Other Poems by:

Joe Testa

Radiation from a Downtown Sewer

Iím so tired, man,
bone tired and my soul is wounded.
Lost, staggering down a winding path
so narrow; bounded by thorns
moving without making progress.
How can I be numb when thereís so much pain?

Must be the radiation from a downtown sewer.

Sever my tongue; itís useless to me;
the words drift in the wind,
passion thwarted by pettiness.
Am I my own species? Or have
the others died off? And how?

Must be the radiation from a downtown sewer.

My tears fall unnoticed, unappreciated;
compassion and empathy murdered by
an excuse called survival, 
society a serial killer.

Sitting on the couch in the warm glow
of whiskey escape,
TV flickers and insults me and I take it;
itís what passes for company.

I can change this, fire up inspiration, 
release my soul to fly.
I know I can do it,
and yet I donít move.


Must be the radiation from a downtown sewer.


Cremation is all that is left,
now, while Iím alive.

Enlightened flame stripping away flesh
and pretense, fear and doubt,
leaving only the essence, pure spirit.

A seed from which a true life can begin;
an existence pure in intent, raw,
reverently approaching
peace of mind.

Self help, mysticism, religion, reflection;
well intentioned and disappointing.
Decades passing through a maze of
false starts and beliefs questioned.

Rich irony in discovering that each 
wrong turn adds another layer; 
the seeking smothers the soul 
in an attempt to reveal it.

My intentions are shattered and
the clock moves too fast.
Ignite the flame, an inferno
to rival confusionís intensity.

Melt away all misconception;
introduce me to my soul

Hope Invades

Hope crept into my head 
like an assassin,
slipping past walls a
lifetime in the making.

Taking root in barren ground
it began to work its magic;
delicately, subtlety, like pebble ripples
in a pond, nudging stubborn despair.

I understood the implication intuitively, 
although the language was foreign to me.

Suddenly a clock was time bomb ticking,
challenging me towards fulfillment; better
than measuring wasted existence as it once had.

Uncertainty wrapped itself around the feeling
as new directions are always blind, 
but there was no fear,
and I reveled in its absence.

Hope comforted me like a lover
and I gave in, offering naked trust in
return for the promise of a life
lived passionately.
Copyright 2009 Joe Testa, All Rights Reserved
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