My life is a poem
that is being written
day by day

It’s not pretty right now
nor will it be next week
and it might not make sense next year
but it’s coming baby

line by line it’s
getting better

one
after another
and then the next

I can't wait for
you to read it when
I'm finished

It not easy going up against God’s Peoples
Date your wound
Picked your fights,

"Debates test the performative aspect of leadership: stamina, mental agility
as viewers we all know the mental agility of some of them:"

You can sway a thousand men by appealing to their prejudices quicker than you can convince one man by logic.”
― Robert A. Heinlein, Revolt in 2100/Methuselah's Children

Poets should get together and debates,
The inner thoughts of each other:
We are in the heat of this pandemic
The thought of not knowing,
Who family member would get that awful text
It’s not  so easy to go up against God’s people
Remember the world,
Picked your fights,

Something is going on in this world that isn’t rights
When the God given talent of man is used to destroy\
Others, it should be taken away.

If you use your time wisely, God will give you more time. If you use your energy wisely, God will give you more energy.** Quote:

Oh, the corpses that float

In the shadow of

the New Colossus.



A gift that should

have been taken back

by the French

long ago.



The lies of her crown

of her torch

her tablet

upon which writ

was a cattle call

to the enslaved and persecuted

within our own walls.



Is it justice?

Is it fate?



Whence they tear from you

your robe



the tarping

they use for Army tents.



Before they nailed you

to the stake,

they made you dance

a little.



Wave your torch over your head

so they can see the light

bounce off your tired *******

and crest the slump

of your dimpled ***.



Your crippled legs beg for a kneel.
 

Yet you dance on.



In vain.



You will still not be spared.
 

When they stripped you of your crown,


Did you know they were serious?



Plucking from it the thorns,

that became the spikes

that held you upon and to

the stake.



The rust from your green palms.



Blood red and weary.



Not a tear,

as they douse you in oil

and sneer through expensive veneers.
 

The cash at your feet

was not an offering,

but instead,

a wick.



Your hallowed bones

and hollow soul,

the offering.



That beacon,

that torch,

meets the fuse.



As a chorus of laughter rises

from the company of despots

at the backwoods ceremony this is-



as the light of your wilting steel

and melting carcass

flicks off of their contorted faces-



can you tell me;



Is this the rooster coming to roost?



Is this the reaping of the sowed?




Is this a lie laid to rest?
 

Or,

would you have rather drowned-



Like the tablet they stole from you

and threw in the ocean.



To rest in the shadow of a wall.

Our atmosphere is a bubble - like the fizz you find in Champagne.
Have you ever been to a dentist, and done it without any pain?
Have you ever enjoyed wireless or traveled the sky in a plane?
Then you’ve experienced science - the modern world's quoin.
Climate change has been proven - the result of our human reign.

Have you noticed the west coast's on fire - and seen the gulf hurricanes?
We're in the hottest decade ever and only half the country gets rain.

Did you ever use a computer - have you ever been on a train?
Did you ever see television - do I really have to explain?
Science deniers aren’t new - they once claimed cigarettes weren’t bad,
and thousands died from cancer - science deniers be ******.
Our civilization’s based on science - it’s the modern world's quoin.
Climate change has been proven - the results of polluting our domain.