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
escalating
war
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
teach
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
everyway
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
to
fro
here
there
everywhere
under every rock every wrong teaching, preaching
they go
pagan sorcery distraction being churned out
vomited
like 6,000 years of bad egg salad into their hearts
minds
when
if
only
each
would
be still
seek
truly seek the truth
and
there
find
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
Sing!
Let the sounds rebound
rejoicing
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
syncopation
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
given
of this life filled with such strife
confusion
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!
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