Past times I’ve failed to
Enjoy fully, because
Of the many screens
To spend my night in
Loud or quiet times, and sure
To sleep in so late
Oh TV screens you
Steal my sleep, my summer and
My life, not this time
Two Fridays ago, a fowl thief
Ruled over hearts, pets, relationships
Broke in (burglary) during my absence
Took Mr. Five (her half- brother) for his unearned pot
I just pray Kaalnek, our baby & pet, was not
Twice victim of a teen thief, safe in my hood
Why? The questions in south Africa, coddling crime
II: We forgive but Justice is the LORD'S:
Please join my miracle prayer, Kaalnek yet lives. The thief was trying to sell a chicken 4 days after the theft. I do surrender to God's will in thus matter, too
Amen. Shalom, shalom
P.S. Neighbors disclosed the thief, Jojos, son of Man-man, a shebeen owner or homebase alcohol seller. I did give chase when folk pointed Jojos out to me, but he got away. A police report has been filed
Pages of white lust
are recalling Summer moons
tugging a retreating
roar. God of Insanity:
objects personified shaped
to impact reason
in his senseless world.
Hands reach within closed eyelids-
chis luring the heart.
Cancerous pain seeps,
then tunnels. A maroon creek
rushing through sand-colored
walls of leek-like tissue.
It is winding, and ebbing,
pushing the thunderous
beat of muscle welded,
torched by the pagan Creator.
His opaque waves swirl
around the electric
magnetic manisfestation:
sun- like core of life.
Thievery
Written: by Miracle Man
5-10-2019
Consequences exist for each action they take,
And some will pilfer things hidden from sight.
Their misguided actions became a huge mistake,
Once truth is known that their hands are slight.
Luke 8:17
K. J. V.
For nothing is secret, that shall not be made manifest;
neither any thing hid, that shall not be known and come abroad.
Any good judge and jury would convict me
Slam the door shut, toss out the key
High crimes and misdemeanors in the first degree
Caught in cahoots with poetry
Armed with pen and paper in hand
Stealing from me all that I have
Until my muse says there's nothing left
Empty's the till inside my pounding head
I'll sing like a stool pigeon in the hot seat
In a police line up I'll point out the poetry
Say that's the one that did this to me
The one with the sly smile and rhyme in his teeth
I'll throw myself on the mercy of the court
Plead insanity as I cackle and cough
To tell the truth if you only knew
That last statement is not too far off
in locking away our heart.......
we become the thief of our own happiness
This poem is my reaction to Casarah's latest poem.
Fast rising waters
wash over shattered shelters
stealing memories.
4 walls, 3 windows, 1 door, and 2 locks: what for?
When evil remains unleashed
And penetrates even the most solid of barriers.
Is there no salvation?
Is there no reprieve from the ugliness of
An angry soul lashing out against invisible foes
Manifested on the innocent?
Windows decorated with bars.
And peering through their coldness mournful eyes stare
~ veiled with the caution of soiled hope ~
Searching for sanctuary:
Knowing we've come too far.....
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