To the known ends we are (WARNING! Deep Poem)

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This poem was Inspired by RedBubble artist paul d robertson and his writing: The truth about suicide. It is Dedicated to Kurt Vonnegut / Author of Mother Night

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To the known ends we are
By C.C. Arshgara

To the known ends we are
It begins here—in the faultless womb
To say time, for existing, is a formidable price
Paid for by the body of your age will be done

So ‘Feed me.’ is all you can say in the end
And all you care for—is your truth to defend
By all the born lies your lips ever will spew
Fore-reasoning Death is the keeper of you

Committing All’s murder against human beings
For All’s plague of life is just empty of filling
With alone the ends’ beauty—be all the dead songs
The ugly understanding of just why fault’s will …
—needs you—to hereby—passively kill

A pity for salvation’s dawn is wasted on time wasting
The endless mourning lives ~ for you believe in you are pointless.
Comforted by intelligence’s twist—insane machines of power
A suicidal act that fears to harm its insane source

And so, the chessboard is your home, hospital, and kingdom
And you are lo, God of all—poor players at your table
Moveable fragments in a mathematical equation
All entertainment final—all passivity’s sweet torture

Winning; and never will you lose the game
You only need to know you’re playing—throughout and out will’s end
And the space where you play … is the land that you own
And the grounds are your reasons to kill or be wound

As Generals reason to know they’ll be called
For the boardroom’s clever—never is the battlefields are here
No more than a thought, or idea, feels the kill of war with eyes
Lest lost, your mind cannot withstand the news of death is real

Propaganda fails here to convince your masturbation’s rule
As maker, breaker, and shape-shifter of all ruling truths
You are all ego suited in comfortable shoes
And respected for knowing that hoping will lose

The faithful?—to you—their all pawns you just use
And money is the blood lust that pours semen like champagne
Excited as Doom giving a toast –“To inevitable pain!
Lest the poor wake to think …”

Now the pleasure of dying to play the next round
As war, hate, and vengeance all play ‘The Big Lie’
—with life’s a fooled soldier
Paid to take sides and die

And give you bread game
From the graves of dead seeds
To replace their proud arms
Born to kill—honour bound

For you are—the suicide of Humankind
For the fools who believe your loves not a big lie
And idiots, who believe, that mere hopefulness gives …
You can’t kill yourself, for you can’t let them live

For who would protect all of misery’s knowledge?
Who will defend all the pain that life offers?
Who’ll be the guardian of life is fruitless?
Who’ll care for God’s needs to not waste the Evil

The slavery of time needs someone to lead them
To help people choose how to enslave themselves
To guide them toward knowing they cannot raise living
And be there when futile matters become them

And save them from thinking that peace on this world is
And so you cannot knowingly kill your known self
No matter how obvious—this rationale is
For conscious to die knowing is your last reason

To the known ends are we
So you cannot kill yourself
You need be just one
Man or woman who lies

To hide the true gender
Of one’s enemy line

© Copyright 1/12/2008 C.C. Arshagra

“To the known ends we are’ from “There Is No Hate / The Poetry of Good-bye” Series Book 1
The Poetry of Good-bye Series and collection (Unpublished Work)

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