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If Dullness Be Your Plunder

                     63.
      If Dullness Be Your Plunder

    Speech is silence gone amiss
    But if speech is ne'er to be.
    Choose words with some conviction
    Lest you dare to weary me.
    Tell a story worth remembering...
    Peak my interest with its plot.
    Dazzle me with a few eccentricities...
    Leave me speechless on the spot.
    But if dullness be your plunder
    And prattle the order of the day.
    Cease with your banality...
    Just turn and walk away.

                  The End

                       64.
             Sincere Apologies

  Sincere apologies to all concerned...
      For the blunders left behind.
    Know this true... I shan't return
           To plague impeccant
                      Minds.
There was utter folly to my madness
  That masked a blackened heart.
 I trafficked in misery and sadness
            To tear this world
                     Apart.
 Has there ever been upon this Earth
       A man more pitiful than I?
   Letting the winds of chaos fester
       While fear and trepidation
              Chance collide.
That a mother should have given voice
    To one so barnacled with shame...
 As minions of the underworld rejoice
       At the mere cackle of my
                    Name.
But at this hour, striving for exemption
         Knowing faith be lost...
    I take a wild stab at redemption
      Hoping to offset some future
                    Cost.
  My regrets lie heaped and stacked...
        Tis a weight I cannot bear.
 Thus I perish with one last noble act
       To seek forgiveness in your
                  Prayers.
 I've made the Earth a better place
         By choosing not to be...
 Trusting Heaven opens up a space
          For one as cursed as 
                    Me.
Please accept this late confession as
         I take my final breath.
    As I ponder now the question...
      Is there mercy after death?
                  Thus...
 When light has seen the end of day
       And all is well with thee.
   Take just a moment to convey
      Some blessed thought of
                    Me.

                The End

                   65.
           The Hourglass

   The night is well upon me...
   The hourglass has had its run.
   The graveyard beckons hither...
   I feel the setting of my sun.

   Death holds no consternation...
   I am well on sacred ground.
   And the hourglass I mentioned...
   Well...
   I'll just turn it upside down.

                  66.
       Live By The Sword...

Religion beacons many forms...
Not just those who seek the cross.
Some climb majestic mountains
While others search for what is lost.

Some hope to find the burning bush...
Others claim the soul divine.
There are some who cheer the wrath of God
To keep the dregs in line.

But the worst of all religions...
The one to fill my soul with dread.
Is the hate and vile malevolence
That those on Twitter spread.

They menacingly worship at an alter
Proliferating a stench of scabbed flesh.
They eagerly rip and tear their neighbors
To feed demons in the press.

How does any who walk this Earth
Come to such a sorry state?
The only thing that comes to mind...
Is they must margin from their hate.

If hate be the currency of their passion...
Then false prophets must collide.
Thus when Twitter deems them expendable...
They'll have nowhere left to hide.

                The End






Copyright © David McHattie

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