!
And now is this high refuge become my low grave?
And hope no longer lives there is Someone to save?
Must I, too, await relief but in death’s cold wave
When finally does Mercy silence the lunatic rave?
. . .
Empty Man, Deaf God
This man is not lonely, he is empty, unihabited by soul never given;
Not prepared to die because he was never made really, truly alive;
Not whole, not complete by design, ere man from Garden was driven,
And no soul he gives the bastard who in the fires of Sheol will dive
To escape the prohibiting bands of gold enlaced with mockery divine
And pious, self-righteous defense of an impotent and so false a god,
For hell must be blessed rest for one the living Lord no soul did assign,
This putrid and hopeless animal condemned upon his earth to roam.
. . .
Will Weeping Sound and Love be Given?
Cast down, rejected, born one lonely,
Surrounded by crowds bathed in love
Never touching sordid soul so unholy,
Encoffined in dark, no light from above.
This prison is mine, and I despair alone,
And comes no mercy on wings of wind,
Nor calls my beloved in passion’s tone
To loose my bonds and heart remend.
Will weeping sound and love be given
To the life-gone man who lies in state;
Affection enfold the cursed of heaven,
And on cold lips offered kiss too late?