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George Krokos Mar 2020
All sacred scriptures were divinely revealed and given by God to man
as a record of our relationship to help remember Him as best we can.
They also can be used as a reference for advice in our times of need
as they contain eternal truths for all concerned to abide by and heed.
From "The Quatrains" ongoing writings since the early '90's.
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Listen to me now and heed my voice;
I am a madman, alone, screaming in the wilderness,
but listen now.

Listen to me now, and if I say
that black is black, and white is white, and in between lies gray,
I have no choice.

Does a madman choose his words? They come to him,
the moon’s illuminations, intimations of the wind,
and he must speak.

But listen to me now, and if you hear
the tolling of the judgment bell, and if its tone is clear,
then do not tarry,

but listen, or cut off your ears, for I Am weary.


Published by Penny Dreadful, The HyperTexts, the Anthologise Committee and Nonsuch High School for Girls (Surrey, England)

Also published by Michael R. Burch writing as Immanuel A. Michael and Kim Cherub

Keywords/Tags: Listen, heed, prophet, crying, wilderness, voice, prophecy, black, white, gray, moon, wind, speak, speaking, speech, instruction, teaching, warning, omen, illuminations, intimations, ears, hear, judgment, bell, toll, tolling, peal, pealing, tone, I, Am

Note: The poet as a “madman, alone, screaming in the wilderness” is likened to John the Baptist, foretelling a momentous “second coming”: his own, with no other Messiah in sight.
What shall be of me and you on the judgment day
A day when this greener land of ours will turn to gray
The rich; the wealthy will know how poor they are
The kings and gods will realize how small they are
The popular; famous will become unknown
Some will cry and the comedian will be unable to make his joke
On that day, everyone will know how special he is
Man will regret and blame himself for the way he live
Scientist; philosopher, scholar and professor will know how ignorant they are
Terrorists, hooligans, gangsters and drug dealers will know the reality
They will realize that life is nothing but vanity
Their missiles and guns and bombs will be unable to help them
The escort, bodyguards, bouncers will be unable to protect themselves
Their weight will loose; their muscles will cuddle and turn flat
And after that
Man’s temperature will read indirectly
His stimuli will dis-stimulate negatively
He will shiver under 12pm sun
Father will see but not recognize his son
The moon will burn and the sun will freeze him
His leg will be unable to hold him
A man who live his life and forget his origin
He malign and mistreat the filthy
And he believe he will repent when he reaches fifty
He’s gonna pray and seek for forgiveness at older age
But death took him away at earlier stage
He womanise and he cheated; he wine and dine
So, his grave will welcome him as the most despise
A believer on the other hand whom his heart is purest
His grave will welcome him as the most beloveth
He would be exempt from any form of suffering
And he will pass without exam on the day of judgement
Children of these days
They're in big dismay
Their attitude, degrade
Their lifestyle is fake
Their value in my eye seems depreciate
They're such a big disgrace

Children of these days
Can't walk without dancing
Just a slight rhythm; and they'll start bouncing
Devilish music; devilish words gat more liking

Children of these days
Their behaviour makes me sad
They would even say 'Hi' to their dad
That's really bad
An act of being  ******

Children of these days
They're so decietful
They won't even greet you

Children of these days
are so mono
They're less gospel and more solo
Surfing the internet; looking for free *****
Man; this logo you have is real loco

Children of these days
Their ways are odds
And they spit missiles of words
They don't want to stain their boot with dirt
But they forgot they're firstly designed from mud

Children of these days have big mouth
They are too proud
They're much of meriment; they're too loud

Children of these days
Should watch out for hollow
They'll say "we are the leaders of tommorrow"
But they do not know
The path to success is narrow

Children of these; I pity
For they think they're pretty
But their style of life is filthy

Children of these days
They post pancaked face on facebook
And ask "How do my face look?"
Ma'am; "you're just a lame snook"
About to get trap in a fish-hook

Children of these days
Don't know their culture
Shoulder 's on; like vulture
That latitude that you walk-on; is not yours
these attitude of yours that you does nurture
Will torture and dis-configure your fine posture
Children of these days
Please take heed
Life is more than that; which you see
So, children of these days; please repent
Before you have a child; you know attitude do reflect
I am never gonna relent
So that my children; that day; won't be bent
Poetic T Nov 2017
Syllables collect like vacant shells
           on a shore of nonconformity.

Willing the thoughts now washing up
             to be converged vividly.

     We gaze at many horizons,
collecting upon us, are we to be
                               washed away...

Or will our reflections be that
       which we swim within,
               be that which we heed in word..
BSeuss Oct 2017
take heed in your place throughout life. we are snowflakes in an avalanche. and perhaps we should care, if a star disappears. what if that star was our last.
A tricky
pet irony
of her
most influential
'twas there
Saybrook that
ruined her
of Russian
intel who
trod with
"a Jack
Russell" and
met with
final entourage  
in skull
and crossbones  
just yesterday.
Prathipa Nair Jul 2016
Waiting to hear from you
Handling me delicately
With your words from heart
Filled with love for me
Responding with a hello
Is better than a silence
Showing a bundle of hatred
And when I get a call
I hear you talking with
No heed to converse
Getting irritated with
The sweet voice which
You loved much before
Controlling my tears
Not to fall for the one
Who doesn't care
To love me anymore
Mel May 2015
Heed the liars.
Beware of secrets.
Heed the false ones.
Beware of illusions.
How can I discern what's right?
Should I run from the dark or surrender?
Perhaps there's hidden magic within?
Confrontation is necessary.
Yet, I'm scared of being burnt by the light.
I don't want to expose the scars.
I weigh the options for eons.
I'm at war with myself.
Struggling to find truth.
Drowning in a black and white sea.
Only I can save myself.
Afra Al Zaabi Mar 2015
I can see her smile
But no longer feel it

I can feel her touch
But no longer sense it

I can hear her whispers
But no longer heed her voice

I can feel her cold skin
But no longer feel her warm skin

I can feel her heart
But no longer sense her soul

I can hear her heartbeats
But no longer read her pulses

I can taste the bitterness
But no longer sip the sweetness

I can believe that she’s gone
But no longer conceive that she’s dead

I can no longer see the light
Because it got dimmed the day she died
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