Lucifer rebels, war ensues
Igniting evil’s deadly fuse.
Evil assails, Michael prevails
Satan’s revolt in heaven fails.
Cast down to earth, and filled with rage
His war with God, on man he’ll wage.
The rebel heart that his being filled
In human hearts he will instill.
Mission achieved by cunning ruse
Igniting evil’s deadly fuse.
Paradise lost, from Eden tossed
Death is the price man’s sin did cost.
Sin like a cancer suffused man’s mind
Evil blossomed, of every kind.
Wickedness so ruined God’s plan
That He was sorry He made man.
At the right time, God sent His Son
On Easter’s morn, the fight was won.
Lucifer’s reign was dealt a blow
God’s love for man was now on show.
The reign of sin will one day end
When God again, His Son will send.
This time to judge the quick and dead
And destroy sinners and their Head.
God’s fire will burn the wicked up
They spurned His bid with them to sup.
In place of sin, God’s love will reign
Eternal life His saints will gain.
Don't give a jot or
A sod this lot
On your tod..just nod
Seedier greedier leaders
Stun..Shun the Needier
Not just down trodden
Sodden...run roughshod
Beseech each of those clowns..down
In the dumps chumps who chose
Plumps for stealthy
Leeches who teaches
Fools at our schools
Only the wealthy can stay healthy
No education for the nation
Uses...abuses..eschews..media issues..then sues
Argy bargy - sarky malarkey ensues
Bemuses readers…forsake news as fake
It's a Maga Saga ruse for f**ks sake
No immigration...deplore integration
To restore order…close the border
Hardcore race riot diet of denigration
Likes 60's generation segregation
Damnation not salvation..just devastation
The sky a disruptive horizon
creating havoc in calm of evening
when electric thunder suddenly booms
without notice from neutral evening.
The shrill of invasive pyrotechnics
frighten animals and children
in their near hour of slumber.
Flickers of quiet ensues against
restless distress of the neighborhood.
Clouds begin to roll in steady flow,
that after the thunder, kids devour
pleasant bowls of strawberry yoghurt.
This and That, Volume 33 sponsored by Edward Ibeh
seven mourning doves
gather on the church steeple
funeral below…
a conversation ensues
ending on a somber note
It is not but a tiny ball of yarn I say as I roll it around in my hand then throw it away. The littlest furball sees it and squalls a hiss which made her mother even twitch. She pounced and rolled and bounced and scolded that teeny tiny ball of yarn until she molded it upon her four paws. Down on her back it was a balancing act which then brought a smile to my face in fact. Oh my goodness the cuteness and the pureness addresses each part of my heart. Her eyes alight as her brother jumps in or on if you will. Within a moment it is a torrent of hisses and scratches which the ball of yarn matches by somehow staying together. As the claws turn to paws each lies on their and pauses if only to draw more air. Then again it ensues two frisky kitties on the loose as the ball they did choose for theirs.
An unearthly fog thickens nocturnal’s peaceful aura.
Scents of lamenting petrichor mix with slick, decomposing leaves.
A disharmonious death knell calls to me,
Untying the red strings of fate from the celestial loom.
My heart weighs heavy against a faltering ribcage,
Standing in front of the wilderness of mirrors.
Disembodied voices duplicate—
Head spinning, whiplash ensues.
Reflections distorted, coated in soot—
I've become both saint and sinner.
Looking down at my hands, veins darken,
Burning from within—realization strikes:
I’m the ashes, the smudges obscuring judgment’s view.
Shepherds
of echo
sirens
that call
Masters
of legend
trapped
in the Fall
Moonlight
on ice fields
whispering
still
Voices
stay buried
destiny’s
will
Sunlight
awakens
mountains
that sigh
Hidden on
summits
new answers
there hide
But with
every Spring
a melting
ensues
Flowing
life’s message
recalled
— and renewed
(Memories Of Absaroka: May, 1997)
Watch out for that certain snake
The person that slithers between moods
The person who takes personal issues,
using them as ammunition against others
Then, around the bend fake niceness ensues
It's as if the striking, painful words never happened
Back and forth it can go, as he or she hides from truth
This snake in the grass knows just where to go
Watch out for this snake, the motives it may have,
as this one builds plans to attack, swiftly, suddenly
It escapes accountability, leaving a path in the sand,
one with grains of salt, leaving an imprint on your soul
Heidi Sands
3/10/25
(C)opyright
Ding, ding, ding.
My phone is on the table.
I haven’t answered anyone yet.
I haven’t answered anyone all morning.
I remember things.
I spilled cereal that morning.
That’s when the shift started.
I looked around.
Someone is saying things.
Bird seed spilled on the ground.
Which reminds me.
Of being able to fly.
A past life and I.
Ding, ding, ding.
I turn off my phone at night.
But still.
The sound.
A shift.
Lying down and hovering above the sheets.
I turn off the light again.
I turn off the light again.
I turn off my phone again.
I haven’t answered anyone all week.
I could throw my phone in the ocean.
Except I don’t live by the ocean.
Evil laughter ensues.
Crying is something they don’t know about.
But I think they are investigating me.
I could sleep at night.
They don’t care though so why bother?
A shift.
It could have started yesterday.
I used to sleep.
Ding, ding, ding.
I have 36 unread messages.
I counted them all.
A slumbering mind drifting in time, far out on the Ithacan shores,
Striving to sleep while trying to seek another pristine, poetic door.
With words of wonder, praying for plunder deep down in the cell’s domains,
Like Jonah in a whale, a humpback’s tail or looking out from a drop of rain.
Where insanity ensues the better of you and the pounding goes on and on
Like the drumbeat of a thousand drums beating out a brand-new song.
Tossing and turning, yawning and yearning for the perfect rhythm and rhyme,
Feeling defeated but not near retreated, seeking the soul of Devine.
While the muses fly in like sweet seraphim and you swear you can see the wings rise
Around in your head where you know you are led on a transcendental ride.
As the heart beats measured grasping for treasure you know is buried down deep
In the sands of time inside your mind still waiting for the soul to sleep.
And on it continues like a river you’ve been through: Deja vu again,
Nothing to do now but pray somehow, for this dreamscape never to end.
© Terrell Martin, 01/09/2025
A climbing rhyme:
take your time so
no crime ensues.
The rose that bears delicate flowers,
adorned with soft scented petals,
resplendent in many shapes and color hues,
bears a stem of thorns from which pain ensues,
to the hand that grasps the rose for closer view.
For the closer we get to enjoy loves ecstasy fulfilled
The more we risk the pain of petals turned to thorns, pointed poignant.
In the backlash of disdain, with love lost again,
to the black petals of pain, in whorled layers
of regret and suffering.
Autumn leaves
And on its heels
A savage wind
Hunts its offspring
Pursuing their faint scent
Riffling the golden fields
The curtain falls
A slow darkness ensues
The lights dim
In stillness
Reposed in shadows
within a realm of colors
dusty rose gown blurs.
All the flowers she adores ~
as gold love's beamed out of doors.
Green and purple blooms
are always in her warm face ~
'til she sinks in grace.
Exquisite pinks golds and blues
fade out, as plum night ensues.
The road not ending is growing wider.
Spreading all the way down and up again.
Hot shovel digging and soaring lighter.
Walking the straight line beginning amend.
Each moment new and keep myself steady.
No time elapsing and hold my heart true.
The light not too bright; dark never ready.
Nor to warm or too cold; middle ensues.
Not craving the escape of elixirs,
or overindulge a ravenous girth,
nor snatch symbols of sensual fixers.
This road traveling is all that is worth.
No hunting the material abound.
Hands touching the sky, toes grasping the ground.
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