(Poem) In My Time


In My Time

 

O Lord the things I have seen

O Lord the things you have shown me

South West Virginia, Blue Ridge mountains

Iron Ridge culture, poor white, 1950’s

 

“I’m going to start remembering now”

The first words I ever remembering hearing

Spoken aloud from within my own soul

Placing all the room’s within our little house

Counting the concrete steps around the outside

From front porch to the back yard I count

In the back yard both parents working

How did I know those steps were concrete

Better yet, how did I know how to count

I know plainly I was just two years old

 

Setting on the front porch my two siblings by my side

Walking across the dirt drive to the wood gate

Sunny day watching the cattle on the other side

Mom gave us each a nickel, for each a coke to buy

Down the hill to the Shell station just below

 

O how hard it was on Mom to be so poor

Minimum wage factory workers

The people just chafe on the rich man’s floor

I guess it’s easier on the children

As long as they do not know just how poor you are

Once the school bell rings your innocence dies

Each day reality is something from which you can not hide

 

Mid 1960’s migrate to the west hoping for a better life

Traded the Blue Ridge for the Black Hills

The things a nine-year old’s eyes ingest

Big Rigs in the moonlight first time for me to see

Mid August rattlesnakes in the hot sand

Chest high snow in September, O what a strange land

 

Being so poor it’s so hard to escape it

Just a year later we up and move again

Just west of Windy, this time with a plan

Each place so much pain the eyes intake

Cursed with an alcohol disease riddled parent, no escape

Knowing you are hated as he beats you with glee

Knowing that other adults know and see

But no one ever comes to your aid, they just let it be

 

Lifes early hardships makes you grow solvent inside

About the age of four in the cloud I found you Lord

My life long rock you are always by my side

Without you Lord many times I would have died

Growing up in the midwest, with a hillbilly state of mind

With some knowledge of the Black Hills

These memories always placed deep in my mind

 

Now my mirror finds me aged

I see the beard of gray, through store bought eyes

At this age my heart sees lot’s of memories

I see some of the good I have done in my life

Though I try to forget all of those pictures

I hope to give ego no quarters to hide

 

In my time Lord you have shown me many things

Through Your Spirit you have given me sight

Through these windows You have given me

I now see the world’s plight and it’s demise

So easy for depression to crush you from inside

Our leaders so filled with deceit Your truths they deny

With enough dollars their power you can buy

 

I know that by the time the trumpet sounds

I will long since be dust once again

But for my children and theirs I pray each night

The battle of the Nations against the return of God

Poor souls not knowing that this is Armageddon

The Nations fighting against the world’s creator

The Demons that are and that control the world’s leaders

Having been prejudged now into Hell they’re thrown

Leaving the deceived humans to fight God’s Holy Angels alone

They are now like grapes in the winepress of their Creator

Confused, disillusioned, dead, from the face of the earth their gone

 

Dear Lord I thank you that this is one thing You are holding off

Please give the world’s people more time to find you and repent

I wish that no humans would ever be to Hell’s fire sent

Lord there are many things I would like to thank you for

Like Armageddon, that I will not have to see in my time

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s