Reaching For Heaven

more poem! let me know what you think



I ask you, What is the inner truth?
A soul blows away, scattered to the seams of the wind
The Red orchids, shaken at their stems by a silent zephyr
Shaking the earth, the stems of the Earth.
Under the footsteps of God Man's brittle foundations tremble.

I ask you, What God, but a god of Greed is man's own deity?
Man pursues his doom creating Systems to systematically disestablish
the symmetry of the world and create our colossal dysfunction.
Dysfunction. Dysfunction. Dystopia.
Her clammy hands are shaking, so I croon, "Don't let go darling," my muse.
Autumn leaves feather towards the ground while
The wings of angels dethread and release a dying passion against the storm.

A beautiful firework, we all go out sooner or later.
with a fizzle and a pop or a bang, tidal waves of lifes repercussions
resulting in The destruction of the statues of what once was or never was and never will be:
A man made imaginations colliding with stone hoping only to recreate beauty
but even Rose petals crumbling with age.
The clocks will all stop sooner or later with the end of man
but the will the hands become warped as time continues to press on?
Let go now, my friend. This is goodbye, this is how it always has been.

I ask of you, What is the inner truth?
Am I nothing more than the Cancer I create, or the uneven scratching of chalk on cold pavement?
Or Capricorn. Shivering inside, I clutch to my mistakes, my pains.
Release! I reach towards an empty sky
and The small bones in the fingers of my childhood ache against the bitterness of the world's cold skies
Dystopia, Dysfunction: I can't breathe against the solid tone of hospital monitors.
This burden is mine to carry and protect.
This burden is mine to carry and protect.
This burden is mine to carry and protect.
The sound becomes defeaning, an orchestra of goodbyes, and colors fade into lies
Grey Orchids are under the Grey skies with grey clouds and wisps of ice pass through his little fingers.
That child, all of our children, who I was and who you were all reaching up into the infinite skies crying
God. My deafness, my imperfections, I cannot reach heaven with these arms.
Please forgive me, for my flaws and my hopes
my heart is trapped with December. Please forgive me.



-Joe Hogue