Long The devil Poems
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The devil came amongst them,
As they rang the midnight bell,
Said that one of their number,
Must taste the fires of Hell.
“Which of you is good enough,
To stand forth and not quail?
To have your sin and virtue,
Measured on my scale?”
The crowd they grovelled in the dirt,
Each guarding his own sin.
Only one man raised his chin up high,
And walked right up to him.
The devil sneered in that man’s face,
And announced, loud and cocksure,
“Pride itself is sin enough,
I doubt you’ll prove that pure.”
“What feat of ego drives you,
To think you can pass this test?
What indulgence lends you to believe,
You’re better than the rest?”
“You have me wrong, O Satan,”
The man calmly declared,
“I am a sinner bound for hell,
But I’m now fully prepared.”
“You’ll come for me eventually,
Would it be such a blow?
If I gave up the ghost right here,
And with you chose to go?”
The devil reared and flexed his claws,
Gave out a mighty hiss,
“What game of words is this you play?
I make no sense of this.”
“Oh devil, it occurred to me,
The truth of the choice I face,
If I did not come with you,
Another would take my place.”
And that man he said to Satan,
“I have no other goal,
Than to go, knowing at least,
I saved one other soul.”
The devil gnashed his teeth and then
He cut that man apart.
Plunged those claws into his chest,
Ripped out his beating heart.
But the heart still pumped and throbbed,
With life and vibrancy,
And the devil clasped it with both hands,
To stop it breaking free.
But the heart began to dissipate,
Into a ball of light,
The devil roared as it rose up,
Gently defied his might.
For evil can be thwarted,
With each small act of grace,
And souls can move on from older selves,
To find a better place.
Mabel Jones and her four kids, Tyrese, Sheldon, Christopher, and Myriah (each with different fathers) went to church every Sunday, and the kids attended bible school five days a week in the summertime.
As a family, they sat all week long under huge white canvas tents on smouldering hot summer nights for Revivals.
Mable Jones testified the same sorrowful condensed story of her life every Sunday during the time that they set aside for testimony. She danced with the holy ghost, shouted, and spoke in tongues.
She gave up ten percent of her earnings to tithes and few dollars more to the youth group every Sunday.
She beat her children every Monday for the old and the new, just like her mama use to do when she was small.
Ten years ago she traded her crack pipe for a bible, and now she felt self-righteous. Every chance she got she would curse out the degenerates that atrociously hung around the front of her apartment building.
She would intimidate some of them, and they would scatter about only to return after she left. For the most part, the majority of them would stay and match her curse words and threats.
Even when they threatened her, she was not deterred. She was determined to have the mischief stopped. She would call the police and gave them vital information that led to the arrest of some of the riffraff.
De'Aundre self-appointed businessman, that controlled that section of East End. When he got word of Mable Jones interfering with his business, he got two of his soldiers to rough her up.
It was a brutal beating, and she spent weeks in the hospital recuperating.
It was a lesson well learned, and she counted herself lucky that she was still alive.
Now Mable Jones no longer approaches the degenerates in front of her apartment building but hurries past them to get to her apartment.
However every Sunday during the time that was set aside for testimony, she added to her regular testimony her accounts with the devil.
copyright 2013 River Front Tower/Tower of Souls
“I’m sorry,” she whispered
“Didn’t mean to slap your face.”
His cheek stung, voice quivered
“How did I get to this place?”
She twisted his emotions until
he believed every word she said
and made him forget she came
from the house of the dead
Her mother was born an evil witch
turned her father into a ghost
This girl was a phantom
serving the devil as a host
She’d tricked many men before him
by crushing their heart and soul
Using dark magic to conform them
until she gained control
Friend’s prayed “cast her out”
too many times to mention
He was saved from this specter
by Divine Intervention
02/24/2021
Written for Ghost Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
I feel so freaking, God-like good;
I feel My chest-expanding heart
and the mad frenzy in My blood,
which tear My mind and soul apart!
These urgent voices in My head
reverberate and echo loud
memories and regrets now dead
and buried in a forsaken shroud;
they scream at Me, "You're the Devil!"
They prophesy the Anti-Christ,
and accuse Me of all the evil
since mankind first became enticed.
I refuse their shrill, satanic call;
and find in the Apocalypse
that God's avenging Angel of all
is Me who is the world's eclipse.
"Not Anti-Christ!" I now reply.
"Not Devil!" I begin to shriek,
"for the Lamb of the world am I,
the Lord's Messiah for the meek!"
Sinners will know their final hour;
they will drown in their anguished cries
when I at last will know My power,
and expose all their wicked lies!
In this soft, padded cell of white
they watch and look at Me with dread;
they view Me as a monstrous blight,
and starve Me with unleavened bread.
How long is My imprisonment?
I cannot guess, divine, or tell;
but from the look of that filament,
they can keep Me for quite a spell;
"Dear God! I hate these lousy drugs,"
I howl, "that they shoot in My ass!"
They hold Me down those stupid thugs,
injecting Thorazine so fast!
They fail to grasp the true reasons
why I'm here: I wish they could see
that I can forgive their treasons,
if they would just believe in Me?
Once free again I'll be reborn,
lifted up in divine Image;
I'll end man's need for drugs and p*rn;
and prepare them for God's Marriage.
So hear My law and injunction,
the lost will burn without release
once they all know My dominion:
only then will My Rapture cease!
----paranoid, pornographic, psychotic, pontific, politically aware, rapping, rhyming, right here, right now in River city, rock and roll up the Yazoo, sad, sadistic, sarcastic, sassy, satanic, schizoid, shitting, silly, sexy, smarmy, smelly, smooth, snarky, snarling, stupid, stinking, sweet as honey, sweat inducing, symphonic, Trump can’t handle this coffee, vengeful, Wagnerian, wicked, with nutmeg and cinnamon swirls, with a hint of stevia, with a hint of vanilla, with a hint of rum, with a hint of whisky, with a hint of cherry, with a hint of fruit overtones, with a hint of drugs spicing up the coffee, spendific, speeding, splendid, superior accept no substitutes, survived the Vietnam war, the Iraq war, the Afghan war, the first and Second Korean war, World War 11, the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on black people, the sexual revolution, Soulful as a summer’s night in MOTOWN- James Brown approved, TOP approved, Berkeley approved, the coffee that Jimmy Hendrix drank before he died, the coffee that Elvis drank on his last breakfast, the coffee that Barry White crooned as he drank his cup of coffee – and the coffee that made the white boy play stand up and play that funky music, the coffee that made Jonny B Goode play his guitar, and made Jonny bet the devil his soul after he drank his morning cup of righteous coffee and the coffee that make the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll, the coffee your mother warned you against drinking, the coffee that Napoleon drank when he became the Emperor of all Europe, the Coffee that Beethoven drank when he wrote the Ninth symphony, the coffee that Mozart drank as he wrote his last symphony, the coffee that Lincoln drank before he was killed, the Hemingway drank before he killed himself, the coffee that started the 60’s, and ended the 20th century, the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that Hitler and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11,
Late at night when candle's dimmed, it rears its mane and roars
A terror that's beheld in fright, a scourge forevermore
Its all-consuming grip turns strong men into cowards
And as the night shows bolder still, it grows and grows in power
When in its spell, the victim must assert himself right now
For should he linger there, he'll have to yield and bow
To Heaven's plan for him, to be deprived of Sleep
The consequences of which Fate -- are often very steep
Arrives the morn midst fresh dew's dawn, shaking off the night
A thousand cares dispelled at once, as dark gives way to light
What seems so dour but hours ago, now's blended with the past
Night terror's face is lifted; joy and peace are night at last
The thieves of sleep are many; bold the morn's ascent
As rooster clears his hearty throat, the Devil needs repent
May 27, 2019
Sonnet -- Iambic Pentameter
For forty days and forty nights,
Christ stayed out in the desert.
Weak from fasting and tempted by the devil,
He cried out to His father in prayer.
What suffering the Son of God endured.
Later in a garden he prayed too.
Taking on Himself the sins of mankind,
He wept and also bled
from every pore of His precious body.
What suffering the Son of God endured.
His own disciples couldn’t stay awake
watching over Him that painful night.
They fled when He was captured.
One even had betrayed Him just for silver coins.
What suffering the Son of God endured.
Whipped over and over again most cruelly
with lashes that cut deep into His skin
while being mocked and having
a crown of thorns placed on His head,
what suffering the Son of God endured.
Forced to carry the heavy cross
on which the Romans nailed Him up to die,
Jesus prayed a final time, while giving freely
His sacred life for all who simply would accept Him.
What suffering the Son of God endured.
March 29, 2022 for The Easter Poetry Contest of Regina McIntosh
DOOM
IMPENDING JOURNEYS
EVER RELENTLESS ONLY
THREE LEGGED PONIES
DOOM
ROCKET SCIENENTIST EMPTY SPACESHIPS
NASA GOT OUT OF THE BUSINESS
DOOM
MANKIND'S DISOBEDIENT
HOLOGRAPHIC TEMPER TANTRUMS
SCARLET ALIENS PLAYING BONGOS
CONA'T NO ANIMALS MATCH THEM
PERJUDICE THE GAY WORLD TRYING TO EMPHASIS THE BLACK STRUGGLE
WHILE STILL KEEPING SAME VIEW IN A BOTTLE
DOOM
GOD'S NOT HAVING THIS
THIS IS WHY IT'S CLOSER YET
THESE ENDS OF TIMES
OF YOURS AND MINDS
DOOM
IMPENDING, ROOMS VACANCIES
DOOM
TERRORISMS
ROOMS
3D TELEVISION
DOOM
HOW SOON
DON'T BLINK
DOOM
WHEN IT COMES DOWN TO FEAR
GIT IT OUT OF HERE
DON'T WINK
DON'T EVEN DRINK THE WINE IN THE ROOM
JESUS IS... COMING
SOON
DOOM
NOT ON MY WATCH
WHO TURN BACK THE CLOCK
PUT DOWN THE ROCK
KEEP THAT IN STOCK
DON'T WINK YOUR EYE
WHY YOU CRY
LORD, MAKE THE DEVIL STOP
THIS IS WHAT....
DOOM
02/28/10
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Your mother must be ohh so proud
of you
Of all the complex things and thoughts
you have to say
Choose to write down and post
Oh how I bet she must share them
with all the other countless mother
stork's
Have them printed and placed above
her fireplace in gothic crucifix frames
Just incase the devil pop's in for
afternoon tea and a good old catch
up and chinwag
Again just to see how his number 1
little so and so is doing
In regards to how it's going stirring
the pot and raising temperature's up
He's even brought a few golden stars
just for you
If you have been a very , very bad boy
and your numbers are up
And if they aren't I have even brought a
list of suggestions of other stupid
offensive things
That should work as well
In the darkness of the midnight,
A messenger draws near.
Bringing solemn tidings,
Spreading tales of fear.
Black-hearted little demon.
Against the darkened sky.
Spreads lies and confusion,
To make the people cry.
Death sets on it's wing-tips,
We are sure of that.
But where did it really come from?
That little Chinese Bat?
Were you sent out by the Devil?
Or a rich man in his stead?
Will we struggle with confusion?
Till everyone is dead?
The Newsman tells his story,
His heart is filled with glee,.
He loves to tell the story,
Of this little joke on me.
In my life I have known kindness,
Even more than I could ask.
Till a bat flew in my room.
And made me wear a mask.
Should we give up work and living?
And jump into the sea?
Just what is the answer?
For folks like you and me?
The line is very hazy,
Between what is right and fear.
What is the proper answer?
When the Bat draws near?
The truth is somewhere hidden,
Beneath the darken skies.
But how are we to find it?
Beneath so many lies?