He once through a party 35 million dollars I'm told
Today worth 220 million dollars Spent by Kristi Nome
Never mention the current famine, with 80,000 deaths
Because he wanted a party, a Ballroom to empress
They call it Annexation the taking of one's land
Just like The Gulf of Mexico originally in the plan.
He traveled trips around the world
Shaking hands his etiquette unfurled
Attending funerals of high degree
Charles de Gaulle, John F. Kennedy
Calling himself king of kings
And his kingdom once again seen
But to reality was different scene
Punishing Coups and Plotters
With violence against democracy
Poverty was forgot
Disguised with Peace Conferences
Silence is preferred
Human rights, Economic Progress, Civil Liberties
Though listed they go deferred
The signing of a contract called a Treaty
A nation at war a nation of the needy
Two different languages hiding the facts
What kind of men would do such an act
Some say to others why did they hide the facts
The comparison of each shows a picture to me
What we see coming and what things will be
Some are crafty and witty
Tainting the experience of a city
Quenching whatever godliness will kindle
Befriending only to use and swindle
Now the old wish for the olden day
And the young crave for that which the old say
But aren't we victims of one another
Each one a brother to a brother whom we don't bother
All the good that we today see as myth
Is fanned by our strangling of each other's faith
Yet the name of the Lord is still on our lips
Tell my then why the tapestry fades and rips
Like trees lush and green but without fruit
The gardening we have received we still don't foot
Taking without giving
Virtue dying out of our living
For we justify of its death with the times
And we are now silent in the face of crimes
Away from the woe of calling light darkness
Consequence will reveal your deeds in starkness
Let God lead ye, oh ye his sons and daughters
Safely wading through the darts and the plotters
We of Christ's fold shall be known by our love
And all the righteous bearings we shall have
K. Muitherero
Under the cover of night, a major mission.
The self-assured plot and scheme did not fail
because it was not well planned and executed.
Nor did the affair backfire due to neglect.
The people, dressed in their religion and politics,
unified themselves and became partners in crime.
Betrayal and manipulation were lovers of the
night, as corruption and hate ruled the day.
The timing was a matter of providence, and the wicked
perpetrators were more blind than they were ignorant
of matters most essential. Their spiritual blindness
flooded their nobility and orchestrated their failure.
The plotters did not know that the death of the
accused would be, not the end of their worries
about their power and status. Rather, it would be
the doom of everything they sought to accomplish.
The players were mere mortals being manipulated by
a sinister and evil master who OVERPLAYED HIS HAND.
I have never heard it better said than this: "Had they
known it, they would not have crucified The Lord of Glory"*.
111322PSCtest, Pick-A-Title, Vol. 33, Edward Ibeh
Title/Theme chosen: #4, Overplayed Hand.
*1 Corinthians 2:8. 2P
With their cruel Laughter
I quickly ended the chapter
About a started helicopter,
Still air-borne forty hours after,
Because of flyers never the softer
Above zinc or Rafter,
Until results are born
Or dreams to shreds torn…
And then their cruel laughter began,
With all the heat of a room without fan:
I like a new album denied a hit
Or listeners choosing it to challenge a bit…
Then, I choosing to accept my cajolery
That evening showing up at a gallery.
But plotters are fearless things of every century,
Even as a Government is thought a sanctuary.
Beads of sweat trickles down my head
I feel as hot as lava spews out of me like a mighty volcano,
Covers me with black that is blacker than colored black ash,
Still the redness of my face bleeds through this and much more
Fully combustible fumes about to explode within
From what is contained and what is expelled,
Is not pleasant to onlookers, nor myself.
I think, plan, and plot,
But, who is the best of plotters?
Looking for a target to unleash my fury,
Aiming in and out and feeling wretched
I pull the strings of a ball of yarn,
Yanking it like hair on someone’s head,
Unravels and completely falls dead.
How dreadful it is to be red as a cherry tomato,
Or green as a monster with a green eye as the color of ivy
Tightly wound, trapped within and confined,
In a room, solitary, quiet, and silent
Devoid of any interaction
Of humans, insects, and animals
Just air, breathing, in and out,
I go against the flow,
Not with it, but against it
I sit down and lament
Some believe that the liberal plotters
aim to constantly muddy our waters.
And if only our youth
saw that this is the truth...
But they don't 'cause the youth are all rotters.
One for the books, a June snowfall in Atlantic Canada
No, not December which would've been easy to handle
The weather's gone bonkers
Must be those plotters
Out to confuse us, our delicate brains to scramble
Many a flame, brightens the sky
Such events to re-enact
A plot in vain that would underlie
A pre-determined pact
Brought up as a Catholic child
Beliefs that would not wane
The distinct view of Protestants
Reflecting royal reign
The disapproving treatment then
Catholic Priests and all
Of secret church services
Hidden holes – no fall
A venture to the land of Spain
Discover and to fight
A brave and learned soldier
Gunpowder to alight
Plans devised, against the king
Thomas Winter’s plot
Fawkes informed and now assigned
Such tales were not forgot
A secret meet within the Inn
Robert Catesby lead
A gang adjoined as one to swear
Our plans will go ahead
A parliamentary opening
Imminently placed
For barrels rolled into the night
Hidden without trace
A letter sent to Monteagle
Reward for such a warn
Uncovered act, to light a fuse
The truth of which be sworn
Hidden in the cellar below
O’ Guy to now arrest
A plotters display of guilty heads
The ending of their quest
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
They piled a heap of logs
fire they light and run away
cats and dogs come from sky
the work well done collapses
Things done in haste out of hate
make plotters foolish gamblers
when the world laughs and giggles
cleaning powder they spray
The logs fate piles on gamblers
the burning oil it adds in dark
the cries of the innocent offended
ignite revenge flames that burn souls
When these things happen, no cry
get your guitar and play nice melodies
There has been invasion of rats false accusations to spam thats been lingering around my circumference too many plotters trying to trap me like Spiderman but can't web me or being devious and planning no trickery stunts that I've already apprehended to my status and stand to my standard by staying ten toes down with dominant C that always defend my honor and right to be alert for any foul ball or foul play and then you will foul out for the last time like an shot clock violation and within my area of buddahist tranquility to brother hood peace like the Mercedes Benz emblem in which we always wanted to have to drive everyone crazy to seek luxury or cant have by subterfuge creating a plot and trickery my mind ambition intellect to my results and what I worked out to build and prepped up for and alized within such confusion and remain modest to the wise factor.
Joy and pain
Losses and gain
Embrace and refrain
Triumph and defeat
Judas Iscariot, riding his Chariot....betrayal
Chiefs and thieves
Plotters and schemers
Mischief...
A garage of grudges
Sorrow and grief
Bitterness!
Animosity and hatred
Enemity and vengeance...Why?
Love and faithfulness
Trust...
Perseverance and endurance
Victory!
Forgiveness and reconciliation...
True friendship!
Peace and tranquility...
Unity and prosperity
Demise...
Oh! that is reality
Plotters- plat- platters a drip of drop!
plop-plop-plop the dripping raindrop.
Purplish splash on mud and mire-
Clapping rain drop put out the fire!
Purring rain of dripping drops
against the water and greenery tree tops.
Perfect symphany of the falling rain-
Plotters-plat-platters a dripping rain.
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