Best Shekels Poems
The God Reset
All Hail the mega-Temple brokers!
The Heavenly stock sellers
Chomping at the bit
Who parade in their Gucci suits
Escorting you comfortably
(like Kings)
Into “the Kingdom”come.
Beware:
Its a counterfeit kingdom
Not the real deal.
(Love money, much?
(Oh, but we won’t really actually tell you if we don't think you'd be a good “asset” in “our" Kingdom--)
They seem like they know something
You don’t know-- their words seem so godly,
Their knowledge of spiritual things so impressive-but then you hear them prognosticate:
“And did you know,
A ‘powerful message’ can be yours if you only throw
a few shekels our way today?”
(of course, they don’t exactly say it that way)
Coming straight from GD!
And advocate for a Kingdom that runs on cash.
They’ll happily seat you in
The First row,
Sell you a religious show,
Put the God mirror out in front
Of your sorry old face and sell
Repentance.
And then, when you repent, (properly and self-consciously)
they’ll grab you by the shoulders,
Hug you, and then ask you if you
Want to join the church...
“Looks like a Winner”, they silently intone, as you
Reach for your wallet.
Now they’ve sold you a
False Christ.
And you weren’t even in on the deal!
You thought you were sincere!
You didn’t sign up for a
Dead-end religion that would steal your
Joy, and maybe even your new-found love for GD-
You signed up for a
New Life.
Beware of the status-quo christians,
The little”c” christians
The walking dead,
Frozen Chosen
Lack of real emotion,
Preaching a gospel
Of “Cultural Churchianity”.
It’s not the real
thing-- the Christ-centered gospel that
Calls for a clean heart, and a
Clear conscience--
A gospel that has nothing to do with
The brand of your clothes, the number
Of dollars in your Bank Account,
The car in your garage, or the paid-off mortgage!
Wake up,
Heaven Brokers!
Your “stock” is rapidly falling,
And Christ is getting tired of calling
Cuz you hung up your gD- phone long ago,
When you let greed and fame
Consume your soul.
The greatest love story ever told,
Of a man who loved a prostitute.
Married her in her infidelity,
But later she left his love destitute.
Hosea loved Gomer through all her sin
And lack of faithfulness.
She did not deserve the love,
He gave without reservedness.
She gave him three children
But they were not his own.
She was extremely unfaithful;
Her wayward seeds were sown.
Yet he still loved her
And his heart did ache.
She despised his goodness;
His love she did forsake.
Finally Gomer left Hosea;
Went back to her old profession.
Found herself so destitute,
She became part of a human auction.
For 15 shekels of silver and some barley,
Hosea purchased his wife.
Took her back home again;
Lovingly gave her a new life.
Hosea was a type of Christ;
His love for Gomer never faltered.
Although we sin against Him;
His love for us isn’t altered.
We don’t deserve His forgiveness;
A chance to start anew.
But He gives it to us anyway,
His mercy each day to renew.
© Copyright 2008-2010 Maureen LeFanue
This self evident truth that all men are created equal ?
Never quite able as to escape these questions which arrive
Time's comical in ludicrous exposes: today as yesterday imagining
Her high courts turning unto a constitution defining something or another....
Ever evolving his living breathing documents cross fire spatial skies skeleton keys rogue
Renegades watermark tinsel town, treason from their graves these founding fathers proclaim
Antartic circles western worlds mediums her causeway's english channel I see dead people a baby's
Sixth sense the headless horseman thirty shekels of silver his broken bell premonition sheol's starveling
Shepherd spyglass mechants totem pole slave ship shackles spindrift spinsters who framed this, your amendments.
Form:
Letter from ANKOBRA - (28/03/17- Asiedu Michael)
I was a long meandering beautiful worm
Flowing along the beautiful evergreen swarms
Twisting and turning from the north east into the cape three
Many rejoiced in my beauty for my own sake
And a few more, for their grains sake
I was a delight to the herds and
Many a woman love my company for my calm
I was the beautiful river homed in Ghana
I was loved, cherished and protected
I was a life for many and a part of the live many sort
My food was delicious and my waters, refreshing
My way was the path of many, and my heart was the dwelling of nature
I was great, I was honored and I was nurtured
This was all the time I had many sincere citizens
Times have changed, people and their desires as well
Laws have changed, the makers and their enforcers as well
My friends have changed, their lust and desires as well
My life is no more, and my freshness is dead
My nakedness is opened to all, and my treasures expelled to strangers
My honor is mourned, and my beauty is tattered
My shame is pursued for shekels, and striped for the joy of their eyes
I am Ankobra, and I write to share my agony for what it may be worth
That my people have muzzled the ox that plough the land
Stop Galamsey Now. Let’s protect water bodies
red wine
cursed the marble floor
thus,
Brutus
Judge of Rome
no more
who
kisses the face of Jesus
once more
the
betrayal
for
thirty shekels of gold
The clock of my mind stopped in 1897.
it is always late autumn
and we dress mostly in grey
steam locomotive whistles
daily puncture our thought balloons
my teacher once said:
Boy, consider the rectangle,
source of all progress.
forty days and forty nights
forty shekels and forty cubits
and thirty pieces of silver
the number of mosquitoes
skating on the rain barrel
a marching panorama
of numbered cards
sometimes, a Joker!
a fire or a drunken brawl
It came around in time.
Not a pewter dime but your silver chime
delighting the eyes of a sleep-deprived moth,
awakened from nightmares in chloroform froth.
Each muttered lie which lessens the blind,
(that my eyes, yet blinking, chased once behind)
whose stale shriek of shekels tempt tender-throats’ trust
(from far-reaching lecterns of razor-burned dust)
promise false profits, their cheeks full of rue,
bankrupt, unable to quarantine you.
11/30/2017
Next to the Blue House
Next to the blue house there was silence and an espresso machine
For six shekels
I could break off my rumbling stomach’s static economics
And enter the collected films of Felinni
We had sex before
Parallel to another couple in the adjacent room
She loved his dick
At the moment that you glued quietness to the ceiling of the shabby hotel room
Again Fellinni with bags of cottage cheese crosses the street lengthways
A man in the heart of the desert night
And we are there
In a new edition of existence
And I’m already not laughing about your quantum proof of God’s
Being
translated from Hebrew:
Michael Simkin
My Hades my soul
Where to find Jesus ask these
Thirty shekels of gold
Like caramel in a lion's cadaver
Christ in Majesty born in a manger
Shekels in a shark's braces
There could be love in unexpected places
Ever feel like the **** in the mud
Trodden, sunken, swept by the flood
Now in sight, unsightly, causing smirks on smiling faces
There could be love in unexpected places
There could be love in unexpected places
Like treasure veiled in uninviting cases
Thunderous victories in unprepared races
And in gifts as teensy as tiny shoe laces
Some seek love in lemon Lamborghinis
Others in blue perfumed bedrooms
I found it in the pain and punctured palms
Of a marred and mangled man
#LoveInUnexpectedPlaces
©Radiant~ December 2014
(www.ibechidiogo.blogspot.com)
{EXTRA PRODUCTIONS}
Dedicated predestination escapades
Celestial especially preresequites
Difiniti extro-skeletons mini+thins
Cherry skoal impeding doom death throes
Throwing caution to the wind Jethro JJ escalations
Remastered Reproductions Catasphore' Confuscious Anthropology
Follow suit swedish clocks Air Force Girlfriends ass is yummy
Catch 22 Suite' 333 Denison Plaza Percision
Company (3) three requesting medicine Life saving relationships
Destiny Finesse enter treapordy
Pages refreshening connections infectionous
Illusional images imagine imagary dashlights splendid
Dish Hughes Net network equipment fist full of diamonds
Death Pool comparisons test tubes paper preparer
Mad is HIM testaments impaired extrocist
Sinclair cupboards cupid's arrows head shots
Dual bowls then Ice bowls Almighty Ones Nice Bowls
Caressa Coretta stop Cara carebears Beonyce' Sexual Extra Productions
Expos editing Nets Superior West
Quikened Fast And Deadly
Ten dear death threats tender years Rascal Flats
Shekels she kills refills Grim The Reaper Friendships
Leap years Chip in^a^dale Spade feel Trumps I'm in the Power
Rim dial Tim-Tim as the sequel
Lethal Weapons Master Friends in the Bleachers
Teror Cherry Teachers teenagers revealing tweeny sacks
making a killing making Tim a killer
Judgment
Entrapment by design.
Battles by the unseen, against the children of the Light.
The witness(s) openly lied.
The outcome already set.
The frame perfect, made of old wood, with sharp nails…
to pierce the flesh, cruelly and specifically.
The lawyer was pre-bought and paid in advance.
Shekels and silver, diamonds and gold.
Prison or worse…
Possible.
Death.
Forever!
And there after…
The crowd filled the gallery.
They were standing in the hall.
Person to person, no one could breathe.
The air, was not pulled, but sucked from the room.
They were also outside, by the hanging tree.
Lifting their voices, to heaven…unknowingly,
and yet calling to hell,
to kill justice, a single wave and then an ocean,
whispers of deceit.
All time comes to an end.
Eternity is a matter discussed quietly among the flawed,
in an earnest effort to find peace.
There is none, there never was, in the dead man’s march.
Only His grace can buy the price of even the most…
unworthy soul.
All that come to know Him,
will know Him forever.
All that say they will not…
are lying to themselves.
They already know that too.
.. and these distrustful thighs
From this heart that shan't lie
Lips that shan't diss
Eyes that shan't blink
Hands that succumb will
Lord save me
From those things that tangle
Ones that dazzle
Like the moon it tussles
I do nothing but muffle
Make my body rumble
No choice but cuddle
For 30 shekels of silver
Or 100 agarot to ease her
Lord save me
Since you've made me
I was ok with my ribs getting aged
Lord save me
From this slippery hair,
On a sleepy head
which illuminates not
But we slumber thus
.. in cleavage that torments
She that ensnare
this apple that we ate
From that which was forbade
that I can't evade
Man is greed
This paradox he found
Lord save me
Paradise i lost, she I found
Where will I be hence?
Her tanks won't let me rest
Like paradise it tents
Now 'me awaits my comeuppance'
What is next..?
Banished to hell
Or what do you call earth?
Another chance they said
More sins or less?
Pounds, Dollars, Rupees, Yen
Time to stop this if we can
Impossible, I know but still
When money rules, it’s all downhill
Euros, Pesos, Shekels, Krone
What the evidence has shown
Happiness does not equal wealth
Dividends do not foster health
Francs, Rubles, Riyals, Rand
How much more now can we stand
The quest for riches overtakes
Killers, liars, cheats, it makes
Love, kindness, fancy free
That’s the currency for me
A pound of friendship, worth its weight
There’s no cost to aggregate
Armed at all time, cap-a-pie.
leaving no room for tete-a-tete
Dwelt amongest enemy and snake
when enemy; our land they inevade
other, 'r death serves as joy
like the death on cross calvary
oh! ay, 'r life oft citizen's life
we hast forgotten our home
Gun bullet o'er our head?
't is either kill or be killed
widow turn our women
Nay, our children, orphan
for 'r punctured soul, they paid
Twenty shekels, thou remembered
cry, joy; on our return home
cry for puntured soul, joy for enemy