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Best Judgement Poems

Below are the all-time best Judgement poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of judgement poems written by PoetrySoup members

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See Also:

Poems are below...


New Judgement Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Judgement poems are below this new poems list.

Judgement Day by Crasta, Venetia
Journey to Judgement by Gist, J Hamilton
judgement statement or statement about judgement by Schack, Daniel
Judgement Day by Marschall, R.A.
Judgement Day by Mahoney, Donal
Judgement overrides jumbled - not for contest by Roberts, Seren
Judgement is coming sooner than you think by mcdaid, liam
Judging the judgement by bhat, kshithija
the tormented judgement day by Kakamu Aliyu , Umar
Judgement Day by Brandon, Kacy

View all new Judgement Poems

The Best Judgement Poems

 
Details | Judgement Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The End

The End

Seeing through these cold dead eyes now,
This world looks much different.

The scars of one’s life entire,
Appear now for all to see.

What once meant everything,
Really means nothing now.

I still see and sense things mortal,
But the earthly world can’t hear my words. 

Lying on an ice-cold white slab this darkest night,
I see the pale yellow moon’s sad face in the sky.

With visions of people who’ve crossed over before,
I wonder when Charon shall finally appear?

Shall it be him who appears on this new horizon?
Or shall it be someone or something else?

The everyday mortal world moves on as before:
Regardless of one’s wealth, poverty, fame, shame, infamy.

I guess now all the ancient mysteries of the universe,
Shall become obvious and answered in kind.

I wonder what shall be said to me and the reception?
Thumbs up or thumbs down—I guess I shall find out.

The pale yellow moon now appears brighter . . . 
As if a special message cometh soon from a winged angel.

Hope this helps to answer my lingering questions . . .
As the dark void from the mortal world grows greater now.

I feel a gentle tug pulling me upward now from Earth’s grasp,
Into the majestic arms of infinity and into God’s eternal light!        

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
June 12, 2016 (Lyric)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016

Details | Judgement Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Devils Deadly Dime

Devils deadly dime

The sign said no grown-up at the playground.
Tripping on a penny, like a mime!
My hand is in my pocket with the dime I found.
Its all mine, I asked for the devils hand that time.
Echoes in my head, bounded by a screaming sound.
Paying for a forgotten crime,
on what comes around goes around.

A prison with greed that carries an evil musical chime.
Jumping off the merry-go-round!
Encouraged by the devil,
 the pleasure of his deadly nursery rhyme. 
Now the world is measured by my blood level.

The devils delight feasted on my youth before I hit my prime.
Bashing my mind, with thoughts implanted by evil.
Entering the day with no beauty to my sublime.
Begging him to remove this anvil!

He laughed while he cursed me with a favor for a favor.
A fallout so violently in this world not civil.
One can only lust on the taste that only he can savor.
Hanging out  by the swings wounding me with prey,
on two victims to his delicious flavor.
I climb my way to teach a lesson in hate not love.
Two siblings who always scream for each other.
Giggling as I offered each a push and a shove.
Stopping they give each other a big hug.
Defeating and proving love is a stronger disease
The devil wicked eyes looking  at me like a bug.
Clawing at my inner guts with remorse that he will win this war.
Until another day one skips the penny, 
and begs a poor fool like the devil for his dime.
Tossing heads for his tail when times hits rock bottom.
I will stray away from his deadly reaction time.
He will not own my soul so freak'em,
and his greedy deadly beg of a dime.


by;pd


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010



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Dead Men Do Tell Tales

Dead Men Do Tell Tales

 I saw, the rot of sad, deep selfish desires,
 burning endlessly in clever fires
 Piles of cash a tall mountain high
 stolen by those that cleverly steal and lie
 six lying days every week , 
 while they race into church pretending 
 to be ever so mild and meek

 The preacher crying all to give so much more
 while he lives in a mansion with a golden door
 drunks living with no other life
 have sacrificed family and wife
 naked women on the the street,
 selling their pride and body like meat
 hustlers getting rich selling poisonous dope
 as they hang themselves with an evil rope

 I looked for solace and found there was none
 just endless cowards crying on the run
 A world teaching wrong is so damn right
 blind monkeys never seeing the light
 dancing in fruitless trees,
 tree-rats eating with relish their rotting cheese

 Looking for Spring to bring life anew
 I too am blind and without a damn clue
 a fool holding onto a false hope
 on a tight leash and even shorter rope

 Where is the miracle we each think can come
 we see it shining there for some
 A treasure glaring in the glimmering Sun
 gifted not stolen by guile and a gun
 So I finally turned to family for relief
 ease my Soul, winter in my long lost belief
 that Life must give us all a saving line
 other than more food when we sit to dine

R.J. Lindley
Nov 9th, 1984


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

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Blame Game

You’re so devoted to all your grudges,
You cherish them like they're a prize;
You hold them with pride on your pedestal
Bursting with bliss as your relationships die. 

Next time you frame everyone's mistakes 
And hang them right above their head, 
You should hang up a mirror as well
And take a good look at yourself instead.

You love to play the blame game
So let's play another round-
What's wrong- are you too ashamed
To turn your finger around?

You're so foolish to expect anybody 
To respect a narcissistic point of view;
Within your childish perception the lens
Is solely focused on you, you, you, and you.

Next time you frame everyone’s mistakes 
And hang them right above their head, 
You should hang up a mirror as well
And take a good, long look at yourself instead.

You love to play the blame game
So let's play another round-
What's wrong- are you too ashamed 
To turn your finger around?

Yeah, you love to play the blame game
So let's play another round-
What's wrong- are you too ashamed
To turn your finger around?

By Anne Currin

For Metamorph Contest


Copyright © Anne Currin | Year Posted 2013

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Old Lady

Listen to poem:
"bag of bones"


I wonder if when you look at me
You can't bring yourself to like    the  vanity
Lost  somewhere  inside - 
I wonder if beauty lives..... in you???

Poor old lady; 
-perhaps you should not pass judgment 
For one day
I might be
Just 
Like 
You!

By: PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

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Give and Take


The give and take in love should reach a mean
whereby the two be equally disbursed,
so givers' hearts would never suffer lean,
cold hungry hours without love reimbursed.
And those who take would never reach the stage
of ravenous and selfish, one-way traits.
Such balance would create a better age,
if give and take maintained their equal weights.

But somehow this could never balance out—
for givers give beyond the gifts they bear;
in turn, must feed on crumbs, for without doubt
the hungry takers take beyond their share.

While takers tip the scale with all they gain,
the givers, weak and thin, smile through their pain.


Sandra M. Haight

~7th Place~
Premiere Contest: Any HM Ever
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 01/22/2017

~ Honorable Mention~
Contest: Love Justice
Sponsor: Justin Bordner
Judged: 01/24/2015


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

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Temptation Itches On All Living Things

Temptation Itches On All Living Things

Temptation itches on all living things
often nobody knows just how it stings,
not the icky-glues in its sticky pastes
nor the rotten fruits in its wasted wastes.

She the vixen nobody could resist
her vanishing pleasures - elusive mists,
long legs descend from heavenly skies
later, such dark pains in lamented cries.

Victim once thought to be heavenly bound
lost, voiceless, no understandable sound,
finds temptress, sexy wares designed to win
she that siren alluring to all men.

You scratch that itch, risking your own peril,
finding wounds that can never be sterile!

12-15- 2016


For Daniel Turner's , What Was I Thinking,  Contest
15 December 2016

Last verse inspiration, from his poem "Between the Lines

Couplet sonnet
Rhyme Scheme:  a a – b b – c c – d d – e e – f f – g g
10 syllables each line.


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

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I Did It My Way

I Did It My Way
I did it my way, not for the applause but because, failure was not an option and I became a rebel with a cause. I wanted higher education and was told I couldn’t have it all, so I had to prove them wrong even if I had to creep or crawl.
I was accused of having a stubborn streak, just because I wasn’t mild and meek. Challenging every obstacle placed in my way, and all the negative things that people had to say.
In spite of all the “You can’t do that,” that I was told, I stubbornly did it my way and confidently smashed the mold. Marching to a different drummer and dancing to my own tunes, I kept my eyes on the prize ignoring all the nay-saying buffoons.
To keep on track, I learned to juggle tasks knowing I wouldn’t be derailed. To keep my ducks in a row, I learned to haggle knowing I wouldn’t fail. With dedication and hard work, as sure as night follows day, success was mine because I certainly did it my way!
6-7-2014 - Submitted to contest “I Did It My Way” sponsored by Shadow Hamilton


Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2014

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Call Me Insensitive

You call me insensitive,
But I don't believe that's true;
Because, you see,
It's all about me.
It's not about you.

You say your opinion doesn’t matter,
That I’ve no respect for your point of view;
But I do if we agree,
Because it’s all about me.
It’s not about you.

You say I’ve no compassion,
No feelings for your troubles or your blues;
But none of us is issue free,
And mine are all about me;
But…not about you.

A time old adage, 
“To thine own self be true.”,
Is all about choices you see.
My choices are all about me,
And, certainly, not about you.

So, when its time to make your choices
You’ll understand and know it’s true; 
To decide what will or will not be,
Won’t be at all about me;
It will be all about you

But special moments confront each of us,
When what matters isn’t “Me”.
And while these moments are few,
They’re not about me, not about you.
For a time, it’s all about “We.”

Yes, “…no man is an island.”
Is a valid point of view;
But if it’s not about “We”, 
Then it’s all about me.
Sorry.  It’s not about you.


Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

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read this please

They hate you because your you
They make up lies and call it true
They're fake behind your back
Hoping someday that you'll crack.

They hate you because your real.
no matter what they say you always heal
They're surprised to see you rise,
That you're not affected by all these lies


They hate you because you smile at them
It shows them that your a real gem
You are always true and do your best :)
Sometimes these haters just cant test

They hate you for no reason
Despite it all, you smile
whatever the reason
At the end of the day
All i'm gonna say
All i plan to be 
IS ME


-Sanderline Fleury :)


Copyright © Sanderline Fleury | Year Posted 2013

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Tongue Study

Tongue Study 
4/22/2014

Steady it wags
needing to know
more, about the
the very thing that
causes wars.
peace and pain
I study my tongue.
Much has been said
about the tongue yet
how has it pertained
to my own.
My tongue has delivered
and served, it has given
and taken, it has blessed,
it has cursed.
It has been written
and it has been SAID.
the tongue can be tied, twisted
curt, sweet, sharp, wagging or
bragging.

It may be your
native tongue
or foreign, it may be
exciting or boring.
If quiet is your tongue
the cat may have it.

If you use your
tongue to speak ill
of the dead, you may,
challenge a force and
be cursing your life's course.

The tongue's confession's
may sweep out
dirty secrets from the
corners of your mind.

Wise words have fallen on death
ears, words smothered by pride.
truth escaped lying eyes.
Ignoring what you saw and
twisting what was heard.

Tongues may bond
with imbeciles or angels
forming positive
or negative energy.

Be careful, mind your tongue
it is closest to your own ears
and will affect you first, rather
before the others hear.

Be not at the mercy of
an imbecilic tongue
read their eyes
and duck the darts
about to be thrown.

Do not despise the
foreign tongue
for it is the aptitude
of the brain, the tunnel
to his bilingual, do not
expect the champions,
to cater to the dance,
of those who can barely
master his own tongue.

In general, I have concluded
whether you live by the sword or
stand on principals, I had to
learn to manage my tongue
as I would a loaded gun.

I will not justify my tongue
when I use its power for the wrong
and neither hold my piece,
to placate the sword of the unjust.
the real power is in
the righteousness
of the spoken tongue.

For those who live by
the sharp and sworded tongue
and wield words as death
blows to the innocent,
or those who are silent,
while others suffer
May also die
by the mighty tongue.
or by the holding of it.




Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014

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Ripping

I rip and chew at my edges
Trying to eradicate 
Placate
Eleviate
My pain
The anxiety 
The part of me that threatens to freeze 
My mental disease
The part I hope no one sees
The inner demons I wish to appease 

The tattoos that your artistry 
Injected
Under my skin
With invisible ink
Yet I feel it there with the words I think
As I claw and bite into my pink

I wish to be smoothed out
Cared about
As the blood appears it calms my shout
Exquisite pleasure wrapped in the pain
With it, some level of relief I attain

I tell myself 
I can't
I won't 
do it again
Yet with chewing
I feel my inner turmoil wane
The weaker bits
The inner head stitches
It helps me scratch, those indiscernible itches
Stopping the soul twitches

In shame I hide my hands
Fingers and things 
The evidence my body sings
Strategicly placed
My problems kind of erased
In fabric bandages encased
Still desperation has a taste
Inner turmoil only temporarily chased

Was I designed for this
Some kind of inner sickness
Expressed in a serpent's kiss
As I'm hypnotized by it's hiss
I wonder
Is there a way 
to fix this
I wish to be 
a fully healed 
Calmer witness
Perhaps this is my litmus
Another test I fail
For I'm a blind  man
Who can't read braille  

I'm bound by ropes
That help me cope
Evidence I can't wash away with soap
I wanted your yes 
But always got your nope
Became an inner pauper
Surrounded by hope
Still deep down I feel like a dope

I know I have much to be thankful for
Greatly blessed I can't ask for more
Still I fear what might be waiting for me
An imaginary enemy
Hidden behind the next door
Threatening my hope for a peaceful shore
Still I know this inner tension is a gift
It's a wave on which, I've been given a lift
It helps me travel far and swift
As within life's currents I hear the music shift.
There is a tune I wish to sing
Above the maddening ring
A new place from which I wish to begin
Beyond tattoos
And cracked and bleeding skin.
Peaceful rivers
Flowing from within.


Please read Njeri Unjeri's poem Tattoo's, after reading her
poem I got to thinking of the tattoos that all of us wear.

For Nathan's Mental Illness contest.


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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KISS MY CLOUD

So you say you want to sit on MY cloud.
The view, you say, is rainbows and bluebirds.
I understand you hate your polyester,
Dishwasher safe, blue light special cloud.
It is weak, sagging under the weight of your expectations.
It is no longer fluffy, no longer billowy, no longer white.
It is empty and dingy and flat. Like your soul.

You can't see the best part of my cloud because it is on the inside,
Where it is built from the sweat of a hundred strong women like me.
Where the walls glisten from the tears shed as others like yourself tried to steal our cloud's glory.
But like this cloud, though we look soft and billowy, we are steel, cursing forth our thunder and glaring bolts of lightning to protect ourselves and our own.

My cloud is high now, but it has had its lows.
Where were you when others avoided and mocked us as nothing more than valley fog?
When the view consisted of puddles of want and winds of despair?
Did you once offer me a seat on your cloud?
Did you give me a hand up? Or were you too busy looking down on me?

So excuse me if I block your sun, ruin your picnic, cancel your flight.
But I will never ignore you.
Come closer and I will whisper a message in your ear:
HEY, YOU, GET OFF OF MY CLOUD!!!!


Copyright © Cindi Rockwell | Year Posted 2015

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The Unknown

The Unknown

While standing on a razor-edge end of my mortal time,
I’m not sure of what lies beyond and what I shall find.

Death’s dead, cold eyes stare me down now, as I wait;
My spirit sweats and shakes, as my blood turns frigid.

His skeleton face is scary, horrid, pallid, and macabre.
His apparition floats freely full of fear this frozen night.

A little girl long dead steps toward me from this oblivion,
Her face sad, streaming tears as she hands me a wilted rose.

This strange netherworld has that dull, cold pallor of death, 
Just like the smell, sensation, and sadness of a charnel house.

The moon on this eve is one blood red, insidious in intent;
Fixed high in the cold night sky it gives one no hope at all.

The little girl long dead returns and holds my left hand gently: 
She says, “It’s not yet your time . . . this is still only a dream.”
She adds, “The River Styx lies ahead—cold, dark, and deep.”
She says, “There is yet time to change your life for the better.”

As I started to awaken from this intense and revealing dream,
I could hear a faint voice whispering deep inside my psyche.
It told me now a certain message that I shall never ever forget.

Follow your heart and conscience, find the goodness in your life.
Listen to God and what the better angels of your nature tell you.

This shall keep you on that path of the devout in the eyes of God.
The image of God is reflected in Man himself as he seeks to fulfill
Always His Divine Destiny!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
January 1, 2016 (Lyric)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016

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A Mile in Her Shoes

A mile in her shoes
You look at her and wonder
and simply do not at all understand
You would think she would leave him
Before things really get out of hand.

She thinks we don’t notice
The days she shows up newly bruised
Some of us look down on her at times
Because she allows herself to be abused.

I cannot look down upon her
Because I have walked in her shoes
You cannot know the pain she has
Or her shame she has for being used 
 
She has children she must think of
And bills that need to be paid
Food for the table to be purchased
There are so many reasons she’s stayed

Her dreams and life have shattered
And hope died so long ago
Love has a different meaning to her
Something most of us will never know
 
So do not harshly judge her
She is aware of your opinions and views
And you should never ever judge her
Unless you have walked a mile in her shoes


Copyright © Connie Moore | Year Posted 2014

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AS PURE AS POSSIBLE








Help me, oh Lord,

The soul you have entrusted me with, 

As pure as possible to Thee, 

With 

My last breath, to surrender! 





© Demetrios Trifiatis
   10 March 2015


Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2015

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The God Machine

I really have outdone myself this time!
My ‘God Machine’ is finally in place!
I’ll never have to fret about a rhyme,
Or stop for a red light that changed from green 
As if it sought to put me in my place
A random hiccup clearly quite obscene.

I really am quite clever I must say
My ‘subtle knife’ (1) allowing me to splice
My ‘God Machine’ into time’s tawdry day
The true God left completely unaware
That He is now controlled by my device
And just another victim of malware.

It seems there’s quite a lot that ‘God’ screwed up
That I intend to change now I’m in charge
I think that its bad form to cover-up!
So what’s the deal with dying anyway?
Let no one die will be my countercharge
And life is just a breeze on my freeway!
 
All pain mere nuisance, manna heaven sent
And sin gives you enormous facial zits
While love and kindness clear up all your rent.
Though talents differ, jealousies dissolve
As differences bring none real benefits
And non-destructive social moves evolve.

All birth defects, parental wealth passé
Genetic weakness gone with dodo bird
No accident of birth gives worth per se
Sins of the parent cannot taint the child
That God might favor one is just absurd
The color of one’s skin no more reviled.

But now I find my plans have gone awry
My God Machine decided I’m a flaw
It seems that I’m outdated samurai
Humanity endangering MY plan
Just plankton in the future’s yawning maw
Machine judged only advocate for man! (2)

Brian Johnston
November 5, 2014

Poet's Notes:
(1) subtle knife - A reference to a magical knife that can open windows in time in one of the 3 books in the Phillip Pullman trilogy 'His Dark Materials' including The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass.

(2) My poetic version of the lesson of the book and movie 2001 (written by Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke) where HAL, a computer so smart that it becomes sentient, decides that that only way to really protect a manned mission of a spaceship to the planet Jupiter is to kill all the humans on board the spaceship. The crew's humanity HAL decides is just too big a risk to the mission that HAL is charged (by its human programmers) to protect.


Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2014

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Bitter Harvest Of Thy Wickedness

Bitter Harvest Of Thy Wickedness

Thou hast slain thousands for that golden throne
Sleep in peace upon a silk laden bed.
Why now in old age, do thy dare to moan
In deep fear of ghosts of those murdered dead?

Are not thy treasure vaults filled to the brim
With stolen wealth from lambs of this dark world?
Yet thy black heart, feels the murder of him
And that Heaven bolt that may soon be hurled!

Triumph in destruction tis' bitter fruit
And thy wicked soul now sees the true light
Yet thou sprang from dark tree's most evil root
To try to bring forth never ending night!

Thou hast slain thousands for that golden throne.
Why now in old age, do thou dare to moan?

R. J. Lindley,
Jan. 11th, 1980


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

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The Quiet One

The Quiet One

How shall I begin my story
I hardly knew that he was there
Yes, he really seemed nice enough
with those blue eyes and light blonde hair

When I heard what had happened
I must say I was suspicious 
A word written on the body
in red lipstick said delicious

Now I'm not one prone to gossip
But what I'm telling you is true
I racked my brain for answers
Trying to search through every clue

Yes I had noticed him watching
As she gracefully tossed her hair
She was a beautiful woman
I understand why he would stare

Still there was something different 
He had a strange look in his eyes
His pupils were so dilated
In fact they were double in size

It truly seemed a dark hunger
for sure he was licking his lips
Nothing will ever be the same
In his room I found leather whips

I'm sorry I can't go further 
It's true that monster framed me
The quiet ones are so clever
I beg you to please set me free


For Broken Wing's Contest
Written June 7th, 2017


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2017

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Justice

They say Justice is a woman
That men should fear her wrath
Nothing will make them tremble
More than hearing her laugh

She is going to make them know
That she should be feared
They will ask for mercy
And then hide in their beard

But Justice will be kind
She will not take their head
But will make them suffer mentally
And wish that they were dead

Pain will not be physical
She will lead a merry dance
But in the end of everything
She always gives a final chance


Copyright © Mama Bear | Year Posted 2014

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Burnt Into Ash My Sad Soul Looks Far Back

Burnt Into Ash My Sad Soul Looks Far Back

In youth, my spirit was a climbing vine
dressed in green leaves upon white oak tree
Seeking light, I was walking a true line
in shade of path that was truly free

Storms weathered sheltering branches
bringing sun's hot beams upon my head
I sought more, took gravest of chances
of true love's blessing and being well fed

Once cast upon dirt and parched ground
my legs found needed strength to run
Racing winds sent that deceiving sound
soon, I forgot the heat of blazing sun

Burnt into ash my sad soul looks far back 
Long ago, in tree's top, I was once on track

Robert J. Lindley, 7-14-1999


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

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Walk of Shame


                                  It’s the day of dread
			The day your false prophets
	and prophetesses never read
		to you
Or properly prepared to armor your heart
from the fear spear now piercing thru
	                          It’s the day of dread
	that all of the real seers declared
Today you must take your naked pride,
undressed beauty and fame ...
Go descend from your high throne,
and take the long walk 
through the streets of the city that bears your name
Marching slowly with your head bowed,
		     taking that dreaded walk of shame
Your heart fall to its knees hearing the cries
of the people ... some compassionate, others profane
The throng, lining along your sorrowful path,
have been waiting for years to have their say
	This is their judgment day
	This is the law of the land,
	it is the Valerian way!
Your imperial guards dare not intervene,
for the people they fear will violently erupt
and kill you — their beloved hated queen
You must soldier through on your own,
stripped of your dignity
Confessing to all, you cast into the air
every one of your secret transgressions
	Looking up, you see all of the sparrows
perched on the church balcony ledge of the Great Septon
And the High Sparrow nods approvingly
for you to faithfully continue on
	Looking around, you see none of your staunch supporters
bravely stepping in to intercede
To rescue you from the pain of the moral bleed
Humiliation is a reality you now concede
And the ever increasing strident shouts ring out:
Shame   ...   shame   ...   shame!
As they repeat your name,
spitting on your royal person with disdain
Being pelted with rotten things and rancid words,
you mournfully endure your walk of shame
Shame   ...   shame   ...   shame!
You never cared to help the homeless, downtrodden poor
Shame   ...   shame   ...   shame!
The plight of the lepers, widows and orphans you chose to ignore
Shame   ...   shame   ...   shame!
When the famines came, you closed the palace storehouse doors
Shame   ...   shame   ...   shame!
Prophetic fear prompted you to order every male baby killed
Shame   ...   shame   ...   shame!
Incestuous cravings was how you desired to lustily live
Five fingers of shame balled into a fist,
with which the people pummel you again and again
As a rogue queen, you did whatever you wanted to do
	Cleansing your dirty soul
in pure water of faith never appealed to you
Near the end of your bloody walk,
	you see the tall palace walls
At the iron gates: you turn to the people, humbled and pleading ...
asking them for mercy
To your amazement, the yeas over shout the nays
Bathed in their forgiveness,
		   you vow never to willfully return to sin again
Walking through the fortress doors,
head held high, unashamed — 
you are a different person now ... a crowned newborn woman


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017

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Seven Kingdoms


			I

The Holy Bible said seven kingdoms would arise,
then like windblown grains of sand, fall to the dust
Six kingdoms have come and gone, blinked their eyes
and we’re now, in these last days, living on the cusp

But let us first do a fast biblical rewind,
go back in history through the pages of time
The kingdom count begins in the dark land of Ham,
where God revealed Himself to be I AM THAT I AM

Egypt, land of the pharaohs and great pyramids
Stone reminders of all the oppression they did
It happened here, in the oasis field of Zoan,
great Exodus from a bondage that was strong

God delivered to Pharaoh a Red Sea burial,
showed forth His power so everyone would know

			II

Showed forth His power so everyone would know
His Almighty name throughout the whole earth
Next kingdom to arrive with their arrows and bow,
didn’t think much of life, or it’s inherent worth

The Assyrians were big, bad conquerors
who wanted their killing rumors to be heard
They loved to rip open a begging mother’s womb,
they loved to destroy, devour and consume

But God broke the iron rod of great Nineveh,
when He took their strong right arm out of the fight
Their king sought victory thru his false god love,
and had his whole army destroyed in just one night

One angel of God killed 185K,
God’s awesome power once again on display

			III

God’s awesome power once again on display,
opened the door for the third kingdom to arise:
Babylon the great whore, we all recognize
She sold every nation their idols to pray,

Trafficked in things you need not ever know,
selling everything, even human souls
Babylon burned down the temple Solomon built,
she was a lewd woman who felt no shame or guilt

She loved to boast of her wickedness out loud
So after being in bondage there for a while,
God said come out and touch not the unclean thing,
only your clean soul would you be able to bring

The same way Babylon quickly rose to power,
God destroyed this great kingdom in one hour

			IV

God destroyed this great kingdom in one hour,
and let the Mede-Persian’s time to reign begin
They were the fourth kingdom to bloom like a flower,
but their wicked rule too would soon come to an end

With a decree issued by Persian king Cyrus,
the house of God was built again in Jerusalem
But evil came once more in king Artaxerxes,
work on the holy temple was stopped by his whim

But a better Persian king took the scepter,
and said let the second temple be completed
Showing another kingdom would rule forever,
marking off time for judgment to be meted

This divided kingdom loved war like all the rest,
so God carried them on the wind into the west

			V

So God carried them on the wind into the west,
where the fifth kingdom provided the stiffest test
The Greeks loved to preach peace and democracy,
but they loved more to practice war and slavery

When Greece arose, it signaled man’s ending,
because the second temple was now complete
And any kingdom that came thus a-following
had just been made insignificant and obsolete

Because the future kingdom of God was now firmly set
in the cornerstone which was the Son Jesus Christ
The raised temple meant Resurrection paid the sin debt
Eternal sovereignty was the holy Messiah’s right

The rise of Western civilization started with Greece,
but the sun of man’s dominion already set in the east

			VI

But the sun of man’s dominion already set in the east,
when the sixth kingdom’s shadow was cast into view
Enter mighty Rome, the fabled iron-clawed beast:
Said Caesar was the only king you must bow down to 

Now the whole world lay in complete gross darkness
when the King of Zion appeared in human form
The Romans loved to crush with the heel of conquest,
they mocked any prophecy as superstitious norm

With capital punishment, they truly did excel ...
new ways to torture flesh was their calling card
Crucifixion was something they really did well;
exquisite death that was painful, cruel and hard

When they nailed Jesus on that cross at Calvary,
the empire of man then became ancient history

			VII

The empire of man then became ancient history,
two thousand years of empty footnote pages
And so now ends this tragic tale of no mystery,
the seventh kingdom owe lots of unpaid wages

It’s an amalgamation of the six kingdoms,
having all of their sins rolled up into one
Pharaoh, Nineveh, Babylon’s whoredoms
Divided empire, Greece, Rome ... all are done

The Devil has one more left, the last perdition:
a wicked kingdom unlike any heretofore
This seventh kingdom will be a proud creation,
with witchcraft hell-baked into it’s very core

Post brimstone day, no trace of man will tell why
the Holy Bible said seven kingdoms would arise


Re: Revelations 17: 9-11. This passage says that five kingdoms have came and went. The sixth kingdom, Rome, was presently in existence when the apostle John wrote the Book of Revelations. And every since then, mankind has been waiting for the last kingdom to appear, the seventh and final kingdom of man before the kingdom of God rules forever. The other six kingdoms are all written about in the pages of the Holy Bible.



Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017

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Tribute To The Memory Of John Keats

Tribute To The Memory Of John Keats

Child of the storm-swift Hermes, lithe and strong
To Trojan tumult, had the gods thus willed,
They gave thee one short year of riper song
And more melodious than ever filled
The heart of youth; they gave thee power to build
A noble altar for thy offering
Amid the heedlessness that had long chilled
True poesy, true souls that fain would sing.

And thou, from depths of silent agony,
Hast left unto the world such rich bequest
Of love's own loveliness that thy last rest
Becometh as the soul's own sanctuary
To all that long have learnt of thee to wear
Sun-raiment in the shadowy House of Care.

R.J. Lindley
Sept. 9th 1975


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017

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The Pied Piper from New York City - Part Two

The Pied Piper from New York City – Part Two

This is quite despicable and very inappropriate for someone holding the 
“Highest Office in Our Land.” The Pied Piper hides his treachery by
Wrapping himself in the glory of the “Stars and Stripes.” Talk about
True shame! He should look in the mirror!  

The “Forgotten Man” who represents those who fell prey to the inflated
Promises and mindless propaganda of The Pied Piper, should not at all
Be surprised later when they suddenly discover—they’ve been “had,” 
That is,
Sadly, forgotten by their Pied Piper,
Replete with his famous Trademark Attributes: 
Thin-skin, 
Clay-feet, 
Twitter-thumbs and
A shrill-accusatory voice.

The Pied Piper, as new-style politician, is also mired in some other
key controversies with his family that are worth mentioning.

Since coming to Washington, DC and ascending to the White House
on January 20, 2017:

The Pied Piper and his family have viewed the nation’s capital and
the people’s house as,

“Juicy Plums—Ripe for the Picking!”

And, the Pied Piper’s various plans and actions since his ascension
to the presidency are certainly not done necessarily in favor of the
American people—if at all!

Characteristically, he enjoys playing to people’s “Fears,” rather
than taking the higher road that any good leader would do, by
appealing to the “Better Angels of Their Nature.” For sure, an 
Abraham Lincoln, he’s not, nor shall he ever be!    

Indeed, the Piped Piper has done some very naughty things,
among others, already to his credit and ignominy:

His poorly-conceived and implemented Muslim travel ban.

Playing “Chicken” with the U.S. Congress on the state and 
quality of American healthcare.

Using the White House as his own personal ATM machine.

Becoming the “Patron Saint of Nepotism” with the inclusion
of select family members on his staff. (What’s wrong with a
little nepotism, eh?)

Engulfed in multiple business conflicts of interest, both foreign
and domestic.

Revelations of potential collusion with Russia and Russian
surrogates to interfere with the 2016 presidential election.

Blatant violations of the Emoluments Clause of the U.S.
Constitution.

And he’s just now quashed executive branch protection of the 
DACA Dreamer Immigrant Program. 

All these very naughty things are: tragic, thoughtless, sad, stupid,
and grossly reprehensible!

With all this, I now rest my case!

Yet, I would like to encourage everyone to reflect for a
critical moment on “The Fragile Nature of Democracy.”
 
“Democracy,” itself, has been viewed and likened to:
“That Most Precious Fabergé Egg.”

We all must devoutly cherish this most precious Fabergé Egg
called “Democracy.”

And protect it always from the unscrupulous actions of the
Pied Pipers of the World!

For us to do otherwise—would be unforgivable! 

Need I say more?

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 7, 2017 (Political Verse)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2017