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zebra Aug 2018
a curved pastry
like a prune danish
in a sway
a weaving kiss
anointed by a melting stick of butter,
pushed and puddled
deep and slow

the shape of a heart
with a hole in the middle
ooow dark fig
stinking rose
a comfort that sweetens with the grace of form
and pops like a trigger releasing a bullet

i covet
with eyes like erections
pants sticky wet
hot glue factory
for you love, my *** angel
red skin girl gaping
with circular yearning set in motion
tarnished petal mix meister
sinful hot house
for quaking tongue and lips,
a wild cherry *** kisser
spiked ***** blushing
lord of ****
solar ******* hero
flexed and oiled
to the rescue
a god send
triumphant and blessed
looks like a fast cigarette boat
hitting the speed bumps hard

she said yes please
dip like
nautilus of the black sea

What?

no loitering
no parking
not a through street

haahaahaa

****

that

****
adult ***
the ***** don't lie
and every word is a small miracle
Styles Oct 2015
This desire, writhing inside me,
like a hunger; I covet thee.
Yearning for your taste
to quench my thirst for your flavor--cleansing my palet of such cravings.
anothershrubbery Mar 2015
this
truth
a simple fact
i was not good enough
for something i have wanted
since i could remember how to covet
so you know what **** me
i guess i am
not good
enough
My soul covet nay diamond and jasper,
Which can be stolen or lost altogether;
Neither seek you the fleeting treasures
Of the world with their misty pleasures.

My heart desire not cars nor mansions
Alone in this earth full of constant frictions;
Neither pant you after momentary majesty,
Rejoicing in an ebbing estate of excellency

For moths and worms shall consume apace
At death, this body, and its glamour face.
You cannot the devil confront with riches:
Job would have won cheaply his challenges.

But seek ye rather first the spiritual gifts--
Coveting earnestly heaven's endowments:
For life's purposes are by them established;
Without them dreams cannot be fulfilled.
Terry O'Leary Aug 2014
The darkness, now descending, floods the city as it dies
while shadows lurk in legions 'neath the looming Evil Eye.
Its frozen stare envelops all, it penetrates and pries,
denouncing loathed dissenters to the keepers in the sky.

One’s inner thoughts are well descried before they’ve passed one’s lips
and cruelly crushed with grim contempt twixt despots’ fingertips;
but if no taboo-idea’s found, with which to come to grips,
the stymied Eye dispenses pus as fabrication drips.

The Eye peers down upon us now, to conquer and control,
and mark our every movement, whether hiding in a hole
or preening like a purple parrot perched upon a pole.
Our welfare and our happiness? No, certainly not the goal.

While phantoms fade, then reappear within the urban sprawl,
the gloom (adorned with Evil Eyes which pierce the livid pall)
pervades the ache and agony that poets sometimes scrawl
of plenitude to penury, how life endures the fall.

And should the herd dare whisper words of freedom's fragrant bloom
or murmur sighs of worriment at earth's impending doom,
the Evil Eye will squint a bit at those who so presume,
condemning nascent unchained thoughts to wither in the womb.

The Evil Eye bores everywhere, a tattletale to Kings,
who scrutinize their puppet people, strumming on their strings,
extracting secrets of their souls like spiders plucking wings
that flutter with the hangman’s knot as the corpse of freedom swings.

Yes, Princes rule with tungsten fists wherever they may roam
and sip from golden goblets, nectar, sweet as honeycomb
while peons (stripped of mind and soul) stray never far from home,
with faces 'neath the iron boot, ****** deep below the loam.

And peasants pass, parading by to fill the golden urn
with pennies for the afterlife wherefore the faithful yearn,
though screams of babes with empty eyes are never of concern
to those who covet silver coins, eyes cold and taciturn.

To hide the pains of purgatory, far-flung distant shores
(on islands of containment) cache the dingy dungeon doors
and inquisition water-boards that buoy their holy wars,
while sandmen drape our eyes with dust, with rainbow metaphors.

We’ll know the party's over when there's little left to eat
and all the learned scholars, lean, stay silent when they meet -
the Eye, withal, will spawn distrust on matters indiscreet.
The signs are all around us - even sheep no longer bleat.

                        Epilogue
One sightless seer scans the skies and mourns the heretofore.
Nine limbless men descend the stairs to find there is no floor.
Eight tongueless women babble, telling tales of nevermore.
Four earless children drown within the ocean's muted roar.

When hope becomes defiance, ask: Will bedlam soon arrive?
Will doves appear above us all? Or drones to guard the hive
while fed with milk and honey by the Queen and kept alive
to gut the gale below them? Will we let the Eye survive?
Colin wheeler Aug 2013
winters are all the same why would it change

white
brown
wet or dry

winters all perfectly different for us to try
I dont know where this is going

maby to seasons

maby just words

maby friends

maby nothing

i've looked all around the search for that
we will never really know if it is that
so we wander around looking to

smell that
feel that
look at that
read that
judge that
enjoy that
Love that
eradicate that

walk away from that

or simply know that

pretencious people wanting what they dont have
never finding that
selfless people will judge
make up con artists will allways seek
all ******* they speak
mindblowing weapons of the tounge
faking all that is done
living the real way
I'ts time for me to get that
making people believe in that
can be the best achievement in that
don't think about that
It's just a rumour that

**that is that
Circa 1994 Feb 2014
One of my favorite animals is a giraffe.
They're so awkward and lanky,
yet despite their strange appearance
there is a a grace in there gallivant;
there is a beauty to their mien.

They don't flaunt their attributes
or covet the patterns of their wildlife peers
because they have been graced with the privilege
to indulge in the secrets whispered by the leaves
amongst the tree tops.
Gary Brocks Aug 2018
Goats eat and **** the grass of ramparts,
stupefied cannons sit, garrisoned sentries
primed for nights of buccaneers,
seared by centuries of sun. Down shadowed
cobblestoned tunnels fortified shutters
covet rifle forend and barrel,

wresting rumored slave rebellions
from the locker of history,
while languid waves whisper indifferently
a roll call of human cargo,
chattel displaced, cast to the sea.

Here history sways to sounds
of brown skinned children
at play in breakers,
laughing, shrieking, thrashing,
buoyed by time to this vaulted brick
reverberating chamber,

here a window’s light is cast
beckoning vision past the beach,
to seek the horizon Icarus like,
to fly towards beauty in terror where
an azure sky conjoins a turquoise bay.


Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks
160707F
Tiffany Norman Oct 2014
Wind bends a weak branch.
Fresh leaves sing in harmony.
A lizard of the same color
slowly stretches his way from leaf to spine.
He stops to investigate a string
of silk from a spider's web
and I wonder how that tastes.
Lit up like a jack-o-lantern,
his glowing body
reveals organs and vessels
much like my own.
He makes his 30 foot ascent
above hot cement
just to sunbathe on a leaf.
What a life that is.
Blaine Namfuak Jan 2012
Is it really so wrong
To covet thy neighbor
When they truly cannot see
what treasures lie before them?

Emaciated and broken,
As a starved wanderer I watch,
A man with a feast before him
Yet he turns up his nose

Through the emerald gaze
of a green-eyed monster I view
This disgraceful display of gifts
Woefully cast aside

This spectacle I witness
Confuses and astounds
For anyone can clearly see
The problem with this scene

Mortified, I stare
And with hunger, I despair
I wish the feast to be mine
But with none they will share

But with a glimmer of hope I will continue
And reflect on this sad, sad venue
One day I will sate this monster of mine
And no longer for the feast shall I pine
She's like deliquescent caramel,

the cool side of a pillow

        to lay your weary head,

subtleties of springtime &

          warmth in wintertide,

whispering hope upon lush  

        Zephyrus pipe dreams,  

    mellifluous nymph with wings

                 of a butterfly warrior,

softly determined,

    unfailingly true-hearted,

       whilst relentlessly ferocious

  Wise, yet sometimes struts

        blindly in the light,

       as dulcet tones of a cello's

           melodious marmalade

            in sentiment's tender fancy,

she's beauty, charm,

         knowledge, poetry,

               utter strength,

               & humane weaknesses,

she's twisted and ethereal,

           her aura sublimely captivating

     you may covet her body,

            you'll never possess her soul
ryn Oct 2014
Are we fated to dance to the same tune alone in our separate universes?
Is it true that we must silently keep to our preordained curses?

Are we destined to swoon at the beauty of the moon at differing time slots?
Why were we given invisible ink to connect our lives' dots?

Must it be that our lives revolve around the whims of the sun?
Isn't it ludicrous that we won't see the intricate webs we've spun?

Was it the plan that we exist only in our minds and hearts?
Why do we have to tolerate starting when the other's ending and end at the other's starts?

Has it been written that we can only afford to infinitely chase each others heartbeats?
Was it foretold that we're trapped in a singular notion that never really fits?

Is the game set as such that we can never emerge as winners?
How is it that the ocean was made out of our tears that flowed from rivers?

Why is it that with our entirety we believe but do not know?
What's the reason for the path made clear but we're too afraid to go?

What does it entail to possess the very least but yet you covet it the most?
How do you pride yourself in something but not allowed to boast?

Why do we frantically scramble to piece together jagged shards?
Can't we just play this blasted deck of lousy cards?

Is it destiny or cruelty to have found then lost?
Why does it seem absurd that we have all its takes but can't afford the cost?

Is it the thoughts that **** or the emotions that debilitate?
Is it the challenges we take on or the curveballs we anticipate?

Why bother when sheer folly is all it seems to be?
Why tarry when the heart is free and the mind is ready?

Is it ridiculous to have found myself still very bothered?
Is it wrong to question fate that had always bound us tethered?

Why is the good always bad and the bad becomes worse?
Is it true that the harder we fight, the deeper we immerse?

Has life turned to be but sad little rhetorics?
Are we but performers on stages coerced into theatrics?

Is it time for me to surface this one-man submarine?
Will it be so that if I do, my journey would then begin...?
A host of rhetorical questions from my older writes...

"Surface this one-man submarine"  isn't mine... It's Brandon Boyd's.
Taken off Incubus' " Love Hurts"
Helen Murray Jan 2014
1:   The Greatest Insurance Policy Ever!
Lord, You are my personal insurance plan.
Don't let Yourself out of this contract.
Extricate me from all my troubles with your superb mastery.
2:   Flick your wonderfully sharp ears in my direction,
Get me out of this quagmire ASAP;
Be my total fall-back blueprint,
My absolutely secure fall-back scheme.
3:   Yes, You are my complete, rock-solid defense.
That being the case, and so that You are recognised by everyone around me, direct my footsteps and show me the way.
4:   You know about that trap they hid for me - so get me out of it fast.  In you is my surprisingly  sprung rebound.
5:   I am only too happy to fall untterly into Your hands, body, mind and spirit
Your indomitable truth has freed me over and over.
6:   I hate the deference given to fool's game icons when I can trust in You.
7:   How ecstatic I am dancing here in your compassion, for you are intimately concerned with my problems, and my very soul is safe in Your hands when I'm struggling.
8:   Never once have you let the enemy take over - It's always surprising how you extract me from their schemes.
9:   And here I am again, Lord, in big trouble.  Don't know if I've got any tears left for this poor old body and soul.
10:   All my life there is nothing but depression and misery.  I've made some stupid mistakes and now I'm paying for them.  It seems I haven't a leg to stand on.
11:  My detractors make a fool of me, and that includes my close circle of friends.  It seems they can't stand the very idea of me.  They can never stop to talk but are always busy somewhere else.
12:   I might as well be dead for all they care, as long as they don't have to think about me.  I feel completely knocked out.
13:  They don't get it Lord  They're telling lies about me.  Their bullying is just plain scary.
They get together to eliminate me out of their picture.  ****** is no problem to them.
14:  Yet I know I can bet on You, dear Lord.  My answer is You.
15:   I know that times are yours to deal with; Just get me out of their hands, and get me somewhere safe from this constant persecution.
16:  Make an example of them Lord, by exonerating me.  Let them know that You are my BLOOD BROTHER!
17:  I am dependent on You God, and I know You won't shame me.  Let them wear it themselves.  The grave will stop their boasting.!
18:  I do like the open mouths when liars have nothing to say, because the proud, contemptuous rhetoric against your people hits the dust hard.
19:  There is such magnificence about your  kindness torque which you set up for us who have finally learned to esteem You., which you spread out for the ones who have joined Your ranks, and it's right out there for the sons of men to covet!  (That's what they need to covet.)
20:  It's so fun that You protect us secretly by Your very presence, so they can't get a grip on us..  Yes, Your Truth keeps us safely secured, away from their tongue-lashings.
21:  I'm screaming out "Blessed be Yahweh" because He has demonstrated to me his kindness torque right here in a dynamic place.
22:  I thought, and indeed I said, "You don't care about my situation."  Even so, You paid attention to my pleading voice storming your ears.
23:  Oh, How can I say it any stronger?  All of you who are His children, that the Lord immunises the faithful, and boy does He repay arrogance.
24:  Get your war boots on everyone.  He is your backup cover - (BLOOD BROTHER JESUS of the NT).  Your heart beats in sync with His heart all you brothers and sisters in Jehovah, and that is your strength.
Psalms are songs.  I love to re-write them as if they had been just written in Australia.  They are certainly not accurate translations, but directly inspired, verse by verse, by David's psalms
~
                    I've been taught
                      To only tread
                  in shallow waters
      But his eyes were oceans of blue
    and I was ready to take the plunge.
       Never mind that I've forgotten
                      how to swim.
     If in return, it is he that leaves me
                        breathless,
  Let it be that I covet air for all eternity.
bambi Mar 2014
I admit I am a dark, exhausted beast--
a memory no one summons.


But you rise at dawn with raven hair--
a child of soldier and sun.


Although you've gone,
I covet your crescent grin.


and the sun

within the lining

of your skin.
This was too honest for me to finish right now.

Homage to Pablo Neruda and someone essential.
There I gaze at the ancient infinite sky:
And covet a bird's wings as to far away fly,
To where I'd splash in a cool fresh stream,
Of thy ineffable love now but a dream;

There I gaze at the ancient infinite sky:
And covet a bird's wings as to far away fly,
To where I'd splash in pools of joy & laughter,
Of thy warm sweet embrace forever after.

There I gaze at the ancient infinite sky,
And covet a bird's wings as to far away fly,
To where I'd splash in dulcet tunes of harmony,
Of early songbirds crooning us a symphony;

There I gaze at the ancient infinite sky:
And covet a bird's wings as to far away fly,
To where I'd splash in hues of Heaven's rainbow,
A realm to where our love would forever glow.
I finally understand the hiding
Of hair and the covering of skin
These women embrace as custom
They are holy descendants of eve
What is left of perfection
Handed down for too many generations
They are cursed, so wanted, why not hide
Beautiful skin and silky hair
Full eyebrows, eyes wide in fear
Determined not to covet physical form
**** is an axiom.
**** is our axiom.
Hence, **** your axioms;
We're gonna get ****** up.

When perception is refracted
laws and theories
become fractured.
We use it to our advantage.

Covet the strange days of adolescence.
ryn Jul 2014
Wild stallion live free
Galloping unbound
Always you flee
Never chained to your ground

Wild stallion how swiftly you fly
Over distances and plains
How courageous you try
Hide your aches and pains

Wild stallion your hooves beat the earth
With fierce determination
Let loose and be rid of your girth
Be free from trepidation

Wild stallion covet your solitude
Embrace the run in silence
Your formidable strides of fortitude
Bound forth with repentance

Wild stallion I see you there
Mane billowing as you thundered across
Grounds fly beneath you without a care
Running without remorse, gliding without loss

Wild stallion I was once like you
Soaring to the ends on unrestrained wings
A life that is now but an echo; a faint pathetic hue
A life that is now filled with broken things

Wild stallion keep on running free
Keep galloping and know no bounds
You're free, no need to flee
Outrun the chains, leave them as faint indiscernible sounds

Wild stallion how I envy you
As you canter, your coat gleam in the light
See me as you always do
Just a reflection who has ceased to fight
zebra Apr 2017
kisses on your warm sweet mouth
tender lips caressed
exploring your ******* and raised ******* ..
belly and thighs enveloped
those eager dark delicious places that i covet so
your musk erogenous
the path to your hungry soul
eater of the poison apple
your eyes widen bright with delight
a strange synesthesia you say
your smile a hypnotic alter
you prone
back arched
belly willing
as i drag a curved blade slowly across your winsome flesh
worshiping you
breathing your warm breath into my mouth and nostrils
come now
you coo
i am sheildless

then little strangles that excite
to see how you do
will you love it
adorations twisted mind
she demon
a wizened dizzy Venus

please yes
her **** drenches the bed
a warm viscosity
legs widen
feet piqued
*****
exotic delicatessen

Heralded
i enter with long sweet butter strokes
the sabbath of desire
I swear
i wont let you suffer...
never !
why you say?
because i love you
lovely scythe you call
as if lulled to sleep
whispering dreadful incantations   .
i ache to close the curtain
to lifes scalding chatter
wrap me
in a raggy shawl
impale the throat
like ive alway dreamed
a last exhalation
flood gates pour forth
as deaths dark fold
dissolves all

i rock you drugged
absinthe and wormwood
a last ***** of candles flame
white gauze cinched
lips on a lost mouth
eyes a static pyre

i linger
wishing you still plush
an animated glow
so that i could feel your arms,
now milky white relics
only to take you all over again and again and again
dreamer of the abyss
yet you stand
aberrations, smoke ghost
sacrificially swaying your hips
calling from Hades
dancer of ritual copulation
i melt like wax in the sun
wither
and die myself
marriage Italian style
dead bells in love
blotted out by the Sirens of Mara
Mara ..Greek Damon of deception and distorted thinking
Edna Sweetlove Sep 2015
Pastor Grovell writes as follows.....

I am often asked to interpret the Ten Commandments as they seem sometimes a bit out of date and irrelevant (and hard to understand by some of the more ********
folks). So here goes with the update we use in our own godly congregation. These are my revised and corrected commandments.  The originals are in the beloved King James version but where that is unclear I quote a more modern version too to assist those of you who are more or less illiterate. In the bible, the commandments are unaccompaned by the punishments you will get if you disobey them so I have updated that too, according to STRICT biblical scholarship.

===================================================­=================

1st Commandment: "Thou shalt have no other gods before me". This seems quite unequivocal to me but of course it was written BEFORE Jesus came to save us so here is the new version:

PG's NEW NUMBER 1: WORSHIP ONLY GOD (INCLUDING JESUS WHO IS PART OF GOD ANYWAY) & DO IT FREQUENTLY OR GOD WILL CRUSH YOU!

=========================================================­===========

2nd Commandment: "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth; Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me; And shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments.

That seems a bit wordy to me and there is a bit of overlap with Number 1! In any case, it's a bit out of date as not many people worship idols, giant earthworms or fish these days. Perhaps a modern update would include not worshipping the TV set!

PG's NEW NUMBER 2: DO NOT WORSHIP THE TV SET OR ANYTHING SIMILAR OR GOD WILL BE VERY ANNOYED INDEED AND WILL PUNISH YOU AND ALL YOUR DESCENDANTS & THEIR DESCENDANTS TOO SO WATCH OUT ALL YOU HEATHEN COUCH POTATOES!

====================================================­================

3rd Commandment: "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain." Again a bit long-winded, and the vain bit will confuse some people.

PG's NEW NUMBER 3: DO NOT BLASPHEME OR GOD WILL CRUSH YOU IN AN INCREDIBLY PAINFUL WAY & SLOWLY AS WELL!

========================================================­============

4th Commandment: "Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work; But the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates; For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it."

This is a difficult one to observe nowadays, what with Sunday opening at the shopping mall. The solution seems to be that non-Christians, Jews and Muslims can work to serve us whilst we go shopping. It shows why God created heathens and other infidels so they can sell godly people bibles, hymnals and religious artefacts on the Sabbath, even though they will probably go to Hell themselves as a result. And the bit about animals not working on Sundays seems pointless today so we'll skip that section.

PG's NEW NUMBER 4: WORK HARD FOR SIX DAYS A WEEK INCLUDING SATURDAYS AND THEN HAVE A NICE REST ON SUNDAYS BUT GET IN A LOT OF PRAYING ON SUNDAY OR YOU WILL BE PUNISHED IMMENSELY BY GOD!

=========================================================­===========

5th Commandment: "Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee."

Seems clear enough; particular the 2nd bit which people forget. This is particularly important as people live much longer nowadays and often old folks have to be put into a home which can be expensive, but God wants us to do it. Also, do not skimp on the private facilities - do you really want your old wizened parents to share a bathroom with other incontinents? No I don't think you do. Also, one must remember that a lot of people are ******* and don't have the vaguest idea who their father was. Often the mother has no idea either, filthy ****.

PG's NEW NUMBER 5: RESPECT YOUR PARENTS NO MATTER HOW MUCH IT COSTS OR GOD WILL SHORTEN YOUR OWN LIFE AS A PUNISHMENT & YOU WILL SUFFER A LOT! IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHO YOUR PARENTS ARE, YOU ARE A ******* AND WILL GO TO HELL.

========================================================­============

6th Commandment: "Thou shalt not ****." This one is a real problem for so many of us! What should we do if a mugger comes and tries to rob us? What should we do if someone threatens to **** and **** our womenfolk? What if heathens attack our nation? What about the inalienable American right to bear arms and **** unarmed protesters? What about the British right to rule over inferior races and shoot rebels? I think God was insufficiently insightful here, so my version is quite a radical improvement.

PG's NEW NUMBER 6: DO NOT **** PEOPLE UNLESS IT IS NECESSARY OR IF THEY ARE BURGLING *******!

====================================================­================


7th Commandment: "Thou shalt not commit adultery."This is OK as far as it goes but it is totally inadequate to deal with the amount of ***-SIN which is about the place in the modern world, so I have expanded this to deal with the problem. Also remember that King James was a rampant and blatant sodomite and pervert and so maybe had this one censored in his version of the GOOD BOOK to cover his own back, so to speak.

PG's NEW NUMBER 7: DO NOT COMMIT ANY ***-SINS INCLUDING UNMARRIED FORNICATION, EXCESSIVE FRENCH KISSING, HEAVY PETTING, ******* (MUTUAL AND/OR SOLITARY), ADULTERY, *******, BUGGERY, ******, HOMOSEXUAL ACTS OF ALL TYPES INCLUDING LESBIANISM OF ANY SORT, *******-READING OR THINKING FILTHY ***-THOUGHTS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES OR YOU WILL BURN IN HELLFIRE FOR EVER AND EVER WITH THE MOST AWFUL AGONIES, AND ALSO MINIMIZE ALL LEGAL MARITAL *** TO OCCASIONS WHEN YOU WISH TO PROPAGATE AND KEEP IT BRIEF & IN THE DARK EVEN THEN!

========================================================­============

8th Commandment: "Thou shalt not steal." This one seems OK to me, with a bit of modernization.

PG's NEW NUMBER 8: YOU MUST NOT STEAL OR MUG OR ROB OR BURGLARIZE OR YOU WILL BE PUNISHED UTTERLY & VERY EXTENSIVELY BY GOD IN ALL HIS MIGHTY POWER!

=======================================================­=============

9th Commandment: "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour." This is a bit too narrow as I think non-neighbours and maybe even foreigners should be included as well. Also there needs to be a reminder of the dreadful punishment liars and falsifiers face.

PG's NEW NUMBER 9: DO NOT ACCUSE ANYONE AT ALL FALSELY AND DON'T TELL ANY LIES EITHER OR GOD WILL PUNISH YOU REALLY APPALLINGLY & YOU WILL SHRIEK IN AGONY FOR EVER!

========================================================­============

10th Commandment: "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ***, nor any thing that is thy neighbour's." This one really is totally out-of-date and inadequate. It should apply to everyone and not just neighbours. Also, how many people can afford servants or keep oxen? And the "***" bit is open to obscene ***-SIN misinterpretation and blasphemous sneering by wicked ***-SINNERS. So this needs a complete re-write to bring it into the 21st century and to guide godly people into the way of righteousness. And some of the modern translations of the Bible are even worse, e.g. "Do not desire another man's house; do not desire his wife, his slaves, his cattle, his donkeys, or anything else that he owns." How about if you wish to sell your own house and move to a nicer one - what is wrong with that? How about if you wish to sell your low-grade animals and buy better ones? What is this ******* obsession with donkeys and ***** - sheep can be equally tempting to s degenerate ******* ***-SINNER. So I go for a nice simple revision which covers most eventualities:

PG's NEW NUMBER 10: DON'T BE JEALOUS OF OTHER PEOPLE'S BETTER FORTUNE, MAYBE THEY DESERVE IT & YOU ARE INFERIOR; STICK WITH WHAT YOU HAVE NO MATTER HOW GROTTY IT IS OR GOD WILL PUNISH YOU MORE THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE! AND KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF THE LIVESTOCK OR YOU WILL SUFFER APPALLINGLY IN DEEPEST HELL WITH RED HOT POKERS UP YOUR ****** FOR ETERNITY.

====================================================­================

So there you have it: Pastor Peter Grovell's recommendations for a life without sin. But remember to pray every single day to Jesus and under no circumstances confuse the wooden images of Jesus which the Catholics use with the real living invisible Jesus. If you fail to do what God wants, he will be left with no option but to condemn you to eternal Hellfire.

And a final point: God did not hand down to Moses any instructions about alcohol. Did He say, "Thou shalt not have a pint of beer!" NO! Did He say, "Thou shalt not have a bottle of wine!" NO! Did He even rule out a shot or two of gin, whisky, ***, brandy or any other alcoholic refreshments? NO He did not! He even transformed water into wine on several occasions, which shows he liked a glass or two down his local Jewish "pub". So there is no harm in drinking alcohol but only if it does not lead you to do ***-SIN, ******, ****, THEFT, BUGGERY, ***-COVETING or IDOL-WORSHIP!

Pastor Peter Grovell D.D., C.S.M.F.,
Founder, Ultra-Strict Reformed Church of Jesus.
High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth or Ormus and of Ind,
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand
Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,
Satan exalted sat, by merit raised
To that bad eminence; and, from despair
Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires
Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue
Vain war with Heaven; and, by success untaught,
His proud imaginations thus displayed:—
  “Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heaven!—
For, since no deep within her gulf can hold
Immortal vigour, though oppressed and fallen,
I give not Heaven for lost: from this descent
Celestial Virtues rising will appear
More glorious and more dread than from no fall,
And trust themselves to fear no second fate!—
Me though just right, and the fixed laws of Heaven,
Did first create your leader—next, free choice
With what besides in council or in fight
Hath been achieved of merit—yet this loss,
Thus far at least recovered, hath much more
Established in a safe, unenvied throne,
Yielded with full consent. The happier state
In Heaven, which follows dignity, might draw
Envy from each inferior; but who here
Will envy whom the highest place exposes
Foremost to stand against the Thunderer’s aim
Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share
Of endless pain? Where there is, then, no good
For which to strive, no strife can grow up there
From faction: for none sure will claim in Hell
Precedence; none whose portion is so small
Of present pain that with ambitious mind
Will covet more! With this advantage, then,
To union, and firm faith, and firm accord,
More than can be in Heaven, we now return
To claim our just inheritance of old,
Surer to prosper than prosperity
Could have assured us; and by what best way,
Whether of open war or covert guile,
We now debate. Who can advise may speak.”
  He ceased; and next him Moloch, sceptred king,
Stood up—the strongest and the fiercest Spirit
That fought in Heaven, now fiercer by despair.
His trust was with th’ Eternal to be deemed
Equal in strength, and rather than be less
Cared not to be at all; with that care lost
Went all his fear: of God, or Hell, or worse,
He recked not, and these words thereafter spake:—
  “My sentence is for open war. Of wiles,
More unexpert, I boast not: them let those
Contrive who need, or when they need; not now.
For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest—
Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait
The signal to ascend—sit lingering here,
Heaven’s fugitives, and for their dwelling-place
Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame,
The prison of his ryranny who reigns
By our delay? No! let us rather choose,
Armed with Hell-flames and fury, all at once
O’er Heaven’s high towers to force resistless way,
Turning our tortures into horrid arms
Against the Torturer; when, to meet the noise
Of his almighty engine, he shall hear
Infernal thunder, and, for lightning, see
Black fire and horror shot with equal rage
Among his Angels, and his throne itself
Mixed with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire,
His own invented torments. But perhaps
The way seems difficult, and steep to scale
With upright wing against a higher foe!
Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench
Of that forgetful lake benumb not still,
That in our porper motion we ascend
Up to our native seat; descent and fall
To us is adverse. Who but felt of late,
When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear
Insulting, and pursued us through the Deep,
With what compulsion and laborious flight
We sunk thus low? Th’ ascent is easy, then;
Th’ event is feared! Should we again provoke
Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find
To our destruction, if there be in Hell
Fear to be worse destroyed! What can be worse
Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemned
In this abhorred deep to utter woe!
Where pain of unextinguishable fire
Must exercise us without hope of end
The vassals of his anger, when the scourge
Inexorably, and the torturing hour,
Calls us to penance? More destroyed than thus,
We should be quite abolished, and expire.
What fear we then? what doubt we to incense
His utmost ire? which, to the height enraged,
Will either quite consume us, and reduce
To nothing this essential—happier far
Than miserable to have eternal being!—
Or, if our substance be indeed divine,
And cannot cease to be, we are at worst
On this side nothing; and by proof we feel
Our power sufficient to disturb his Heaven,
And with perpetual inroads to alarm,
Though inaccessible, his fatal throne:
Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.”
  He ended frowning, and his look denounced
Desperate revenge, and battle dangerous
To less than gods. On th’ other side up rose
Belial, in act more graceful and humane.
A fairer person lost not Heaven; he seemed
For dignity composed, and high exploit.
But all was false and hollow; though his tongue
Dropped manna, and could make the worse appear
The better reason, to perplex and dash
Maturest counsels: for his thoughts were low—
To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds
Timorous and slothful. Yet he pleased the ear,
And with persuasive accent thus began:—
  “I should be much for open war, O Peers,
As not behind in hate, if what was urged
Main reason to persuade immediate war
Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast
Ominous conjecture on the whole success;
When he who most excels in fact of arms,
In what he counsels and in what excels
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair
And utter dissolution, as the scope
Of all his aim, after some dire revenge.
First, what revenge? The towers of Heaven are filled
With armed watch, that render all access
Impregnable: oft on the bodering Deep
Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing
Scout far and wide into the realm of Night,
Scorning surprise. Or, could we break our way
By force, and at our heels all Hell should rise
With blackest insurrection to confound
Heaven’s purest light, yet our great Enemy,
All incorruptible, would on his throne
Sit unpolluted, and th’ ethereal mould,
Incapable of stain, would soon expel
Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire,
Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope
Is flat despair: we must exasperate
Th’ Almighty Victor to spend all his rage;
And that must end us; that must be our cure—
To be no more. Sad cure! for who would lose,
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
Those thoughts that wander through eternity,
To perish rather, swallowed up and lost
In the wide womb of uncreated Night,
Devoid of sense and motion? And who knows,
Let this be good, whether our angry Foe
Can give it, or will ever? How he can
Is doubtful; that he never will is sure.
Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire,
Belike through impotence or unaware,
To give his enemies their wish, and end
Them in his anger whom his anger saves
To punish endless? ‘Wherefore cease we, then?’
Say they who counsel war; ‘we are decreed,
Reserved, and destined to eternal woe;
Whatever doing, what can we suffer more,
What can we suffer worse?’ Is this, then, worst—
Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms?
What when we fled amain, pursued and struck
With Heaven’s afflicting thunder, and besought
The Deep to shelter us? This Hell then seemed
A refuge from those wounds. Or when we lay
Chained on the burning lake? That sure was worse.
What if the breath that kindled those grim fires,
Awaked, should blow them into sevenfold rage,
And plunge us in the flames; or from above
Should intermitted vengeance arm again
His red right hand to plague us? What if all
Her stores were opened, and this firmament
Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire,
Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall
One day upon our heads; while we perhaps,
Designing or exhorting glorious war,
Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurled,
Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey
Or racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk
Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains,
There to converse with everlasting groans,
Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved,
Ages of hopeless end? This would be worse.
War, therefore, open or concealed, alike
My voice dissuades; for what can force or guile
With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye
Views all things at one view? He from Heaven’s height
All these our motions vain sees and derides,
Not more almighty to resist our might
Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles.
Shall we, then, live thus vile—the race of Heaven
Thus trampled, thus expelled, to suffer here
Chains and these torments? Better these than worse,
By my advice; since fate inevitable
Subdues us, and omnipotent decree,
The Victor’s will. To suffer, as to do,
Our strength is equal; nor the law unjust
That so ordains. This was at first resolved,
If we were wise, against so great a foe
Contending, and so doubtful what might fall.
I laugh when those who at the spear are bold
And venturous, if that fail them, shrink, and fear
What yet they know must follow—to endure
Exile, or igominy, or bonds, or pain,
The sentence of their Conqueror. This is now
Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear,
Our Supreme Foe in time may much remit
His anger, and perhaps, thus far removed,
Not mind us not offending, satisfied
With what is punished; whence these raging fires
Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames.
Our purer essence then will overcome
Their noxious vapour; or, inured, not feel;
Or, changed at length, and to the place conformed
In temper and in nature, will receive
Familiar the fierce heat; and, void of pain,
This horror will grow mild, this darkness light;
Besides what hope the never-ending flight
Of future days may bring, what chance, what change
Worth waiting—since our present lot appears
For happy though but ill, for ill not worst,
If we procure not to ourselves more woe.”
  Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason’s garb,
Counselled ignoble ease and peaceful sloth,
Not peace; and after him thus Mammon spake:—
  “Either to disenthrone the King of Heaven
We war, if war be best, or to regain
Our own right lost. Him to unthrone we then
May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield
To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife.
The former, vain to hope, argues as vain
The latter; for what place can be for us
Within Heaven’s bound, unless Heaven’s Lord supreme
We overpower? Suppose he should relent
And publish grace to all, on promise made
Of new subjection; with what eyes could we
Stand in his presence humble, and receive
Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne
With warbled hyms, and to his Godhead sing
Forced hallelujahs, while he lordly sits
Our envied sovereign, and his altar breathes
Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers,
Our servile offerings? This must be our task
In Heaven, this our delight. How wearisome
Eternity so spent in worship paid
To whom we hate! Let us not then pursue,
By force impossible, by leave obtained
Unacceptable, though in Heaven, our state
Of splendid vassalage; but rather seek
Our own good from ourselves, and from our own
Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess,
Free and to none accountable, preferring
Hard liberty before the easy yoke
Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear
Then most conspicuous when great things of small,
Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse,
We can create, and in what place soe’er
Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain
Through labour and endurance. This deep world
Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst
Thick clouds and dark doth Heaven’s all-ruling Sire
Choose to reside, his glory unobscured,
And with the majesty of darkness round
Covers his throne, from whence deep thunders roar.
Mustering their rage, and Heaven resembles Hell!
As he our darkness, cannot we his light
Imitate when we please? This desert soil
Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold;
Nor want we skill or art from whence to raise
Magnificence; and what can Heaven show more?
Our torments also may, in length of time,
Become our elements, these piercing fires
As soft as now severe, our temper changed
Into their temper; which must needs remove
The sensible of pain. All things invite
To peaceful counsels, and the settled state
Of order, how in safety best we may
Compose our present evils, with regard
Of what we are and where, dismissing quite
All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise.”
  He scarce had finished, when such murmur filled
Th’ assembly as when hollow rocks retain
The sound of blustering winds, which all night long
Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull
Seafaring men o’erwatched, whose bark by chance
Or pinnace, anchors in a craggy bay
After the tempest. Such applause was heard
As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleased,
Advising peace: for such another field
They dreaded worse than Hell; so much the fear
Of thunder and the sword of Michael
Wrought still within them; and no less desire
To found this nether empire, which might rise,
By policy and long process of time,
In emulation opposite to Heaven.
Which when Beelzebub perceived—than whom,
Satan except, none higher sat—with grave
Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed
A pillar of state. Deep on his front engraven
Deliberation sat, and public care;
And princely counsel in his face yet shone,
Majestic, though in ruin. Sage he stood
With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear
The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look
Drew audience and attention still as night
Or summer’s noontide air, while thus he spake:—
  “Thrones and Imperial Powers, Offspring of Heaven,
Ethereal Virtues! or these titles now
Must we renounce, and, changing style, be called
Princes of Hell? for so the popular vote
Inclines—here to continue, and build up here
A growing empire; doubtless! while we dream,
And know not that the King of Heaven hath doomed
This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat
Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt
From Heaven’s high jurisdiction, in new league
Banded against his throne, but to remain
In strictest *******, though thus far removed,
Under th’ inevitable curb, reserved
His captive multitude. For he, to be sure,
In height or depth, still first and last will reign
Sole king, and of his kingdom lose no part
By our revolt, but over Hell extend
His empire, and with iron sceptre rule
Us here, as with his golden those in Heaven.
What sit we then projecting peace and war?
War hath determined us and foiled with loss
Irreparable; terms of peace yet none
Vouchsafed or sought; for what peace will be given
To us enslaved, but custody severe,
And stripes and arbitrary punishment
Inflicted? and what peace can we return,
But, to our power, hostility and hate,
Untamed reluctance, and revenge, though slow,
Yet ever plotting how the Conqueror least
May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice
In doing what we most in suffering feel?
Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need
With dangerous expedition to invade
Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault or siege,
Or ambush from the Deep. What if we find
Some easier enterprise? There is a place
(If ancient and prophetic fame in Heaven
Err not)—another World, the happy seat
Of some new race, called Man, about this time
To be created like to us, though less
In power and excellence, but favoured more
Of him who rules above; so was his will
Pronounced among the Gods, and by an oath
That shook Heaven’s whole circumference confirmed.
Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn
What creatures there inhabit, of what mould
Or substance, how endued, and what their power
And where their weakness: how attempted best,
By force of subtlety. Though Heaven be shut,
And Heaven’s high Arbitrator sit secure
In his own strength, this place may lie exposed,
The utmost border of his kingdom, left
To their defence who hold it: here, perhaps,
Some advantageous act may be achieved
By sudden onset—either with Hell-fire
To waste his whole creation, or possess
All as our own, and drive, as we were driven,
The puny habitants; or, if not drive,
****** them to our party, that their God
May prove their foe, and with repenting hand
Abolish his own works. This would surpass
Common revenge, and interrupt his joy
In our confusion, and our joy upraise
In his disturbance; when his darling sons,
Hurled headlong to partake with us, shall curse
Their frail original, and faded bliss—
Faded so soon! Advise if this be worth
Attempting, or to sit in darkness here
Hatching vain empires.” Thus beelzebub
Pleaded his devilish counsel—first devised
By Satan, and in part proposed: for whence,
But
I don't need money
I've got friends
And that is all I need
My life is full
Of things I love
I've got everything I need

Money can't buy happiness
At least that's what they say
I don't know, I've never tried it
So, I won't argue today
I've all I need,
Not all I want
But, things will come in time
There's those who covet everything
Including what is mine

My life is full
I have my love
My wife, my friend
We share what we have equally
And we will until our end
Contentment fills my life with joy
I am happy with my lot
I've learned to live with what I have
And accept what I have not

My life is full of laughter
I'm fine...can you not tell
I've friends and love of family
No money...just as well
Passes not by a day, that many an e-mail
unsolicited for would not stray--
from only Christ knows where--into
my SPAM folder. Some do sail
there to have a prurient stay,
bringing along many a memento
in an argosy of raunchy piquant pictures.

Some convey commerce, insurance or banking
messages; some the cargo of relationship
carry; while another an ad of ******
bears, still another talks about dealership.

Yet stood out Twain. Two diverse
SPAM e-mails have been berthing,
with goatish gaits and sharkish smirks,
in that folder unrelenting and unswerving.

One SPAM e-mail reads: "Why wait--have
an affair with a cheating wife today."

Sweetest SPAM!

Gorging myself on this fetish
fare free of charge. Kittenish
jades, serve me thy dainties of
dalliance enough!

To rock and roll, rolling in the hay,
making merry heaves, does ever crave
this rebellious flesh--yet, this randy
SPAM e-mail's offer offsets much the mind:

"A cheating wife" desiring to find--
for reasons amourous--a dandy,
a sort of cad.

Wondering muse: "A cheating wife"?
What a magic life!

Another SPAM e-mail says its own thus: "View
my pics. Lonely married women--
view **** pics." Indeed and true,
they grip with a serious sudden
poke the soul, like pangs the heart,
those three momentous, wrecking,
wretched words: "lonely married women."

Though content spicy and Libidinous;
yet maddening.
Secret meals seemingly are delicious,
but have a fiery taste.

Where--on Earth, in Mars, or in Hell
are they? Here, in this world they dwell.

Thought marriage is a blessed haven--
a heaven of unfeigned love and lasting bliss.

How could one be married and yet
be alone in life--lonely, who has
crossed over singlehood's borders,
nor is she a widow for bereavement?

A husband did his queen abandon
for a fresh-fangled pawn,
flying away with that new
dove--frittering his fortune away,
as she chirps love in lust songs anew
into his donkey's ears; flattery
displayed, a groovy
guise--

playing ducks and drakes with his riches

until his substance ship sank, like Titanic,
colliding with an iceberg of folly
in the deep of adultery:

making a muck of his wealth.

The flirtatious dollybird no sooner
flitted, then flew abroad at last,
leaving him to drown in the murky
waters of his wreck.


Returned the prodigal man to his hearth
in a sad pickle, with one shirt, one
jean,
and a pair of snickers, to the ever
gracious ***** of his loving Missis--
like a sinner contrite to Jesus.


Whilst a sudden grass widow, his wife
did not covet the companionship,
comforts and copulation
of another flagship--

but was committed to her
vows
to that fun-tossed lugger--
despite the billowy waves,

praying he'd come to his harbour.


The women howbeit in my SPAM folder--
those "cheating wives and lonely married
women", are like Lady Portiphar
pining and yearning for Joseph.

Unread.
Unreplied.
Patrice Jones Jan 2014
Light cresting the horizon, she reveals herself to me.
Her brilliant beauty shining, enlightening me is the Sun.
Leaving me blind eyes for it's long since I've seen the light.
As my sight returns, I see a smile upon her glowing face.
Happiness and warmth shines through, but also sadness.
Such a cavernous sorrow only matched by mine.

She speaks to me of a wish to be with the Moon once more.
Like when the land was warm and both did linger in the sky.
A brisk winter wind now engulfs the Sun.
Yet still she shines beautiful life, given to all that behold her.
I have felt her kind light on me, and I have come to cherish the feel.
Memories of my unending midnight that left me cold and bleak, evaporated;
replaced with joy, for returned have the young embers of feelings.

With the presence of the Sun I have been brought back to life.
And I wish to covet her, like the day does the light.
I whisper a wish, a pining desire to share that heavenly grace with the Sun.
But I may only behold her poetic wonder with my eyes I fear.
Far to deep is her flame, which I still yearn after.
Trudging forth is a feeling of looming disaster,
for her thirst is of the Moon's accompaniment alone.

Who am I to stand between the Sun and Moon? Gods in the sky.
For I do not reside above the clouds; I am but a mere observer far below.
Enchanted by the mellow glide through the heavens that they shared.
The Moon should feel her kind sunshine upon his face again.
He knows little of the night that I have hid in for ages repeated,
for he is not charged to linger in darkness for all eternity, like I.

A reluctance I feel to accept the truth, but I may not escape it.
Though, should my heart be tamed? Which is so full of longing.
Ages have passed since my bones have felt this empowering warmth.
I find my mind imagining, dreaming, wandering;
into a place it's far too long since felt any comfort in.
Only to be brought back to the present by the warmth of her smile,
a glance from her beautiful piercing eyes, to hark of her divine laughter.
Remembering that happiness is felt in the presence of a flower,
yet to pluck it for ones self, would begin an end to its beauty.

Whatever may be the desire of the Sun, I share for her too.
For she has shown me life like I've forgotten was possible.
A gift of the like that I could never return with all of my days.
A lost soul in lingering affection of a star, to be looked upon as a fool.
Though a fool for attempting, rather a fool for abstaining.
So return to the dark I will, awaiting in hope for my day to come.
The day that the Sun should like to illuminate me again, and fill my soul with warmth.
Yet I am terrified that day will never arrive for me,
for I've known not but this tragic desolation that has consumed my heart.
Until I met the Sun.
She steals serendipitous words from the dead
Ranges them on comely pages,
Sybaritic springs filled to overflowing
Metered precisely, to the raving adulation of crowds.

Only dark closets speak to me,
Crying out their hoary linen secrets
While musty airs clog my lungs.

Why can't I have ghosts, fragrant as wind,
Free as balloons, loosed of their tether,
Instead of pilfered dust *****
And scattering bed bugs?
Thous shalt not covet- unless thous be poets! ;)
Hidden identity Sep 2012
Shadows cross your face and spread wide across the hills.
The valleys of your beauty.
Beauty so far from my reach
Close enough to touch me.
Just too far to care.
Holly M Aug 2017
always the bridesmaid, never the bride
you have no idea how many times i cried
asking, "why me? why not me?"

well, for starters
i always oversleep
my eating habits are on repeat
i've worn the same clothes, same filth
for three days this week
i don't make an effort because i'm not going out
but no one asks me out because i don't make an effort
i write love poems i never send
i creepily covet people i consider friends
while my heart is stuck on the same old trend

hearts
yours and mine
your heart
pure and prone to breaking bones
my heart
crippled and casually crashing cars
the destruction duo
probably foreshadowing if i'm honest

i never get any rest
purple hues rise to the surface
furthermore, my life lacks any zest
and to top it all off
no matter how hard i've tried
i know i'll probably never be satisfied
so yeah
maybe that is why
jeffrey robin Aug 2010
"the Garbage Cans!.......
.....................covet the
Garbage Cans!!"

this was my father's
........... ...."grave advice"

and he was
.........................so right!

I

(moving stealthily!)

thru the rich neighborhoods

KNOWING THE BEST UNGUARDED GARBAGE CANS!

shall remain
.................................well fed and healthy

watching all you others
so simply
.........................die
MBJ Pancras Jan 2012
I never say we are orphans;
But they say we’re.
But who are they?
They are the orphans.

They chased us away from their fold,
Yea, it’s for good that we’ve been raised by HIM.
Their fold hath been stained by outrageous laws,
And are shrouded with selfish attires,
And they have swallowed our innocence and spit it out.
But why they did so?
It was they’d turned ‘gainst us,
And their treacherous acts named them traitors.
It is they lurk around us still to **** us,
They contrive against us still to covet our belongings;
And they lay their greedy tongues stretched at our treasures.
But HE is our Protector, laying us in HIS Arms,
And we are safe in HIS Arms.

No, we aren’t orphans,
For God in Christ Jesus is our Father,
And we are HIS children.
Frank Ruland Oct 2014
Who among you claims to be a man?
Let's see which of you are boys,
Who amongst you understands,
And who still clings to their ****** and toys!

Thou shalt not strike a woman,
Lest you have your spine torn out!
You've no backbone; just a child's hands--
I speak without a moment of doubt!

Are your hands idle and loose,
And do they serve as the Devil's playthings?
Get to work, and put them to use!
Do not suffer the sloth idleness brings!

Do you covet thy friend's wife in sin?
Do not indulge your eyes' hunger!
For he who sinfully seeks skin
Shall be cast to Hell and linger!

If you've disowned a woman with your child,
You're a ******* with no manhood!
I hope Hell's flames more than mild
For those who choose to deny their brood!

With this said, who is still a man,
And who lives underneath a guise?
My father said, *Stick to a righteous plan,
Or when you die... you're in for a surprise!
Frank Ruland Oct 2014
My flock, there are wolves among sheep!
They covet your work, your thoughts--
The bastardly thieves prey on the meek!
The fruit of your labors is sinfully sought!

Their treachery gives rise to a witch hunt!
Seek them out and banish the devils,
For they won't ever quit this ungodly stunt!
They must be exorcized for these evils!

Damnation awaits prophets with false tongues!
Have thou no shame for such slothful sin?
I wish your hands pierced through with prongs,
Until the day you can admit wrongs within!

Ostracize the heathens as they should be--
Sentence them to solidarity for eternity!
They deserve no piece of Heaven on HP,
For their plagiarism instills enmity!

Brethren, I preach, "Thou shalt not steal!"
Do not suffer their sins in such silence!
Rise up, and show them how you feel--
We will rage against the fools in defiance!
This goes to all the plagiarizers out there. We know you are out there, and we will not stand for your slothful, sinful ways. Repost this if you feel angered by plagiarism!
September Oct 2011
I think in statistics,
and you in heartbeats.

I am. You are. I am. You are.
I am chemical-based, you are a meaningful scar.

You explore,
covet,
and hoard,
anything near you.

While I am
stuck,
looking at my addiction,
through a lens.

I am forever cursed:
to skim for importance,
to look only at the bigger picture,
to glance only with logic's borrowed eye,

but you are here beside me, and you take in every little detail.

To me, blood is but a fluid,
yet in your eyes,
it is the fuel for lovers and the ink for poetry.

You are feather pens, I am erasable chalk.

The insomniac that is so filled with dreamer-talk.
So enticed by the world, that you couldn’t close an eye.

My mind is logic, reasoning, and your complete opposite.
Every word has a different meaning in your perspective
and every syllable holds a secret—
     one you must find out.

I am textbooks and punctuality and schedules.
But you, you are the only person I can wait on.

This is a cycle with ragged edges, bizarre.
I am. You are. I am. You are.

We are combined; a marvelous oxymoron.
These are just spare thoughts that I thought I should write down.
JS CARIE Jan 2019
With my face over her hair fallen neck
sending through my lips
what I’ve dreamed of compiled tastes

One arm wrapped her waist
The spinal curve of her back
Give-way my others embrace

In my palm falling slowly
with surrendered hold
Her reclining body takes plunge

A body wondrously dreamt by the Gods
but never to beholden
For that vessel has since long belonged
And in a quiet covet,
the Gods continue to sin

Over and across the bed
Released from my grip

Upwards into her hairline
a sweat spreading mist

Grabbing a fistful of mane
I’d lay down on the runway to attain
this flowing coat between my fingers

For the length of time
her hair has entwined me in cuffs

Pulling harder
I gladly yield in acceptance
this braid given stain
a permanent scar

Slow let go of her feathers tangled

In her neck I’m keeping
a burrow in repose

Seeing buttons undone in sync
to expose

The destination of my lips next imprint
like advanced shadowing hints

In a mechanical motion

Hair pulling emotion

Triggers upward
her chest and chin

Two spotlights on the ceiling what her ******* up send
Shaping her back an arc
like a half moons descent  

When she finishes her unbuttoning
Next for my belt she reaches
then the unzip I’ll never forget

She takes me in invest

I take her in continuous shooting

All the unfastened
unclothed

Now Firm
Quake
Earned
And Shake
The peak is reached from this encounter
defined by a collection of far to many lustfully seductive
mental hive of trapped aches
Then I kiss her lips in return she kisses me back, felt...
Martin Trahbeg Mar 2010
The crocus with fresh tendrils, hardy and alive
Fighting frost and snow just to survive.
In it's garden, cold, thin and alone.
Visual pleasure emits from ground, hard as bone.  
A beauty to behold, cherish, and covet,  
I tend the spring garden, so we all may love it.

— The End —