In the early eve
Different sounds are heard
Before I slumber
I hear the sounds of
A motorcycles
Starting up their motors
As I am dosing
I hear a bird chirps
A small child screams
Screaming very loud
Pass byers talking
Music playing loud
Its hard to sleep
Every eve I hear
All these sounds at night
Before the evening
Begins to be quiet
Then I fall asleep
He walks through murky puddles cobble stone
City full of busy sounds and movements
Time advancing enhancing improvements.
Passer-byers in the youthful sunny' hours
Social complexity of daily life
Yearning at the hand's fundamental strife.
With his organ strapped over his shoulder,
Brightly coloured, moving from place to place.
The cutest monkey, large grin on its face.
Round its neck a chain hooked to its collar.
It sits wearing a red little outfit
Trimmed in white, fancied its spirited wit.
Swishing its long tail, holding a tin cup
Dancing to music, a spark in its eye
Collecting coins from giving passersby.
While the organ grinder cranks his organ
He moves from place to place, to avoid arrest.
Laws obtain change, loitering, hard expressed.
Regalia awakens upon nightfall
Roused within rules proudly signified
Routine of midnight procedural
Robe wearer draped solemn dignified
Voracious moon grey devil face
Oak double doors crosses engraved
Vestibule commands reverence
Flung open so mortals can be saved
Behaviour carefully monitored
Moonshine in aisle to alter pointing
Father's guidance Penultimate
Spotlight slides jacketed anointing
Pulpit a pillar of scripture's page
Builds focus for lamp stuck fly byers
Formality chapters archaic sage
Impales twisted gargoyles on spires
Stitched into sleeves invisibly
Satin lining sheen hot cardinal flame
Shape of garment disciplining
Secure bounds by pockets contained
15th February
Fitting into Religion
Sadly I see by the busy road way,
That a man lies down at the end of day.
Quickly, from the noise, he pulls back in retreat,
And he draws his warmth from the grate in the street.
All his clothes, are but filthy rags,
And all he owns is beside him in his bags.
His face is haggard and warn with pain,
As now he sees nothing, in life he can gain.
A bottle of wine lays snuggled in his arm,
And having drunk so much, he fears no harm.
This man's self respect went out the door,
As his sin habits gradually made him poor.
In daylight hours, this man spends all his time,
Begging the passer byers to spare him a dime.
In garbage he searches in hopes that he'll find,
a left over morsel of any kind.
What brings a man so low in his life?
Maybe its grief over his passed away wife.
Whatever it be, self pity takes hold,
And all his life, to the devil is sold.
The Lord Jesus Christ is the answer to this man's needs,
So christians do not pass him by without planting the seeds.
Jesus died on the cross for all mankind,
And this despairing man need not be left behind.
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