Twas daybreak as this bright morn I rose
Greeted at breakfast by my darling Rose
A brief time together as by seven I've left
Out to the garden, the street and then left
Along cobbled paths where the dogs bark
To work as the foreman, my order to bark
The abattoir workers tirelessly cut up the meat
Despite the condition, smiling at all they meet.
Chopping and cutting up every small piece
Awaiting a break for a rest and some peace.
A cup of water then back plucking the fowl
Some people can't hack the smell is so foul.
At six the work ends and the whistle is blew
We wash up our hands they are black and blue
Home via The Dragon for a jug of the best ale,
Men's medicine, a cure-all for what they all ail.
Back home to Rose, my drink she would pour
A simple life, you make the best if your poor
We huddle together watching the embers in the grate.
We make thanks for our lot, and what makes England great.
The homily
At the church entrance
Beggars line up when the sermon is over
The parishioners in the warm feeling of faith
Give beggars coins.
God’s work be done.
The cripple gets up and leave
An unsupplied Nigerian family,
Often cited in advisory homily
And likened to the ones in Galilee,
Though unable to mark its Golden Jubilee,
To God began a supplication,
Veritably a formal letter application
For an easier catching of Daily Bread
That often made it see red:
The 2024 African Cup
For Nigerian Hands to lift up…
Now and again, Ear-Splitting Amen
But mostly by its men:
One of them writer of leaflet
Hoping to jump to a pamphlet
His own ‘Amen’ a much powerful belief
In its sure wonderful relief…
And for being The often intensive,
Always to A Devil The Subversive:
Its hour a thing far-off ears could predict,
An hour that could never them contradict…
A Nigerian family
With its goat lost, A Billy
Might still weep after a homily.
To which The Best was a simile.
I am vulture
My soul case may be repugnant,
However, I have every sawbones decimal
On my speed dial
Before any croacker decrees justice
On a soul case,
They confer with me
My logbook contains a docket
Of every Golgotha and slaughterhouse on the planet
I am on first name basis
With every casket maker, mortuary Steward and proprietor
I am the fiend no soul case wants to see,
Hear or dream about
My name send's shivers down the spine of mortals
I am a friend in need and indeed;
I am the curator in every country
Where war and conflict thrive
No one thinks of me
And no one want's me as a pet
I am the dark one; the dark continent
I am vulture, the patient one
What brings you here?
LOVE. HATE. FEAR
of life - death
or the interim?
Do you wish to pray?
Together
Six feet apart
What sign of peace will we offer?
A condescendingly humble glare?
A wink and a nod?
A get a load of this snicker?
Shall we rejoice
in the blessings of
-the passing pestilence
-the rising tide of violence
- in the name of peace?
Shall we dine
On the body and blood
Of a forgotten savior
Twist his words
around a crooked cross
point at the sinners
shun the homeless
doubt the efficacy of his truth
LEAVE HERE -- NOW
Speak not of what was said
Rather. -----reflect
ON and IN
......your heart
As it hardens against
.........LOVE
John G. Lawless
6/7/2020
preacher sing me your song
deceive me not
behold,behold me
once more
a diatribe straight
from the heart
of birth
of growth
and of development
to personal purity
owned not lent
a struggle against
the odds
the enemy within
&tongues without
pictures of horse,ship& fire
guile of the lips
tongue of desire
begone
Come O so gentle James
long gone
speak to me
again
of fruit
&faith
together
in my heart
by
the Holy Spirit
lain
In those days, when we feared the truth
not for ignorance of it within ourselves
but for the dangers posed by speaking aloud
against the prejudices of masses too well-tutored
in lies and hatred, we kept our secrets
and hid among the crowds, assuming
their rabid colorations, spewing the same
evil venom, spreading all the same lies,
pretending that the past was better
than the present, that regression
to our yesterdays, the years gone by,
could create for us, anew,
that Eden we all lost, that sanctuary
from our knowledge of the world, of evil;
and, our regained ignorance
would restore the bliss we lost
with our innocence. That, the biggest lie,
feeds our growing xenophobia --
hastens humanity's ultimate demise.
Time does not flow backwards in this universe;
and there is no "us versus them" --
we are all crowded here together
on this fragile planet, all in this together.
We must be kind, and love one another, or die.
C oronation of lights
H eralding holiday rites
R inging bells guests invite
I llumined halls festivities incite
S ongs of carolers enliven dark night
T ales of Christmas ghosts by candlelight
M aterial aspirations pocketbooks slight
A ltruistic gestures to those with poorer plight
S piced nog, decorative cookies palates delight
Lights
Crackling embers serenade the hearth
Twinkling lights symphony to the heart
Tree
Shapely Tree signifies an organic symmetry
Burnished decorations denote a cultivated empathy
Wreaths
Embezzled twines commemorate primitive instincts
Embossed twigs celebrate a nurtured path
Spirits
Crystal glasses shelter our warmth
Spiced brandy shivers our senses
Carols
Yule tide carols enshrine distant refrains
Merry melodies embrace colloquial strains
Presents
Carefully wrapped gifts conceal our joy
Materialistic desires bare our soul
Festive Clothing
Colorful pastels cloak bright spirits
Embossed emblems shroud jaundiced minds
A shapely Spruce or Cypress to dress
A coiffed girdle the base to caress
String of lights bristling foliage to redress
A twinkling symphony to luminesce
Pristine pine cones providing a rustic essence
Gilded ornaments to infuse decadence
Frothy snow exhibiting a natural opalescence
Silver icicles streaming a fabricated opulence
Baked Gingerbread men enshrining traditional precedence
Designer candy canes paying homage to formulated transcendence
A translucent star mirroring seasonal transience
A crowning angel; a shrine of everlasting reverence
The saints are wailing again
Rhapsodies too for sinful man
Since every heart is drunken with guilt
These holy fears washing the land
Swamp the drains, flood the pond
Pastor shamed indoors since yesterlight
Makes several tries at love everlasting
Which sweet friction the springs protest
In loud parody discordant
The eaves,the tiles have ears for such
Gossip sticky wet,dripping with harm
Gladly passed on down the block
To warm the hours of restive loss
But breeze and drizzle in raucous refrain,
Mock in harmony the lust by most
For yuppy drives and chancy grabs
When the spectral arc appearing soon
Should fill their days with gentle hope