Hallowed Walk…a Lie

Hallowed Dreams…a Lie



Many tears you must have shed in the outlines of rain,

Again I request an audience with You now.

Perhaps You are too preoccupied to pick through my brain,

Or feign the consequences on something allowed.


I call out Your bluff, and question Your omnipotence,

Like the innocence of a since modest and common folk

As though Your credo that was written in Your syllabus,

Is the vigilance You state, but You never invoke.


Illumination is just a word to me, a handmade agenda,

My dilemma is the steps I must take for Your pinnacle,

To achieve that surrender within all Your splendor,

I engender to You, to call forth Your miracles—


You gave me this body and it became hospitable,

Yet difficult to understand how it ever survived

Nonetheless, it was physical, at times quite invincible,

Sometimes invisible but it kept me alive.


Others were less fortunate than I, born brittle,

Dreadfully pitiful were these like individuals

But You allowed this, were You testing their mettle,

I’d settle for a yes there, but You were noncommittal.


Why was I different, able to be at peace from pain,

Away from the chain of inevitability,

How could You allow war, famine, to sit back and refrain,

to remain objective amongst the hostility.


How could You take it anymore, why do You choose to ignore?

Like we’re some worn out sandbox toys ready for death

Is it because the touch of human lips is at best, impure,

Anymore it feels that way, liking taking a breath—


So simple, yet so many of Your toys were in trouble,

A bobble perhaps, a manufacturer’s defect,

But I detect no remorse from someone so humble,

But I still struggle to fathom why You never checked.


Once more, I say thank You, for the audience today,

I must say, You were receptive to my critical rants

But to my dismay You idled there quite lame,

With decay at Your doorstep, You watched me recant


And my words they felt paltry, unworthy of Your reason,

My arguments like treason, believing the cause

Compelled was my allegiance to the light of Your beacon

I though my demons would vanish in the might of your walls


He then snapped his fingers and the world fell silent,

Compliant like the pause feature in a movie

He smirked, and I’ve seen that face before, smiling,

Stridently, his laughter got louder, somewhat looney—


He said to me, “Are you done yet!? Ranting and Raving,

Behaving like some insolent pebble!

You humans are amazing, so unwavering

In your praising of both sides, Me and the devil.


But I was the one who made the devil, his origins are mine

So dine on that venom and keep your tongue kept in line.

You are what I made of you, no parts of you are genuine,

from the same product line, the same ball of clay, just in different times.


Even the flowers that you view, are groomed from the same loom,

Folly for you to presume that I am more than achromatic…

How tragic, like no lights in the attic the void is a dark room

like dust at the tomb, from the womb each birth is automatic.


Only those with the knowledge are given a soul

The whole of your race are experiments and goals.

Maybe one day I’ll make one with the traits to extol,

One bestowed with my knowledge to climb out this hole.


Until then I will leave you, unknowing of when,

just to pen of my wisdom, to rise up the men

To call on the women to fight and to fend

To end all the gimmicks, to no more pretend.


But if you’re sad how I made you and cannot conform

There’s a form you can read through and sign on the line

My steward will beseech you to please be informed

The dotted line transforms you, you will be assigned.”


And like that He receded back into the clouds,

Endowed with His secrets I traversed my way home

Not ever repeated His crucial vows until now

Aloud I entreated to Him for a soul of my own.

Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.
Paul Neglia

Latest posts by Paul Neglia (see all)


Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.

6 thoughts on “Hallowed Walk…a Lie

  • October 5, 2018 at 9:19 PM

    A wonderful perspective, revealing and frustrating at the same time. If there is indeed a God, he/she is certainly not listening, watching and meddling in human affairs. In a way, our life paths, I believe, are based on a kind of algorithm, a process that within universal balance simple occurs. It may lead us eventually, beyond many lifetime experiences, to a higher state of being, but it will be our own learning that gets us there, within the construct of an omniscient being’s creation. Great work as always, impeccable rhyming and wordplay. Cheers Paul.

    • October 6, 2018 at 5:45 PM

      I am falling more and more under this belief system my friend, almost like a deism religious perspective. I mean I cant help but question all the horror allowed in this lifetime and wonder why and or how cant this be allowed. No way some supreme being planned for this awful things to happen. I hope we are our own saviors. Thank you so much for your kind words my friend, they are much appreciated.

  • October 6, 2018 at 3:38 AM

    Wonderful Paul – He forever listens and reveals himself in ways you as a person will only understand.

    • October 6, 2018 at 5:41 PM

      This my friend is so very true. I am glad you enjoyed this my friend. Thank you for your kind words.

  • October 6, 2018 at 6:17 AM

    In but a few words Paul you indeed paint your world to us your readers. Your command of the twist and turns in the English language is mesmerizing to me. Like a true artist you take your palette of many colors and paint us a picture of your world. This work is indeed that very type of landscape. To shout out in ones own way, to reach out and feel the hand of the gods or God is a magnificent feeling. For we are all unique, yet like a shining crystal we can be shattered in a second. Our mold of clay is very vulnerable to everything around us. We pray on our knees to our gods, God with the expectations of forgiveness for our blemished soul. Our minds reach out with the hope of a reveal that will continue to give us HOPE and security on this plane. We worship and fellowship within hypocritical walls of stone, wanting others to congregate in praise and song, hoping for a listening ear of forgiveness. I like The Prophet, yell and scream out loud in my quiet of my day, I wait for a voice to slap me around, and often it has come in a whisper that only my soul can hear, when that happens, it’s enough for me. A child of the Universe I am, my shell will go to the dust, my spirit will atomically head back to the stars and be caught up with trillions of other awaiting souls to be reunited, reshaped and placed back on our journey, it never ends, as the lessons have to be molded into perfection. Your words here are beautifully formed and expressed, with the rhyme of a true poet. Once again sir, you stir this tired soul.

    • October 6, 2018 at 5:40 PM

      I love your comments my friend and I am truly thankful for the kindness you show towards my work. I am not a church goer by any means, but I have a strong belief in a higher power, although sometimes I feel as though they forget we are down here struggling to survive. So I wonder how…just how some of the atrocity that happens can be allowed to occur, and I do hate the well thats just fate cop out. Even through all that, I still believe that we have purpose and that God is the creator of that purpose, and it will all come out in the wash. I hope I have a seat in heaven when all is said and done. Thank you so much again my friend, I am glad you enjoyed this.


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