pestilence and disease
leprosy
black plague
covid 19
suffering and death
souls heading to heaven in mass quantities
vampires and freeway car pile-ups have done less damage
Death, Drought, Pestilence And Midnight Nightmares
The whitewashed sand, little flowered ocean
The beaming moon splattered its shadows and light
The Gypsie's cried but still gave up their potion
And the angry wolves followed next howling at night
Rain-colored splashes hit and soaked tree tops
The deep dark was split by soft hesitant moon rays
Out in the verdant fields, the blue-fairies' dance stop
Ahead was mass of monsters hidden held at bay
Heraldic stars shown with innocence virginal
Hector had died and Achilles was laid to rest
Here in the blacken real world life was terminal
Both Mark Twain, the gambler, held their cards to their chests.
Infinite shadows wait in the dark underground.
We yet waiting for ours, dared not a single sound.
Robert J. Lindley, Dark sonnet
Sept 3rd, 1972
Pompous Popinjay Politicians
Parlay Parade Practical
Pizzaz Potions,
Priming Us To Sheep.
N ow listen, everyone to some scripture
O pportunity is available now
P salm 91 is a blessing for these times
E ntering my heart it envelopes me again
S cripture that speaks to us in this modern day
'T is a testimony of God's great love
I t was written to express God's protective care
L ets us know some prophesy about Christ
E ntering my soul once again~ Love divine
N ow His healing presence wraps me in warmth
C uddles me with tender loving care
E ternal His gift of love and enough love to spare
Feeling quite alone
Wishing deep in our hearts to go back to that known.
What do we do when we feel this despair?
In these circumstances that surround us, and we can’t compare?
Is it confusion that we feel the most?
Or an inability to understand this invisible ghost?
Continuing to face these perplexing circumstances at hand
Pushing our minds into those states, that sometimes we do not understand.
In the gloom, in the surreal that seems to exist
Often fight that which they tell us we should not resist.
Illusionary intentions which do not allow this unknown to die
In the meantime we are asking that question … why?
We see the light that shines from above
Hope surfaces, creating that much needed love.
But we continue to fear the existence of that which can diminish that light
Preventing us from seeing that comforting known, as we look up to the stars at night.
But our souls remain intent on seeing this through
Minds ready for that journey of consciousness to ensue
Always hoping for that day
When all is calm, and this pestilence has gone away.
You've asked a favor; you ignorant man
Your favor for what you won't do
Your asking me more each day
and definatly not to woo
So why have you gone this way
You simpleton hark of prey
When serving yourself this way
is hanging around post fey
That all of your troubles are you
when laziness barks right through
And saying you never can do
when others are looking at you
And all that you know is NOT
for swaying what you won't do
When using the others to chime
what laziness is right through
That telling you do your chores
is always more settling to some
When friendships can come to end
when everyone's tired of drum
A-larming
P-estilence
R-abidly
I-mplements
L-ethal
M-ystery
O-f
N-asty
E-pidemic's
D-eadly
A-ttack
Topic: Birthday of April Moneda (April 30)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Fields Found Full of Pestilence
Fields were found to be full of pestilence;
Crops died and only thing left is silence,
And was agreed,
Buy more seed;
But many bugs existed on every fence.
Jim Horn
Nobody should be hugging, if you please;
We brought it with us from when chimpanzees.
Kissy lips is a humanity trait;
But humans ain’t, for the planet, so great.
When the dynamo
of effervescent truisms
rears it's head
through anxiety laden thoughts
you begin to understand
the ebb and flow
of the mysteries
of the mind.
You realize that sometimes
reflections mixed with meditation
can lead you to
wild ruminations
whereby you create
unrealistic situations
fostered by introspection.
It is just a fact
of human nature
that everyone must deal with
on this mixed-up
crazy ride.
Tense from Trump Pestilence
The thought of Trump made us tense;
He kept bugging us with his pestilence;
We must tattle;
Losing battle;
For it never received any recompense.
Jim Horn
Where is pestilence in the world today?
In everything you do.
From pop-ups on computer screens
to settings set for you.
Where phone calls come from marketers
to con you out of money.
And flyers from your government
to say all days are sunny.
Where canvassers will knock at doors
and rob you of your time.
And calendars from politicians
come payed for on your dime.
Where law enforcement's quick to card
and serve you of your rights:
And store clerks offering help to you
to interrupt your plights.
The government who'll force a census
and put you all to work.
Recycle bins of trash you'll sort
then rinse till you're berserk.
The Tax Returns you'll do at cost
and waste what's your's for time;
the government skipping one assess
could do to save a dime.
The life that others force on you
deciding all your fates.
When all of your decisions mean
that pestilence dictates.
The raptors, the vultures, the scavengers,
They circle the sky in search of meat.
The carcasses of the fatalities of plague
Lay outstretched on the hills of Attica.
Those that chose not to abstain
Have joined the crowd of corpses.
They do not bury the dead, instead,
They let them rot ‘neath the summer sun.
The barbarians, the heathens, the invaders,
They burn the land and fell the trees.
There is safety behind the walls.
There is a great strategic advantage
In forcing a stalemate. However beleaguered
And stagnant the people may become.
Was it destiny that led me to you
On that night when our eyes first met?
How could love have felt so true
From one kiss so soft, and yet…
Burned so deep within my soul
A vast emptiness was thus ensured,
Defiling my heart, creating this hole,
Which in your absence cannot be cured.
Inside this fate I am compelled to live
Alone in the dreams of what will not be,
And recollect the love I once tried to give
To a plagued heart unwilling to see.
As my footing roots within the path
That has delivered me to such despair,
The anguish of one dying heart’s wrath,
With no other – will it ever compare.
To accept the love I have granted thee
Would restore my heart and set it free.
Once Every Second,
A child dies in Africa,
Where are your children?
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