One Of My Poems

Is there really deliverance?

Is there really deliverance?
Can anyone really tell time?
What if anything ever makes sense?
Brother, can you spare a dime?

I once met a man from Seattle;
He cried as he spoke to me.
He lost his son in a battle,
So all of his friends could be free.

My neighbor has so much money;
He spends it as fast as he can.
You know, it”s really quite funny;
He thinks that he’s Peter Pan.

A child suffers from cancer;
A rich man lives on a Yacht.
Does anyone have the answer?
Who in hell’s going to rot?

Why is there so much sorrow?
Why does the victim pay?
If there is a God for tomorrow,
Is there a God for today?

6 million Jews are cremated;
A blind man holds out his cup.
What kind of world was created?
Will the real God please stand up.

Death is a very dark bedroom;
The boogie man’s under the bed.
Gentile or Jew,
He’s waiting for you,
He’ll decide when you’re better off dead.

Copyright 1995 Tom Wilcox