Is This The New Religion

Living under a cloud of superstition
Suppressing my individualism
When I’m caught within this prism
Is this the new religion

Idealism dwells independent of my heart
Every time the tears depart
How am I humbled by this manner
When my longings are underneath the hammer

When I’m feeling incomplete
Staring at the ceiling
Is there sense to all these feelings

Beyond this tapestry of this epitaph
I thrive with the sense that I’m alive
When I touch the quite place inside

| Poetry 1 | Poetry 2 | Poetry 3 | Poetry 4 |

| Poetry 5 | Poetry 6 | Poetry 7 | Poetry 8 |

| Poetry 9 | Poetry 10 | Poetry 11 | Poetry 12 |

| Poetry 13 |

Copyright © Darryn John Murphy