Migrants of Hope

Traveled from afar, migrants of hope

Crawling in the silence, scraping their souls, stitching our cloths

Dwelling in still shadows cast by skyscrapers of greed

Premeditated blindness–on the invisibles rights they impede
The innerworkings of a clock, they comprise our great machine

Lying behind the face–their presence goes unseen

They work for while their good then get thrown away

A piece of trash left on the street and all without a say

Cries for help are not heard poverty keeps them hoarse

No one dares inquire about our savings source.

Take advantage of low cost there’s a sale today

Lose no sleep while you forget that someone has to pay

© 2009 Matt Bohannon

Voice Gone. Can't Shout.

Voice Gone. Can't Shout.

Trouble. I need escape.

Searching. My hope deflates.

Danger. I can't get out.

Voice gone. Can't shout.

Shallow. My breath is trapped.

Mocked. The anger laughs.

Shadows. The demons dance.

Rescue. Not a chance.

Desolate. Deserted land

Reaching. Empty hand.

Break. My soul my bone.

Solitude. All alone.

Dry. My heart my eyes.

Life. Slowly die.

Ache. From inside out.

Voice gone. Can't shout.

© 2009 Matt Bohannon

Delusions

The inspiration that I got for this poem came from Psalm 4. Check it out.

"Delusions"

Silent in my bed I searched my heart

and did not find what you'd expect.

Gold was not what was discovered,

but delusions that the evil counsels did elect.

These delusions, my delusions

I've sought for many days.

How long must I love false gods

and turn Your glory into shame?

Hear me, answer me.

Give relief to my distress.

Free me from my cell.

I've been a captive of evil arrest.

Your face brings great joy.

You alone I find peace.

Finally I lay down,

in safety I fall asleep.

© 2009 Matt Bohannon

Good

“Good”

The consequence of good is often death.

The consequence of righteousness leaves no room for rest.

Can good be true without the absence of bad?

Will we ever find the peace that this world once had?

With people being used as a means to an end

We must be careful about who we call friends.

How can we promote good while we’re constantly in defense?

Confused by what is good, definitions don’t make sense.

This is the home we have created.

Morals sedated, ego inflated.

Welcome to our home free from peace and clarity.

Welcome to your home, a masterpiece of tragedy.

©2009 Matt Bohannon