Diabolical Agenda

A pretty face,
How does she act,
In such disgrace?

So very sweet,
But hated,
For those moments she acts,
With complete deceit.

Nothing can hold a candle,
To when she flies off the handle,
So glad she’s not the norm,
For she is a God-awful,
Wicked form of storm.

Fake as fuck,
And slimy like,
The fingers of,
A little tyke,
She needs to take a hike.

Pretending to be,
Such a honey,
But she’s got something hidden,
On her back,
That makes her mean,
As lucifer’s queen.

So sneaky,
Don’t ever get too close,
That pleasantry is false,
Just waltz right by,
For she’s looking for information,
To use against you,
On the sly.

To sum it up,
She’s a waste of space,
Who needs to learn her place.

Easter, Taken Seriously

**********
A long, long time ago,
A man-child was born,
Until he died,
Just a few decades later,
Crucified,
His head adorned,
With the crown of thorns.

But he was only dead,
For three short days,
He came to be,
Alive again,
And now to this day,
For the saved’s sins he pays.
**********

Free?
Free is for me!
That’s what they all say,
Until it comes to the deed,
That happened that day,
At Mount Calvary.

Then instantly,
It’s question this,
And argue that,
I’ve never seen such hesitancy,
For something completely free.

It’s uncanny,
Weird indeed,
This requirement of proof,
People need to concede,
That this ordeal,
Happened for real.

So disgraceful,
And undisputably unacceptable,
Misunderstanding this day,
As meant for that rabbit,
Rather than this lamb,
Will see you damned.

Oh the chicks are cute,
But can they give you,
A new life to boot?
Who doesn’t like a beautiful basket,
Full to overflowing with chocolate?
But will it get you,
Life beyond the casket?

**********
Think, think, think!
Life isn’t short,
Truth be told,
It’s very long,
Not gone in a blink,
Like you’ve been programmed to think,
But it’s lived mostly,
On the other side of the veil,
Spent in Heaven,
If here on Earth,
We prevail.

Going once,
Going twice,
Salvation is nice,
Won’t you accept it tonight?
**********

The Invisible Ones

The misfits mesh with me,
I like that fire,
Strong as a sting,
From a honey bee.

It doesn’t get quenched,
It can quiet,
But hidden embers,
Are always there,
Waiting to stir the air.

The misfits mesh with me,
The freaks and the geeks,
So much more desirable,
Than the cool ones,
Whose lips leak cheek.

Their hair has flair,
They mean what they say,
Their speak isn’t weak,
No matter what,
Day of the week,
Or what mood,
Churns in their gut.

The misfits mesh with me,
I see their personality,
Making others hide and flee,
But it makes me laugh with glee.

It’s so delightful,
And I don’t care,
Who toward them is spiteful,
That sarcasm,
With me won’t cause a chasm.

The misfits mesh with me,
And for this I am not sorry,
Rather than full of things angry,
Their eyes hold pain,
And are starry.

The difference between,
Them and the popular,
Is really nothing,
Except which demons and such,
Bother them much.

The Unicorn

For as long as anyone could remember,
It’s said a unicorn,
Has lived on the mountain yonder.

When was he born?
And would he ever die?
Was he maybe a myth?
No that can’t be,
Because some say he’s been seen,
And not just in visions and dreams.

He’s said to be really pretty,
With chocolate hair,
And flaxen points,
With the added flair,
Of a glittery silver horn,
Poking out from the forelock,
That is rare.

Some say they’ve seen him,
In the settlement,
At the bottom of the mountain,
Parading through the streets,
On his four fancy feet.

Legs lifted high,
As he trots,
Hoofs that match his horn,
Pound the pavement,
Each and every morn.

Or so they say,
But it’s happened that multiple people,
Have been in the same place,
At the same time,
And while some swear he whipped by,
Others saw nothing,
And say with an eye roll,
And a sigh,
“They must have been high”.

Many were sitting outside,
At the cafe,
On a morning kind of gray,
When one of the aged,
Said to her grandchild,
“Look at that horse!
It’s that one from the mountain,
Said to be wild”!

But……….
“What horse”?
Asked the small girl,
Standing in her chair,
Hoping for a glimpse,
Of that horse of course.

“That one”!
Exclaimed a young man,
One table over,
“See, he’s just stopped!
Check him out,
Before he runs”!

Now the whole patio,
Was in a turmoil,
Three more could see,
But no others,
And there must have been at least thirty.

The little girl,
Still could not see,
And told grandma stubbornly,
“Your advanced age,
Must be making you crazy”.

“For I,
Not yet quite nine,
Have sight far better than yours,
Which I’m sure is fine,
But definitely no better than mine,
So come now,
Sit down and dine”.

But grandma ignored the child,
For all the five,
Who could see,
Were torn between,
Laughing with glee,
And wanting to turn and flee.

Because the unicorn,
Was a sight to see,
Flaring his nostrils,
And pawing the ground,
After rearing up,
Then coming down,
But his eyes seemed more docile,
Than hostile,
It seemed he was having fun,
Watching the goings on,
Then just like that,
He turned and again,
Began to run.

“Oh look at the tail”!
Shrieked a little boy,
One of the seers,
“It looks six feet long”!
“Yes! It’s marvelous indeed”!
Grandma agreed.

The twenty-plus,
Who saw nothing,
Didn’t know what to think,
So soon all,
Ceased to speak.

Poor them,
Blind to the unseen realm,
Yes they were,
The majority,
But wrong they were,
And thankfully,
Didn’t cause a stir.

Now back up on the mountain,
The unicorn headed,
So he could get rested,
It was always so tiring,
After a morning run,
But it was also fun,
The reactions of the peoples,
While running through their streets,
Past shops,
And places to eat,
Placed among schools with bells,
And churches with steeples.

The unicorn,
Whose name,
By the way,
Was Horn,
Didn’t realize,
That most of the peoples,
To him were blind.

He got a kick,
Out of the excitement he caused,
Not understanding,
That a debate,
Had been ongoing,
Between those who had insistence,
Of his existence,
And those who had persistence,
That he was a fable,
Made to entertain,
At bedtimes and dinner tables.

He just knew,
That everyone became unbridled,
When he strolled through the city,
Yes it caused a commotion,
That made him laugh,
As he played it in his head,
All day in slow motion.

The tale of Horn,
Will continue to be told,
Throughout circles,
Both young and old,
Most believing it fiction,
But an esteemed few,
Know that it’s true.

All In Good Time

Good things are happening,
In the realm of the spirits,
It won’t be long now,
Before it reaches our world,
Where I can feel it.

A mind overworked,
By sadness and stress,
But small steps,
Lead to total deliverance,
From the grips,
Of the one most vile.

Tiny things,
Are noticeable now,
Nowhere near,
Where they should be,
But breakthrough enough,
To stop a lot of tears and fears.

A dream here,
A miracle there,
All are answers,
To one of many things,
Lifted up in prayer.

Upon close examination,
Of many occasions,
Lots of things,
Were looking dreary,
Until recently,
Some things started turning,
Toward a new and sunny morning.

Even prayer,
Can hit a snare,
And need an extra boost,
But add liberal donations,
Coupled with a fast,
And it’s a surefire way,
To set stubborn demons loose.

The clouds have opened,
And a drizzle has begun,
Someday soon,
They will let loose,
Like a loaded gun,
And all around,
Wherever I go,
Blessings will soak me,
From head to toe.

Wanted

It would be so splendid,
If Hell would freeze over,
So all the things that it’s said,
Won’t ever happen,
‘Til Hell freezes over,
Could come to fruition.

Like a world not predestined for failure,
One where there are more,
Saints than sinners,
And more to adore,
Than to abhor.

A way to make a living,
That doesn’t require,
Kissing someone’s ass,
And handing them half your life,
On a silver platter.

Where people don’t settle,
For whatever happens along first,
But wait for that which without,
They would die of thirst.

Oh for a world,
Where there are no regrets,
For people said what they felt,
Without stupidly waiting,
As biding your time,
Awaiting a perfect moment,
Ends with disappointment,
That realigns fates.

If only free,
Was really without cost,
But there’s always a price,
And if left unpaid,
That free thing is lost.

A place where time could stand still,
At the snap of a finger,
Or the stomp of a foot,
And then linger,
So we could just chill,
And enjoy the thrills.

If only instead of,
Employing unrelenting backstabbing and gossip,
A person looked at another,
As a soul not a foe,
And realized that’s the only way,
To make Heaven their home.

Fruit

**********

The chains are there,
Invisible as air,
Weighing me down like a boulder,
Too heavy for my shoulders.

**********

Now the chains are breaking,
Falling to the ground,
Causing a good sound shaking,
It’s like everyone should feel,
The Earth quaking,
But they can’t,
It’s only me,
As I’m being set free.

The chains rage as they rattle,
They know they’ve lost the battle,
They’d been having fun,
Thinking they’d won,
‘Til I found a new weapon,
And taught them a lesson.

The chains are fastened strong,
And have been there all along,
How they leave no marks,
When they’re starved off,
Is as yet an unsolved mystery.

The chains trick,
The chains deceive,
So good at what they do,
Until they’re seen through,
Now it’s game over,
I’ve learned a slick trick of my own,
That makes them break quick.

Peace must reside,
Where I abide,
Wrath will be felt,
Until the last,
Is in my past,
Good-bye to the bondage,
And hello to the freedom,
Bought for me,
By the bloodshed that happened,
On Calvary.

**********

The chains were there,
Depriving me of air,
But freedom has me light as a feather,
And tough as leather.

**********

A Welcome Change From October

The introduction,
To a season of relaxation,
One to eat,
Pumpkins and turkey meat,
Rather than present them,
As a sinister treat.

Serving the turkey up,
On a silver platter,
Not sacrificing him in vain,
As Satan’s price to supposedly solve,
Your idiotic matters.

Smashing the pumpkin up,
As an appetizing pie,
Not needing to scoop it out,
And light it from within,
In order for the demons to pass by,
Without tormenting anyone inside.

It’s almost winter,
The month of November,
Some might have snow,
Others white-sand beaches,
But no matter where,
They’ve probably got turkey,
And pumpkin within reach.

In company,
Or by their lonesome,
Going out and about,
Or tucked away at home,
Hour after hour,
Time ticks so slowly,
Until the year’s best meal,
Is ready to devour.

**********

The pumpkin and the turkey,
Redeemed from their help representing,
Halloween,
An October massacre,
Now assist in celebrating,
Thankfulness and giving.

**********

Unbearable Mysteries

********************
Dying to know,
The reason for this season,
But it’s not for us to know,
As this show is not our own,
But belongs to Him alone.
********************

Someday it’ll be over,
And our heads won’t have the chore,
Of deliberating it anymore.

Someday it’ll be in the past,
And we won’t be overwhelmed,
For we’ll be a part,
Of the spirit realm.

Someday we’ll be on its other side,
And these mixed-up messes,
Will have turned to blessings.

Someday it’ll be worked through,
And when we’ve made it to Glory,
We can concentrate on me and you.

Someday it’ll be just a memory,
The details will be long forgotten,
Washed away,
Like dirt from a shirt of cotton.

……….But, That’s The Majority……….

Is there anything more irritating,
Than someone who lies,
To and about,
The one who tries?

One is lying,
While the other’s trying,
But who cares if the trier cries?
For sure not the liar……….

And it sure is lies,
When they say you’re loved,
Yet to the farthest corner,
Of their life you’ve been shoved.

Just be there,
When they remember to care,
Just be there,
When they’re down to the bottom,
On their mental list,
Of who might care,
Just be there,
When a slot opens up,
For them to ask “what’s up”?

Be there,
Or else!
You’re packed away,
To the backmost shelf.

Other than that,
Fuck off!
Who do you think you are?
You,
The trier,
Taking up the precious time,
Of the liar.

So, liar,
Now you’re hated,
Because the you you showed,
Has been long awaited,
But this complicated,
Hot then cold,
Is not a friend,
For on that,
No one can depend.