Long Perversion Poems
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November 21 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Acts 24-26
Key Verse – Acts 24:15 And have hope toward God, which they themselves also allow, that there shall be a resurrection of the dead, both of the just and unjust.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR GIVING US HOPE TOWARD HIM
Praise be to God for giving us hope toward Him since we are:
Cleansed for conversion’s call
Created toward Christlike character
Cared for along compassion’s calmness
Committed through consecration’s cord
Contented by His counsel’s commendation
Acts 25:3 Praise be to the Lord for
granting us desired favour for:
Glow with His gentleness
Growth by His governance
Guidance along His greatness
Gladness through His graciousness
Generosity midst His goodness in our giving
Acts 26:18 Praise be to the Saviour for
opening our eyes with heavenly vision that is:
Purposeful against perversion
Powerful above pride’s potency
Productive midst poverty’s prevalence
Persuasive around precept’s protection
Prudent along His perfect and proven plan. Amen!
November 21, 2024
1
We say the word, “mental”,
like we would spit.
But there are no pills
for waking dreams;
the pills that we
could only take in dreams
to take us to another place
as yet imagined
as everything the tortured soul
could conjure.
And perhaps we are so strong
the torture
is our heartbeat.
The waking dreams
like baseball bats
might beat us
into ditches
of self-loathing,
then lie with us
the way dark friends would do
and tell us there is comfort
in familiar suffering.
We can touch the mental
like a weed
and treat it
with the swipe of energy
that only comes
when arms react
to smite the one
that would threaten them.
2
All things come to those who wait,
the adage goes
and so we do
as we are told
and hope there is trust
in the world.
But as we
twiddle thumbs
and scratch our names in wood
that never was a tree
we are the silent ones:
the kids of parents
who imagined
that what they'd heard
and spoken and done--
the slap, the strap--
would do the trick
in place of hearts
that never cared to beat.
3
“Mental Illness”
is the phrase they use
for ignorance; not knowing
what to do
or how to do it.
“I did all I could”, they say
in the face of ruin
and imagine they are right
because the cannot know
responsibility or competence
or caring.
Art is colors on a wall.
Music is notes pounded
on some keys.
God died the day
he was invented
and the children of the living
must now wander
as the spawn of negligence.
We can only hope
that somewhere souls remember
and that through the years
they grow to be an army
to claim what bodies have survived.
4
“F**k you”, I say to beauty
or anything else that passes
for conviction
or truth
or hearts we tell ourselves
that we possess.
Beauty is masturbation.
Love is the perversion
we ejaculate in darkness.
I would be glad
for one true voice
that says that heaven
is at hand
and mean the painted streets
as gray as any dawn
we'll ever see
is all we can expect.
Tell me one good cup of coffee
is Nirvana
and I'll drink it
and be thankful
to be free
of chains that bound me
to the rock of longing.
Innocence lost
and being ignored
sin destroyed
sickness and little hope
confusion of mind
How can fathers detach so easily?
And who’s minding the children?
Broken homes
absentee fathers long gone
mothers now abandoning them too
or too busy to love and care
child abuse and perversion
What happened to the fathers who say they are men?
And who’s minding the children?
Taught to think of only self
gangs and bloodshed on the rise
early pregnancy and more unwanted babies
disrespect of authority now rampant
they don’t live long anymore
Where are the fathers who plagiarize God’s name?
And who’s minding the children?
Abuse their elderly regularly
violence in dating is now so common
all manner of carnage and misuse
homosexuality embellished and tolerated
emotionally damaged while so very young
Why is daddy nowhere to be found?
And who’s minding the children?
Physically impaired and unhealthy
insolent conduct
drugs annihilating
hidden in prison houses
sleeping in the streets
Wasn’t daddy placed as head?
And who’s minding the children?
Raising themselves
Uneducated
Misdirected
hungry
and full of rage
Where are these fathers who beat their chests?
And who’s minding the children?
We the victim's of incompetence
We the pawns of vain experiments
Imprisoned by oligarchic, social engine.
Our pains, reflected by gluttonous pride.
Fermenting in black boil bubbling greed
Modern slavery in it's prime, glistening
like polished diamond shine.
All pretentious, phoney entrapment,
lurking through time, the ideal system,
for a criminal eye, the perfect crook,
filtered on a system it built, it impressed,
and we undertook, now just mere
puppets,
Upon the ladder of fingers,
The shadow composer casting the melody
of subjugated illusion, laughing at ease,
gazing upon their resolution.
A famine of needs and desires, tortured
by the selected lot, who mock as we rot,
in the mould around the bars of our cot.
The misleading consequence of
innocence, of ignorance, of vulnerability.
The digital web of deception, ripples in
shuddered glee, it's next victim
screaming, and then hushed silently
among those chambers of conformity, an
commodity given a number and then
freed, for some years.
Next it's taught to adhere to the
requirement of 'our' society,
Pushed through any resistance,
Your ADD, labeled and branded for all to
see, your defunct from a higher form, an
acceptable sense of reality, the easier
chores of slavery,
and less material distraction, an extra
penalty.
In the sinister sweating perversion,
The passive exodus that moves in night
and day excursions, fossiled in a lava of
weary confusion.
We are the lost Generation on a path we
cannot see, in a destiny that isn't you and
isn't me.
Weaselly words deftly ply their sly stench,
As they undo the truth nut with a wrench,
With half-truths, errors and fake news woven
Into a spider's web of lies, stolen.
The cloak of vagueness and doubt created,
Is stained, defaced with deceit, dictated.
To veil intentions with twisted meaning,
Camouflaged in patch-ups so demeaning.
Weaselly words, so cunningly devised,
Mask the truth so despised, with lies disguised,
With watered down and sanitized version,
Of what is real, not a perversion.
The half-truths and straight-faced lies dance and sway,
Twisting meanings in a cunning display,
Masking true intentions, shrouding what's right,
In a cloak of wry words, tainted with spite.
Realisation sprouting
from intangible intuition
twined with
cognitive impulsion
igniting consciousness.
Conflagrating
confluence of confusion
leads to
path of righteousness
breaking contour
of pervasive perversion
converging
to consciousness.
Ever-curious
eccentric
ebullient explorer
traveling terraqueous
guided by
retrospective and introspective
sensuousness ,
simultaneous
to reach
ecstatic consciousness.
Sailor soul
on aimless
valorous voyage
on reverie
meeting
seamless sea
of enlightenment
to touch
summit of consciousness.
Artemide Cacciatrice (2)
The carriage trip – who’d like the factual version?
That whole idea was Tuzia’s, never mine.
“Let’s take a carriage for a day excursion,
and have a picnic on the Aventine –
we’ll see the Seven Churches!” But perversion
lay in wait. What Tuzia had in mind
was getting me away from hearth and home,
so I’d be vulnerable in southern Rome.
The Farnesina was our only halt,
to see the Raphael. Picture, then, my shock
when, as we boarded, who should come and vault
into our carriage, strutting like a cock,
but him, and Cosimo? She’s worth her salt,
is Tuzia the Pandar. That blue frock
she wore the following Sunday must have cost
a fortune, notwithstanding what she lost.
Why do I paint castrations? This is new
to me. I get a subject in my brain:
it buzzes there, until I have to do
a canvas, to release it. Can’t explain.
I never knowingly suffuse, imbue
my work with undercurrents. I disdain
all show of private feelings, but suppose
the artist offers much more than she knows!
One thing this maggot said that I must squash
is, we were having sex around the clock.
You’ll know by now that he is talking tosh,
and anyway, it’s not me in the dock,
but him. But yes, I let that cesspool wash
around and over me. I was in hock.
My only way to stave off social death
was, hope for marriage, bear his stinking breath.
You broke into my carriage, and my house,
exploited me for sex, though you were married.
I lost my honour, yes – but you’re a spouse
I wouldn’t wish on Tuzia. You have harried
and bullied me, and lied to me, you louse.
Now, finally, your schemes have all miscarried.
I’m confident this judge will grasp the facts.
Let’s hope someone is sharpening an axe.
November 22 Scripture Meditations Based on 1Thessalonians 1-3
Key Verse – 1Thessalonians 1:9 … Ye turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR TURNING ME TO YOU
Thank You for turning me to You against my idolatry
And sinfulness’ fury
Unto holiness-territory
By Your righteous victory!
Thank You for turning me to You against my impudence
And rebelliousness’ incidence
Unto obedience-residence
By Your compassionate confidence!
Thank You for turning me to You against my imperfection
And transgressions’ perversion
Unto virtue-transformation
By Your gracious conversion!
Thank You for turning me to You against my inability
And weakness’ inferiority
Unto service-productivity
By Your powerful sovereignty!
Thank You for turning me to You against my ingratitude
And selfishness’ magnitude
Unto praise-fortitude
By Your bountiful latitude!
Thank You for turning me to You against my insufficiency
And scarcity’s deficiency
Unto trust-dependency
By Your plenteous mercy!
Thank You for turning me to You against my impediment
And pride’s detriment
Unto dedication-commitment
By Your joyful fulfillment!
November 22, 2022
October 6 Heart for God Bible Meditations Based on Matthew 11-12
Key Verse – Matthew 11:1 And it came to pass, when Jesus had made an end of commanding his twelve disciples, he departed thence to teach and to preach in their cities.
HEART THAT CLINGS TO THE TEACHING AND PREACHING OF THE LORD JESUS
Our heart clings to the teaching and preaching of the Lord Jesus by His grace
In our search for His wisdom with His truth-brace
Against falsehood that knocks us down from spiritual race
Since He alone can sustain us around His compassionate embrace.
Our heart clings to the teaching and preaching of the Lord Jesus by His goodness
In our dependence on His kindness
Against tendency to become proud with selfishness
Since He alone can guard us to avoid vain worldliness.
Our heart clings to the teaching and preaching of the Lord Jesus by His compassion
In our plea for His aid toward faithful conversion
Against backsliding-corruption and perversion
Since He alone can rescue us from destruction of transgression.
Our heart clings to the teaching and preaching of the Lord Jesus by His command
In our prayer for His guidance toward the promised land
Against defiance that displeases Him in our carnality-brand
Since He alone can direct us toward steadfast Biblical stand.
Our heart clings to the teaching and preaching of the Lord Jesus by His leadership
In our compliance to His instruction for our faithful stewardship
Against laziness we should conquer in our ministry-partnership
Since He alone can mold us for diligence in our discipleship.
Our heart clings to the teaching and preaching of the Lord Jesus by His enlightenment
In our need to learn from His Word with commitment
Against failure due to foolishness-ignorance and discontentment
Since He alone can transform us along His encouragement.
Our heart clings to the teaching and preaching of the Lord Jesus by His assurance-might
In our supplication for His answer to our prayer-plight
Against doubts and disobedience wrought by evil blight
Since He alone can exhort us well toward great commission fulfillment-height.
October 6, 2026
Yesterday,
when conscious slept,
anger was my shield,
fear my faithful sword.
When hatred contaminated my heart,
tears ached for tranquillity,
polluted in guilt from selfish greed.
Life can be a disaster waiting to occur,
leaving you in despair gasping for air,
suffocating your sighs with crippling changes,
due to disorientation in imagining reality.
I've always been in an internal war,
fighting the two voices in my head.
You can't kill someone who died before birth,
so not every battle is worth fighting for,
yet I was always in envy of peace.
I want to disappear sometimes,
bid a secret farewell to the shadows that pursue,
but I'm afraid of diving into the unknown.
Maybe I'm an imposter,
maybe I'm just a Gemini
everyday, I am different,
a multitude of personalities,
a creative charming chameleon.
In times of fragility and frustration,
I wish I was a secret to society,
but I don't want to be alone tonight,
so I'm soul searching for a love unspoken,
not cursed with deafening screams.
In solitude, overthinking is a poison,
so I turn to unfulfilled prophecies -
to bring me back to life.
I've always had an aversion for perversion,
become a nemesis to prejudice.
Spirits taught me to 'be my own universe.'
to fly to the sky, wave ego goodbye,
so my flaws make me shine more.
There is no shame in vulnerability.
No embarrassment in slaying pride.
In the angst of anxiety,
paralyzed by self-possessed sadness,
I set out finding sincerity,
my coincidental half -
but you have always been inside me.
When I finally opened my eyes,
I felt alive.
Lust is a mute assassin,
a terminal sickness.
Love is like a fever,
it leaves you speechless.
I used to idolise silence,
but now I'm a slave to consciousness.
Oh my sentient soul,
we are unrhymed verses,
our lives a living rough draft.
Decorate me with your ink,
complete me with your conclusion,
as you are the music playing on loop.
Let them say we are mad as we dance,
lost in lyrics only we can hear.