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Lost Nation Is Not Only A Nearby Road


by Ken Pullen

Poem written the night of Friday into Saturday morning, September 21st, 2019

One of only two poems I’ve written in the past ten years not containing Scripture — perhaps Scripture will be added at a later date. I’m seriously contemplating just such a thing on down this road…




Lost Nation

not only a road nearby

sit silent awhile

headlights off, eyes open

hear the wails, cries

behind the eyes

treading life like icy waters from a sinking Titanic to give the illusion all is going well

and the bands play on

as the knees of the people buckle, not in prayer

nay, as they slip a wee bit more on the road to hell



Aye, the stories all can, will tell

avoiding the truth, matter of heaven and hell

gibberish blathering’s babel on, on, on babel on

nothingness the last, current, next hot topic

yet I sniff about, what is that smell?

Why, tis the stench of rotting spirits, all the corpses, casualties

in this nonstop



spiritual war

oblivious legions march on

distracted columns pay no heed

drying inside behind dead eyes, cold hard hearts, dying like a sun scorched reed

unnecessarily as the Living Water continues to flow

the Word within reach

for yet there is sound doctrine, the inerrant Word to preach


though harder, harder, getting so much harder to find

like mind

given more to reprobate mind

is what one is likely to find



I live near a road named Lost Nation

more prophecy on that green and white sign

than what is spoken from the pulpits

what is written on the tenement walls

the sounds of silence

given way to deafening constant din of perpetual escalating sin

in which more and more pastors, preachers, professing claim

no matter what you believe, you all win!

Whilst the Evil One sits on their stage with his drooling, stinking of death grin



Erosion of the truth worn like a 5,000 year old cloak on the shoulders of the foundations

in this going, going, almost gone Lost Nation

Where are the voices, the voice crying out in this wilderness!?

More words spoken

more words written

than ever before in history

more void, vacant, wanting, emptiness while it’s reason ought be no mystery

Bible-teaching, Bible-preaching waning in the Lost Nation

Whislt the din of sin, false teachings into more and more ears reaching

Stand, nay, run the race! Boldness, ever bolder asking continually to increase in faith

in the Truth

in the Way

in the Life

resisting the fiery darts of the devil

by keeping that full armour of God on and gleaming

so well maintained

knowing each part, function of such attire

stand, nay! Run the race alongside, with, within the Lord Jesus Christ as to never truly tire

even when so weary to the marrow of your bones you ought think

one more breath might just do you in, no energy left

bereft of power in fleshly life and limb

turn to, keep your eyes, your heart, your knowing growing on Him

Him, the One True God come as a true man, spotless, blameless, sinless

can you finally see the immensity of what He has done as the Son for every soul on earth

who if only they would come to believe

believe and obey

the remainder of their days!?



There is only one Jesus

though in this Lost Nation

more than a road I live nearby

so many concoct, imagine, make up their own Jesus which is no real Jesus at all

just further, further, further farther more & more fall (stall)

Only one Jesus, He of the Scriptures, from Genesis three fifteen through every jot and tittle

even before then

from Word one

there we know

we see the Son

to Revelation twenty-two twenty-one

the constant, flowing, O, if only for the knowing story of the Son

the One

the Only

Jesus Christ the Lord, Prophet, Priest and King!



O, if only this Lost Nation

stretching forth to every highway, byway, little and big


artery of dying life

from this road I live nearby

would halt, be still, hear the wailing, the crying

gnashing of teeth

pain, sadness

seeking desperation

rather than seeking the Lord!

Hunting, pecking hither and yon






under every rock every wrong teaching, preaching

they go

pagan sorcery distraction being churned out


like 6,000 years of bad egg salad into their hearts







be still


truly seek the truth




the Son

Jesus Christ the Lord, our God, our Savour, Redeemer, Wonderful, Immanuel, Lord of lords, King of kings

O, if only more would come, see


Let the sounds rebound


but not for only a moment of flame, fire to flicker then fade

but to become a roaring blaze, the roaring of 100,000 lion hearts in harmony, syncronization


fiery hearts for our Lord!

O, the music such belief, such faithfulness, such obedience could bring!



I live near a road named Lost Nation

that brings me to tears at times

for at every intersection, turn off, exit, route taken I see more crashes

those asleep at the wheel

distracted driving

careening of the cliffs of life

so unnecessarily so unnecessarily so unnexcessarily

when the Father, when the Son are at the next turn, straight ahead,

the only rest stop on this one road


of this life filled with such strife


noise and stench of death

The Father, the Son offer Life!

Most are on the roads in this Lost Nation without the only insurance they would ever really need

for the Word, the Lord, His Spirit, His voice they ignore and refuse to heed!

No eternal insurance, O, such foolishness in this fleeting passing vapor

where is mind to, for eternity?

Where, when will some within this Lost Nation finally come to see!?



O, woe Lost Nation of mine

O, woe Lost Nation of mine!