Let us REJOICE in love of the Spirit
As we see others hearts being confronted by His grace from above

REJOICE with the angels
They have noted the repentance
Of the returning sinner
They expect his lifelong perserverence of their joy to be premature
As the convert is a beginner
He is and will be forever their fellow servant.
They look one day to bear him home to glory
Remind our brother
There may be times of weak spite
The evil angels make us groan
Give prayer then the joy of good
Angels will bring forth our desire
To sing in harmony with their delight

REJOICE with The Lord Jesus
For His joy is equivalent to the cost of their redemption
Jesus gives His love with unending
Boundary without petition

REJOICE, in turn we must
With others who convert too
Bringing us closer to being like
Jesus, The One, who saved
Both me and you
REJOICE WITH THE CONVERTS

Cinder flamed ashen skin covers my lips as the thirst grows in my ravaged brain. I lick them and the wind soaks up the moisture.
The heatwave of my body is made aware in my eyes.
I blink yet the sights don't seem to register.
I speak, yet the words don't escape my vocal chords.
I feel, yet the tangibility isn't confirmed in any aspect.
Emptiness is made a factor.
I found out sorrofully that I couldn't connect with the caged bird, I thought I understood why it cried, but my meaning was incorrect, my thoughts were that of a loveless loner ready to embrace the freedom of the cage in its heart.
I was thoroughly incorrect. Why does the caged bird sing?
It sings because it wants others to feel its pain, it has nothing to do with perserverence.
It sings because through song anything is possible, through song
It finds its escape...

on tragedym on deep conspiracies on the blackest electrocutions.
make whole the spaces of time the blank whitenesses
the severe calamities of a life in genius
a poem seeking mistress of desire and pain
one soul alone in  it
hard  to face the reality
condemned to make her best of it
and her death a mark of perserverence
shamedly
her lecturn a warning a tall colossus of
a statue of paper and fear
a surreal landscape  of looming death
her legacy was gone, and I loved her
do to this day

You are a bundle of baby blue balloons
tied to the rail of a gate; the entrance
of used car parking lot.

A man, who
goes by the name Joe is doing his
damnedest to pawn off an old mustang,
the year: unknown -- he has yet
to be familiar with specific car models;
he was the manager of
Costco for 20 years before
getting fired for ****** harassment.

His wife is at home.

He speaks two different languages.

You over hear him, and can't help
but giggle to yourself, each of You
swaying in midair like the fur
of a dandelion.

It must be nice to have two sets
of limbs, upper and lower body
movement; it looks as if
a clusterfuck of genius
has taken the form
of flesh.

Perplexed, You
let one of You
go. You never come
back down.

This is easy
You think.

Joe has failed again; this is 3rd time
today; unable to muster up the courage
to call his wife for support he turns
to a little coke he has in an old
Altoids case kept in his left pocket.

The restroom is where
all the *****, shameful
practices of humans take place;

You call it: "The Encasement of Perserverence"

Clever thought, You say to Yourself

drifting there, alone in Your
grave of gravity.

I see You and wave, but You
pretend to not notice me
and continue to float
like a cloud.

Joe comes back, sits on a red
chair outside the main entrance;
where the sliding glass doors
no longer slide. He hums
a sweet little tune; Simple Man
by Lynyrd Skynard.

You sing along, but through
your film so no one can
comment on Your bad pitch.

It's another day in Tuscon, Arizona.

The sun begins to set.

And we're sulking like undiscovered
mermaids under this umbrella
of 'what the **** do we do now?'

Night will come soon; hinder our progress
with it's unique way of settling the score.

There is no stillness, and You're
no longer a bundle of baby blue;

You are a bomb bound to burst
once the needle of morning
discovers where You live.

"Sic semper evello mortem tyrannis"
translation = thus always I
bring death to tyrants.”

Above the fray of twittering,
squabbling, and madding crowds,
an arrogantly belligerent creature deified,
yet vilified gauche, haughty lumpenproletariat
decreeing blind, deaf and dumb obeisance,
whereby upon forced Sacrificial Altar
erected golden Olympian fleeced perch,
(he acquired, effected, indoctrinated
vis-à-vis bloodless coup d'etat)
absolute dictatorship jump/
kick starting  veneration,
albeit forced subservience

buzzfeeding, fostering (long)
totalitarian reign crafting ship of state  
into figurative unwieldy beastly Leviathan
through present Century21
incorporating deterministic, fascistic,
masochistic, narcissistic, opportunistic,
and shamanistic trumpeting
holier than though malevolent fiery bombast
fulminating laws, exuding self worth
hortatory exclamations decreeing
(by fiat, that no commoner
lest they want an Escort into Crossover realm

he/she cannot afford to Dodge commands,
especially if and when Porsche
comes to shove Fiats promulgated)
absolute valued flat out sharp devotion
pledging (née requiring) pilgrimages,
where his birthplace sanctified
as cultural heritage site,
(a humble abode in backwater of Queens)
dammed, deemed, and donned
for populace to worship
and pay requisite penance de rigueur
in order to avoid premature death;

said consecration viz complex edifice
analogous to Taj Mahal
self declared god enshrined provenance,
where pathway paved with gold
courtesy self declared demigod;
(one blimey, flimsy, nasty
shortish and brutal Attila the *** wannabe),
who served daily dollop of dregs
in ***** deeds done dirt cheap demitasse
admiring, fawning, kowtowing,
primping, et cetera himself,
i.e. a Beatle browed, bobble headed

mop top orange hirsute Talking Head
(though likeness of his trademark
coiffed haired countenance
plastered across every square inch)
detested, and feared unto Caesar,
whose reflection shone thru
and across wall to wall hall
of mountain king mirrors;
meanwhile Blood, Sweat And Tears
for Fears Beastie Beach Boys
and Goo Goo Dolls with ******* aplenty
painstakingly enslaved away

raspily, tentatively verily warbling words,
(while simultaneously severely afflicted
with heebie-jeebies) sung,
(albeit barely audible) Stayin' Alive
amidst noise of torture chamber
smells of burning flesh  
as evidenced by branded, pierced,
snd tattooed rebellious insubordinates
invariably found culpable regarding lèse-majesté,
thus futilely skittering helter skelter
from his majesty paw sized hands
adorned with precious jewels monogrammed

with initials of  Frederick Christ Trump Sr
within whose grotto the heir
found solace, perserverence, and divine guidance
inspiring blistering, glorifying hymns
punishing, and withering edicts
totally tubular proclamations pronouncing
matter of fact, unquestioned imposed fealty
larger than life persona, endowed
crowned, and accorded self  supremacy,
where even divine
cosmic consciousness bows
and trembles acquiescing

toward ornery primate,
whose self crafted patriarchal
mandates imposed unquestioned vows,
where punishment meted out if questioning
of authority appeared to furrow brows
allowing, enabling and providing
totalitarian usurper re: free will ordains wows
be uttered and furor
squelched via militaristic might,
whenever fuhrer didst rouse
the public to pay homage

(even if coerced, forced, and induced)
toward faux courtly house
of seized role of Caesar Augustus
enforcing abrogation,
whence sun t'will
dance and rise to douse
the chill from the dawn
early morn, and mother earth
will be delegated to serve
world wide wagstaff slow caucus
as surrogate spouse, parent, big brother.

Dictatorial modus operandi foisted
upon ******* up public enemy re:
guarding Visigothic, oligopolistic,
hedonistic, and cannibalistic
adopted heir of vested gentry
meted staked, and yoked
fancyfeast sovereignty
intolerant per crowd-sourced
crowing diehard fulminations
denouncing trick air re:
qua hoodwinked treaty
against opprobrious, serious
reign of terror breed

ding steely dang LifeLock
self proclaimed deity
czarist gnome *****
to be (habeas corpus) writ
since this anonymous
cloaked drafted ensign gainsays nothing
as one among populous proletariat
bound and gagged if I don't claim
tyranny rigged by bourgeoisie
and get hung drawn and quartered
as a dire warning damning social compact
left to rot in hell
as a capital one threatening misfit.

Postscript:

I started with the premise
and idea of constituting
the cult of personality worship,
but found thoughts trotting off
in another direction,
and thus felt obliged
to saddle and pony up to thine
predominant sad dulled end
product te deum!