It is unconscionable to ponder
that God's awesomeness is questionable.
The permanence of his good countenance
lies beyond the sustenance of the shrewdness
of our
insouciant condescension.
The incandescence of His amour in our lives
should remain aglow with eternal longevity,
so that any falsehood
be irreproachably reprehensible,
His presence is without pretence
That thunderous fires
owe His infallibility a debt,
Even when death has dealt with our incorrigibilities,
we must summon courage
to quench the flames of inveterate servitude.
And in solemn solitude
our being
should exude an astute gratitude,
that girds our vulnerability
with great fortitude.
And in the sober cadence of our credence,
we should attest to the sempiternal essence of God's existence,
not to be subsumed by the puerile creed
of a monk with no god.
I have a cat
(or a cat has me),
a furry cat, a very purry cat
when on my lap it's sat,
independent it is
(egotistical too),
yet demands attention
(self-centred through and through),
and when well-fed, its purr
(a four-stroke motor),
is full of condescension,
when behind its ears you scratch
(it's expected of you),
you may believe you heard,
“Meow, meow, meow,”
(sorry, here's the catch),
what it really said is,
“Me now, me now, ME now!”
And, as goldfish swims in bowl,
cat looks on with danger fraught,
thinking, 'So near yet so far,
that fish is food for thought.'
How do I compare to you, God
What is the scent of my desire
that the golden globes you trod
that the grandeur of the celestial choir
to quicken yet the voids 'neath this sod
oblige your condescension into Hellfire
Some lie to the undecided
Disguise what they believe
Utopia is ahead, so it's easy to deceive
Some lie to themselves
To avoid facing glaring flaws
And the contradictions of their cause
Some lie to the faithful,
To make them hate more,
They stir up the fire, then walk out the door
Some lie to the lost ones,
With a hand on their back,
The more cannon fodder for the attack.
Some lie because they think
the truth could make you ignite
Do you want condescension or to know what is right?
It's a jungle out there
Between what's false and what's true
If it feels wrong, pursue every clue.
If it feels right, still truth pursue.
Black on Black… you say,
A madness...yes…a brutal truth it is.
The evisceration of pain turned inward,
The observer recoils, head shaking in condescension,
While sucking back an exhale of quiet relief.
But contemplate this—
Would you truly prefer it the other way?
Suffocated anger unleashed with fury.
Our pain, unchained, directed at its true source.
If ever unleashed,
Would you dare brave the cataclysmic storm?
To confront the tempest raging within our souls?
Could you endure centuries of seething rage,
Spreading like wildfire, unstoppable?
No matter the bullet, the rope, the law,
This outcry could not be arrested.
For we know how to fashion a noose as well.
Understand this—
Our silence was never submission,
Nor a display of weakness or fear.
It’s a barricade against chaos,
A protection for us both.
If only you could grasp the tightrope we walk,
The restraint we must bear each day—
If only you knew...
Handing me his laptop
my older brother Ray says:
“Hey, look at this!”
The screen goes black
so he mutters:
“What'd y'do now?
Here, give it back.”
He fiddles with something.
My back hears his cold hint from the door -
“Just look at the picture,
DON'T touch the screen.”
But…
I’ve walked away without a word,
thereby leaving his put-down
where it belongs
in his lap.
Took me a long time to learn
I don’t have to listen
to arrogance or condescension.
I’ve learned to put down put-downs
with ease.
Why wait for the name-calling like
"Ignoramus!" Just ignore Ray.
I quietly close the door.
I forgive
I forgive your arrogance
Matched by your ignorance
Interrogated by malevolence
I took you condescension
Your hidden intentions
Your lying invention
Politeness deterred prevention
I’m glad there was no extension
David Cox 31/03/24
She sings her heart out
Every night at the club
He brings down the house
With melodies of God's perfect love
She opens her purse
To anyone in need
He runs a ministry
That continually feeds
...the hungry
Hungry, everyone's hungry
.............Hungry, HUNGRY....hippo
Starving souls seek solace
A balance between operations
Realms of gods and men
For protection, offerings of libations
Power and control of the unknown
For fear of the finality of death
Hope in the Resurrection
For the chance of breath
...return
A system anew, arises
One of the old, laid to final rest
Where followers on both sides
Place peace on power's vest
No more up and down
Condescension pressing worth
All of LOVE's children
Move in their place of birth
...accordingly
Music......can you hear the MUSIC
................SINGING SALVATION SETTLED SLAVERY
Written by Trudy Schrader on 02-19-2024
I shall not lend an eye
In your direction
Knowing that power
Is what you seek
I shall not speak a word
On former connection
Knowing that relevance
Is your pay
I shall not make a move
Toward reconciliation
Knowing that condescension
Is your game
I shall not offer up a prayer
Toward LOVE
Knowing that treason
Is your heart's intent
...hell bent...on my destruction
Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-17-2023
Our Revolution sought limitations
On imposition of regulations,
But supplications met deprecation
And castigations not reformation.
Such condescension sparked protestation
And contemplation of separation;
This supposition stirred apprehension -
A premonition of confrontation.
But, declamations and remonstrations
Spurred agitation toward Declaration,
While provocations and deprivations
Steeled resolution for liberation.
War's prosecution, through execution,
Forged dedication for recognition;
Its culmination brought dissolution
And vindication for aspirations.
While extrication brought satisfaction
States' acclamations lacked definition.
This Federation showed imperfections;
Low validation forced redirection.
Deft composition penned Constitution;
Strong propositions scored affirmation.
Hence, generations find inspiration
And preservation their obligation.
-------------------------
Tell all the people yet to come
Democracy is what we chose;
Their mission's goal: protect it from
All foreign and domestic foes.
She walked into a crowded room
Trying to find her seat
Finally, she saw her name
Occupied by a woman with hoofed feet
When she stated TRUTH
She was met with unmovable resistance
So she found a seat in the back
Where servants flow with assistance
...to LOVE
She was sad, at first
For the condescension and theft
If it wasn't for the attention of the HOST
She would have quietly left
Roses and a note of admiration
Thrilled her heart with assurance
That her seat is not among the famed
Nor with those who proudly purchased FIRE INSURANCE
Her seat is secure without threat
Because it is in the courtroom of GRACE
Where she stands in WORD
Before every oppositional face
...to LOVE
LOVE does NOT demand its on way
Written by Trudy Shcrader on 06-23-2023
CONSIDERATIONS
unconscious
reverence
profoundly
different
sit
tendency
hope
is the spring
exquisite
& mysterious
the forgotten
fact
supposed
enough
by these
existential moments
became more
abstracted
prefiguring
diversion
or expectations
purely derivative
of condescension
deepened
with every
passing
illustration
precipitated
in
bright colours
& pattern
of
inventive genius
in
plain sight
ignored by
generations
of
reminiscence
romanticised
authentic
proof of
supposition
that reveals
more about
the fantastically
once
suppressed
a proliferations
suppressed
of
fiction
active assertive
&
&overdone
Condescension retention
Value reduced to a pebble
Thirst met with vinegar
Hunger withheld from a rebel
Dreams squashed neath rainbows
Vision, cloudy and bland
Educated without position
Though the behavior followed the plan
Relationships broken and burned
Family, where everything was learned
...a path emerges
Water for a daughter
A loaf of bread for a son
It matters not where you've been
Or what deeds have been done
Level ground, the shovel breaks
Stones remain intact
The ONE who loves
Giving all, having no lack
Taking a pick, digs around the ground
Bringing to surface, the fears He has found
...a hand offered
Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-21-2022
We think of these only at New Years Eve at midnight.
How terribly wrong we are!
Each sunrise is a day of fresh might.
With the setting of the last twinkling star.
Reborn, each morning you are.
Yesterday is but history.
Today you are its brightest star.
You are today’s glory and mystery.
Each poem you pen,that you measure
No, its not condescension.
Gems from your heart that we treasure.
You lift us to another glimmering soul
dimension!
12/31/2021
*Dedicated to my Supporters*
In Appreciation,
~Panagiota~
“You wound, like Parthians, while you fly, and kill with a retreating eye.” Samuel Butler
DODGING PARTHIAN SHOTS
(WHILE STALKING GOLIATH AND TRENCH)
By ELZBIETA BIENGA
Edited by ELSI TRESÉD
INVENTORIED CONTENTS:
1. Instructive Condescension
2. Intemperate Confessions
3. Indecent Contortions
4. Infernal Conundrums
5. Indecipherable Consequences
6. Inevitable Conclusions
YOU GET THE WHOLE BAG WITH BADSEEDPRESS
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