The DoubtA Poem by Kenneth The PoetInspired by my jealousy toward men and women who still have belief even in the hardest tragedies.
The doubt feeds
The doubt consumes It swallows me whole The doubt burns The doubt hurts It never lets go The demon of doubt is worse than gout A chronic condition loathing submission It's just hell on wheels dining on the soul for all of its meals Man has been beat on Man has been peed on Man has been spit on Man has been s**t on Man has been punched in the guts Man has been kicked in the nuts Man has been fucked in the butt But his overall belief has remained untouched, unscathed, unblemished, steadfast, rock-solid, a concrete pillar that hasn't been weathered that hasn't been eroded that hasn't been worn away that hasn't decomposed a shred And if a solitary member of the human experience makes claims to the contrary, they are the storytellers they are the yarn spinners they are the delusional ones since the conclusion is that obvious is that blatant is that manifest is that transparent Belief survives virally since we virally survive And the doubt is just another belief, not a shred divergent from faith itself And the faith feeds as the doubt does And the faith burns as the doubt does The faith is also a chronic condition loathing submission, a being that feeds on the soul for all of its meals And so the battle rages inside with total depravity and predictable circularity The doubt and the faith at odds until the mortal coil is forever shaken away, like a pair of cheap devices purchased from a box store once they meet the law of gravity and the kitchen floor The resulting mess is the state out of the soul, polar opposites sprinkled and strewn together making a vague yin-yang pattern that the world at large has come to know on sight, like the Golden Arches or the Christian Cross Yin and Yang, Salt and Pepper, Doubt and Faith, Dichotomy defined by complementary congruence, and they react like sodium and water and can burn for a lifetime if the fuel is plentiful enough And they still feed And they still burn And it will cease at some point When and where are left up to the agent in question © 2011 Kenneth The PoetReviews
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Added on June 9, 2011Last Updated on June 9, 2011 AuthorKenneth The PoetBismarck, NDAboutKenneth The Poet is an optimist wrapped in the candy shell of moroseness and cynicism. He lives between the two parallels marked 46 and 49, all while living in the state marked 39. He pretends that he.. more..Writing
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