Ernesto P. Santiago Poet Rhyme

The Subjects of God

Love, is what, I am
     This is my only aim
          Not to hurt, nor, to maim

Hate, is not what, you are
     But, from me, you’re far
          Though, I’m not a real star 

Jealous, truly, he is
     She didn’t give him a kiss
          For he, in life, has no peace

Glory, by nature, she is
     From his own mighty fist
          My love died, ‘cos of a kiss

Brothers, once, we are
     ‘Cos of his lies, we always spar
          Why can’t we stop this war?

Christians, Muslims, Jews, they are 
     Maybe…..ah! Whatever, we are
          Someday, we die, even a czar

Us, foolish, the subjects
     Of God, whom he elect
          His simple words, we reject

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