Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 27, 2026

All Is Lost

"...The truth has no meaning among the unholy hordes..."

All is Lost

White washed reality floats
upon a stagnate pond of deceit.

Vile vespers snake out from
wanton decay. Layer upon layer

of unrelenting lies. Hands placed
solemnly on desperation fight back,

as time flees. Thoughts in circles,
minds of doubt, pushing outward

against a wall of truth. Plagued
with sins of ego, they are blinded

by their pride. The truth has no
meaning among the unholy hordes.

Redemption out of reach, all is lost.






Article © Ann Christine Tabaka. All rights reserved.
Published in the May 13, 2019 issue .
Image(s) are public domain.
More by Ann Christine Tabaka → More poetry → Full issue →
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Reader Comments
1 Reader Comment
Laljee Verma
05/17/2019
11:33:23 AM
Wonderful poem, full of emotion.
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