Soiled soul salvation
that's what I'm hoping for
can these bent bones of endless sin
fit through the eye of a needle and
into heaven
Heaven is where the
saved and forgiven go
when their finished bottom feeding
from this poison fishbowl
so, I've read -so I'm told.
What we have in common
is that everyone wants to know
if there's life after this life
does lt go on forever
or does our chalky soul hit a black brick wall of nothingness
and whisper... "is that all there is?"
Doesn't there have to be a reason for all of this
one cell to a trillion stars never reached
rocket ship wishes
the blind inbred offspring of ego and technology.
Maybe I wasn't the best candidate to gift life to...
didn't pray efficiently
to many insults and not enough praise.
I was a fraud in all honesty
but you can't say my imperfections weren't perfect
I mastered imperfection
that in itself has worth
but is it worthy of better realms...
and what of hell?
Soiled soul salvation
can a bent freak fit through the eye of a needle
and into heaven
maybe I can slither in the back door...
soiled soul salvation
I'm praying for soiled soul salvation.
24 Dr Peppers
One day I started running and my legs fell off.
I was in the army, and I had to clean the floor with a toothbrush.
It started raining sideways.
Then a bullet jumped up and bit me that day.
Jenny threw her shoe at her old house.
I guess she ran out of rocks.
I was with Jenny, and I became the minute man.
That’s all I’m going to say about that.
I had 24 Dr. Peppers, and I had to pee.
My mom made some strange noises because she cared about my school grades.
Me and Jenny are like peas and carrots.
Jenny played a guitar naked, and I saw her butt.
For a while I owned a shrimp boat.
When I first met Lieutenant Dan, he was holding a roll of toilet paper.
I like playing ping pong in the spring.
One day I gave Lieutenant Dan some ice cream.
Jenny, is he smart like me?
No Forest. He is dumb as a coconut tree.
You never know what you're going to get in a box of chocolates.
All just put my hands in my pocket.
Me and Lt. Dan are best friends.
I like dancing to Sweet Home Alabama.
I can’t forget about Bu Bu.
Another friend of mine who likes shrimp gumbo.
Me Lt. Dan and Bu Bu are the three amigos.
Jenny will always be my hero.
She broke the cage
and flew away
to fix her place
in the blue unknown.
I stood stunned
among cries
and unanswered
how's and why's.
Then I heard
His sweet voice:
"My Child, mute
your internal noise".
"All events are predestined,
nothing is new.
lt happened
as per the drama plan".
“The part is over;
the costume will be changed.
Watch the whole scene
as an observer quite detached ”.
No complaints
but thanks;
one big account
is settled.
Oft I hear her say in dreams
“Papa, again I will come
to make Mamma
the most blissful one” .
Death is not what you realize
lt is lighter than a leaf...
As long as life can be
heavier than a mountain...
Adrian Monk
was in a funk,
Till he got
assistants.
But this particular case
held him in a space,
With which he felt
resistance.
That I can't blame
I feel the same--
Phobia of everything
dental--
Can you, too, admit
while you had to sit,
To a dentist ever being
un-gentle?
Well, anywho,
before this is through,
You'll want to know: here's
what happened--
Anesthesia's effects
blurred the suspects
But despite tooth torture,
Monk tracked 'em!
They took a big model tooth--
Slammed it in front of a sleuth--
But the patient was all in a daze!
(Till big toothmarks seen on the body
Revealed something shoddy,
They thought he was just in a craze!)
But Monk proved Randy saw
dentists breaking the law.
--A murder mystery
planned--
This means, of course,
Lt. Disher's back on the force,
Giving up his rock band.
[Start Sleuthing Poetry Contest
Rhyme poetry form only.
Deadline: Wednesday, August 31, 2022
Sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg]
I Hold the Sacred Heart in My Hand
I anger, I make a fist,
ready to throw ... but no.
My heart pride will not hold.
I humble my heart, I let love flow.
lt is love from the mightiest heart of all,
the heart I now hold in my hand.
I tighten my fist, the Sacred Heart.
I extend my pinky, the precious blood.
I touch my forefinger to my thumb, the crown of thrones.
I extend my thumb upward, the eternal flame.
I open my fist, the light of grace.
May it shine upon me.
Indeed, it has.
when this poem title
is used with "she
received her..."
it is a
negative
but i'm not
writing about
comeuppance but
about her sweetness
so should she be
a pie or cake or
something
other to call her
yet a pastry all
the same
now i must admit
that i've given up
coffee and so
the tradition
of ending
a menu
with
a
cup and
a dessert
doesn't work
for me any more
but the more i know
her i know the more i
need her and the irony
is she's from Colombia
so
like a train
i cough
coffee
coffee
coffee
building e
nough to steam
milk foam for a
cappuccino
but for me
those
days
are
over but
when you
think that
your youth
is spent
or gone
and went
remembering
i had a baby
tooth until i
was thirty
two or one
but i had
one but
maybe
it was
thirty
three
but no
that don't
seem to agree
with me thinking
that perhaps that
was my sweet tooth
so they
tried to take
her away from
me before she was
to
be
my
me
lt
in
g
dis heart
In tribute to Lt. Col. John W. Bell,
B24 pilot during WWII.
He was an ace in his flying machine,
Could spiral downward at full speed,
Then pull out and level off just in time,
To touch down safely on the landing field.
Well taught and ready for hostile combat,
Sent off to fight, our freedom to defend,
Was not there to socialize or chat,
But to drop bombs upon the tyrant’s den.
Flying with skill of a bat in the night,
He hit the targets time and time again,
Each sortie could have been his last flight,
Into the cold heart of the tyrant’s den.
He sat bravely in the pilot’s hot seat,
Shrapnel went through the wing and cockpit pane,
But he flew committed to defeat,
The wicked intents of the tyrant’s den.
And when the final victory was won,
He came back home, a new life to begin,
In a nation singing freedom’s song,
Having put an end to the tyrant’s den.
"Before Dawn"
It's amazing how we started on a chapter that was never scripted how the birds sang not on a Sunday morning.lt was rushed now we hush............!
Silence and Violence the new game we playing.
Repulsive , Retarded,Regretting that's the theme now.
lt was perfect ,too perfect .
Expectional...... chemistry , wedding bells matching shirts compliments.....
Now we are just two strangers again!
Be not a Quitter!
You are a Winner!
Yesterday's Silver!
lt is written in your hands .... your wrist carries it all , utilise time!
Cherish moments!
Forgive! Forget!
Love unconditionally ....laugh every second!
Cry if you have to...sing till your voice melts....have as many pictures as your Facebook can take!
Believe in Hope , hold on to Faith, Dance in the rains....you ain't a Saint!
Therefore try!
Life is life!!!
Author Dana Redricks
June 26, 2019
No need to worry about
a thing it does not solve a
thing
Worrying just causes
sleepless nights and health
related issue and causes
the bitter tears of pity
It's alright to be concerned
but never lt consume your
soul
Worrying makes you grow
old way before your time
Trust God, he will be your
refuge
He will keep you and
provide for you
Christ is the glue that our
lives together
Pray and hold on your
faith
God has never failed
He's a God of his Word
So don't worry God got
this
my brittle bones are like this fence, so built
on throes of horrors shrouded with the hilt
of war's inanely senseless blade, now dulled
by all the precious souls its edge has culled …
now ages gone, those boys amid their dreams
and yet the air still trembles with their screams
so daubed in bleeding sun, how death imparts
these fields of poppy roods and purple hearts.
~ For Lt Col John McCrae, and all life lost to war ~
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Purple 2" Poetry Contest, Kevin Shaw, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Contest 545 Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
(In honor of the poem by Lt Col John McCrae, and all lives given to war).
how big
is big
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Sacrificing oneself for others is the loftiest demonstration of loving God!*
© Demetrios Trifiatis
29 March 2018
* Dedicated to the late French Lt. Col. Arnaud Beltrame who last week sacrificed himself to save others during a terrorist attack in Paris! R.I.P. you hero of God.
* Arnaud Beltrame, was declared a national hero by the French president, Macron and he had a hero's state funeral!
Tony
Joe
Frank
Theo
These iconic names,
for those who don’t know,
are four cool detective cats ...
television Five-O
Mr. Barretta
Sgt. Friday
Lt. Columbo
T. Kojak ... who loves you, baby!
These Five-O cool cats,
they always make a righteous arrest
Badge of honor
pinned to a bulletproof vest
Blue skin
and a silver star heart
Good always gon win in the end,
that’s the favorite part
Tony Barretta says:
Don’t do the crime
if you can’t do the time
Joe Friday says:
Just the facts ma’am,
ditto says
his partner officer Gannon
Frank Columbo says:
There’s just one more thing
I gotta do ...
I didn’t come to ask anymore questions,
I came to arrest you
Theo Kojak says;
No if, ands or maybe ...
(sucking on his lollipop)
Who loves you, baby!
These four Five-O cool cats,
they roll with a righteous bounce
Whether you be white or black,
if you act rat criminal,
these Five-O cool cats will pounce
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