A 9/11 FOOD FOR THOUGHT FLASHBACK
(Apropos Of A Tearing Tanka Flow)
Insuring our health,
We destroy all rottenness:
Why do we keep war?!
Wars can not be nourishing;
They’re all about destroying:-
Wars contradict peace.
Peace is the absence of war;
Not its intention:-
Bombing murder tares down life,
Rather than building it up:-
We didn’t celebrate
9/11; we mourned it—
With sad, flowing tears:
Wars are about hell’s graveyards;
Not those of God’s ascensions:-
Weariness, life-weariness
Begets what crawls in
As dimly, mouldy a feeling
But sees rottenness.
358.
My Abomination to Archdemon Belphegor
Oh Archdemon Belphegor, accept my abomination!
You who are identified as “Master of Laziness”
I do not want that time filled with nothingness!
You wish to just sit, eat, and sleep with all drowsiness
I do not need that space occupied with emptiness!
You relax yourself all day with such unfruitfulness
I resign from such negligence leading to rottenness!
-03/14/2015
(Dumarao)
*My Demons Collection
The earth wept for no reason
under a soft articulate noise
of auctioned lives,
a beautiful dream, slowly dying.
Rottenness seeks in the soul
righteous prey,
grown from pure moments
in which the whiteness of thought
nurtures the hope of cleanliness
away from the smell own rot,
inherited from primary birth.
I feel the path in the whites of my eyes
through the chain of peoplecrucified
only for the future millennia.
We collect the rusty nails with tears
let's stick them on the sky.
Through the ancestral valleys
the blood of the crusaders flows,
furrowing the carapace of faith
to destruction.
One earth,
one history,
hangs like a ripe fruit
in the grown tree
from the heart of the universe
ready to taste the putrefaction.
On another branch
a flower opens
in the prehistory of another fruit.
The earth wept for no reason
under a soft articulate noise
of auctioned lives,
a beautiful dream, slowly dying
Envy is like a fire that burns
That melts the soul and fills the urns
Too much envy is perilous
It rots the bone, too cancerous
Too much envy from vague reason
Halts the flow of gorgeous season
Once the seeds of envy is sown
It rouses hatred to be born
When someone hates, he hates his own
For, hate reflects like dust that's blown
For reasons they can't understand
Some even hate and take their stand
Be not a hater, be better
Only you can make your fate sweeter
Sow seeds of love, not bitter hate
For hate devours the chance of fate
"A sound heart is life to the body, But envy is rottenness to the bones."
Proverbs 14:30 New King James Version (NKJV)
God be praised for our Pastor’s wife
Virtuous woman* exuded by her countenance
Paragon of spiritual lady’s blest fullness indeed
Fulfilling roles with feminine elegance
Graciously living according to Bible creed
Meeting her family's maternal need.
The Lord be thanked for our Pastor’s wife
Possessing faith of steward with servant-heart qualities
Steadfast as a loving mentor of godly influence
Caring teacher and discipler marked by truth-verities
Diligent homemaker as well as prudent* spouse in her reigning prevalence
Midst her mother and grandmother's joyously cheering presence.
Dear Ma'am Dhel,
Blessed birthday to you. We thank God for your life. You are a blessing to us.
*Proverbs 12:4 - A virtuous woman is a crown to her husband: but she that maketh ashamed is as rottenness in his bones. Proverbs 19:14 - ... a prudent wife is from the LORD.
September 27, 2023
Desire death do those with weakness,
For present circumstances.
To climb the face of life is meekness:
Behold all of God’s chances.
With calloused hands in deep gray nooks, it’s meek to climb.
To rest is one step next to death,
Not rest from work, but rest to dwell
In furlongs of failures, for faith is forgiven.
Because these burdens bring expectations
No earthly man nor woman could fell.
So, lest the hungry rocks below be fed,
Grapple north! Nerve lazy ligaments!
Long not nervous eyes on bottom bed,
Gripping vocal chords cry loud instruments!
Like the slimy kinds of wriggling worm
Is rottenness inside our being,
Oh, I am most aware.
Bite lying tongues and spring new form
By blood (the Spirits bringing)
‘Fore Heaven’s royal chair.
He purposed you to not dwell and fall
And spite His gift He gives for all,
Nor long loathe innard selfish stall
That kills again all-died-for men.
Hoist those bones and pray- amen.
If you come to my occasion
Maybe birthday or dedication
You'll be to me like a red rag to a bull
Asking for rice knowing the price of a bagful
Our common and daily food
Is becoming an august food
Either our leaders aren't aware
Or they just don't care
This continuous bulging in the price of rice
Coming from a government thought will be super-nice
Is nothing but a rape of hope
Pushing the masses to where they'll never be able to cope
With the lamentation of those who market rice in bagful(s)
And the masses that don't have their pocketful
We don't need a teacher to tell us that the situation has become rotten
Yet they want to make the rotten situation golden
Those who failed to achieve their pocketful of promises
See this rottenness as golden to make many more promises
Our situation is either feast or famine
Which we all need to examine
The rapes and the ravages are too many
that make us pickle
While the precautions are too little that make us tingle
In their timetable they've made it turn by turn
It's left for us to learn or continue to yearn
She was the best we had
the best of us.
The best of the clan,
and she was rotten.
We were all rotten
learned rottenness
learned from the best
from our mama
She could out-cuss us,
out run us and outwit us.
We were her boys, and
we were the best we could be.
The best of the best
The Thompson trio
People crossed the street
when they saw us coming
We were a force to be avoided
us brothers three. By the time
we were in double digits, people
from other towns were coming
to our town to fight us.
They had heard how tough we were.
They did not know about our mama.
They would get to Mama first.
They would be nice and polite too.
"Could you please tell us where your boys are, ma'am?"
Mama wasn't fooled.
She would take them on first,
give them a licking they wouldn't forget.
Some went home after that.
Others were even more determined to find us.
One thing for sure, Mama always taught them
a lesson before they got to us.
If you think those boys are tough, wait 'til you
meet their mama!
Mama was the best we had.
She was the best of us.
The rottenness of it all is no less foul for having been bleached white. This is the conclusion I come to. I walk with a scarf covering my mouth through the dimly lit catacombs of the faithful. The arched ceiling holds a dangling string of incandescent bulbs which cast a sickly yellow glow on my shoes and the cavities full of thighbones. “Why are all the bones the same,” I ask. The guide smiles. “Tens of thousands of heaven seekers wish to be buried here. There’s only so much room,” he said. “Even today people pay for holy ground.” Ghostly, armless, rib-less, headless, specters seem to rise un-braced, oh the indignity of it all. I picture them searching for the missing parts of themselves. I sneeze through my paisley scarf, stumble back; back, following the arrows in reverse, seeking the way out; just as frantically as they had sought the way in. The rest of the group trudges on; after all, they had paid their coin to Charon.
First Published in Inwood Indiana January 2014
Fear I have going to the quack, knowing my life is in their hands
The moment I was told to register for a simple snip
In and out in a flash, easy as pie
To waking up and realizing something is defective
Hearing antibiotics, damaged my blood line
Only tasting blood, taking it in
Like a vampire
Trying to stay alive, blood bag after bag
For no one felt my tarnish
No one saw my soul, leave this world
Has I sat in my grave and fought threw my spirits
Whispering to my soul
Feeling robbed of life
Putting trust in their hands
Rottenness reports took my voice
I put my life in their hands
Until heaven raindrops, touched my body
Bringing me air to breathe, near death
Taking my life out their grave
Life near death, is no more
No more
Life near death is not my nest
It's my time to rest
Babylon the great has fallen has fallen....
Woe, unto them that call evil good, and good evil
That place darkness for light, and light, for darkness
Which put bitter as for sweet and sweet for bitter woe
Unto them that are wise in their own eyes, and prudent in
Their own sight ? Woe unto them that are mighty to drink wine
And men of strength to mingle strong drink: which justify the wicked
For reward and take away the righteousness of the righteous from them ?
Therefore as the fire devoureth the stubble, and the flame consumeth the chaff
So their root shall be as rottenness, and, their blossom shall go up as dust: Because....
They have cast away the law of, THE LORD OF HOST, and despised the word of, THE HOLY ONE.
Back drops of life
Tending down rottenness
Picking doors expensive
Voice activated
No intruders
Quiet enfolds
Inner materials
Grand exits and entrance
Stage manner audience
Mountains back loft
Ski slope catchall
Frontal success
Filling slates jest
Protruding those jealous
God wants you and me
To finally be a family
He wants us to see
That we were meant to be
That is why He brought me
Here from Monroe
To finally show
That He is the reason
For our being so attached
And that it is our season
For the egg of divine love to be hatched.
Proverbs 12:4
An excellent wife is the crown of her husband,
but she who brings shame is like rottenness in his bones.
Ecclesiastes 9:9
Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that he has given you
under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the
sun.
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