thou art a muse of this prose
all the fame thou credits them all
thou lovely and tender rose
of this fragile soul.
beats the tempo of my heart
you knew it well right from the start
hear the rhythm of the pain
though i know it sounds so lame
to thee i’ll give this very heart
broken and with no art
some pieces torn of enviousness
some were lost in emptiness
some were blemished with a lust
so fleeting it didn't last
it wears the lingerie of deceit
To catch a lion to the pit.
unto thy grace i laid it all
my doctor, my carpenter , my all in all
make my heart beautiful
to testify thy grace once more.
Thou art a muse of my soul
all the glory thou credits them all
thou lovely and gentle whole
JESUS lover of my soul
The opinion of and worship of a controlling power,
The belief in and worship of a god or gods;
With designated behaviours and practices,
Disciplined by priests, preachers and other sods.
Love and hate, animosity and respect,
Antagonism, enmity, loathing and hostility;
Desire, warmth, ardour and passion,
All of which created by religion’s antipathy.
Jealousy, grudge, resentment and covetousness,
With malignity, spite controlled by enviousness.
Religions
For like us minions.
Under the carpet.
Your siren has no
Sound.
I can't find my
Locker, but the
Next class
I'm not sitting
Next to you.
And you,
Short Stop,
have paused
Me.
Money doesn't
Solve my
Enviousness.
Of the wife, the
Eventual
Insemination
Of your kind.
Shaving in the
Morning, I think
Of your whiskers.
And with a cat's
Tongue I am tied and
Torn to nothing
Avail.
Under the carpet.
Your siren has no
Sound.
I can't find my
Locker, but the
Next class
I'm not sitting
Next to you.
And you,
Short Stop,
have paused
Me.
Money doesn't
Solve my
Enviousness.
Of the wife, the
Eventual
Insemination
Of your kind.
Shaving in the
Morning, I think
Of your whiskers.
And with a cat's
Tongue I am tied and
Torn to no
Avail.
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