With The Hands God Gave You

A F*Cking Desert,
That’s All That’s Here,
A F*Cking Desert Where Nothing’s Near,
No Alcohol, No Wife,
No Kids, No Life,
No Longer Do I Have A Pulse,
In This F*Cking Desert And Nothing Else.

So Why Am I Here?
In A Place Where Fear Breeds,
Where The Earth Bleeds,
Where The Sky Screams,
And Not A Thing Is As It Seems?

I Can Hear Their F*Cking Bombs Already,
And I’m Shaken With Fear,
Their Bombs Are Coming,
Can’t You Hear?

I Can Feel Their F*Cking Bombs Already,
And Somehow, I’m Still Steady,
Their Bombs Are Coming,
Ain’t You Ready?

I Can See Their F*Cking Bombs Already,
And I Imagine It As Part Of My High Spiritual Ground,
Their Bombs Are Coming,
Ain’t You Around?

We’ll All Cry,
Not Of Fear That We’ll Die,
But Because Our Time Of Desire Was Coming,
Those Explosions Will Be Humming,
Our Combat Action Has Commenced,
Our Time Has Tensed.

That Has Yet To Arrive,
We Have Yet To Weep,
To Lose Care About Our Lives,
To Wake Out Of This Sleep.

No Matter,
Their F*Cking Bombs Are Still Coming,
Dig,
Dig With The Hands God Gave You.

Ethan Sanders

More Shayari in English Poetry
14 Jul 2008 No Comment 1

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