Best Abominably Poems
O dear Lord, let my thoughts fly upwards,
For we have sinned abominably against you,
And never bothered to think of You.
We raised false idols of our own making:
The gods of power, money, and lust.
Our corruption goes so deep,
That we realize too late
How very much unhappy we are.
Thus, our old temples crumble
Like the golden one of Jerusalem.
Yet there is always hope for the future.
The trees of Lebanon will grow strong again.
The evil serpent will be bound in irons
And thrown to the depths of Hades.
But we cannot achieve this without your help.
Forgive our heinous misdemeanours, Lord
And allow us to enter your new abode
The heavenly New Jerusalem.
And please forgive our many sins
As we forgive those that sin against us.
Amen.
Volition, orientation familiarization aahing
and oohing within restrictive paradigm molding
inviolable honorable gentility -
flagrantly, desirously, clearly boyz abandoning
willfully skirting, panting (heavily)
forfeiting abominably, (no Joe King) abiding
chomping at bit, damning delineated, or obscure
parameters, between one acceding
Earthlinked selfish living
psychosexual pining human bing,
and another ardently avowedly ambitious
altruistic agent provocateur (lol)
at first blush hinting Moulin Rouge adulation
under dim (witted) lighting accenting
individual randy salient
traits savoring tête-à-tête
tasty hors d'oeuvres accentuating
nuances highlighting flirtatious countenance
initially unconditionally stubbornly accepting
dire hormonal straits
as prickly fledgling acquaintanceship
quivers, negotiates, kickstarts abolishing
inchoate biochemical protracted coupling
conveniently interpreting accessing
breeching, catapulting Dickensian estuary,
non verbal communication nsync abridging
painstakingly erecting complex edifice
suavely, urbanely, wittily accessorising
tried and truevalue tricks acclaiming
debonair heroic manliness princely
qualities dutifully dominate directing
demure damsel in distress absconding
convincing, foreplaying, jimmying,
rollicking readily acclimatizing
challenges thrust up gracefully parlaying
most savvy serious similarly sophisticated
totally tubular testosterone tactics
versatile repartee accomplishing
dynamics cultivating atavistic romantic ballet
on duh poe whit tick abutting
metaphorical foot accoutering
trappings adorned since mythological
Adam and Eve accrediting
latter, sans virile unavoidable temptation
savoir faire verboten fruit, accelerating
action whereby unsuspecting, slithering,
lurking serpent teen accounting
rattle unheard by apse cent church fathers
subsequently excoriating, condemning, accusing,
nonetheless indomitable transcendence achieving
pinnacle of prostrate poignancy
inexpressible ecstasy acquiescing
nonpareil acquisition adulation activating
ascendence assaying administering
amorousness activating. aching.
DID YOU SAY RESURRECTION OR ********?
Pardon me Mister Sinister Minister
But you are not so much teaching as you are screeching and reaching
While preaching to the choir about brimstone and fire
As I deem you a damnable liar
And a prodigal prostitute who should be destitute
While I remain resolute against your irreverent and irrelevant irregularities
And you raise my ire to a dire decibel
Because I am not a disciple
Nor am I a member of your congregation
Because you are an abhorrent aberration whom I abhor
You unholy whore
Your soul on the whole is the goal of a ghoul
And I anoint you a fallacy and a freakish fool
While you duel with a demon whose semen is sanctimonious and erroneous
And I point to the error of your wretched ways
Until the end of days
You serve an ironic idol who is an iconoclastic and bombastic bastard I berate with hate who makes me irate…..
And whose fate is forecast by the force of a phallic symbol symbolized by the simple minded followers of a fraud
Who, quite frankly, leaves me abominably bored
An impossible imposter who fosters the phoniness of a fake who can’t make a pretender into the defender of the defenseless
Only the senseless hordes of impious who hear and believe the pretense you preach about
And fill me with undiluted and indubitable doubt
Because someone should wash your mouth out with soap
Hang you on the end of a rope
As you grope with grievance for the allegiance of the almighty
Since your facts are based on flightiness and reprehensible rhetoric scorned by the sensible and seen for the tripe it is
Ripe and rife with ridiculous conclusions
And the illusions of illusive, insidious, insipid and all inconclusive information
As I repeat
I am not a member of your congregation
Mr. Sinister Minister of misery and miserly compassion
Whose ration of ridiculousness is reclusive and replete with completely indecisive and indelicate ideologies
And what you preach and teach about is simply old hat
And so Mister Sinister Minister
Take that!
© 2012….copyright..PHREEPOETREE...~free cee!~
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it's really not bad at all, it seems false advertising is the only way i get any numbers despite the fact that i write the truth so well:
DID YOU SAY RESURRECTION OR ********?
Pardon me Mister Sinister Minister
But you are not so much teaching as you are screeching and reaching
While preaching to the choir about brimstone and fire
As I deem you a damnable liar
And a prodigal prostitute who should be destitute
While I remain resolute against your irreverent and irrelevant irregularities
And you raise my ire to a dire decibel
Because I am not a disciple
Nor am I a member of your congregation
Because you are an abhorrent aberration whom I abhor
You unholy whore
Your soul on the whole is the goal of a ghoul
And I anoint you a fallacy and a freakish fool
While you duel with a demon whose semen is sanctimonious and erroneous
And I point to the error of your wretched ways
Until the end of days
You serve an ironic idol who is an iconoclastic and bombastic bastard I berate with hate who makes me irate…..
And whose fate is forecast by the force of a phallic symbol symbolized by the simple minded followers of a fraud
Who, quite frankly, leaves me abominably bored
An impossible imposter who fosters the phoniness of a fake who can’t make a pretender into the defender of the defenseless
Only the senseless hordes of impious who hear and believe the pretense you preach about
And fill me with undiluted and indubitable doubt
Because someone should wash your mouth out with soap
Hang you on the end of a rope
As you grope with grievance for the allegiance of the almighty
Since your facts are based on flightiness and reprehensible rhetoric scorned by the sensible and seen for the tripe it is
Ripe and rife with ridiculous conclusions
And the illusions of illusive, insidious, insipid and all inconclusive information
As I repeat
I am not a member of your congregation
Mr. Sinister Minister of misery and miserly compassion
Whose ration of ridiculousness is reclusive and replete with completely indecisive and indelicate ideologies
And what you preach and teach about is simply old hat
And so Mister Sinister Minister
Take that!
© 2012….copyright..PHREEPOETREE...~free cee!~
Here are my hands, LORD, surrendered to Your marvelous workmanship
Allow them to labor thru Your stewardship-leadership
Never let them be slothful in soulwinning and worship
Divert them from vain clasps of earthly partnership
So as to guide the hopeless to Your comfort’s fellowship.
Here are my hands, LORD, receiving Your divine wisdom
Admonish them to seek first constantly Your precious kingdom
Never let them sway toward selfishness, despising biblical martyrdom
Deliver them from worldly concerns and spiritual boredom
So as to serve You well with Your sanctification’s freedom.
Here are my hands*, LORD, ready to learn from Your eternal Word
Anchor them uprightly against being abominably-devoured
Never let them waver in trials and wander along temptation’s ford
Defend them against the destructive attacks of integrity’s record
So as to live for You, prevailing by Your Spirit’s sword.
*James 4:8 Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you. Cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded.
April 22, 2019
October 6 Scripture Meditations Based on Luke 18-19
Key Verse – Luke 18:7 And shall not God avenge his own elect, which cry day and night unto him, though he bear long with them?
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR AVENGING ME
Thank You for avenging me, Your own elect by Your grace
In my cry for Your help to protect me with Your truth-brace
Against falsehood that knocks me down from spiritual race…
You alone can sustain me around Your compassionate embrace.
Thank You for avenging me, Your saved child
In my dependence on Your holiness from being abominably wild
Against tendency to become worldly beguiled…
You alone can guard me to avoid the proudly defiled.
Thank You for avenging me, Your transformed creation
In my plea for Your aid toward faithful conversion
Against backsliding-corruption…
You alone can rescue me from transgressions’ destruction.
Thank You for avenging me, Your privileged servant
In my prayer for Your guidance of divine grant
Against defiance that displeases You, my Master-Commandant…
You alone can direct me toward what You perfectly want.
Thank You for avenging me, Your entrusted steward
In my request for Your training of caring regard
Against stubbornness I should ward off though it’s hard…
You alone can mold for faithfulness’ reward.
Thank You for avenging me, Your enlightened student
In my need to learn from Your, indeed heavenly sent
Against failure due to foolishness-ignorance whereto I’m bent…
You alone can teach me with Your truth of no falsity-dent.
Thank You for avenging me, Your earnest believer
In my supplication for Your increase to my faith as humble receiver
Against doubts and disobedience wrought by evil deceiver…
You alone can instruct me well since You are the supreme law Giver.
October 6, 2022
I walk gleefully in the gorgeous garden path all alone
with the cadence of love pulsating in my young heart,
nurturing hopes of the permanence of pleasure sown
in my impermanent world from where I can’t depart.
The fluid times change, but I can’t ever make out how,
the storm of strife surges, but I can never know why
it blows away the mind, a discarded leaf from bare bough,
that falls like a silent drop of my tear with a somber sigh.
The burden of blankness drags the dead dreams down
to the dreary depth of fragile life’s labyrinthine abyss,
and onto the beleaguered brink of self- destruction to drown
in the dismal flood of the disappearing hopes, I miss.
In the collapsing quicksand of expectation hollow inside,
shadows of remorseless danger of devouring desolation lurk.
As the shards of demolished desires subtly subside,
mist of failure makes life’s tortuous pathway abominably dark.
There the unsure trembling footsteps unknowingly falter,
the sliding sands of the sanguine time don’t ever stop.
The dormant diktats of the ordained destiny never alter,
as listless life lumbers in the dark path, losing the prop.
Searching then for the inner glow I discern the divine light,
that reveals the reality of life’s tangible intent in the haze,
defines the prescribed purpose of existential journey right,
through the door of uncertainty away from the mundane maze.
She had an almost insane love of life,
Her attitude exuded abject fairness,
She was the abominably busy butcher’s wife,
Cancer treatments turned her suddenly quite hairless.
Her love of God and Savior was her guiding light.
No matter how she suffered, optimism shone through.
The secret storm she held inside, a secret plight.
Each day, a gift, she treasured gloriously anew.
As the world turned, day by day, the same for many,
She found happiness, and determinedly ignored the sad,
Bringing joy to those who would have suffered plenty,
If they had not seen her beacon of hope, realizing she was glad.
At her services, a reoccurring theme was her love of life,
Her love for her family, and her incessant offerings of hope.
The busy butcher, now not as busy, mourning his lovely wife,
In honor of her, smiled through his tears, daring not to mope.
He could feel her love for him, beaming down from heaven.
Glad he was, she was not still suffering from her secret storm,
A storm she hid from the rest of them, especially her son, Kevin,
Who crawled into bed with his daddy that night, so toasty warm.
Written 10-09-2018 Contest: Soap Opera Titles
Sponsor: Sian St. James
I.
Seeds for the Earth, bread for the early
Vines for the fields, their fruits for the ones ready to perish
Gates for freedom, walls for a cover
Portals unclosed at king's pass
They bring us the way forward
As ashes of totem gods we renounced
Cladding ourselves in God's armor, we peacefully march
On our way home to the source, in love with his freedom
II.
New worlds reborn with no order
No laws, no form, no potter
No rules, no religions
Is this our sketch of freedom?
Moorish dooms rehearse themselves
No locks, no doors to keep out the legions of wars
Is this our portrait of freedom?
Knives for claws, guns for unbridled tongues that scourge
They speak abominably, they slander, they frame the innocent
Their only meditation is grave sin and gloom
Who could ever be in love with such a vignette?
How could this ever be the true picture of freedom?
III.
No water, no blood, no sun
No life, no spirit, no vessels to run
No fire, no drive, no light
No healing, no beauty, no revival
No joy, no glory, no memories
No battles for overcomes that crown us victors
No knowledge, no truth, no testimonies
No source, no men, no cherubs
No love, no energy, no miracles
No way, no signal, no time
No, how could this ever be freedom?
Watched by a rat
As he snored in a mat …
Just like the rat
Abominably fat …
Still wearing a fanciful hat
He’d for it parted with a bat:
To many witnesses “A Good Bargain”
To a Smarter Few, “No Loss, No Gain” …
And Fat Sleeper still had an unfinished fish:
Just an hour ago his dinner wish
And right now a rat’s collecting wish
Especially as he’d held it and it seemed childish!
“But how possible by a rat?”
Sadly, neither possible a wake-up pat
And Statement of its Rat Purpose
After interrupting human repose!
There, a brainstorming just stood or sat,
Merely self consoling that Mr. Fat
Was still delaying his purchase of a cat.