"Why do you rebel?"
Asked the artist of the bruise
"Your head is sick, your heart faint
Your skin is slick with wounds"
Yet in the same breath
"I do not delight in lambs' blood"
Yet he likens kin to lambs
And killed both in the flood
But "thou shalt not kill"
Declares he who killed the most
"My sword devours 'til sated"
Saith the Lord of Hosts
"For I am sorry
About all of your punishments"
There's no forgiveness in me
My lord, I'm far beyond spent
Those smiles and laughs, those wild, irrational cries,
The ease of trusting all the souls around,
That prompt, sweet nod to check parental eyes—
Were these not graces with which I was crowned?
I lived in moments, free from heavy weights.
I did not label things as good or bad.
Was I designed for punishments or fates?
Could I be truly, deeply grave or glad?
I did not judge. I did not loathe or hate.
Each soul could trust and fully lean on me.
No one within my circle was too great.
In my calm presence anyone felt free.
Have guileless blossoms withered as I’ve grown?
Far from my own true self, has my soul flown?
It seem to have started when she was a kid
She never could do what the other students did
They seen her as strange while teachers seen who she was
No one was able understand the unique things that she does
She always had struggled with the person she was on the inside
Relationships formed with others always seemed to collide
There was always this search or mission to find the right one
Friendships never last but always stopped where they begun
This lost girl eventually grew into a lost adult
Losing life's trophy doing what she was taught
Put others first and put yourself in second place
Each time she tried, things blew up in her face
For years she has wondered where she belongs
Through each friendship her pain just prolongs
She thought about shutting out the world to remain alone
Thinking she would see better days now that's she's grown
She's been lost for some time now seeking social improvements
Instead of a lifelong friend she receives emotional punishments
Ten long years in jail for petty theft at a bus stop,
While leaders steal in billions with a wrist-slap.
A man wore the hangman’s noose for armed robbery,
Yet a governor earned honours for a pen robbery.
Citizens bled by taxes to please Bretton Woods,
Loans secured not for growth but to fatten pockets.
When the people protest, police scatter them with contempt,
And soldiers fire bullets to silence their voices.
Black ink scrawls draconian laws on tyrant’s tables,
Threats and punishments stitched to entrench their power.
But such laws befriend only ephemerality,
Before the masses seize the reins of their rulers’ reign.
Mass anger drove Rajapaksa out of Sri Lanka,
Gen Z rose in Nepal against a media ban.
Burkina Faso’s streets toppled Compaoré,
And Egypt’s squares forced Mubarak to resign.
The people’s voice will always drown draconian laws;
Chains that glitter at first soon corrode into rust.
The rulers may feast while the nation starves in silence,
But shackles will break—the storm leaves none untouched.
Oh Echo why, did she beguile.
Queen Hera with loquacity.
Thou mountain nymph whose winsome smile
Did mask Zeus from complicity
With sylvan nymphs, his sole desire.
Those dalliances once revealed
Set jealous Hera's heart on fire.
Echo was blamed, her fate now sealed
To never speak, till others spoke.
And only then, those last words said.
Then bite her tongue, or she would choke.
This punishments inside her head.
A woodland hiding place she found
In solitude and loneliness.
One day she heard a youthful sound.
His voice her lips, it did caress.
Then " do not hide " Echo replied.
This paragon of many charms,
Bemused he said " please do no hide "
When Echo ran towards his arms,
Narcissus cast her to the ground,
Extolling death, to her embrace
As from her lips, his words resound.
She disappeared without a trace.
To wander evermore alone.
Those mountain caves were her domain.
Soon blessed death, turned bones to stone.
Her voice was all that did remain.
8 / 16 / 2025
How in a twinkle of an eye,
Your life so make a lot of sense.
Now, the world heave a nasty sigh...
What an atmosphere with such tense!
Insane to ever imagine...
The plain sky once sunny turn loosed,
How wealth to death has no bargain!
Life would have got hade's gut seduced.
The sunny sky soon faded out,
While love just become a true fan
Beyond every possible doubt
It's better he got 'serve a ban'
Diogo Jota bids farewell soon,
A gentle goodnight to fans ears.
Though he had a very bright June,
But July disguise awful cheers...
Rest well in the blossoms of God,
We hope you find real happiness...
Though no one understands the odd;
Death defines not your readiness.
Condolences to Portugal...
Above earthly accomplishments;
Find eternal rest off struggle,
Mercy placed above punishments.
Wems Henry Temmy
2025
R I P Diogo Jota
#DiogoJota
By the “resurrection of the body” is meant that at the end of the world
And the bodies of all men will rise from the earth
And be united again to their souls nevermore to be separated
By the special favor of the Assumption
The body of the Blessed Virgin Mother Mary was raised from the dead
And taken into Heaven
The judgement which will be passed on all men immediately after the general
resurrection is called the general judgment
The judgment will be passed on each one of us immediately after death is
called the particular judgment
The rewards or punishments appointed for men after the particular judgment are Heaven
Purgatory
Or Hell
The word “Amen” with which we end the Apostles’ Creed is meant
So it is
Or So be it
O MY (ETERNAL) GOD
I am heartily sorry for having offended You
And I detest all my sins
Because of Your just punishments
But most of all because they offend You, my (Eternal) God
Who are all good
And deserving of all my love
I firmly resolved with the help of Your grace
To sin no more
And to avoid the near occasions of sin
Poetry Form: Free Verse
Date Written: May 18, 2025
Time Written: 9:43pm
Glibly goes; the globalists line deprivation is freedom
And eternal war is so fine' repression of the west that
Had afflulence and health.' That might spill over? to the
Third world..Kept upon its own shelf.' By empowered
Populations un-predated by war, in appreciation of advances, from the decades gone before..As thought
Pharoah Tutmoses; the second to none? The folk in
General are most numerous, of my riches whats is to
become? So he made 'interventions and punishments'
Hard.! to deplete them in number..To kill young males
His trump card.' And yet there was plentitude, innovation
All was well.' Now his agressive intention unto evil actions
Would sound the death knell.'
If became a criminal the room would you tie me down to the bed, and show me how to be the good little girl you wish me to be. I'll get on my knees begging daddy to forgive me. Show the criminal side of me daddy is the one in charge here. What you say is the only way and I shall not disobey. Grab me by the throat hold me against the wall anything you need to do to show me right from wrong,but even then maybe being a criminal in the room isn't so bad when all the punishments I seem too love.
It has been said that
“Wicked is as wicked does;”
And somewhere, I heard/read
“Death can be an award or a punishment;
The Creator both gives and takes away
All life that is lived and passed on:-
Is it not conceivable that it’s possible
To destroy wickedness, rather than
The source from which it is conceived?
In no way can we eliminate death itself,
But we can destroy murdering causes—
It’s a matter of choice: God or Satan?
Yes, choices—all—have consequences;
And may result in rewards or punishments—
Whichever it is to be, requires consciousness:-
In deciding how to deal with wickedness and its source,
Choose to seek ever-present, divine wisdom and guidance;
Ever ensuring blessed rewards rather than abject punishment:-
May we soon be awarded the ways and means
Of ridding ourselves of the Oppressor Syndrome:
“Murdering ourselves for the sake of our oppressors:-”
Likewise, may we be rewarded with redirecting our kids,
Guiding them towards controlling AI, rather than the opposite;
Future leaders, aware that it takes liberated NI…to liberate bodies:-
The taste of forever
Wild oats and thistles covered the track
stinging my legs for punishments
for since forgotten
The misty Dale that makes war look
like a romantic adventure
that separated men from boys until
a wolf howled
Trespasses, are buried under flowers
keep a soldier's last secret,
his name blew away in the wind
The cottage was still there, trees around
had grown, could no longer be seen
from the main road.
the door was rotten but still locked
the window curtain
was made
of spiders web
the room was shady in the noon heat
intense silence came thundering
demanding to be heard
so many graves not visited and tears
of the betrayed ran into a lake where
trout waked
He hits his knuckles on a stone wall and
savored the pain, blood dripped onto
the floor and ants came
He threw a rope over a beam and climbed
on a table, his dog outside barked
it sensed utter peril
At ease, by now, he walked back to
the main road, and behind him in
a cabin, a noose gently swayed
You will not live forever
And you do not have a soul
There are no hells or heavens
No charged punishments to scroll
We do not keep on going
When our ashes riddle urns
There are no gods or saviors
No exchanges or returns
You will not live forever
And you cannot sway the Fates
There are no master captains
Out beyond the crooked gates
Dear Teachers,
You are very very special
Your character is really inexplicable
You've taught us millions of lessons which is a billion dollar thing
We still remember that amazing school sessions that has given us wings
Punishments and scoldings all are just part.
But all these memories connect us even when we miles apart.
School has fun feelings and care Study and morality we find everything was there,
That era has been golden and teachers are gem
Friends are companion can't forget them Lots of gratitude and respect for you.
Thanks for everything because you all are gem that are rare and few
Rimjhim
Who’d go ahead to smack a cheek,
Because owner had sounded Greek:
Pounce on his salary thought sleek,
To delay it week after week?
Such actions of iron hand reek,
Later, boss’ corpse for vulture’s beak.
Some captains take tortures to peak,
At their victims content to peek…
Their just fixed doors of office creak:
New oaken ones shipped through the creek
And they’re amazed, knowledge seek;
They themselves can the answer leak…
For all wrong punishments of staff
Heads are getting them back full not half.
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