World War III was a pity
nuclear destruction
***** and Gomorrah
Babylon the last city

World war; IV, V,VI
skirmishes nitty-gritty
Reduced to rubble,
Land no longer pretty

Boulders and granite
Fire and ash trash
An Unrecognizable planet
Walk on mounds of broken glass

Each day, a little less men strive
Those who managed to survive
Irreversible travesty’s against God
Chanted by men to Stay alive.

Souls Reduced to  Unspeakable things
To eat a human being is not as easy as it seems
Humanity in its primitive form Cannibalism
The bell tolls for thee” Dinner bell sings

What length would you go for your kids?
Looking in their hungry eyes first dibs
Carnal nature, tender young flesh
Hunger, starvation, soulless don’t confess

living off the flesh of
The belly of the beast
“Stab it with your stealing knife
But you just can’t **** the beast”

Mouth waters, a banquet feast
Life on the outside filled with decay
Losers never win they just fade away
False promised prayers nothing to say

One more gory battle fire the last mortar
War Ends with One World Order

Martial law rioters reject Curfew in affect  
Government laws suspect,
Man fights to the end to defend
Freedom life liberty protect



BLT Webster’s word of the day challenge
March 13, 2025 CURFEW
Curfew refers to a law or order that requires people to be indoors after a certain time at night, as well as to the period of time when such an order or law is in effect it can also be used to refer to a time set by a parent or caregiver at which a child has to be back home after going out


The Phrase
“Never send to know for whom
The bell tolls; it for Thee”
Originated from John Donnie’s meditation 17
and means we are all connected, and the death of any person, even a stranger, is a loss to all of humanity, as we are all part of the same human experience

Ernest Hemingway use the phrase as the title of his novel  “For whom the bell tolls”
The phrase can be used as a metaphor to emphasize the interconnectedness of
Humanity and the importance of caring about the events and people even those far away


Inspired song
Hotel California by the Eagles

Deserving all reviling, loathing, curse;
To be an art critic-- can it get worse?
Imagine appearing before the Lord,
In Christ's own kingdom, God's glory restored:
The One you ignored now judges your soul.
Your life is reviewed, opened like a scroll—
He looks through your motives, your soul, and heart.
Did you have faith?   Well... I wrote about Art.

Perhaps there exists something even worse...
Worse than atheist critics (and my verse):
Scribes who are devoted to Rock and Roll,
Rap, R & B, Pop in part or in whole.
Condemned by their works and their words alone:
The drivel they scribble for Rolling Stone
Must be answered for on the Judgement day
(Which none of them believed in anyway.)

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                         Reliable InterGossip Service Providers

                            This one is dedicated to Spectrum

Don’t tell me that they are unreliable
All of my providers have been quite precise
Sure, the picture and sound are not often viable
But the bills are always on time – how nice!

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                     Authority Over Everything on the Earth

                                    Sirach 17:1-15

You can’t be authority over all the earth
If in the end you are buried under it
What are man’s honors and dignity worth
After he is ignobly dropped into a pit?

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                 Prancing Chainsaw Dude

Prancing chainsaw dude
Humiliates all of us
And we obey him

I sleep with my
top hat on these days.
It keeps the rabbits from
crawling out and running
away.

They are the safest close to
my brain when I sleep.
I don't want them eaten by
feral swine or to wander
off and drown in a vat of wine.

The magic show will
start soon, and I'll pull them
out when least expected.
The crowd will gasp and groan
when I saw the woman in half.

"It's just a trick,"  I yell.
"She's okay, sleight of hand...see."

They know better, the blood
isn't fake.
They see the horror of the
magician's life, even though
it entertains. We all wish it
was an illusion, but it's
showtime.

I did not ask to stand in light,
nor walk the stage, nor speak my lines.
Yet here I am—through fault, through fight,
through twenty years of measured time.

The script is looped, the plot is stale,
the exits marked in hollow lead.
To fight is folly, frail, and fraught,
to fold is merely left unsaid.

No gods to beg, no fate to barter,
no judge to weigh what I have spent.
I claim this act, its ink, its end,
I take the bow, the stage is bent.

And still—the show will stagger on,
past hollow men and empty breath.
But I was here, and let it stand,
this ending was my own to set.

How many women here
have been impregnated
by Elon Musk? looking for hands

He plans to repopulate the planet
single handedly - well, not handed
exactly - you know what I mean.

In Australia, great swaths of Texas,
and of course Mar-a-Lago, he’s a serial offender,
because his ***** is legal tender.

Factoid: you might catch a disease,
he’s sleeping with everyone north of Belize
and several of them, frankly, look ******.

Of course, you’d have to listen to him talk. shivers
Unless you say, “Hey, can we do this without conversation?”
That’s when you’d slip on your sleep mask, and, well, you know.
But what would you be thinking about?
.
.
FUN! by KiNG MALA [E]
BLOODONTHETIMBS by Bren Joy  [E]