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John's Poetry
"Awakening"
The red that makes the dark so bright,
Can show us all the darkness of light.
So how can we be on this street?
That does not end until buildings meet,
And these buildings they form a wall,
With the sky for a ceiling for this hall.
The halls red dirt forms the ground,
And no escape can be found.
But, who is the one that is by my side?
And why does she try to run and hide?
Because of the evil force behind,
With the wicked grace of love that is blind.
And why does it chase us through this hell?
Where I can see, but cannot smell.
I know this is some wicked scheme,
With no water, no well, no running stream.
I will not surrender, or throw in the towel!!!
Justice offers heaven now.
Because I feel I am near the end,
Why does this road not ever bend?
But still there's one to stand by me,
As we head towards our destiny.
And as we are followed down this road,
I can see a life of two unfold.
Knowing not how this world will end,
Memories are right there's happiness and…
16 NOV 86 John Papesh
"Hell If You Think So"
As I stumble across the bloody vine,
Then I know it is my time,
To ask the Lord to wash away my sins,
I'm hoping my trip to heaven is about to begin.
Waiting for the Lords' forgiveness,
Waiting for the yes,
But instead,
Flames of hell surround my head.
I'm falling,
Deeper and deeper,
Through the tunnel of hell!!!
Into a pit.
Wake up! Wake up! You weary head,
Then I realize it's my wife instead.
10 NOV 81 John Papesh
"Not A Rarity"
It was a cool windy night.
Not the type that would turn out right.
So he stood there, alone,
With no one to guide him,
No one to listen to what he had to say,
Nothing but boats stood there in the bay.
It was a cool windy night.
Not the type that could turn out right.
There he was standing so blue,
He thought he saw someone, someone he knew.
Scenes of his life flashing through his mind,
He knew there had to be something to find.
It was a cool windy night.
Not the type that would turn out right.
So he headed for the road, with nothing to do.
And there an old pick-up came from out of the gloom.
Its' head lights glared straight into his eyes.
He started to hear some low down cries.
It was a cool windy night.
Not the type that could turn out right.
He ran for cover,
But had nowhere to hide.
Then, he found himself on the beach still alive!
So he dozed off, waiting for someone to be near.
It was a cool windy day.
There was nothing to say.
The old man was lying there alone.
There was a rock by his head.
He lay there alone, alone dead.
25 JAN 82 John Papesh