littlechildren

Being
Ken Pullen  –  copyright 2011
Every one
believing they are different
while making such effort to be the same
desire to be individual
always present
consuming
even the unassuming
immersed, dripping, drowning in the imitation game
crouched in place
waiting for the starter’s gun
 in a race that only takes place
in their mind
most coming up lame
well before the finish line
running the track blind
believing their own press
other press
tripping upon protruding duress
the hole unseen
ahead
lack of awareness
preparedness
ending in distress
too busy
to be reflective
aware of existence
 yet refusing the gift of grace
seeking to stand upon the winner’s circle
alone
as if they’ve done it all
on their own
always ignoring
 perpetual abhorring
the greatest victory
ever
limping along
lost in the throng
their pacing all wrong
or
so distorted
profane
filled with self
they are blind to their blatant shame
Where are the beings
of being
in this escalating reality
they in error think is all a game?
Nothing
but darkness
from those proclaiming
“enlightenment”
everything coming from them
smells like excrement
Cesspool
upon
cesspool
their playground
look at all the blind
and ignorant people
everywhere one looks
they can be found
doctrine unsound
possessed of mind
lips, hearts, spirits
shooting blanks
devoid of knowing
to Whom they should give thanks
Man mired
in the muck 
in confusion
convinced walking alongside
of God
is nothing but following a list of rules
in which they cannot abide
they giggle, chuckle, snort
deride
sneer
while downing another beer
seeking the numbness
compounding their dumbness
while they sit in the gutter
utter
words as if they are Plato
about the foolish who believe
“in some man in the sky”
they, too, will know
albeit too late
ignoring their certain fate
they shall die
no life in them
no life in them
in death before eternity spent in hell
they will upon bended knee
finally see
too late
too late
O so late
no time while alive
for thoughts of Truth
to devote, to strive
they are given to delusion
compounding their confusion
or to believe
rather
wasting
away
more
each day
closer to that finality
the reality
they obscure
in darkened
constant recited lie
after lie
after lie
right up until they gasp
death rattle
Satan dancing a jig in glee
as he
won that individual battle
since he was who they served
each moment
they adamantly swore
“I’m my own person!
“I’m an individual!
“I serve no one!”
ignorant men
the foolish, lying races they choose to run
so much time
spent on banality
the daily insanity
working on their bodies
following this
that
that some more
this
more of this
please
I can’t get enough
yet
Truth
inner life
they chose to ignore
refusing to believe
what for them is in store
so busy
so busy
 so busy
occupied
to keep the thought
reality
truth away
to such a degree
they often forget
where they’re at
placing everything of this world
front and center
while their spirits
souls
lie dormant
unbalanced
dead
man
thinking
always with his head
not realizing
the most important part
of being
spending all his years
among the throngs
of the walking dead
All in this life
equals
leads to death
unless
igniting
the true purpose
for our being
our being
within
where
we feel
know
our spirit resides
Even the young are old habits
nothing new under the sun
blaspheming always against the Son
from the Truth they do all run
their hearts
spirits cold
for into sin all are sold
serving the devil
unless within
we awaken
within the being
we allow God
to reach in
 and feel shaken
stirred
then finally knowing…
Relief
the meaning of this life
for God’s truth cuts away
the darkness
with His Word
the sharpest knife
right to the heart
the art
of being
is in finally permitting God to show you
what it is you’re seeing
the art of being
lies in what your eyes behold
whether you leave your heart
and spirit cold
into bondage to be sold
or
if
you’ll finally hear
see
awaken
be bold
discovering the Being
of your being
being
the Being
provides your every breath
decides your death
makes all you hide from and refuse to believe
possible
For God is the center of being
for all beings
capable of truly seeing
If you have ears
finally hear
listen to how the end is almost here
O so near
if you have eyes
finally see
watching the truth of God’s Word unfold
 all the pieces to the puzzle
coming together
being
being
clear
drawing near
to He who made you possible
so that you now deny Him
pursue all lies
should prick your heart
to such a depth
you are compelled
 to fall down prone
seek forgiveness
and endlessly cry
If you have ears
finally hear
if you have eyes
finally see
for the time draws near
when all you’ll end up with
through all your vanity
profanity
perversity
is an eternity…
Void
empty
filled with nothing but pain
so being
O individual being that you are
what, tell me what
of your own, on your own
did you gain?