I Live In A Space Poem by Paul Andrew Bourne

I live in a space
where the makes are twisted for everything
yet they speaketh not
so oppressive is the system it extracts the blood
from their beings like vampires
and the refuge is cry to a God instead of being humans
they cry to a God who appears far removed from their travails
and their redemption is in songs of God
is this all they are worth?
is it the answer for the poor?
can they not rebel against the system
or is it that they have lost the ghost
of being humans?

What next in this space that I live?
I live in a space that forgets to be human
the extraction is intense
the people are martyrs
they knoweth this not
they are proud to be nothing
without being aware of this
they have little,
their God has become expensive to serve
yet still this God is in their hearts
what next in this space, can someone
help them as their cry has become a stench
it smells in the heavens
but no one has heard their cries
instead the politics
plays them like the lottery

I live in a space
where the lottery is a saviour
the Christians are lottery lovers
it is their idols
players of the same order as others
it is a redeemer
it pays the bills and transport the players to their Gods
the burden of the people is like the flood winds
that extracts and moves everything in its path
then cometh the earthquake
and ravish the remains on the earth
followed by tax collectors
who tax the little to pay for the affluence's luxuries


I live in a space
where the makes are twisted for even nothing
yet they speaketh not
so oppressive is the system it extracts the blood
from their beings like vampires
they await a God like in times past
and I question this rationale with bitterness
as the people are played for everything
the players are oftentimes themselves
caught in a game of marksmanship
with the escape being death
and this is expensive toy
I live in a space of phantoms
Where the ghost of oppression lives beneath the clouds
below the God of help


By Paul Andrew Bourne