Observing Illusion

Retired hopes of logic, debate on truth unseen
And from illusions pulpit, ask what this life could mean
Creation holds its breath, as confusion sows its seed
Upon the barren land, of mans neglected need
Empty graves wait patiently, to welcome his return
Withholding any comfort, for the pain he didn’t earn

As the Architect of misery, builds walls around all hope
The hangman with employment dreams, grins wide and knots his rope
The gallows of self-judgment, stand in a nearby Church
Where condescending preachers, presume the right to search
Looking in men’s pockets, finding notebooks full of dreams
They read the hopes and wishes, of all their plans and schemes

Mankind is at war, with fictions bitter will
Which reveres ungodly secrets, and eagerness to kill
Suppression of the innocent, is constant and unbending
Prevention of true learning, will never have an ending
That is until the sleeping, step out of evils trance
From the spell that’s so deceiving, concealing freedom’s chance


© Steve Bentley